Jane Carter Investigates: Episode Forty-Six
We waited in silence for several minutes before the young woman
got up, switched on the light, came over to our hiding place, and motioned for
us to come out quietly.
She, Flo, and I sat on the rug in the middle of the room and looked
at each other. We were all prisoners now.
“Is that your father?” I asked, motioning to the injured man
huddled up in the corner.
“Yes,” she said listlessly.
“Mr. Sing Lee?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Did Ralph do that to him?”
“Ralph and a couple of others,” Miss Lee said. “It was over a week
ago, and I’m afraid if I don’t get him out of here soon—”
“But what happened? How did you come to get mixed up with Ralph
and Violet?”
“My uncle got involved with the opium trade,” said Miss Lee, “and
he somehow ended up owing Ralph a large sum of money.”
“But what did that have to do with your father?”
“Well, my father and his brother own this laundry together. My
uncle put up most of the money to buy the equipment, and my father and I ran
the business.”
“So when your uncle didn’t pay up, Ralph came after your father.”
“Yes. At first, Ralph was intent on collecting on my uncle’s debt.
My father didn’t object to continuing to work while Ralph skimmed all the
profits, but then Ralph met that man from next door, and they came up with a
horrible scheme—"
“It was you who wrote that note,” I said to Miss Lee.
“You discovered it?” she asked. “I must have written over fifty of
those messages on collar stays, but I guess they were too subtle and no one
else noticed.”
“It was very clever,” I said. “Interspersing an English message
asking for help amongst all that Chinese lettering.”
“What’s that smell?” Flo interrupted.
Wisps of smoke filtered up through the crack under the door. I
suddenly understood the significance of Ralph and Violet’s conversation about
the cruelty of leaving Mr. Sing Lee and his daughter locked up in the laundry.
“They’ve taken the loot and made a run for it,” I said.
“And they’ve set fire to the building to destroy the evidence!”
said Flo, her voice quavering.
In a few minutes, the entire laundry might become an inferno. I
sprang to my feet and dumped water into the basin on the wash stand. I pulled
up the small rug which we’d been sitting on and dampened it, then rolled the
damp rug up and shoved it into the crack under the door. That would keep out
most of the smoke for a while. At least we wouldn’t suffocate before the flames
reached us.
“Lift me up,” I said to Flo. “Maybe I can get someone’s
attention.”
Flo lifted me up so that I was looking out the room’s single tiny
barred window which overlooked the river. Far below, I could see the murky
Grassy, flowing tranquilly beneath the stars.
I distinguished the black outline of a rowboat floating close
beside the building. It was Mud Cat Joe—I was almost certain—but could I
attract his attention?
I banged against the window with my fists, so hard I thought the
glass might break, but Mud Cat Joe did not hear me. The boat was slowly
drifting away. It drifted further and further, but I continued to pound on the
glass until it shattered, and I heard the broken pieces splash as they fell
into the river.
I yelled again, but it was too late, Mud Cat was too far away to hear me.
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