The Eight Curious Cases of Inspector Zhang (3 page)

“Do you think that's what happened?” asked Sergeant Lee.

“That's simply not possible,” said Miss Berghuis. “When a call is made to our room service section, the number flashes up on the phone. An order would not be accepted if it came from outside the hotel.”

Inspector Zhang nodded thoughtfully. “And of course he spoke to his wife after he had ordered from room service so I do not think that Ms. Lulu was the killer. We can assume that it was indeed Mr. Wilkinson that she spoke to,” he said. “I cannot believe that a wife could be fooled by an imposter. So, that then brings us to number six on Mr. Carr's list. One of the more complicated of his explanations for a locked room murder, and one of the most successful in works of fiction. In such a situation we have a murder that although committed by somebody outside the room nevertheless appears to have been committed by someone inside the room.”

Mercier scratched his bald head. “That doesn't make sense,” he said.

“Oh, Mr. Mercier, it makes perfect sense,” said Inspector Zhang. “Take, for instance, the icicle dagger that Mr. Carr spoke of. Suppose it could be fired through an open window or through a hole drilled into the door. Or a knife thrower in a room opposite the building who throws a knife through an open window but has it tied to a length of string so that he can pull the weapon back. It thus appears that the killer was inside the room when in fact he was outside all the time.”

“But the windows are sealed and there are no holes in the door, and besides the main door opens into the sitting room, there is another door off that to the bedroom,” said the manager. “The ice dagger would have to turn through ninety degrees and pass through two doors.”

Inspector Zhang sighed. “Madam, I am not suggesting for one moment that Mr. Wilkinson was killed by a weapon made from ice.”

“Well you are the one who keeps mentioning it,” said the manager, flashing him a withering look. “And if the knife didn't melt, where is it?”

“Exactly,” said Inspector Zhang. “You have put your finger on the crux of the conundrum. Where is the knife? If indeed it was a knife.”

“Do you know?” asked Mercier. “Why are you asking us if you know?”

“I was being rhetorical,” said Inspector Zhang. He took off his glasses and began to methodically polish them with his handkerchief. “I am not sure where the murder weapon is, but I have my suspicions. However, let me first finish Mr. Carr's list of explanations with the seventh, which is effectively the exact opposite of the fifth.”

Everyone frowned as they tried to remember what the inspector had said was the fifth method. They all looked around, shrugging at each other.

Sergeant Lee walked over to Inspector Zhang and whispered in his ear. “Inspector Zhang, I need to talk to you,” she said.

“Sergeant Lee, I am in full flow here,” he said. “Can't it wait?”

“No, sir, it can not,” said the sergeant.

Inspector Zhang sighed with annoyance then nodded at the door to the bedroom. “This had better be important,” he said.

They went through to the bedroom and stood at the foot of the bed. “What is it, Sergeant Lee?” asked the inspector. “You seem concerned.”

“Sir, we really should be calling in the Forensic Department,” she said. She looked at her watch. “It will soon be midnight.”

“Not yet,” said Inspector Zhang. “I think we can solve this case without resorting to science.”

“But it's procedure, sir. And we have to follow procedure.”

“Sergeant Lee, you know that I speak Japanese, don't you?”

She nodded. “It came in very useful when we were working on the case of the sushi chef who ran amok in his restaurant,” she said.

“Exactly,” said Inspector Zhang. “But do you know why I studied Japanese?”

The sergeant shook her head.

“There is a famous Japanese writer named Soji Shimada who wrote thirteen locked room mysteries, only one of which –
The Tokyo Zodiac Murders
– was translated into English. I wanted to read his other stories, which is why I taught myself Japanese.”

“I understand, Inspector Zhang.”

“This is important to me, Sergeant Lee. This is a mystery that I can solve. I want to prove that to myself.” He smiled. “And perhaps to prove to you that even in the third millennium there is a need for real detectives.”

“Like Batman?”

“I was thinking more like Sherlock Holmes,” said Inspector Zhang. “We have an opportunity here that we may never have again in our lives. In Singapore we are lucky if we have one murder a year.”

“Lucky, sir?”

