The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 13 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Lahan and the Dangling Corpse (Part Two)

When Lahan saw his little sister for the first time in almost a year, she was not looking very happy. It turned out there hadn’t been any need to have Sanfan write a letter specifically to summon her.

“Hullo, Little Sister.”

The very first words out of Maomao’s mouth were “Scram, Abacus-Specs.”

“Maaaooomaaaooooo!”

Lakan was right beside her and tried to give her a hug, but she jammed a broom handle into his cheek to hold him at a safe distance. Where had she gotten that broom? Lahan was mystified.

“Maomao, perhaps you could show a modicum of compassion for him?”

“Would you, in my place?”

“Absolutely not.”

With that, Lahan turned to the two people who had accompanied Maomao. One was Dr. Liu, the head official for medical matters at court. He was a man of stern mien, of the same generation as Lahan’s granduncle, Luomen.

The other was a much younger man, of average build and with a less-than-serious look on his face.

“So where’s this dead body?” the young man asked. He looked inordinately interested, and Dr. Liu promptly rapped him on the head with a knuckle.

“That’s enough out of you, Tianyu,” the doctor said.

Tianyu—so that was his name. Not that Lahan cared about this information. To him it looked like Maomao had been accompanied by yet another troublemaker—but this troublemaker had given Lahan an excellent segue into the matter at hand, so he would let it pass. If Lakan tried anything funny, Lahan could just foist him on Maomao. Although he didn’t doubt Maomao was having the same thought about him.

“I’m not made of free time. Perhaps you would kindly show us the body? I expect the Moon Prince to give a report on our return this afternoon. I don’t have time to dally,” Dr. Liu said. It was clear that he was quietly angry. The report by the expedition to the western capital concerned Lakan as well. Lahan was as eager as the good doctor to get this over with.

“This way, please,” Onsou said, leading them into the room. They had decided to wait somewhere other than the office, as the situation was clearly too much for Young Junjie. He was a dedicated boy, though, and had asked if there was anything he could do, so Lahan had set him to cleaning another room that Lakan sometimes used. It was stuffed full of junk Lakan had piled up there the way a dog might collect slippers.

“If you’ll pardon my saying so, the La seem to go rather too easy on their own relations,” Dr. Liu said, looking at Lakan, Maomao, and then Lahan.

“What’s wrong with being smitten with my own daughter?” Lakan answered as if this were a perfectly ordinary conversation. You could lead a horse to a charged room, but you couldn’t make him read it.

Dr. Liu was no fool; he had to know that nothing he said to Lakan would make any difference. He walked casually into the office. “This is our man?” he asked. The “Lance” was still dangling from the ceiling. Lahan had given instructions that the body not be taken down. “Can’t get a very good look at him like this.”

Dr. Liu narrowed his eyes, but the man called Tianyu was downright excited. “Wow! He’s dead! He’s dead, all right.”

“You said the body was unusual, but it’s just a hanging,” Maomao muttered. She probably thought she had said it silently, but her thoughts frequently came out of her mouth in spite of herself. Lahan had instructed the messenger to say that the body was “unusual” because that implied the cause of death was unknown, which made it conceivable that there was poison involved. If he’d said in so many words that it was a hanging, Maomao would never have been interested. Lahan knew very well that Maomao would be loath to come to Lakan’s office. He’d had to manufacture a reason for her to come.

“You found him hanging here? Doesn’t that pretty much make it a suicide?” Tianyu asked. He was rewarded with another knuckle from Dr. Liu.

“Investigate! Don’t jump to conclusions based on the first thing you see. Making assumptions will only skew your judgment.” He sounded a lot like Maomao’s granduncle Luomen.

“I presume the fact that you’ve left the scene undisturbed implies you have some reason to believe this wasn’t a suicide.” Dr. Liu was already studying the body.

“That’s right, sir,” Onsou said, answering on behalf of Lakan. It was more appropriate for him to handle this conversation than for Lahan to do all the talking. “If it were a suicide, it would create a contradiction.”

