On the annual Ghost Night when spirits wander, newlyweds Catherine Roxborough and her partner Chance Yang never imagined death would stalk their summery seaside destination.
Excited to meet her husband's family on their honeymoon, Catherine crosses paths with new acquaintances, young and old, as they journey from London to northern coastal China. However, the couple's celebrations are marred when ghosts of the past come back to haunt the Yangs, as three naked dead bodies are discovered in a nearby seaside derelict - three people the honeymooners had only just met.
Was it murder, an act of revenge, or an affair gone wrong? The answer to these questions may hit closer to home than Catherine could ever expect or than Chance is willing to admit. And as the couple chases the clues, the bride realizes that her new husband may have ghastly secrets to hide.
As the mystery unravels and the pair becomes entangled in a decade-old investigation, Catherine faces a dilemma: stand by her partner or expose the truth and implicate a beloved family member. But amidst the turmoil, only one thing remains certain: the path they choose could forever reshape their lives.
On the annual Ghost Night when spirits wander, newlyweds Catherine Roxborough and her partner Chance Yang never imagined death would stalk their summery seaside destination.
Excited to meet her husband's family on their honeymoon, Catherine crosses paths with new acquaintances, young and old, as they journey from London to northern coastal China. However, the couple's celebrations are marred when ghosts of the past come back to haunt the Yangs, as three naked dead bodies are discovered in a nearby seaside derelict - three people the honeymooners had only just met.
Was it murder, an act of revenge, or an affair gone wrong? The answer to these questions may hit closer to home than Catherine could ever expect or than Chance is willing to admit. And as the couple chases the clues, the bride realizes that her new husband may have ghastly secrets to hide.
As the mystery unravels and the pair becomes entangled in a decade-old investigation, Catherine faces a dilemma: stand by her partner or expose the truth and implicate a beloved family member. But amidst the turmoil, only one thing remains certain: the path they choose could forever reshape their lives.
June 2016.
London, Covent Garden.
Slingsby Place.
Part-time florist Catherine E. Roxborough hummed a tune as she put the finishing touches to a bouquet of white roses.
"Cat, you're in a great mood today," her co-worker Orla commented casually from the other side of their workstation.
"Yeah. The weather is lovely." As her floral design teacher Melody had once instructed, Catherine deftly layered up the waterproof floral tape. "My toothache no longer bothers me, and my cat's diet is working."
And she had been very happy lately.
"It's finally dresses, heels, and VPL weather, but I wish I could be as carefree as you are. Don't take this badly, please. I mean, you went to a great uni, and you don't need this job to live, but I do." Orla sighed as she opened a new tube of floral adhesive. "Yesterday, I had my first full-blown tiff with George. I saw a funny post on Facebook and asked him what kind of pet I was to him. He said a Shar-Pei!" She indignantly snipped off a sprig with her secateurs.
George was Orla's fiancé and an aspiring actor who supported himself with various zero-hour contract jobs.
Orla continued, "He is always on the pig's back, but I do the donkey work. Every time he goes to Tesco, he only buys yellow-sticker stuff. He never thinks of me. He complains about my hangnails but never buys me hand cream." She ranted on, "He's so callow and such a mama's boy! He thinks that all kitchen sponges come with soap just because his mum always bought Brillo pads. And last week, he put an egg into boiling water, and it literally exploded!"
Catherine tried to steer away from the topic by showing Orla her work. "What do you think? Should I add more baby's breath?"
"Umm... I think it's fine. When in doubt, leave it out." Orla cleaned her tool's edges. "Cat, I'm having second thoughts. Maybe we took things too quickly."
Catherine fastened a piece of ribbon onto the bouquet. "Have you tried talking to him? Perhaps he hasn't realised your concerns, and you just need to nudge him a bit."
"You mean I have to train him? That sounds saucy." Her colleague laughed quickly. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"How are things going with you and your fella?"
"Things are fine." She brushed away and gathered the leaves aside to be moved to their compost bin.
"You haven't told me... What do you like about him?"
"Well..." Catherine hesitated. "He's rather scrupulous. I never liked pineapples because they sting my lips. My ex dismissed it as a slight annoyance, but Chance worked out a way for me to enjoy them."
"Really? How?"
"You just need to dip the chunks in saltwater for a few minutes."
"Don't overeat pineapples," Orla warned her. "I read in the Sundays that they contain an enzyme that can dissolve your stomach walls."
