The Silent Girl

that night, begging for my goddamn ice cream, my father would still be alive.”

Jane understood it all, now. Why Wu Weimin did not flee when he had the chance. Why there were two bullet casings on the kitchen floor. Had the staged suicide been a last-minute idea, something that occurred to the killer as he stood over the cook’s body? It was such a simple thing, to wrap a dead man’s fingers around the grip and fire the last round. Leave the gun behind and walk out the door.

“You should have told the police,” said Jane. “It would have changed everything.”

“No, it wouldn’t. Who would believe a five-year-old girl? A girl who never saw the killer’s face. And my mother wouldn’t let me say a word. She was afraid of the police. Terrified is a better word.”

“Why?”

Bella’s jaw tightened. “Can’t you guess? My mother was here illegally. What do you think would have happened if the police focused on us? She had my future to think of, and hers as well. My father was dead. Nothing we could do would change that.”

“What about justice? That had no part in the equation?”

“Not then. Not that night, when all she could think about was keeping us both safe. If the killer knew there was a witness, he might come looking for me. That’s why she wiped up my footprints. That’s why we packed our suitcases and left two days later.”

“Did Iris Fang know?”

“Not then. Not until years later, when my mother was dying of stomach cancer. A month before she died, she wrote Sifu Fang and told her the truth. Apologized for being a coward. But after so many years, there was nothing we could prove, nothing we could change.”

“Yet you’ve been trying, haven’t you?” said Jane. “For the past seven years, either you or Iris has been mailing obituaries to the families. Keeping their memories and their pain alive. Telling them that the truth hasn’t been told.”

“It hasn’t been. They need to know that. That’s why the letters were sent, so they would keep asking questions. It’s the only way we’ll find out who the killer is.”

“So you and Iris have been trying to draw him out into the open. Sending notes to the families, to Kevin Donohue, hinting that the truth’s about to be revealed. Taking out that ad in The Boston Globe, hoping the killer will get worried and finally attack. And what was the plan then? Turn him over to us? Or take justice into your own hands?”

Bella laughed. “How could we possibly do that? We’re only women.”

Now it was Jane’s turn to laugh. “As if I’d ever underestimate you.” Jane reached into her briefcase and pulled out the Arthur Waley translation of Monkey, the ancient Chinese folk novel. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Monkey King.”

Bella glanced at the book. “Chinese fairy tales. What do they have to do with anything?”

“One particular chapter in this book caught my attention. It’s called ‘The Story of Chen O.’ It’s about a scholar who travels with his pregnant wife. At a ferry crossing, they’re attacked by bandits and the husband is killed. His wife is abducted. Do you know this one?”

Bella shrugged. “I’ve heard it.”

“Then you know how it turns out. The wife gives birth to a son while in captivity and secretly places him on a wooden plank, with a letter explaining her plight. Just like baby Moses, the child’s set adrift on the river. He floats to the Temple of the Golden Mountain, where he’s raised by holy men. He grows to manhood and learns the truth about his parents. About his butchered father and his imprisoned mother.”

“Is there a point to this?”

“The point is right here, in the words spoken by the young man.” Jane looked down at the page and read the quote. “He who fails to avenge the wrongs done to a parent is unworthy of the name of man.” She looked at Bella. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You’re like the son in this story. Haunted by the murder of your father. Honor-bound to avenge him.” Jane slid the book in front of Bella. “It’s exactly what the Monkey King would do, fight for justice. protect the innocent. Avenge a father. Oh, Monkey may wreak a bit of havoc in the process. He may break all the chinaware and set fire to the furniture. But in the end, justice is done. He always does the right thing.”

Bella said nothing as she stared at the illustration of the warrior monkey brandishing his staff.

“I understand completely, Bella,” said Jane. “You’re not the villain in this. You’re the daughter of a victim, a daughter who wants what the police can’t deliver. Justice.” She lowered her voice to a sympathetic murmur. “That’s what you and Iris were trying to do. Draw out the killer. Tempt him to strike.”

Was that the hint of a nod she saw? Bella’s inadvertent acknowledgment of the truth?

“But the plan didn’t work out so well,” said Jane. “When he did strike, he hired professionals to do the killing for him. So you still don’t know his identity. And now he’s taken Iris.”

Bella looked up, fury burning in her eyes. “It went wrong because of you. I should have been there to watch over her.”

“She was the bait.”

“She was willing to take the risk.”

“And you two were going to deliver justice all by yourselves?”

“Who else is going to do it? The police?” Bella’s laugh was bitter. “All these years later, they don’t care.”

“You’re wrong, Bella. I sure as hell do care.”

“Then let me go, so I can find her.”

“You have no idea where to start.”

“Do you?” Bella spat back.

“We’re looking at several suspects.”

“While you keep me locked up for no reason.”

“I’m investigating two homicides. That’s my reason.”

“They were hired killers. That’s what you said.”

“Their deaths are still homicides.”

“And I have an alibi for the first one. You know I didn’t kill that woman on the roof.”

“Then who did?”

Bella looked at the book and her mouth twitched. “Maybe it was the Monkey King.”

“I’m talking about real people.”

“You say I’m a suspect, but you know I couldn’t have killed the woman. You might as well blame some mythical creature, because you have just as much of a chance of proving it.” Bella looked at Jane. “You do know how the folktale starts, don’t you? How Sun Wukong emerges from stone and transforms into a warrior? The night my father was killed, I emerged from that stone cellar just like Monkey. I was transformed, too. I became what I am now.”

Jane stared into eyes as hard as any she had ever looked into. She tried to imagine Bella as a frightened five- year-old, but she could see no trace of that child in this fierce creature. If I’d witnessed the murder of someone I loved, would I be any different?

Jane stood up. “You’re right, Bella. I don’t have enough to hold you. Not yet.”

“You mean-you’re letting me go?”

“Yes, you can leave.”

“And I won’t be followed? I’m free to do what I have to?”

“What does that mean?”

Bella rose from her chair, like a lioness uncoiling herself for the hunt, and the two women stared at each other across the table. “Whatever it takes,” she said.

THIRTY-FOUR