“What kind of contradiction?”

Onsou answered the doctor’s question by presenting a piece of rope. “We cut this piece of rope to match the one around the man’s, Wang Fang’s, neck. We wanted to compare it with the distance from the toppled chair, to see if it would have been possible for him to hang himself.”

If a person was going to hang themselves, they had to be able to get the noose within about thirty centimeters of the chair, or they’d never be able to get their neck through it, no matter how they stretched and strained.

To Lahan’s eyes, the world was overflowing with numbers—and this contradiction was not beautiful.

“If he kicked the chair over as he jumped, then this doesn’t make sense,” Tianyu offered.

Lahan answered in lieu of Onsou. “The chair is lying with the backrest up. It would have to have spun a hundred and eighty degrees as it fell to end up like this. After all, it would be very hard to hang yourself facing toward the back rest.”

Maomao was quiet, perhaps because Tianyu was being so loud. She continued to try to keep her distance from Lakan, who was holding out a snack; Maomao was sniffing dubiously.

“Hrm. I take it you didn’t let the body down because there’s something you wanted me to double check,” Dr. Liu said.

“Precisely,” replied Onsou.

“And the chair hasn’t been moved?”

“Would you like me to call one of the onlookers to testify?”

Dr. Liu, it seemed, was a man who liked to be clear about things. He was suspicious where suspicion was warranted. He looked like he could be a hard man, but he didn’t seem the type to bend the truth, so Lahan didn’t dislike him.

“I must say, I’m surprised you felt the need to come yourself, Dr. Liu,” said Onsou, who apparently had hoped for some more junior medical personnel. His polite smile caused his right cheek to rise exactly three millimeters.

“It was the way you said to send the apprentices. They need someone to oversee them, don’t they?”

In other words, he wanted to make sure his people couldn’t be part of any cover-up.

“All right. Bring down the body, if you would.”

“Certainly.” Onsou summoned a subordinate and instructed him to lower the body to the ground. “If you would all be so kind as to have a seat and wait.”

“Don’t mind if I do!” Tianyu said, promptly claiming a spot on the couch.

“I’m happy to stand,” Dr. Liu said.

“Me too,” said Maomao, and the two of them did just that.

Even given that the rope holding the body up was cut before the body was fully on the floor, it was difficult work. The “Lance,” Wang Fang, had been a military man, and built like one. His corpse was quite a heavy load.

According to the report, Wang Fang had first been spotted by Lakan two years before. Lakan, being an excellent judge of people and quick to act, soon hired him. The man was practically made for battle, and took care of the job Lakan assigned him in lieu of a test with no trouble at all. The report noted that Wang Fang was ambitious to the point of greed—but suggested that with proper oversight, it shouldn’t be a problem.

Perhaps it wouldn’t have been, but with Lakan gone, Wang Fang hadn’t had that oversight.

“Finally got him down,” Dr. Liu remarked. The body was laid out on a cloth, and it was so not beautiful that Lahan, quite honestly, wished he could avert his eyes. The skin, which had been supple in life, was now bluish and pale, and fluids seeped from the body’s various holes.

“Tianyu.”

“Yessir!”

Dr. Liu was telling the young man to take the first look. Maomao positioned herself behind Tianyu and peeked at the body.

“What do you think?” the doctor asked.

“You can see fingernail marks on his neck. They show he fought the rope, trying to escape.” Tianyu looked surprisingly serious. He might have seemed a frivolous person, but apparently he really was a physician.

Maomao nodded and also looked at the body. “I’d say he suffered.”

“I’d say he did.”

“Doesn’t one usually suffer when one is hanged by the neck?” Onsou asked, perplexed by their exchange.

It was Dr. Liu who answered. “If you drop with enough force, the joints of the neck dislocate and you lose consciousness. In which case, you wouldn’t struggle.”

“So it’s an easy death,” said Onsou.

“Not necessarily. Get it wrong and it’s going to be very unpleasant. I can’t recommend it.” At that, Onsou gave the most pained of smiles. Dr. Liu continued, “All right, take off his clothes.”