"I'll keep that in mind." Catherine cleaned up as she checked the time. Her shift was almost over.
"Anything about him that you don't like?"
"Well," Catherine said. "He seldom talks about his mother, which is understandable. His parents divorced when he was very little."
And sometimes, she thought, he carried a taser for reasons she didn't buy.
Orla threw her a curious wink. "And what's he like in the bedroom? Is it true what they say about Asian men?"
"I'm not telling you that!"
"But is he generous?"
Catherine gave a hearty laugh. "I'm done for today." She collected her tools and put the bouquet in their floral cooler. "See you tomorrow."
"Have a great time with your Chinese lover," Orla responded with another frank laugh. "Tell me all about it tomorrow!"
Catherine smiled while shaking her head as she ventured into the locker room, put away her apron and toolkit, and put on her engagement ring.
She had re-met the Inner Mongolian-born Chinese M&A consultant Changxi Yang a little more than a year ago. To a smaller circle of friends, he was known as Chance Yang. She was silly to let jealousy get the better of her, and tittle-tattle had nearly scuppered their budding relationship, but now, everything was coming up roses, and soon, they would be married.
Catherine stepped out of the flower academy and the vernal sun put another smile on her face. She followed a couple of tourists out of Slingsby Place, got onto Long Acre and headed towards Catherine Street, where Chance and his friend Dominic Turner had set up a jazz bar. After some lengthy renovations, today was the first time the jazz bar's rooftop area would be open, so the couple had decided to organise an al fresco celebration.
Catherine continued her path through the teeming crowds, where chuggers debated Brexit and groups of va-va-voom schoolchildren mimicked Matilda with elan. Then she heard someone calling out behind her.
"Cathy!"
She turned, and Patricia Bennett, her godfather's partner, emerged from the automatic ticket gates at Covent Garden Station.
"Hey, Patsy. Lovely weather, isn't it?" Catherine greeted her.
"Wonderful weather, and I can't wait to enjoy the view from the rooftop," Patsy said as they headed together towards the jazz bar.
"Is Cecil still at the studio?" Catherine asked. Her godfather, Cecil Stone, had messaged her earlier that he couldn't join them that evening because he had been invited for a guest appearance on the BBC News.
Catherine's parents had passed away in a car accident when she was twelve. Since then, her uncle Alexander Roxborough, a university professor in sociology, and her godfather Cecil, a barrister, had taken her into their care.
"Pity, but there'll be plenty of opportunities so long as the fine weather continues." Patsy added, "Who else is coming?"
"An, of course. Mick and Sam are working on a new project, so they can't make it," Catherine recounted. "My uncle said he's not coming either. It's only a stone's throw from his office, so I don't understand why. But Felipe is coming."
"Well," Patsy offered tentatively, "I don't think they rub along too well, Felipe and your uncle. Last time at your birthday, Felipe called him a jammy toff, among other things." She added earnestly, "Really, Cathy, I don't see why you have to invite Felipe every time. He really wound me up on your birthday. I can't stand–"
Suddenly, a booming voice cut in, "That is because, Patsy the Bennett, I can make Catherine laugh! Speaking of which, I got the slap last time, when do I get the tickle?"
Patsy had no need to turn to recognise the owner of that stentorian voice – Felipe Kazama, her nemesis since that April.
"So, Patsy the Bennett, what have you been up to other than badmouthing me?" Felipe caught up with them. He was wearing a flaming red polo shirt, white chinos, and a pair of John Lobb monks. He said as he tore open a new pack of cigarettes, "I read in Watching the English that one must flirt with others' WAGs in England as a way of showing respect."
"Really! God knows what pages you set your eyes on."
"If you are thinking something along the lines of Readers' Wives, you are way off. By the way, we just had a company outing to Bath. It's a lovely city. Thank you for recommending it."
Patsy only snubbed her nose at him.
Catherine feared another set-to between the two, so she said, "Pat, I'd like to ask you a favour. Would you mind checking on Mr Darcy for me later tonight? I have an early morning tomorrow and we'll be staying over at Kean Street."
"Of course, no problem," Patsy offered. "I'm very fond of cats. I always wanted one myself, but circumstances didn't allow me to have a pet. And I think Mr Darcy is already used to us, which is a good sign that he'll behave when we take him in in August. How's the paper chasing going?"
Catherine heaved a sigh. "You never know how many days are needed to register an international marriage. But it's definitely worth the trouble."
