Poets and Murder by Gulik Robert van

Author:Gulik, Robert van [Gulik, Robert van]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 9780226848969
Google: ChdDYCc2smwC
Amazon: B00GBF2OFW
Publisher: Charles Scribner's Sons
Published: 1968-03-15T05:00:00+00:00

XI

As she began to sway on her feet, the judge, who was nearest to her, jumped up and took her arm. ‘Are you wounded?’ he asked sharply.

The poetess looked up at him with vacant eyes.

‘She… she’s dead,’ she faltered. ‘In the green-room. A gaping wound… in her throat. I… I got it on my hands.… ’

‘What the devil does she say?’ the Academician shouted. ‘Did she cut her hands?’

‘No, it seems that the dancer had an accident,’ Judge Dee told them soberly. ‘We’ll see what we can do for her.’ He beckoned to Lo, and led the poetess outside; she leaned heavily on his arm. In the side-hall Counsellor Kao and the housemaster were giving instructions to a maid. They gave the poetess a startled look, and the maid let the tray she was carrying clatter down on to the floor. As Magistrate Lo came rushing outside, the judge told him in a whisper, ‘The dancer was murdered.’

Lo snapped at his counsellor: ‘Run to the main gate and tell them to let no one pass! Order a clerk to call the coroner!’ And to the housemaster: ‘See to it that all the gates of the residence are locked at once, then call the matron!’ Swinging round to the dumbfounded maid, he barked, ‘Take Miss Yoo-lan to the anteroom at the end of the balcony, make her comfortable in an armchair and stay with her till the matron arrives!’

Judge Dee had pulled the napkin from the maid’s sash and now he quickly wiped Yoo-lan’s hands. There was no wound. ‘How do we get to the green-room?’ he asked his colleague, handing the fainting woman over to the maid.

‘Come along!’ Lo said briskly and went down a narrow side-passage along the left side of the banquet hall. He pushed open the door at the end, then halted with a gasp. After a quick glance at the dark flight of stairs that led down opposite the door, Judge Dee followed him inside the narrow, oblong room that smelled of sweat and perfume. No one was about there, but the light of the high, white-silk floor lamp shone on the half-naked body of Small Phoenix, lying on her back across the ebony bench. She was clad only in a transparent underrobe; her white, muscular legs hung down on to the floor. Her thin bare arms were flung out, her broken eyes stared up at the ceiling. The left side of her throat was a mass of blood that was slowly spreading on the reed-matting of the bench. Fingermarks in blood stood out on her bony shoulders. Her heavily made-up, mask-like face, with its long nose and distorted mouth that showed a row of small sharp teeth, reminded the judge of the snout of a fox.

Magistrate Lo put his hand under one of her small, pointed breasts.

‘Must’ve happened only a few minutes ago!’ he muttered as he righted himself. ‘And there’s the murder weapon!’ He pointed at a pair of scissors on the floor, stained with blood.

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