Death In Shanghai by M J Lee

Kirov. ‘Good morning, Pyotr Alexandrevich, what a pleasant surprise.’
    ‘Good morning to you, Elena Ivanova.’ Inspector Danilov stepped aside to reveal Strachan standing behind him. ‘May I present to you Detective Constable Stra-chan. This is Princess Elena Ivanova Ostrepova.’
    ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Detective.’
    The Princess held out her hand. Danilov expected Strachan to kiss the hand or at least shake it heartily. Instead, he leaned forward and just touched the tips of the elegant fingers.
    She turned to Danilov. ‘This detective has such good manners, not like the last one you were with.’
    ‘Inspector Meaker was a little…clumsy, Princess.’
    ‘Clumsy? The man was a bear, a boor and a bore.’ She lifted her old-fashioned pince-nez to her eyes and examined Strachan. ‘But this one I approve. Most charming.’ She turned back again to Danilov. ‘So, is this visit business or pleasure?’ She pointed to an empty chess board at a nearby table.
    ‘Business, I’m afraid.’
    ‘How tiresome. Never mind, at least we will have some tea and snacks together, yes?’
    ‘That would be most welcome.’
    She led them to a large wooden table covered in glass and topped with an intricate lace cloth. She clapped her hands and immediately a waitress began to set the table with fine china plates and glass tea cups.
    ‘Please sit. If it’s about your family, Inspector, I’m afraid I have heard nothing more since our last chat. My “little ears” have heard not a pin drop.’
    Danilov coughed, hoping that Strachan hadn’t heard. ‘Stra-chan, the Princess has the finest network of “little ears” in Shanghai. There is nothing that goes on in the French Concession she does not know about.’
    ‘You flatter me, Pyotr Alexandrevich. You must be after something very important.’
    They both laughed. ‘As usual, Princess, you see through me as clearly as a drop of melted snow.’
    The food and snacks began to arrive. Danilov paused while the waitress served them, pouring the tea into glasses. He inhaled the aroma, picked up the glass cup by its metal holder and took a little sip of the scalding brew. ‘As perfect as ever. Just like Minsk, only better.’
    ‘It’s good enough. The water isn’t the same, you know. In St Petersburg, there, we used to drink tea.’
    Danilov saw a momentary ‘oh’ of happiness cross the face of the Princess. He imagined her younger self flirting with dashing officers, dancing the night away, laughing like there was no tomorrow. The look vanished to be followed by one of sadness and regret.
    ‘You said you had business with me, Inspector?’
    ‘I did, Princess.’ He took another sip of the tea. ‘Recently there have been two murders in the Concession.’
    ‘A terrible business.’
    ‘Terrible indeed. The first was a French magistrate, Monsieur Flamini. Found on the steps of the courthouse…frozen.’
    The last word was spoken after a long pause. The Princess stared back at him. ‘And what do you want from me, Inspector?’
    ‘Have your “little ears” heard anything?’
    ‘A few whispers here and there. But whispers are very hard to hear, they get caught in the breeze and vanish into the air.’ She snapped her fingers softly.
    Danilov looked straight at the Princess. The elegant old lady with her rather old-fashioned Edwardian dress and beautiful, porcelain skin had been replaced by something much harder, like a sleeping cat that had just revealed its claws.
    He smiled. ‘You are quite right, Princess. Whispers are such fleeting things. Here one moment and gone the next. Only the bad rumours fly on wings. I heard one such rumour recently.’
    ‘Did you, Inspector?’
    ‘About a club on Chu Pao Street. A Russian club it appears. Our friends in the Shanghai Police may raid it soon. Illegal activity apparently, girls and opium. The usual vices.’
    ‘Such vices are everywhere in the city. Mankind loves its vices more than it loves its