Having received an invitation from Chance's aunt, the couple had decided to go to China in the summer as part of their honeymoon. Catherine was bubbling over with anticipation about her upcoming vacation.
"I very much look forward to having Mr Darcy with us then," Patsy said.
***
They arrived at Catherine Street, and Felipe stayed behind for a drag. Patsy followed Catherine into an old-fashioned lift with anodyne music. When they got to the jazz bar on the third floor the venue still smelt faintly of varnish.
Dominic Turner, the bar's co-owner, was preparing for a birthday bash in a corner with balloons and streamers in hand, then Catherine saw Hannah Robinson's lone shadow lolling by the bar counter.
Hannah's story was sad.
She had moved to London from the States with her husband Eddy, who was once a foundling but later became a legal counsel for a Fintech. Two and a half months ago, Eddy had suffered a stroke in a hotel lobby in a red-light district in Brussels. It was also the day of the Brussels Bombings, and he later died because the ambulance couldn't make it to hospital when surrounded by so many casualties.
Eddy's death baffled Hannah because he had lied to her and nearly everyone about his whereabouts. She was determined to find out why he had ended up in a wrong location at the wrong time, so she had asked Chance for his help in tracking Eddy's digital trail.
The search led them to obscene online videos featuring Eddy, so they concluded he was a lothario. Yet, when Chance contacted the uploader of the videos, he turned out to be Eddy's long-lost twin brother, with whom he had been meeting in secret. Now, Hannah Robinson was full of self-hatred for not having trusted her late husband.
Catherine walked up to her as she observed the bags below her eyes. "Hi, Hannah. How's your day been?"
Her neighbour responded glumly. "Terrible. There was a noisy bird on our balcony last night, and it squeaked all night. I think it's an albatross. I think it's Eddy coming back and accusing me of not having believed in him."
"I don't think we see that many albatrosses in England." Catherine remembered some trivia that a friend who liked birdwatching had told her.
"Catherine, I was a darn fool for not believing in him!" Hannah Robinson wavered.
"Well, we're having a small gathering on the rooftop; perhaps you'd like to join us? You need some sunshine to cheer you up," Catherine offered warmly, "and for sure Eddy would wish to see you right and bright again."
"You're right, I mustn't go on like this. For his sake I need to pull myself together." Hannah Robinson finished her draught bock beer. "I'll just freshen up and join you in a minute."
"You do that."
Hannah disappeared into the washroom. Catherine then saw her cool cat making his way to the rooftop. As she went to greet him, someone intercepted her.
"Oi, Roddy!" a stout man with a capillaried face complained to a bartender. "We want the rooftop as well."
"Sorry, mate. It's for private hire tonight."
"C'mon, but we're regulars!" the man mumbled. "Why can the Chinaman use it but not us?"
"He can use it because he owns the place," the bartender replied coldly.
"Then you're missing out on mickles of tips tonight."
Chance caught a glimpse of Roddy's annoyed face as he neared them. "Anything wrong?"
Roddy gestured, "this gentleman wants to use the rooftop as well."
"I don't see why we can't accommodate another trestle table over there," Chance pointed out.
"That's how you do business!" The man left to summon his friends.
Catherine turned to him. "How are you, Mr Yang?"
He gave her a warm smile. "Just trying to learn how to deal with difficult customers." He asked Roddy, "Can you hand me the tray over there? Yeah, that one. Many thanks."
He carried the tray, Catherine an ice bucket, and led her onto the rooftop, which offered a scenic panorama of Covent Garden, including the Royal Opera House.
Patsy was there, chatting and laughing with An as they affably perused something on their phones.
"Anything interesting?" Catherine inquired as she put down the ice bucket and settled on a rattan chair.
"We're doing this personality test that tells you what kind of cat you are," Patsy explained. "According to the results, I'm a Golden British Shorthair."
"And I'm a Chinese Dragon Li, a li hua mao." An showed her a picture of the breed.
"My cousin Essie has a Golden Shorthair, and her cat is very cuddly and clingy," Catherine said as she helped Chance with assorted nibbles and refreshments. "But her cat is not very active, so her vet tells her that she needs to play with her for at least half an hour every day. She does it every day and her cat is thirteen years old; almost an old lady in human age."
Chance went inside but soon returned, holding a cocktail glass bearing cerise liquid. He handed it to Catherine. "Try this."
