The Corpse Reader (43 page)

“As much as I’m able. My life has changed considerably since I married, but of course, you already know about that…” She paused for a moment before addressing Cí. “So, you’re looking into the Jin? You’re in luck, then, aren’t you? You can speak to the ambassador personally.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Kan. “The ambassador’s a busy man. Almost as busy as me!”

“And is he busy with women’s affairs, too?”

“Iris, Iris, always so ironic.” Kan grimaced. “Cí doesn’t want the words of a man versed in pure deception. He’s after the truth.”

“Can’t he speak for himself?” asked Blue Iris provocatively.

“I like to be respectful of my elders,” Cí said.

He saw she’d noticed the slight and allowed himself a wicked smile. Then he looked at Kan for some idea of where this was all heading. He was starting to sense that Kan and Blue Iris’s connection might not be a straightforward one.

Suddenly Cí saw a silhouette outlined against the lantern light. Cí thought it was the bronze maker from dinner. When Kan saw him, he got up.

“Please excuse me,” said the councilor as he headed after the bronze maker. “I have something to attend to.”

Cí chewed his lip. He was unsure of what to say. He drummed his fingers against the side of the teacup before bringing it to his mouth.

“Nervous?” asked Blue Iris.

“Should I be?”

Just then, he had the thought the tea might have been spiked and decided against drinking more. When he looked up, he noticed Blue Iris seemed to be staring at him oddly, but he didn’t know why.

“So,” she said. “Respect for your elders? How old are you?”

“Twenty-four,” he said, adding two years to his actual age.

“And how old would you say I am?”

Feeling protected by the darkness, Cí looked directly at Blue Iris. The orange light from the lantern softened her sculpted face and smoothed her few wrinkles. Her breasts were full under her silk
hanfu
robe, and her waist, which, since she was seated, was as far down as
Cí could see, was quite small. She didn’t seem uncomfortable as he looked at her body. Her strangely gray eyes sparkled.

“Thirty-five,” he said, though if he were being honest he would have said a few years older.

She arched an eyebrow.

“To work with Kan you need to be either fearless or stupid. Which would you say you are?”

Her bluntness surprised him. He didn’t know what she thought of him, but she must have been very sure of herself to criticize Kan to one of his employees, particularly one she’d never met before.

“Maybe I’m the kind of person who doesn’t insult people I don’t know,” he replied.

She grimaced and looked down, which Cí interpreted as a sort of apology.

“Sorry, but I’ve always had issues with that man.” She spilled some of the tea she was pouring. “He knows full well I have scant knowledge of the Jin, so I’m not sure how I can be of assistance.”

“Why don’t you tell me about your work? You’re clearly no housewife.”

“It’s low work,” she said, sipping her tea.

“I find that hard to believe.”

Blue Iris weighed her words for a moment.

“I inherited a salt export business. Dealings with barbarians are always tricky, but my father knew how to handle them and managed to set up some warehouses near the frontier. In spite of the obstacles the government put in his way, they became lucrative quite quickly. Now I run them.”

“Government obstacles?”

“Unhappy tales shouldn’t be told on happy occasions.”

“But from what you say, it sounds like risky work for a woman on her own.”

“Whoever said I was on my own?”

Cí, unsure how to respond, went back to his tea.

“Kan mentioned something about your husband. I suppose you mean him.”

“Kan talks too much. My husband is involved in lots of things,” she said bitterly.

“And where is now?”

“Abroad. He travels a lot. But why all the questions about him? I thought it was the Jin you were interested in.”

“Among other things.”

Cí felt the situation was getting out of hand. His fingers began drumming his cup again. The silence felt heavy, and he thought Blue Iris must be thinking the same. Time was against him, but he couldn’t think how to get the conversation going. She took out a fan, and, as she began fanning herself, Cí could suddenly smell an intense and familiar fragrance.

“Essence of Jade?”

“What?”

“The perfume, it’s Essence of Jade. How did you come by that?”

“That’s the kind of question you can ask only certain types of women,” she said, smiling coyly. “And an answer that can be given only to certain types of men.”

“Even so,” he said insistently.

Blue Iris’s answer was to finish her tea and get up to leave.

Cí was going to try to make her stay when suddenly there was an explosion. Cí looked up. The night sky was filled with brilliant green and red bursts of light.

“Fireworks!” Cí was awed by the flowery forms. “Beautiful.” He looked across at Blue Iris, expecting her to agree, but she wasn’t even watching. “Look,” he said.

At this, she turned toward him. Her eyes were motionless despite the explosions of light.

“I wish I could,” she said.

Cí watched as she turned away, searching out obstacles in her path with the use of a walking stick.