Inspector Zhang put up his hand. “You are right; lucky is not the right word. Murders are rare in Singapore. Our island state is the most tightly controlled place on the planet; our government knows everything there is to know about its citizens, so our crime rate is one of the lowest in the world.”

“Plus we execute our murderers,” said Sergeant Lee. “Which does act as something of a deterrent.”

“Exactly. So do you not see how special this case is, Sergeant Lee? Most detectives would give their eye teeth to work on a case such as this, yet all you want to do is to hand it over to the scientists.” He looked around as if he feared being overheard. “And what if we have a serial killer, Sergeant Lee?”

“We have only one victim,” said the sergeant.

“That we know of,” said Inspector Zhang, fighting to stop his voice from trembling. “What if there are more? What if we have on our hands a real live serial killer?” He shuddered. “Can you imagine that, Sergeant Lee?”

The sergeant nodded, but didn't reply.

“You know that Singapore has only ever had one serial killer?” said the inspector.

“Yes, sir. Adrian Lim.”

“Exactly, Sergeant,” said the inspector. Every detective on the island knew of the case, of course. It was taught at the academy. The Toa Payoh Ritual Murders. The killings had taken place in 1981, the year that Inspector Zhang had joined the Singapore Police Force. Adrian Lim, who murdered two children as sacrifices to the Hindu goddess Kali. Lim and his two female accomplices were hanged in 1988.

“But he was caught by forensic evidence,” said Sergeant Lee. “Police found a trail of blood leading to the flat.”

“Exactly,” said Inspector Zhang. “Which is why I want to use deduction to solve this case. All the evidence we need is here, Sergeant Lee. All we have to do is to apply our deductive skills. Do you see that? Do you understand?”

The sergeant nodded slowly. “Yes, sir, I understand.”

He patted her on the back. “Excellent,” he said. “Let me now finish my questioning,” he said. “And you might give some thought as to what this case will be called, because I am sure that it will become the subject of much discussion so it will need a name.”

“A name, sir?”

“A title. The Locked Hotel Room Murder, for instance. Or The Vanished Knife. Inspector Zhang and The Mystery Of The Disappearing Knife. What do you think?”

“I'm not sure, sir,” said Sergeant Lee.

“Well give it some thought, Sergeant,” said Inspector Zhang as he headed for the door.

Miss Berghuis was deep in conversation with her head of security when Inspector Zhang and Sergeant Lee walked back into the sitting room, but they stopped talking immediately and looked expectantly at the two detectives.

Inspector Zhang walked over to the window and turned to face the hotel staff. “So, to continue, Mr. Carr's seventh and final locked room scenario involves a situation where the victim is assumed to be dead before he or she actually is. That is the reverse of situation number five of course, where the victim is dead, but presumed to be alive.”

“So that would mean that Mr. Wilkinson wasn't actually dead when Mr. Chau went into the room?” asked Miss Berghuis.

“He was,” said the waiter. “I'm sure he was dead.”

“But you're not a doctor, Mr. Chau,” said Inspector Zhang, “In the confusion, it might have looked as if he was dead but the actual murder was committed later.”

“That's impossible,” said Mercier. “He was definitely dead when I got here.”

“And you were here soon after the waiter made the call to reception?”

Mercier nodded. “You saw the CCTV footage. Everybody was there within a few minutes at most.”

“He was definitely dead,” agreed the manager. “You only had to look at the body. At the blood.”

“But there was a moment when the waiter was alone with the body,” said Inspector Zhang. “When he made the phone call. At that moment he was alone in the room with Mr. Wilkinson, and we have only Mr. Chau's word that Mr. Wilkinson was dead.”

“I didn't kill him,” said Mr. Chau hurriedly, his eyes darting from side to side.

“I didn't say that you did,” said Inspector Zhang. “I merely stated that you were alone with Mr. Wilkinson and you had the opportunity of killing him if he hadn't been dead already. It is one way of solving a locked room mystery. The room is locked, but the person who discovers the body is the killer. He kills the victim then calls for the police.” He shrugged. “It happens, but I do not think it happened in this case.”

The waiter looked relieved and loosened his shirt collar.