She took the glass and had a sip. It tasted like sparkling wine. "What is it?"
He smirked. "This is fava beans brewed beer with Amarone."
"You did not!" Catherine was delighted. "Do people even make beer with fava beans?"
"Of course they do. We got it from a place called Barney's Beer in Edinburgh."
She had another sip. "We can put it on our secret menu then."
"I'm glad you like it."
A fact known only to a few family and friends was that Catherine was an avid fanfiction writer. She fervently shipped Clannibal, the pairing of cannibalistic serial killer Hannibal Lecter and FBI Special Agent Clarice Starling. She had even named her cat 'Hannibal Darcy'.
***
The extra trestle table was set up, and dishes and drinks were laid out. The two groups of diners settled in their respective spots on the rooftop as 'There's a Kind of Hush' played.
Hannah Robinson joined them while Catherine made a quick round of introductions. "This is Patsy, my godfather's partner. She's a nurse. An here is Chance's cousin, whom you once met."
Hannah looked at An with downcast eyes. "I remember you. Your name is spelt A-N. The last time we met, Eddy was still with me." She tried to pull herself out of her misery. "You're doing a Master's at King's, right? How are your studies coming along?"
"I need to work more on my dissertation," An replied, "but I'm rather lucky. My classmates have to do their dissertations while job searching too."
"What's your plan then?" Patsy asked.
"I will go home and help out with my mom's business."
"What do you do?"
"We sell apple products."
Patsy held up her iPhone. "Apple products like this?"
"No," An laughed, "not that type of Apple. We sell apple juice, apple crisps, and apple pectin." She turned to take in the view. "It's nice to experience London in summer again when the sun is still out well after seven. But one thing I don't like is the mosquitoes. I have a very bad mosquito bite allergy."
Felipe appeared as he stowed away his sunglasses. "Here's an interesting piece of trivia I heard once." He gave Chance a meaningful glance. "Mosquitoes don't bite dead bodies."
To the general population, Felipe Kazama was a half Nikkei Peruvian investment banker with a flamboyant dress code, a galling mouth, and a Harvard Business School MBA degree who sometimes referred to murders and abductions as 'mergers and acquisitions'.
To Chance, Felipe Kazama was a dangerous man. You never knew when he was lying, when he was joking, or when he was telling the truth. Or how terrifying the truth might be.
"Why did you decide to come to London?" Hannah Robinson asked. "I mean, there are many good schools in the States."
An considered. "Well, it's a one-year course, and my supervisor is a leading scholar in the field, and I always wanted to come to England because of a book."
"Let me guess." Patsy tried a carrot stick with hummus. "Harry Potter?"
"Not really," An said. "It's a book about vampires in London." She added, "This might come as a surprise, but I've never read the Harry Potter books, nor watched the movies.”
"Good for you, hermana," Felipe commented. "There are loads of bad guys out there who look like Harry Potter." He dragged out a chair and settled beside Hannah. "Children today don't need more stories of magic. They need stories of reality. They need depression management, suicide prevention, and personal data safety."
Patsy hurled back, "Who are you to debase British literature?"
Felipe ignored her and shook hands with Hannah. "Nice to meet you, madam. The name is Felipe Kazama. My friends sometimes call me the 'International Man of Many Interesting Pieces of Trivia'. By the way, 'Kazama' is a Japanese word that means the time when wind passes–"
"Spare us the untoward icebreaker, will you?" Patsy groaned.
Felipe retorted, "And 'Bennett' means people who are after money."
"It means those who are blessed, thank you very much," Patsy corrected.
Felipe did not relent. "With all due respect, Patsy the Bennett, everybody knows that the Bennetts marry for money, and everybody knows they love rolling in deep dough and hitching their wagon to a star. What makes you as a Bennett any different from all the other Bennetts? Speaking of which, what makes Global Britain globaler than all the other countries? China is global, Japan is global, even Peru is global! And why are you sitting so far away from me, Patsy? You were almost hard on my heels and toes the last time I remember."
"Here comes the gabbing again."
"Ah. Your feet have turned to point away from me, signalling a desire to escape."
Patsy rolled her eyes. "If you knew anything about English grammar, Felipe, you should know you don't add 'er' after 'global'."
He flashed her a plastic grin. "What splendiferous Britain does not need is more grammar police."
The rest of the table watched them go back and forth.
An asked timidly, "What does 'Roxborough' mean?"
