After finishing up at the music conservatory, she landed a few jobs as a kisaeng and most recently the gig at the House of the Tiger Lady.
The folder didn’t tell me much about her personal life. Just the names of her parents-her father deceased- and the fact that she had been born and raised in Kyong-sang Province, outside the city of Miryang, a predominantly rural area 180 miles southeast of Seoul.
Now she was here, playing the kayagum in front of wealthy men. A long way from the rice paddies of home.
A tall woman on the other side of the ballroom caught my eye. A magnificent lavender gown embroidered with white cranes flowed down her body. She stared right at us and barked a couple of orders to two girls who also looked at us but quickly turned away. The woman, smiling and bowing to one of the customers, excused herself and made her way around the back of the crowd, heading toward us.
“We’ve been spotted,” I said.
“Good.”
The Nurse clung tighter to Ernie. Despite her protestations about not feeling self-conscious when accompanied by two foreigners, I could tell she felt out of place in Mukyo-dong. This was the most elegant district of Seoul. Here, upscale shops and lavishly dressed women and boutiques sported the latest in Paris fashions. The Nurse’s plain dress and straight hairstyle made her stand out, especially in the Tiger Lady’s kisaeng house.
I turned to Ernie. “Any of these girls look like Miss Ku?”
“Not so far.”
The young woman finished her drum solo to thunderous applause. Stage curtains closed. The serving kisaeng poured the men more scotch, and while they conversed we backed deeper into the shadows. Ernie gazed down the hallway.
“Plenty of rooms. Convenient.”
“Cost you an arm and a leg, though.”
“Hey, what’s money?”
I knew it. Once he gave the place a chance, he started to like it. Ernie was a sawdust kind of guy but if he ever inherited a million dollars, he’d develop expensive tastes fast enough.
When the woman in lavender appeared at the mouth of the hallway she spread her long red nails and looked as if she longed to scratch our eyes out.
“Weikurei?” she demanded. “What you do here?”
A little English. She hasn’t always catered to Koreans, I thought.
I pulled out my badge and flashed it in front of her face.
“I’m looking for a young woman,” I said. “Police business.”
She examined the badge and then me, trying to decide whether to listen or kick our butts out. Ernie crossed his arms, leaned forward, and peeked out at the crowd, letting her know she’d have trouble if she didn’t deal.
She looked the Nurse up and down, the beginnings of a sneer visible on her lips. The Nurse stood up straighter and held her head up. Defiant.
“You must be the Tiger Lady,” I said.
“What you want?”
“Like I said. A young lady.” I strummed on an imaginary flat surface with wriggling fingers. “She plays the kayagum.”
Before she could answer, the curtains reopened. Three women, dressed in flowing Korean dresses, sat on an elevated platform with stringed instruments in front of their crossed knees. They bowed their heads. Hair as black as raven feathers was tied back tightly by large jade pins. Behind them wavered a painted scene on a canvas backdrop of gently rolling hills, gurgling springs, and groves of blossoming plum trees. The women raised their heads and in perfect unison began to pluck the taut strings of the three flat wooden kayagum. A high-pitched wail rose from their crimson mouths.
“That’s her,” Ernie said. “The one on the left.”
We listened to the music.
“Never hit the top of the charts,” Ernie said.
I turned to the Tiger Lady and pointed to the woman on the stage. Miss Ku.
“We want to talk to her,” I said.
“She don’t do nothing bad. I watch my girls.”
“Maybe she didn’t do anything bad. We just have a few questions.”
“About what?”
“We’ll tell her.”
She thought about that for a moment.
“If not,” I said. “My crazy friend here will walk up on the stage.”
She studied Ernie. From deep in his throat, he growled at her.
“You’ve seen crazy GI’s before,” I said.
“Yes,” she said. “I see before.”
She was old enough to remember the days when American GI’s were the only men in the country who had any money. She’d risen above those days; she didn’t want to go back to them.
A group of Korean businessmen strode into the far end of the ballroom. Serving girls rushed forward, bowing and smiling. One of them turned toward the Tiger Lady and motioned, palm down, for her to come over.
“Okay,” the Tiger Lady said finally. “You talk to her.” She held up a wickedly pointed finger. “But no trouble.”
I raised my open palms.
“No trouble,” I said.
She returned to her customers. We followed the hallway and turned down another and then another until we found ourselves in front of a walkway that led to the rear of the stage. Women in huge silk skirts gawked at us.
Ernie smiled and offered them some gum. They all refused. He looked perplexed but just shrugged. Generally, Koreans are friendly and open to Americans. But when your presence can piss off a wealthy clientele and threaten their livelihood, they’re a little less open. Besides, they were suspicious. What were two big-noses doing behind their stage?
When the kayagum number was finished, we allowed the first two performers to swish past us but Ernie reached out and grabbed Miss Ku and pulled her back into the wings. Her heavily lined eyes widened when she saw us.
The Nurse started to fidget. Not liking it that Ernie had a tight grip on another beautiful woman.
The stereo speakers arrayed around the ballroom launched into a stirring rendition of “Arirang,” an ancient Korean folk song of separated lovers. Two more kisaeng, one dressed like a farm boy, the other like a peasant country girl, rushed onto the stage and began twirling in an elaborate dance.
While Ernie held her, I pointed my finger into Miss Ku’s face.
“You lied to us,” I said.
Her face crinkled in rage. “I no lie,” she said. The teeth behind her rouged lips were white and perfectly shaped.
“The guy who broke your Ping-Pong heart,” I said, “Cecil Whitcomb, is dead.”
No particular remorse flashed across her face.
She tried to step back but Ernie jerked her forward. She looked up at him, turned, tried to punch him, but he caught her small fist.
The Nurse stepped forward but I grabbed her by the elbow, frowned, and shook my head. She stopped but her body remained tense.
Ernie and Miss Ku struggled for a minute, silk rustling, perfume billowing through the air. She looked desperate but relaxed when a broad smile spread over his face. They stood completely still, staring into one another’s eyes. Fear and lust. Goddamn Ernie’s an expert at both of them. His favorite emotions.
Blood started to rush up the Nurse’s neck. I put my arm around her shoulders, leaned over, and whispered, “He’s only working. Don’t be angry.”
Slowly, Miss Ku pushed herself away from Ernie, her breathing subsided, and she turned back to me, her face
