Chapter 16

Kreeger’s horror was gestured only; he found no words for it. With a deep grimace, he picked up the heavy case, which the taxi driver had dumped next to him in the pile of litter, and walked in trepidation towards his new home.

Lee got there before him and held open the door. ‘I’ll be right out here,’ he said, dropping the doctor’s small bag just inside.

‘Why don’t you . . .’ he began, but it was too late: the door had swung closed and he was alone inside a small lobby.

A face popped up from behind the counter as he approached, but its smile vanished as soon as it saw the oversized foreigner pulling a huge case along the stone floor. It was the face of a young girl, and if she was not in fact sitting down behind the counter she was a very short young girl. Kreeger towered over the counter and looked down at her. She flashed her eyes around, looking for help; but when the doctor greeted her in her own language, she seemed to calm down a little. The next problem was that that simple greeting was about the only thing Kreeger had picked up during his few months in the country.

‘I need a room,’ he said in English. He looked back towards the door but could see no sign of Lee.

She seemed to understand at least the grammatical object of that simple sentence, because she bent down briefly and reappeared with a key dangling from her finger. ‘Passport,’ was the first word she spoke.

Kreeger’s hand went inside his jacket and pulled out his passport; the girl snatched it away from him and put it somewhere under the counter.

‘You want to keep that?’ he said.

She smiled and walked out from behind her workplace. She was small. She said something that could only have meant ‘follow me’ and started to run up a flight of steps at the end of the lobby.

Kreeger watched the pink of her uniform skirt and blouse disappear up the stairs. He looked down at his luggage, then looked around for the elevator. There wasn’t one, and even if there had been one he would not have known which floor to take it up to. He did not even bother looking for a bellboy. On the way down for the bags he rubbed his sore knees. He could probably manage it up to the second floor, he thought.

The girl had disappeared and so at the second-floor landing he pushed open the fire door and looked for her; he even called out, but she was not there. He puffed up the next two flights to the third-floor landing, now in serious pain, and did the same—still no sign of her. He rested and decided to leave his bags where he had dropped them, but even without the burden the next two flights of steps were cruel tests. Thankfully he found her leaning up against the fire door of the next floor up. He would go back for his bags after he had seen the room. She pushed through and floated down the corridor, twirling the key on her finger; he struggled after her.

Room 44; she turned the lock, swung open the door, and moved aside. Kreeger stepped over the threshold and took in the room with a single glance. Worse than he had expected. It smelt musty and damp: nothing had died in the room—but nothing could have lived either. The air was turbid, as if the windows had not been opened for months. Cheap furniture. Dirty tiled floor. Grubby, dusty. One look was more than enough; he turned with a pained expression to where the girl had been standing, but she had already left. He heard the fire doors slam at the end of the corridor. Turning back into the shabby room, he noticed an air-conditioner that was stuck through the window like a small crashed plane He walked over and turned it on. Nothing. He waited for a few seconds, checked the plug, adjusted a few buttons. Still nothing. He gave up, walked through the door, and slammed it shut.

He would have to get his bags into the room before he could go back downstairs to find Jon Lee, whom he would force to help him change rooms, or find another hotel. The bags seemed even heavier.

The lobby was empty and Kreeger suspected the girl was hiding from him. He clanked the key on the counter as hard as he could then went outside to look for Lee.

He strained his eyes in all directions over the sea of bobbing heads, but Lee had disappeared. He cursed under his breath before beginning to venture along the shorter length of the block. Not wanting to stray too far, he stopped at the corner. He was not going to cross the road, but he noticed that everyone who wanted to do so stood in the road, not on the safety of the pavement, slowly edging further and further out, waiting impatiently for the lights to change. Vehicles filtering right had to swing in a wider and wider arc to avoid hitting them. At least half did not wait for the lights to change and scurried through gaps in the traffic. Kreeger clucked at the stupidity of it, before turning back towards the hotel.