"A croft somewhere in Scotland," Catherine recalled.
A puckish smile tugged at An's lips. "And my brother is a tree. How fitting!"
Catherine added, "My mother's maiden name was Farley, which means something to do with ferns."
"You've got me confused," Hannah said to An. "Are you siblings or cousins?"
"We're cousins," she explained quickly, "but we are as close as siblings. So I refer to him as my brother. In China, it's also common for friends to be on sister and brother terms."
Patsy mused, "So you are not Yin and Yang's Yang?"
"No," Chance said, "they are different characters; mine means a poplar tree."
"Well, Cathy," Felipe said as he tasted a goujon and licked his fingers. "Just by adding one letter and changing another, I can make your surname into a sci-fi horror blockbuster." He made a theatrical pause. "T-Rex Borough."
Catherine tee-heed. "You've forgotten the hyphen!"
"See, I can still tickle your funny bone."
An laughed as well. "I had a tabby cat as a child, and my best friend who lived kitty-corner from us collected dinosaur figures, and sometimes we'd play a game of my cat wrestling with the dinosaurs." She added somewhat despondently, "But one day, she jumped out of our window. We lived on the sixth floor, and it was a miracle that she survived."
"Do you know why, when a cat falls upside down, it always lands on its paws?" Felipe showed off. "I know someone from the Lyon Neuroscience Research Centre whose PhD dissertation was on postural control in cats. So, for a large chunk of his research, he dropped cats. Then he applied his learnings to study astronauts' visual orientation in space. Amazing where science can take you, isn't it?"
Chance reminisced, "I remember that once, during the Chinese New Year, An's cat had snuck into their kitchen to steal some fish. My aunt had stored the fish on top of a chopping board on a huge clay crock where she kept her pickled cabbage. The cat had fallen into that crock and cried so desperately. She smelt of pickled cabbage for a week."
They all laughed at this episode.
***
They talked about the Chelsea Flower Show that the couple and Hannah had visited and the winning rockery designs in dolce far niente, occasionally disturbed by the boisterous belly laughs drifting from the table across and their betting on the football match between England and Russia happening that night. They also talked about how Cecil, Catherine's godfather, would soon receive his honorary doctorate in Civil Law at the Oxford Encaenia.
"Oh," Catherine remembered. "When we go to Oxford, I'll need to find someone to take care of Mr Darcy. Mick and Sam will be on tour then."
"Don't worry, Cathy," Felipe volunteered, "I can take care of your furball."
Patsy narrowed her eyes at him. "Huh, who knows if you won't be dangling the poor thing out of your window?"
"Well, Patsy, I'm very fond of cats. If you and a cat were drowning at the same time, I would save the cat."
"Luckily, I'm a good swimmer."
Felipe grinned. "I'm not very good, though. Perhaps you could give me a kiss of life afterwards and save me from the churchyard coughs?" He gave her a wink. "I won't kiss and tell."
"Dream on."
"One could always hope, and I only want a peck on the cheek. But on second thoughts, it would be nightmarish. Who knows if you wouldn't crack my ribs while CPRing me? Maybe you'd even enjoy listening to my bones cracking." He looked into her eyes. "Do I inhabit your dreams, Patsy? Or do I hijack them?"
Hannah Robinson lowered her voice. "I haven't been to the gym for some time. Where do you swim?"
"I often go for a dip at my hospital's pool," Patsy said.
Hannah dwelled, "Eddy once saved my sister's kid in a pool. I feel he is still with me, and I'm heartbroken waking up every morning realising that he isn't here anymore. The other day I woke up, got into the kitchen, and almost hugged Liam. I mistook him for Eddy."
They all knew of Hannah's story, but only Chance and Catherine were acquainted with Eddy's twin brother, a badly off pornographic film actor called Liam Killingback.
"I am very sorry for your loss," Patsy told her. "My mum wasn't in great shape for a long time after my dad passed away. If you need any therapy, let me know; I can recommend you some excellent practitioners."
"Liam Killingback? Is that his real name or a stage name?" An asked.
"It's his real name. His alias is Big Gun Killingback," Hannah said. "His profession – if you can call that a 'profession' – is not something that I'd tell my neighbours loud and proud...but I don't see why Eddy had to keep it a secret." She then added, with a hint of resolution, "Despite everything, I think it is relieving that Donald has adopted a firm stance to crack down on internet porn."
"Don't you find Donald Trump too misogynist and racist for a presidential candidate?" Patsy asked.
