MobileChelonian

My name is Liu Qingdao. I’m a private detective in Hong Kong, and I’m a girl. As far as I know, I’m the only one still operating independently of the larger, official agencies. The rest of them have gone out business or disappeared in the last year. I started in Shanghai, as a policewoman on the mainland, but quickly figured out that being a single woman with a mouth that won’t quit doesn’t play too well there. So I came to Hong Kong to seek my fortune and maybe make some money. I’d been here three weeks before I got my first case - this one. A simple enough spouse surveillance - a British woman whose husband was an executive for a global shipping concern had the idea that he was cheating on her. Worse, that he was cheating on her with a dirty Kowloon hooker. Naturally, it wasn’t that simple. Turns out the guy wasn’t just cheating on his wife, he was cheating on his company - industrial espionage. The hooker turned out to be a rival shipping company employee, and she was pumping him for business secrets, among other things. I hadn’t told the wife yet, because I figured if I could get proof of this, and turn him over to his employers, I might make even more money off it. Unethical? Maybe - but this is Hong Kong. Worse goes down every night, and so far nobody had died yet.
Well, besides my partner, but he was a jerk, and not very good in bed.



I was gone from the scene before the cops showed up, two blocks over in a tiny Cantonese bar, with a cold Tsingtao and a case of the shakes. I had a drink, and some thoughts. First, I knew that this was a stakeout gone bad - the timing was all off. We were supposed to have gotten there just in time to catch the husband sharing intellectual property and bodily fluids with Miss “X” the supposed hooker. But the more I thought about it, the less I liked the setup. My partner had done all the legwork, claimed he knew what time this meeting was. This was after 2 weeks of turning up absolutely nothing, and generally impeding my progress. I suspected he’d been bought to keep me off the trail. So why the change of heart? Secondly, who had shot him? I thought back to the brief glimpse I’d gotten of the shooter. He was wearing a red shirt, and had longish dark hair. That sure narrowed it down. It didn’t match the description of the husband, so who was the third player? Did my partner get fed bad info on purpose? Was the whole thing a setup? Without realizing it, I had finished my beer and was halfway through another.

About then, my cell phone rang. The number was an unlisted one, and like an idiot, I answered it.
“Hello, this is the office of Mai Chow, how may I help you.”
There was an silence, then an amused voice said, “Thank you, Mai Chow.” And hung up. I stared at the phone for a minute with a cold feeling in my stomach. Then I got a tap on my shoulder, and a friendly arm around my back.
“So Miss Liu, I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight. I’ll take you someplace more comfortable for a chat. Something hard poked me in the side, and I didn’t think it was because the guy was happy to see me. I got up, grabbed my purse, and walked outside. I was escorted into a very nice black SUV where a large friendly man in a two piece tweed suit and a bored look sat next to me. Not so bored I felt like trying something though - no door handles on the inside. Cute. There was a blindfold placed on my head, which I thought was overly theatrical. I started to say so, but thought better of it. I was gonna die, why bother?

There was starting and stopping, quick accelerations, but nothing jarring. After about 25 minutes we parked, and a door opened. I was led out, and into a building. It smelled nice, like dry-cleaned clothes and apples. When the blindfold was removed, I was in an elevator with Tweed Suit. The elevator rose quietly, smooth as mercury going up a thermometer. I was impressed, though I tried hard not to show it. The guy standing next to me with my arm in his and his gun at my back might have respected me less if I gawked at his elevator. So I looked instead at the nice wooden paneling and thought of what I might have done, if I hadn’t had all that booze in me.
Eventually there was a chime like two silver bracelets , and the door slid open. I was hustled through it and into a nice penthouse apartment. It was pretty nice, furnished like a trendy interior designer’s wet dream, if the designer had a thing for stylized dragons and lacquer. All red and black. In front of me stood a short, powerfully built man in a blazer who looked at me with neutral colored eyes and a dark moustache.
“So, why the phone call?” I asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
“We weren’t sure what you looked like, but when you answered the phone, Dutch here knew who to…greet.” The voice purred like a mountain lion. “Smart,” I heard myself say distantly.
“Down to business, shall we? I understand you’re after a friend of mine. A gentleman of considerable talent, I have to say.”
“Do you mean the adultering, lying, company-secrets-stealing asshole who just got my partner shot?”
“Oh, he didn’t have anything to do with that. That was Scarlet.” He gestured, and a pretty, small-faced Korean woman came out from behind him. She was wearing, of course, a red shirt and had long dark hair. She made a moue at me. I stared hard at her, and she blinked and looked away.
“Scarlet here has done a very good job of facilitating an exchange of information between two rival companies, of which I own considerable stock in both. Very soon, the Nikkei will get an unpleasant surprise…but enough shop talk. You are a problem to me, Miss Qingdao. You know a little bit too much for my comfort, despite our efforts to keep you out of it. “
“You mean buying off my partner and then having him killed?”
“He’d still be alive if he hadn’t gotten greedy,” Moustache replied sharply. “A lesson I hope you’ll take to heart. I am prepared to compensate you for your silence in this matter, what little you know. Take my offer now, there won’t be another one.”
That was when I knew I was definitely, going to die.