“Yes, sir.” Tianyu began to strip the body. Maomao helped.

“What’s this? You’re helping?” Lahan asked. From what he remembered, Maomao was under Luomen’s strict instructions not to touch a dead body.

“Because this is work. I have my old man’s permission,” she said. She showed no sign of fear as she removed the clothing from the corpse. Lahan wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that his little sister seemed so used to stripping a male body bare, even if this one was dead.

“Maomao! Don’t touch something so filthy!” said Lakan. He was one to talk; he was covered in snacks. Lahan was almost impressed that he could eat in the presence of a dead man.

“From the livor mortis on the feet, I’d say this guy’s been dead a long time. How long would you say, Niangniang?”

“At least half a day, certainly. The reddening of the lower body is quite acute.”

Tianyu plucked at the skin. “Mm. From the toughness of the flesh, I’d say not more than sixteen hours ago.” Dr. Liu didn’t say anything, so he evidently agreed. “Even granting a margin of error, he would have died sometime in the evening or night.”

Lahan touched his spectacles. What had this man been doing here so long after work hours? “You do believe he died from the hanging?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” Tianyu replied. Again Dr. Liu didn’t contradict him.

“Do you think you can say whether it was suicide or homicide?” Onsou asked.

“Can’t tell that for sure. Like I said, the position of the chair makes me think he didn’t do this to himself, but I don’t think I could say for certain.”

This time, Dr. Liu actually nodded. Maomao, meanwhile, squinted up at the rafter overhead.

“What’s the matter, Little Sister?” asked Lahan.

She didn’t answer, but only stomped on his toes. Unfortunately for her, he’d packed material into the toes of his shoes, which distinctly blunted the impact.

“What’s the matter?” he asked again.

“I was just looking at the rope up there. I think it’s tied like a lasso. That way, you wouldn’t have to use a ladder.”

“A lasso?”

“Maybe it would be quicker to show you.” Maomao glanced at Dr. Liu for permission. He might get angry if she just started doing things on her own.

It was Onsou who gave her the go-ahead. “Do please show us, if you would. Is there anything you’ll need?”

“A rope similar to the one used in the hanging. And if you have a rock that can be tied to it, that would be helpful.”

Maomao hardly listened to anything Lahan had to say, but she seemed relatively pliant with Onsou. Lahan wasn’t sure whether Maomao realized it herself, but that preference for put-upon folks bore the distinct sign of Luomen’s influence.

“If I may, then.” Maomao took the rope and tied the rock to the end of it, then spun it around before tossing it up, where it arced between the beam and the ceiling.

“And how are you supposed to attach that to a post?”

“Look at the knot on the rope that’s up on the beam and you’ll get it. You do this—” Maomao made a loose loop with the end of the rope and passed the other end through it. “And then pull on this.” She cinched the rope tight to the beam.

“So that’s how it works,” Lahan said.

“That’s how what works?”

“I was just thinking, if it was homicide, how would they have killed him?”

The culprit would have been dealing with a powerfully built soldier—not someone who could be easily strangled. What if they were to use the ceiling beam? Then they wouldn’t have to have the strength to physically wring his neck.

“You hang him from the rafters by the neck—then you could kill him without having to be very strong.” Not to mention, that would be no sign of anything but a hanging.

“Pretty much. Although it would still be impossible for someone like me.” Maomao gave the rope a tug. She could hardly have weighed half what the dead soldier did.

“True enough. Even a man like me probably couldn’t have managed it. Not for a burly, heavy military man like that. The possible culprits my father indicated hardly seemed like they could have murdered someone so large.”

Lahan thought of the onlookers that Lakan had been watching.

“Culprits? You mean the old fart already knows who did it?” Maomao immediately scowled.

“Uh-huh! Daddy figured it out right away!”

“Ugh!”

Suddenly, Lakan was at Maomao’s side. She immediately backed up. “Eat this...please.” She just managed to sound passably polite, but there was nothing polite about the way she grabbed the nearest snack and flung it, like one would for a dog. Lakan went running after it.