"I've said it before, and I will say it again," Hannah wiped away a tear. "Donald may have a babbling mouth, or act like a blowhard, but which young blood hasn't said some funny things over a couple of drinks?"
Patsy shrugged. "I find House of Cards increasingly becoming US politics writ large."
Hannah wavered again. "Eddy and I once saw Kevin Spacey's Clarence Darrow at the Old Vic."
"Anyone want more food?" Chance suggested. "I can get some more."
"I'm alright, buddy," Felipe said. "I'll save some gastro-space for a Five Guys burger later."
Hannah wavered again: "Eddy and I always went to that Five Guys on Long Acre, though he liked In-N-Out more."
"I am sorry for what happened to you, honeybun." Felipe gave her a solemn glance. "I truly am. But don't you think it's time to look forward and think ahead?"
"You are right," Hannah responded as she got up. "I better get going. I need to get some coffee before the stores close. Eddy always bought such fine beans." She left, carrying her aura of sorrow.
"It is regrettable seeing her like this," Patsy said as she watched the tipping sun. "And to think that our Sophie nearly escaped death."
Sophie, Cecil's daughter, had been injured in the Brussels Bombings when she attended a conference at VUB.
Catherine relived that dreadful day. "How silly the way things are – you can get an Amazon delivery in less than twenty minutes but sometimes need to wait hours for an ambulance."
"Our Hannah Montana will get over it one day. After all, time is the best medicine." Felipe reached over to pilfer a sausage roll from Patsy's plate, and she slapped his hand sharply.
"Stealing is a nasty habit!"
"Aaugh, handsy Patsy, are you trying to cop a feel of me?" He held his hand close to his chest and whimpered. "I must warn Cecil about these dangerous proclivities of yours."
She glowered. "Put a sock in it!"
"Ooooh, I didn't know you had such a fetish. I might just comply. Everybody knows that I'm a pleaser and an avidly kinky man."
Patsy wrung her napkin. "Stop rabbiting on and stop being such a...a windbag!"
"Hmm," Felipe mused, "I think I could lodge a plaint to the NHS Complaints Advocacy Service regarding your word choice."
Catherine stepped in again. "Felipe, Melody told me that you still haven't filled out the survey for our flower-arranging taster. Please do so before she comes around your house; we'd love to hear your feedback."
Patsy picked up on this. "Felipe, I didn't take you for the hearts and flowers type."
"Perhaps you don't know, Patsy, but your PM is an expert at grafting. And we must congratulate you on your mayor's multitasking skills. I wonder if the Johnny-come-lately had any time left for the daily running of Londongrad after dealing with his marital affairs, extra-marital affairs, and extra-extra-marital affairs." Felipe added, "I've said it before, and I will say it again. Vote to remain at the end of the day if you don't want to go down the pan like a lead balloon. Buy the divvy neocons, and you'd buy everything. Do you know how many hauliers in the UK are from Continental Europe? Patsy, I vaguely recall that you like to procure Brazilian products from Amazon. Who would ship your deliveries once they have been Brexited? Has it never occurred to you that one day there might be a labour shortage, and then you will have no time to cry? It's not too late to tack course."
Patsy fought back. "That's a big if, and what you are saying is merely an opinion."
Catherine exchanged a worried look with Chance and An.
"Your Micawberism is applaudable, Patsy. But let me tell you this – that poppycock won't fight, and Brexit is only a veritable razzle-dazzle kabuki*. Where would your uselessly passive aggressions get you? Everybody knows that the UK now is a BBC drama." Felipe pointed his finger to the mackerel sky. "Upstairs, Downstairs. What complicates the situation is that you are in a high-rise on fire and have minimal functioning fire safety amenities. Yet, you keep a weather eye on the building adjacent and make a song and dance about them not having their five-a-day!"
"Get stuffed! If you are so perspicacious," Patsy retorted, "why don't we see your by-lines in the broadsheets? Why don't we see your face on the BBC and your name on the New Year's Honours list?"
Felipe replied nonchalantly, "Why, goodly Patsy, you speak as if you were ever mentioned in the Nursing Standard–"
"I've been hearing you bollocking on for a while, tosh," someone butted in. It was the stout man with the capillaried face from the trestle table across. "A Labour shortage, you say? You'd find plenty of 'em in Brewers Green."
His posse burst out laughing.