Twenty or so metres of cluttered pavement beyond the hotel he saw Lee in the gutters, sitting on a stool at a makeshift table. His back was towards him but he recognised the cut of his suit. It could only be a cheap imitation of some famous European or American brand, but out here it was unique; compared to everyone else on the street, Lee was the purveyor of high fashion. The slicked back hair with sunglasses sitting atop corroborated Kreeger’s identification. He tried to surprise him.

‘Officer Lee,’ Kreeger boomed, ’I am afraid I need your assistance.’

Lee quickly turned around; embarrassment filled his face. A tissue went up to his mouth before he spoke, the brown sauce coming off with a few quick wipes. ‘Ah, Docta, so quick,’ he said, trying to smile. He was pointing his chopsticks.

‘I did not unpack. I think I might like to see another hotel first.’

‘No, no, Docta, not possible. This is the only hotel available right now. Everything else full.’ Lee lowered his chopsticks.

Kreeger sighed, loud enough for Lee to hear, and rolled his eyes. ‘At least help me get a better room.’

‘Already you get the better room, Docta. Forty four, right?’

Kreeger opened his mouth but words were not forthcoming. His narrowed eyes stabbed at Lee; and then with a slight nod of his head he confirmed. ‘Yes, forty four. But . . .’ His words were terminated by Lee’s shaking head and he let out more air—this time it was definitely a groan.

‘Hungry?’ Lee said, waving his hand back over the small table at which he was sitting.

Kreeger dropped his eyes and looked down at the cracked bowls lying on the greasy formica surface. One was half full of soup; globules of liquid fat floated on the green surface, hiding whatever lurked beneath. The other bowl contained an assortment of bones, probably those of a chicken: he thought he recognised a claw. He had hardly eaten anything in over twenty four hours, but he declined the offer. ‘I’m alright for now,’ he said.

‘So what time do you want to start tomorrow?’ Lee asked.

‘Tomorrow? No. I need to get started right away. I thought that I could at least do a preliminary examination of the body tonight; give me some ideas as to what I will be dealing with.’

Lee stopped smiling and looked around him. ‘It’s a little late, Docta. I’m not sure if we . . .’

‘Just a quick look, Jon. I won’t conduct a full autopsy until tomorrow. But it is important to start as soon as possible with these things.’

‘But it’s the . . . how you say that place . . . put dead-body room.’

‘Morgue.’

‘Yes the city morgue. Closed.’ Lee sounded final and even grinned.

Kreeger looked around him as if trying to gather some support. ‘You mean . . .’

‘Yes, Docta,’ Lee said quickly, ‘tonight not possible. So sorry.’

Kreeger took a step forwards, stopped, and pulled himself into a tower of frustration, his crooked elbow caught a hunched delivery man who was trying to push past him. He adjusted his gait and leaned forward a little, dwarfing the seated Lee. He inhaled, puffing out his chest. ‘Jon.’ His voice had lowered—softer, but firmer. ‘I am sure that for an important man like yourself, with your foreign guest all the way from America, someone will open up the morgue for you.’

Lee averted his eyes and pushed his stool back, away from the tall foreigner, but he was hemmed in by the table and the kerbstone. He tried to lift himself up, but he was by now too far under the table; the tops of his thighs hit its underside and he jarred awkwardly back onto the stool. A chopstick rolled off the table and fell into the gutter. He flinched. His narrow lips opened and closed like the mouth of a fish, struggling for unfamiliar words. ‘Alright, Docta,’ he managed to say at last.

Kreeger stepped back and immediately seemed to shrink a few inches. His face revealed a flash of embarrassment at what had just happened. He glanced from side to side.

Lee shrugged and adjusted his position at the table. A hand went up to his oiled hair before reaching for a fresh set of chopsticks. ‘Alright, Docta,’ he repeated. And almost with an air of defiance he added, ‘But just let me finish this first.’

‘Go ahead.’ Kreeger turned away. ‘I need to get a few things from my luggage. See you in five minutes.’