Chapter 11 Basin Sister
BASIN SISTER
Later on, Mercy could not say for sure why she remained hidden.
Her boss was unarmed and alone; this could have been the perfect time to confront the other woman and explain what she was doing.
They had years of rapport, and were ultimately seeking the same goal—the salvation of Kowloon’s community.
In all likelihood, Cobra Lily was here for the same reasons as Mercy: to snoop around, and find something they could use against the councilwoman.
At the very least, it would have been far more sensible than stuffing herself into a liquor cabinet and not coming out.
Only extremely suspect people hid themselves in furniture without a good explanation, and she had none.
If Cobra Lily caught her, the whole conversation would get off to a very wrong start.
Even so, some primitive instinct kept Mercy frozen inside the cabinet. She peered through the wooden latticework which covered the doors, holding her breath and taking care not to move.
Cobra Lily drew closer. She was dressed in a black formfitting suit cut in the modern style, with a red collar and red trim on the sleeves. It was elegant, but in that dilapidated flat, she looked startlingly out of place.
For a split second, Mercy thought the triad queen had seen her and was going to fling open the cabinet, because her gaze appeared to be stabbing straight through the latticework.
Mercy’s throat grew tight, fist closing around her knife preemptively.
Then Cobra Lily, with casual absent-mindedness, turned toward the mysterious room instead.
She took out a key, twisted it twice in the lock, and stepped inside. Mercy caught a brief glimpse of a lush interior, draped in finery and exotic furniture from other countries, and then the door fell shut behind her.
Moments later, a soft clunking noise echoed from within, as if a heavy drawer had been closed with too much force.
A slow flush crept into Mercy’s face.
She was an idiot, three times over. Cobra Lily was likely here to visit a phoenix sister, for the same usual reasons most people visited such establishments. The triad queen had cash, and was known to prefer women. The Birdcage was discreet and had warm beds. Who was Mercy to judge.
Except … that still didn’t answer the question of why Cobra Lily had turned on Mercy so suddenly, sending men to attack her in the night. Also, it was a deeply strange coincidence that Cobra Lily should turn up in a property owned by her supposed nemesis.
Mercy was still conflicted on what to do about it when the door to Red Bird’s room opened again. Inside the cabinet, knees burning from strain, she stiffened to statue-quiet, once more holding her breath.
And almost choked when a completely different person stepped out.
A young woman strode past in flashy clothes, high heels, and fake jewelry. Very little skin was hidden in that outfit. Mercy didn’t judge any woman’s occupation, but she simply hadn’t expected this stranger to come sauntering out of the same room Cobra Lily had entered.
The mysterious girl clacked down the hallway in her heels and left through the front door, shutting it firmly behind her. The key turned, and silence followed.
Mercy waited, dumbfounded, until the echoing footsteps were gone.
The woman who’d left was Red Bird, presumably. Cobra Lily had gone in to see her, so she must still be in there. But what was she doing on her own, in a phoenix sister’s room?
Curiosity and lingering anger made Mercy reckless. She pushed open the cabinet with the heel of her hand, crept out, and listened at Red Bird’s door. Nothing; still and silent as before. She put her eye to the keyhole.
Empty. There was nobody in there, unless for some insane reason Cobra Lily had chosen to hide under the bed. Where the fuck had the triad queen gone?
Mercy sat back on her heels, frowning. One person had entered. One person had left. The only problem was they were different people.
Suddenly, getting inside felt like the most important thing in the world.
Quiet as a mouse, she took her knife and slid it through the gap to lift the latch.
Red Bird’s room was much the same as when Mercy had briefly glimpsed it through the keyhole: lushly appointed, all corners and hard surfaces softened with swathes of different fabric, drapes, and little touches.
The bed took up most of the space, elaborate and carved.
There was no space underneath; it was solid all the way to the floor.
An open wardrobe rested against one wall, expensive clothes hanging in a neat row.
A dresser table was nestled on the far wall, a basin of water resting atop its surface.
The decor was extravagant, especially compared to the rest of the flat. Some of the things in here could not easily have been bought on a phoenix sister’s salary.
It was also empty of people. No question.
If anyone had been hiding in here … well, there was no place to hide.
She turned in a circle, frowning at the dresser, the wardrobe, the solid bed.