The man leered at Patsy. "Popsy, why mingle with lesser sorts? Come and show us your bedside manner and your Mary Ann back."
His group cheered and whistled.
"Ho!" Felipe stood up and strolled towards them. "Are you a few knuckle sandwiches short of a picnic? She tends patients, not pigs."
"And you couldn't stop a pig in a gate." The man stood up, faltering. "We don't need a marmoset minding our business so stop giving us a face like a cat's arse. Geddit?"
"Monkey is my nephew! How did you know that my Chinese zodiac sign is indeed the Monkey? Didn't your mother teach you 'No Outsiders'?" Felipe stared at the man intently.
"What you poodle-faker lookin' at?"
"I spy with my little eye someone's not house-trained with his potty mouth. And you know what's worse than being short as a thick plank?"
Patsy hung her head. "Just drop it!"
The group laughed more, and a skinhead shouted, "Oi, totty! We wouldn't mind you stirring our cocoa and giving us a good seeing to. We'd make sure that you get plenty of in-n-out with us five guys!"
"I don't mind some near the knuckle and rough housing with you guys," Felipe said as he reached for his hidden away beavertail sap.
Dominic Turner came out hurriedly to mediate and stop the fracas. "Come on, let's not fight. The game's about to start."
The man finished his draught lager. "From now on, we will only support the local business downstairs. Nicky, don't expect us to come back unless it rains lager!"
***
The rowdy group flounced out, and the convivial mood was destroyed.
Felipe sat back. "Well, you know what they say. An insult to one is an insult to all."
Chance reflected, "I thought I had done them a good turn; perhaps I should stop being too nice."
"How about tomorrow, same place, same time?" Felipe suggested. "Only our clique?"
He nodded. "That can be arranged."
The evening glow was almost gone, and they lazed under the icicle lights not saying much.
Soon, Felipe began to fidget in his seat. "Bother..." He reached his hand into his polo shirt and retrieved a single long curly blonde hair. "Ah-ha, now we know the culprit."
Patsy observed him. "For a moment, Felipe, I thought you had pruritus ani."
"Why, I thank you, Patsy, but there is no need to worry about me on that score. I'm topfit as a top fiddle, and I can play keepie-uppie all night. You should be concerned about your darling Cecil. Are you sure he doesn't have atheroma in his scrotal tissues?"
Catherine felt she was having to babysit two wayward siblings.
Patsy huffed, "Why didn't you bring your girlfriend and introduce her to our clique today?"
"She is once again in the start-up nation, and she'd been complaining about her toes curling too often."
"Then you must advise her to have a check-up. Curling toes could be a sign of dystonia."
"Will keep that in mind. But, you know, warts, toe wrestling, and all." He grabbed his lighter. "I need a smoke."
They collected the flatware and glasses, then An handed a twenty-pound note to Chance. "Here, I think that should cover the mimosas I had."
He smiled. "There's really no need."
She then gave the note to Turner. "There is a Chinese saying that even reckoning makes long friends, and people have to have precise bookkeeping, even among siblings."
"Well, if you say so, but let me get you your change."
They ventured inside, and Turner opened the till. "That will be three twenty-five." He counted the coins and handed them to An.
"If it's not too much trouble–" She took out an empty mineral water bottle from her tote bag. "Can you put them in here?"
"Sure."
Catherine remembered something. "An, I've always wanted to ask, why do you keep all your coins in a bottle?"
"Oh," An said. "I find them a bit dirty."
"I understand," Patsy reflected as she brought in the ice bucket. "Everybody has their pet peeves. I can't stand people who turn pages by licking their fingers. Some of my colleagues do it; it's utterly unhygienic."
An nodded. "My GP would tell me to be careful about influenza while wetting her finger and going through the files." She added, "I need to use the washroom before taking the bus back."
"I can give you a lift," Felipe said as he skittered into the men's side. "It's a man eat man world out there, so better safe than sorry!"
"Really? Thank you!" She went into the ladies. "I won't be long."
Patsy went out to the rooftop and helped with cleaning up. Then she saw Felipe with two heavy water balloons in his hands, sashaying towards the balustrades on the street-facing side.
She tailed him quietly.
"Do you have good aim?" he asked.
Night had fallen, and in the noisome ambience below, she saw the stout man sagging against a lamp post near the Prince of Wales pub, smoking and blethering on his phone.
"Well," she said, "I have perfect aim with injections."