“Don’t waste food,” Lahan said.

“He’ll eat the whole thing and you know it.” Maomao clapped her hands to get the crumbs off them. Well, that takes care of that, she seemed to say. Dr. Liu was looking at her like he had an opinion on all this, but he was loath to stick up for Lakan, so then he decided to pretend he hadn’t seen anything.

“If you know who did it, why’d you call a doctor?” Maomao asked.

“My honored father may know who committed the crime, but he can’t say why or how. I suppose we know how, now. Which leaves me wondering what the motive could have been.”

“The motive, right...” Maomao glanced toward the couch.

“You know?”

“More or less.”

“Enlighten me, Little Sister.”

If it turned out the murder had been arranged by Lakan’s subordinates to get back at the traitor, that would be a problem. Lahan hoped they could deal with this as quietly as possible.

“I don’t really want to say,” Maomao told him.

“You have to, or I’m going to be late for the report with the Moon Prince.”

Maomao didn’t look very happy, but she started talking. “The motive isn’t anything especially profound. The killer was female, yes?”

“Excellent guess.”

Lahan was genuinely impressed. Lakan had said “white Go stone.” In general, with him, white Go stones were women and black ones were men.

Maomao sniffed. “It’s very simple: The deceased is a man, and the killer was a woman.”

“That’s what it boils down to, eh?”

“Uh-huh.” Maomao looked down at the now naked body with disinterest. To someone who had grown up in the pleasure district, fraught relationships between men and women were nothing new.

“If you knew all that, you could have said something,” Lahan said, irked by his sister’s reticence. Still, he understood why Maomao had refrained from explaining the motive. Luomen, the man who had raised Maomao, detested baseless assumptions, and had instilled in her the belief that one should not speak too lightly, or based on guesswork alone—perhaps because those in vulnerable positions could so easily be brought to disaster by a few stray words.

“Very well. As Maomao won’t say what she means, shall I be the one to give the explanation?” Lahan asked. Once Maomao had confirmed that the killer was a woman, he had a pretty good idea of where she was going.

“No, I can do it,” said Maomao.

“Well, now.” Lahan wondered what it could mean for her to say that. In the past, she would have gladly let someone else take the lead, instead of having to talk herself. “I see there’s been some change in you, Maomao, but you should hold off. It would be better if I did the talking. Could you explain it to us?”

“All right. I’d like to confirm a few things, though.”

“Like what?”

“What kind of woman the killer is.”

“What do you mean, what kind?” Lahan thought back on the crowd of onlookers, recalling the women who had been there. “There were three of them, but I don’t actually know which one did the crime.”

“Three of them,” Maomao echoed, looking up at the rafters. “You know, don’t you, Lahan, that it would be impossible for a woman to make it look as if a big, strong soldier had hanged himself?”

“I suppose. You’re suggesting that it would have been impossible for a woman to commit the crime?” The victim probably weighed at least twice what his supposed killer did.

“Then how do you make the impossible possible? Consider the motive, and the answer reveals itself. If one woman couldn’t do it, what do you need?”

“If one woman couldn’t... Ah. I see what you mean!” Lahan clapped his hands as the realization hit. It was simplicity itself.

Maomao didn’t say another word, but only turned around. Maybe it was because of the steady stare that her boss Dr. Liu had fixed on her. He not only had to keep an eye on Maomao, but also try to restrain Tianyu’s interest in the corpse. With subordinates like that, it couldn’t be easy being him.

Lakan, meanwhile, was reclining on the couch, nibbling on the snack Maomao had thrown. It would be time for his midday nap soon. Lahan looked at him with a moderately conflicted expression on his face.

“Sir Onsou,” he said to Lakan’s aide. “Would you call the three women who were in that crowd earlier?”

“Right away.”

“Thank you.”

Judging from the position of the sun, they just had time until noon. Lahan half closed his eyes, his heart growing heavy.