A small stack of books, slowly gathering dust: Chinese philosophy from various historical periods, and a well-thumbed copy of collected Song dynasty poetry.
Cobra Lily definitely, definitely wasn’t in here. So where the hell had she gone?
“Fuck a crab,” Mercy said aloud.
There had to be a secret door in here. That was the only explanation. She stood up, glancing once at the dresser table with its mess of jewelry and cosmetics.
A ghost peered up from the basin.
Mercy swore in shock, grasping her knife tight. She leaned over the wide ceramic bowl.
Her own reflection was gone, replaced by the apparition of an elegant, oval-faced woman, perhaps early thirties in age—the same one who’d just walked out in the flesh, moments before. Her skin looked damp, as did her hair, like she’d recently washed in a basin.
Or been drowned in one.
“You must be the ghost of the young lady who I just saw walking out of this room,” Mercy said, low. “How is it possible that your spirit has been separated from your body?”
Another thought, more horrible: If this lady was dead, what was living in her skin? This strange business was getting worse by the minute.
The young woman opened her mouth as if to speak, but reflections could only be silent. Her lips trembled. She was a weak spirit, contained in a vase’s worth of water.
“Are you dead, little sister?” Mercy knew the answer, but when talking with ghosts, it was important to find out what they knew, too. Some thought they were still alive, and needed gentle correction.
The woman nodded, her face mournful. She was well aware of her own status.
“When did this happen?”
Hesitantly, the spirit held up a finger and sketched something out. Her fingers did not break the surface, but her touch was sufficient to displace ripples.
“Eight,” Mercy hazarded. It wasn’t easy, trying to read backward-facing Chinese characters invisibly traced underneath water. “Eight what, days?”
Red Bird shook her head.
“Weeks? Months?”
A shake, a pause, then a nod.
“Eight months,” Mercy said, faintly. That was a terribly long time to be trapped in a basin. “And no one noticed?”
A helpless shrug from the ghost.
“Who killed you? Who took your body?”
Red Bird put her face in her hands, shoulders quivering with silent sobs. She either did not know, or could not say. Ghosts often found their own murders hard to face.
“Don’t worry about it,” Mercy said, conscious of the time bleeding away. “Can we help each other? I’m looking for—for someone who was in here, very recently. I think she might know your killer, or be involved somehow. Do you know where she went?”
She would never have spoken to a ghost so boldly in normal circumstances, but Cobra Lily might come back into this room at any point, and she did not want to rely on getting lucky a second time.
Within the reflection, the dead woman pointed behind Mercy, as best she could while trapped in a basin.
Mercy spun round. Nothing to see. She glanced back at the basin; nothing in the reflection either, anymore. The mysterious woman had dispersed, for now.
She put her knife away and stepped toward the wall, next to the bed. She thought, though she wasn’t sure, that this was the general direction the ghost had indicated. Nothing unusual stood out. She peered more closely.
A mosaic of small tiles adorned the wall, beautiful and intricate, arranged to form the image of a flower, possibly a lily—hard to tell, it was so stylized.
Looking more closely, Mercy was struck by the realization that one of the little tiles did not line up, was out of sync with the others.
It gave the flower a slightly lopsided appearance.
Mercy ran a finger over the odd tile. Slightly loose, hint of a rattle. She pressed it experimentally, feeling foolish.
The tile sank into the wall, and she swore under her breath. A gentle clunk followed, same as the one she’d heard when Cobra Lily had been in here alone.
Mercy stepped back as part of the wall swung open, revealing a narrow archway that was just big enough for her to squeeze through, if she turned sideways. She peered inside.
Through the secret entrance, she spied what must have once been the bathroom in this flat. Tiled flooring, moldy walls, and emptiness greeted her. The sink and toilet had been ripped out, as had the far wall. Someone had simply knocked a long hole through, and then built a chute on the other side.
“Don’t think that’s allowed in the rental agreement,” Mercy muttered, peering over.
The chute itself descended into darkness, accessible only through a series of metal rungs fixed into the wall. Someone had done some serious conversions on this room. The chute went down at least two levels to the ground, maybe farther. Mercy wondered how that worked, with shops beneath.
She stared, wishing Bao were with her. She’d come out this morning in search of answers, but the questions were only piling up.