Felipe threw the balloons out without another word. They landed squarely on the windshield of an Aston Martin convertible parked by the road shoulder, splashing the man.
"Woah!"
He dragged her down in an instant as they heard the man shouting and cursing against the car's incessant alarm, and Patsy realised the balloons were filled with lager.
He seemed to have read her mind. "Some leftovers I got from Roddy. We hate to waste, right?"
"I had a much more terrible idea in mind," she confessed. She heard him laughing. "I don't think the produce in my bladder would be enough to fill them. Though I can be very enterprising."
The shouting eventually died down. Patsy peeked, then grimaced. "Golly! Now you must go down and find the owner of that car to apologise."
"I don't think that's necessary."
"You might get in trouble! At least leave a note!"
"Well," he smiled. "Patsy, you have my heartfelt thanks for being so considerate. But I don't mind, really."
Realisation dawned upon her. "It's your car?"
"Uh-huh. The latest addition to my toy chest. It's the cat's meow, and it purrs quite nicely when I soup it up." He looked at her quizzically. "You know, I'm not answerable to you for my every blueing."
He was almost nostalgic. "Only if money can buy everything you want." He cast his eyes away. "But hey, I understand: everyone needs to make a sweetheart deal once in a while. And believe it or not, I'm not quite the desperado you take me for. But you only get what you settled for. Cecil is dull but a good man. Don't be down in the mouth, though, Patsy. You'll always be my favourite partner in crime. Oh, I see that Eamonn is here. You better go." He added, "Get rid of that burner. Throw it into the Isis if you want to."
***
She flushed the toilet and remembered her friend's painful outcries: "Why, An?! Why? Why didn't you help me?"
All Body Bags and No Knickers is the third book in author Shawe Ruckus’s well-received series, Mercenaries in Suits. In this latest addition, newlyweds Catherine Roxborough and Chance Yang encounter heartbreaking murder with roots in the past while on their summer honeymoon to visit his family in China.
Almost 30% of the novel is set in London, with Catherine and Chance hanging out with friends, preparing for their wedding and honeymoon trip to China, where the mystery is to be found. The scenes with their core group of friends are naturally dialogue-heavy but quick, lively, and bantering, especially between Felipe Kazama and Patricia Bennett. However, it is full of political and pop cultural references of the time (the late 2010s) and slang specific to the place (Britain), so I was left out of the discussions for most of it. It made me wish I had watched Downton Abbey when it was popular so I could have shared in some of it. Much of Felipe’s quips were incomprehensible to me (and some were vulgar), but I wondered if that might be the point as he is a foreigner living in London with English not being his primary language. (This is complete conjecture on my part, though, as none of the characters seemed to question his use of language, only his intentions with this constant back and forth with Patricia.)
The newlyweds, Catherine and Chance, are a delightfully cool couple, and I enjoyed looking in on their relationship. Character development felt uneven to me; we learn far more about Chance than Catherine from being in his hometown with his family. Details regarding Catherine’s life are mentioned, but they felt like reminders of what was fully revealed in a previous book, perhaps. There are a large number of characters mentioned throughout the story, many just in passing, by first name only, as part of casual conversation. Again, I felt like these were people I would have been familiar with had I read the prior books.
The couple’s travels in China are filled with sights, sounds, smells, food, and fun. The author’s descriptions of their different activities and excursions were better than a travelogue and will tempt readers to make their own travel plans. Chinese history and customs figure in the story, as are the complicated and uneasy relations between the locals and resident Korean immigrants. I did enjoy references to popular K-dramas and snippets of the Chinese language. The author includes a nice glossary of terms at the end of the book, too. There was entirely too much detail for me regarding Catherine’s bout of stomach upset, menstrual cycle, and the couple’s medical check-ups.
The mystery underlying the plot is set up through the use of multiple timelines, which ultimately collide to reveal horrible past crimes. Assumptions made in the past set off a chain of events with tragic results in the future. The clues to solving the whole thing are there from the start, as is the knowledge to sort it all out. I thought the author’s twist with the clues was fabulous; I was successfully thrown off and loved it when my misunderstanding was revealed.
While I had difficulty early on enjoying the story, I feel that was on me, and I plan on remedying some of that by reading books one and two. Regardless of where I came in on the series, the writing, mystery, and relationships are very good. I believe this book would be much more enjoyable for readers living in Britain and those who have read the previous books in the series. And besides…there’s that great cover and title.