A COFFIN FROM HONG KONG

Another trap? I wondered. I was still a little shaky after my experience of the afternoon. I was now wearing a suit and had my .38 police special in its holster out of sight but ready for business.

“Where is she?”

“It is not far. I can arrange a taxi for you.”

I hesitated, then nodded.

“Okay . .. but how do I know she is the right girl?”

“She has her papers. She will show them to you. She is the right girl.”

“Do I go now?”

“She is waiting.”

I finished my drink and got to my feet.

“After I’ve talked to her and after I am satisfied she is the right girl I will pay you fifty Hong Kong dollars.”

She smiled stiffly.

“That’s all right. I will get you a taxi.”

I waited. After a few minutes she returned.

“He knows where to take you. The apartment is on the top floor. You will have no difficulty in finding it.”

I said I would be seeing her and I went out into the hot night. The taxi-driver grinned cheerfully at me as I opened the cab door. I got in and he drove off. It was a six-minute drive through the crowded back streets of the Chinese quarter. The taxi pulled up outside a jeweller’s shop. The driver pointed to a side door, grinning happily. I paid and over tipped him and watched him drive away before I pushed open the door and began to mount steep , stairs that brought me to a landing. Facing me was an elevator. I took it to the top floor. As it came to rest, I slid my hand inside my jacket and eased the gun a little in its holster. Then I stepped across the landing to a red-painted door. I rang the bell.

There was a slight delay, then the door swung open. A Chinese girl looked inquiringly at me.

She was tall and slim and very pretty. She wore a cream silk, heavily embroidered Cheongsam and scarlet sandals. Her black hair was adorned with two lotus blossoms.

“I’m Ryan,” I said. “I think you’re expecting me.”

She smiled, showing brilliantly white teeth.

“Yes . . . come in.”

I moved into a large room full of flowers and furnished with modern light oak furniture.

The big windows had a view of the sea.

“You’re Mu Hai Ton?” I asked as she closed the door and walked with easy grace to an armchair.

“That is my name.”

She sat down, resting her slim hands in her lap, her eyebrows slightly raised, the smile in place.

“How do I know that?”

The question seemed to amuse her. She waved a hand to the table.

“My papers are there.”

I checked her identity card. She had arrived in Hong Kong five years ago. Her age was twenty-three. Her profession was that of a dancer.

I relaxed a little and sat opposite her.

“You knew Herman Jefferson?” I asked.

She nodded, continuing to smile.

“Yes, I knew him. He died two weeks ago.”

“You knew his wife?”

“Yes, of course. I was a witness when they married.”

“Do you know what Jefferson did for a living?”

“Perhaps now I have answered some of your questions, you will tell me who you are and why you have come here,” she said, still not losing the friendly smile.

“I’m making inquiries for Jefferson’s father,” I told her. “He wants to know more about how his son lived out here.”

She lifted her eyebrows inquiringly.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He’s paying me to get the information so I’m trying to get it. I’m willing to

pay you for any information you can give me.”

She cocked her head on one side.

“How much will you pay?”

“It depends on how much you can tell me.”

“You want to know how he made a living?” She grimaced. “He didn’t make a living. He took money from Jo-An.”

“Ever know a girl called Leila?”

“Yes ... she lived with Jo-An.”

“Leila told me Jefferson rented a luxury villa out at Repulse Bay.”

She threw her head back and laughed. She had a nice laugh and her throat was very beautiful.

“He couldn’t even afford to pay the rent at the Celestial Empire. He was no good ... a bum.”

“I heard he was tied up in the drug trade,” I said casually.

That got a reaction. She stiffened and her smile went away. She stared at me, recovered herself, and shrugged.

“I know nothing about the drug trade.”

“I didn’t say you did. Did you ever hear he was running heroin from Canton into Hong Kong?”

“No.”

“Frank Belling did it.”

“I don’t know anything about that.” She was watching me closely now, a little frown furrowing her forehead.

“You knew Belling, didn’t you?”

“I met him once ... at the wedding.”

“He was Jefferson’s friend?” “I suppose so. I don’t know anything about him.”

“I heard after the marriage, Jefferson left his wife and hired this villa at Repulse Bay.”

She moved restlessly.

“He lived with her at the Celestial Empire until he was killed,” she said. “He never had a villa at Repulse Bay.”

I offered her a cigarette, but she refused. As I lit up I asked myself why I was pursuing this line of questioning. Everyone I had met and questioned had said the same thing except Leila. Why should I instinctively feel Leila was telling the truth and all the others were lying?

“Let’s talk about Jo-Ann,” I said. “Did you know her well?”

She nodded.