“Besides, if you did kill Mr. Wilkinson, where is the knife?” asked Inspector Zhang.

“Actually, Inspector Zhang, we haven't searched anyone yet,” said Sergeant Lee.

“And there is no need to search Mr. Chau, Sergeant,” said the inspector. “What we need to do now is to go back downstairs to the security office; for it is there that the solution lies.”

“All of us?” said the manager. “Surely we don't all need to go?”

“It is the tradition, Madam,” said Inspector Zhang. “The detective gathers together the cast of characters and explains the solution to them before unmasking the killer.”

The manager laughed, and it was like the harsh bark of an angry dog. “Inspector Zhang, this is not some country house where the butler did it. Just tell us who the killer is.”

“It is not a country house, that is true, but a five-star hotel is the closest thing that we have in Singapore,” said Inspector Zhang. “Now please humour me and accompany me down to the ground floor.”

The inspector led them out of the room and down the corridor to the elevators. He took the first one down with Mercier, the waiter, Miss Berghuis and one of the two uniformed policemen. Sergeant Lee followed in a second elevator with the two assistant managers and the other uniformed policeman. They gathered together outside the security room and Inspector Zhang led them inside. He waved a languid hand at the chair in front of the monitors. “Mr. Mercier, perhaps you would do the honours.”

The head of security sat down and ran a hand over his scalp. “We've already looked at the CCTV footage,” he said.

“We looked, but did we really see what happened?” asked the inspector. He waited until everyone had gathered behind Mercier's chair before asking him to begin the recording from the point at which Mr. Wilkinson and the prostitute stepped out of the elevator.

“Here we can see Mr. Wilkinson and his guest arriving at eight-thirty,” said Inspector Zhang. “Very much alive, obviously.”

He watched as Wilkinson and the woman went inside. “She left an hour later. Please skip to that point, Mr. Mercier.”

Mercier tapped a key and the video began to fast-forward. He slowed to normal speed just before nine-thirty in time to see Ms. Lulu leave the room.

“Now, at this point Mr. Wilkinson ordered his club sandwich and coffee from room service, so again we know that he is still very much alive.”

“So who killed him?” asked Miss Berghuis. “If the woman left the room and no one goes in before the waiter, who stabbed him?”

“That is an excellent question, Madam,” said Inspector Zhang.

“But can you answer it, Inspector?” asked the manager, tersely.

“I think I can,” said Inspector Zhang. “The key to solving this mystery lies in understanding that it is not who goes into the room that is important. It is who does not go in.”

“That doesn't make any sense at all,” said the manager crossly.

“I beg to differ,” said Inspector Zhang. “It makes all the sense in the world. It is as Sherlock Holmes himself says in Arthur Conan Doyle's masterpiece
The Adventure of Silver Blaze,
it is the fact that the dog did not bark that is significant.”

“We do not allow dogs in the hotel,” said Mercier. “There are no pets of any kind.”

Sergeant Lee looked up from her notebook, smiling, and Inspector Zhang sighed. “I was using the story as an example to show that it is sometimes the absence of an event that is significant, which was the case in
The Adventure of Silver Blaze.
If I recall correctly it is Inspector Gregory who asks Sherlock Holmes if there is anything about the case that he wants to draw to the policeman's attention. Holmes says yes, to the curious incident of the dog in the night-time. That confuses the inspector who tells Holmes that the dog did nothing in the night-time. To which Holmes replies, ‘That was the curious incident.' Do you understand now, Madam?”

She shook her head impatiently. “No, Inspector, I am afraid I do not.”

“Then, Madam, please allow me to demonstrate,” said Inspector Zhang. He put a hand on Mercier's shoulder. “Please, Mr. Mercier, fast-forward now to the point where the waiter arrives with the room service trolley.”

“This is a waste of time,” said Mercier. “We did this already.”

“Please humour me,” said the inspector.

Mercier did as he asked and they all watched as the video fast-forwarded to the point where Mr. Chau arrived with his trolley and began knocking on the door.

“Normal speed now, please, Mr. Mercier.” The video slowed as they watched the waiter use his key card to enter the room.