Death In Shanghai. M Lee J

warm comfort of a long-forgotten memory from the past filled his mouth. ‘Beautiful, Princess, a taste of home. Or rather a taste of what home should taste like. The home of one’s dreams.’

      ‘Thank you, Inspector, they are quite pleasant, aren’t they?’ The Princess took a long sip of tea. ‘The French magistrate you spoke of, found in a rather Siberian manner, was, of course, an upstanding member of the community. But recently, it seems he had been making demands of certain property developers.’

      ‘Demands?’

      ‘The usual. Extra surcharges for signatures, more charges for the dismissal of cases, even more charges for the approval of developments. He had become a little too demanding recently. A young mistress is, apparently, an expensive proposition.’

      ‘You think this had something to do with his death?’

      She raised her hands in a courtly gesture. ‘My “little ears” do not know. Nor have they heard anything concerning the identity of the people involved. Give them time and they may be able to find out more.’

      Danilov took another sip of tea. ‘And the second murder?’

      ‘Much closer to home, as you can imagine. Her name was Maria Tatiana Stepanova. From Moscow, originally. Came to Shanghai in 1926. I’m afraid the usual story. No money. No skills. Nothing to sell except that which women have always sold.’

      ‘She was not one of your “little ears”?’

      The voice became hard again. ‘No, Inspector, she would not have met such a fate if she were.’

      ‘I’m sorry for offending you, Princess, please accept my apologies.’

      The Princess glared at Danilov over the rim of her tea glass. ‘She was an independent, working from home, protected by a thug, Victorov, I believe his name is.’

      ‘Not much of a protector.’

      ‘Not much of a man. I believe he fled Shanghai after the murder, nobody knows where. The Garde Municipale are looking for him, but they won’t find him. That sort knows how to hide.’ The Princess swore in Russian. Then her face softened. She leant closer to the Inspector. ‘Danilov, whatever she was, whatever she had become, she did not deserve to die like that. Like an animal in a slaughterhouse.’