On his way back to the palace, Cí peered into the crowd—all the guests looked skyward, transfixed by the pyrotechnic display. He began searching for Kan, going to the balcony, the Welcome Hall, and the small annex rooms before trying the garden again. Cí sat and watched the fireworks until the display was over and the guests were swathed in a dense, acrid fog. Both the fog and the odor reminded Cí of the night Lu’s house had burned down, killing his family…

Cí’s thoughts turned to his father. Not a day passed that they didn’t.

It must have been after midnight when he finally caught sight of Kan moving through the thickets at the periphery of the gardens. He had someone with him. Cí headed toward them, but when he saw who it was, he froze. It was the Jin ambassador, and the two of them were having an animated conversation. Cí decided not to approach them. He was confused about everything, and the hours of drinking had had their effect.

The next morning another dead body was discovered. Cí was shaken awake by a surly official and led to the examination room. All he could tell Cí was that the body had been found just outside the palace walls. Kan was waiting for them when they got there, along with an inspector.

The body was laid out in the middle of the room. Like Soft Dolphin, it had been decapitated.

Cí scanned the superficial report that had already been filed—it noted little more than the number of wounds and the skin color. Then he asked permission to begin his own examination.

The first thing that drew his attention was the neck wound; unlike the eunuch’s, the edges of this one were ragged. Cí concluded that the murderer must have killed in a hurry. The opening in the chest was shallower than on the other bodies. There were scratches at the nape of the neck that extended to the shoulders. The backs of the hands and the sides of the ankles had similar scratch marks. Cí pointed them out to Kan.

“The body was dragged along the ground,” said Cí. It was dressed when it was dragged—otherwise the same scratches would have occurred on the buttocks.”

He removed the traces of dirt from under the fingernails and on the skin with his pincers, depositing them in a small jar. Then, noting that the arms and legs were too stiff to bend at the elbows or knees, which meant that rigor mortis was setting in, he estimated that the murder must have occurred within the past six hours.

Suddenly he stopped. He caught a waft of a familiar scent.

“Don’t you smell that?”

“What?” asked Kan.

“Perfume.”

He leaned in close to the wound on the chest and smelled around there. Frowning, he stood up. Essence of Jade, without a doubt. The same as he’d smelled on Blue Iris the previous evening. This, though, he decided not to mention to Kan.

“And the clothes?” Cí asked.

“The body was found naked,” said the councilor.

“No objects with him, or anything to help identify him?”

“No, nothing…”

“There were the rings,” pointed out the inspector.

“What rings?” said Cí.

“Oh, I forgot about them!” said Kan, showing Cí over to a small table on which a number of rings lay. Cí could hardly believe it.

“Don’t you recognize them?”

“No,” said Kan. “Why should I?”

“Because they belonged to the bronze maker we sat with last night.”

When Cí and Kan were alone, Cí expressed his reservations about Blue Iris’s involvement.

“She’s blind, for goodness’ sake!”

“That woman’s a devil, let me assure you,” said Kan. “Or if I’m wrong, tell me, how long did it take you to work out she was blind? How long did she have you fooled?”

“OK, but can you really imagine someone who can’t see cutting off heads and dragging bodies around?”

“Don’t be stupid!” Kan’s face hardened. “No one said it was she who was doing the actual dirty work.”

“Ah! No? In that case, who?”

“If I knew that, would I be here helping you?” roared Kan, and he took a swipe at Cí’s equipment, scattering it across the floor.

Blood rushed to Cí’s face. He took a deep breath and began picking up his things.

“Councilor, everybody knows there are many kinds of killers. But let’s put aside the kind who doesn’t set out intending to kill: normal people who lose their grip on reason in a fight, or find their woman in bed with another man. Those are the people who would never murder if they were in their right mind.” He finished picking up his equipment. “Let’s turn our thoughts to the true murderers, the monsters.

“There are groups within this group. Some act out of a kind of lustiness, and they are as insatiable as sharks. In general they kill women and children, and they don’t tend to be happy
only
killing. First they profane and destroy; later they massacre. Then there are the violent ones: men capable of taking a life at the tiniest provocation, like tigers who seem quite calm but then devour a person just for pulling out a whisker. Next are the visionaries: made fanatical by ideals or by their involvement in sects, they carry out the most execrable savageries; they are like fighting dogs. But the fourth group is the strangest: they take pleasure from killing. And they can’t be likened to any animal; the evil that dwells in them is infinitely worse. Now, tell me, which group would you put that woman in? The lusty one? The violent one? The visionary one? Or perhaps the pleasure one?”

Kan looked sidelong at Cí.

“Cí, Cí, Cí…I don’t doubt your abilities when it comes to bones, weapons, or worms. For all I know, you could write books, give lectures,” he roared. “But for all your wisdom, you’ve neglected to mention one important group, more bloodthirsty than most, shrewd, calculating: the snakes. A snake is capable of waiting coiled up until just the right moment, hypnotizing the victim before unleashing the deadly poison. This kind of killer is motivated by the venom of revenge, a hate so strong it corrupts the very heart. And, I swear to you, Blue Iris is just such a person.”