There was no reason to pay me off - when a body is just as quiet and much, much cheaper. If he had been for real, there would have been haggling, and I’d have never gotten a look at his face. I was a detective long enough to know that much. The way I figured, I had one way out of this. Well, two, but I didn’t foresee myself developing an immunity to lead. I thought quickly, and smiled as hard a smile as I’d ever cracked.
“If you reach into my purse, or allow me to, you will find a police department badge for the city of Shanghai. I am here working directly for the Security Bureau. The man I have been following is under investigation, and I am here on official business. I am telling you this, so you are clear and do not try to bribe me again.” I tried to sound imperious and unimpressed. He jerked his head at Tweed Suit, who reached into my purse. After a bit of digging - he came up with my badge, shiny and golden, just like Truth. He tossed it at Moustache, who looked at it very carefully, and handed it back to me.
“It looks real, but you are far out of your normal jurisdiction. I apologize for trying to bribe you, and you are free to go. Please do not report this to your superiors.” His manner was insolent, but not nearly as angry as I hoped. I looked as haughty as I could manage in jeans and tennis shoes, and I followed Tweed Suit back down into (it was a hotel) the lobby. I knew all I had done was buy myself a little time. Even now he was running down my badge number and information, and soon he’d find out the truth and come gunning for me again. He wasn’t a big risk taker, and even on the chance I was legit he wouldn’t dirty his hands by killing me in his hotel. But a traffic accident, or a mugging…I hurried out of the hotel and down to the street level to catch a cab to the train station. There was no way I was going home - but there was one person I knew they wouldn’t want involved in this. And I was going to involve her.

I caught the MTR line at Tsim Tsa Shui station and took it across the bay. I got off at Admiralty, and started walking fast, staying in the light and looking back a lot. Nothing so far. It wouldn’t be hard to track me down this late at night, since there weren’t that many people crowding the streets. I checked the address in my purse, and started walking towards my employer’s flat. She lived in a nice new block of apartments not far from the station. I was unpleasantly sober by the time I found the entrance, and walked up. I had her gate code memorized from the last time I came by - she seemed to trust me. That might be about to backfire on her, I thought.
She was on the third floor, and I stopped as soon as the elevator door opened. Something was wrong. I hurried quietly towards her door, which was partially open. Inside was a man with his back to me and a broken vase on the floor at his feet. In front of him, was my employer on a crème sofa, in a plum colored dress with an ugly dark spot spreading below her left breast. She started sightlessly at the ceiling. Without thinking about it, I put my hand on my gun. The man laughed, and I realized it was her husband. The asshole. “Shouldn’t have gone hiring snoops!”, he told her. “Fucking women, always prying.” I must have made a sound, because he whirled. In his right hand was a long barreled .22 pistol. He pulled the trigger, but I had mine out first. My Smith and Wesson .40 coughed twice, and he jerked back, and pitched forward into the Berber carpet. I didn’t have a vase to drop to cover my gunshot, and anyway, a .40 is a hell of a lot louder than a .22. Cops would be here in a hurry, nice neighborhood like this. I poked my head outside and looked around. No nosy neighbors yet, but I could hear activity coming from behind more than one door. I hurried into a stairwell and made my way back down. No sense in waiting for the police - me with a phony badge and no firearm permit. And one of my slugs from my unregistered gun in the sternum of a dead guy. Nope, no cops. I walked back outside and hailed a cab. He took me to an all-night bar, where I downed three fingers of Scotch before my phone rang. I answered it just “Hello” this time. It was Moustache.
“We know who you are, and that you are no police officer. You’re clever, and you have guts - and now the one person would could really testify against me is dead. It will be a domestic dispute that ended tragically as long as you keep your mouth shut. You did me a favor, actually.” There was a very dry chuckle.
“So we’re clear then?” I asked, trying to sound totally sober.
“Yes. For now. I might even have a job for you, one day. But if you cross me, you will go down, hard.” There was a click, and just like that, the night was over.

So, I’d lost a partner and a mediocre lover. I didn’t make any money, but I didn’t get killed. I broke even, I guess, but at least I learned a lesson.
Next time, get paid in advance.

As my Murder, Mystery, Mayhem! teacher would have said last semester, I think you have character here you can return to in the future.

Also, I love the line "a sharp kick and a lock pick," and I intend to use it in a song and maybe pay you for it someday.