They both waited for the men from the mortuary to arrive and take the woman away. As they did, the doctor spent a long time justifying the woman’s death using long medical words and even longer sentences.
Danilov decided to cut his explanation off. ‘It doesn’t really matter now, does it, Doctor? The woman is dead; she won’t be able to tell us anything any more.’
‘But you don’t realise… I did my best. The wounds, her body couldn’t…’
‘Let’s go, Strachan.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Danilov strode away down the corridor. He needed some fresh air and a cigarette to help him think.
Outside the hospital, the road was overflowing with people and activity. Luckily there were no reporters.
Danilov rolled a cigarette, inhaling the smoke deep into his lungs to rid them of the stale, disinfected air of the hospital.’
‘What now, sir?’
Danilov let out a long blast of smoke from his nostrils. ‘I’m going home; nothing more we can do this evening. Elina is cooking something; I don’t know what it is and I suspect neither does she. But I’m sure I will eat it all, whatever it is.’ He placed his hat back on his head. ‘You need to transcribe the notes from your interviews with the servants at the Country Club. And make sure the files are up to date. I have a feeling Chief Inspector Rock is a stickler for bureaucracy.’
‘Yes, sir, I’ll go back to Central and finish them before I leave.’
Danilov began to descend the stairs and then stopped. He turned back as if he had forgotten to say something. ‘Don’t stay too late. You need to pick me up before we interview Li Min tomorrow morning. After that, we will go back to the Country Club. I want to revisit the crime scene once more.’
‘I’ll pick you up at 6.30, sir.’
Danilov threw the end of his cigarette into the gutter. ‘Good. Now all I have to do is survive my daughter’s cooking this evening.’
‘We all have our cross to bear, sir.’
Danilov thought about inviting Strachan to join him to eat Elina’s food, but rejected the idea with a shake of his head. Nobody deserved such a punishment, certainly not Strachan. ‘Good night,’ he finally said.
‘Good night, sir.’
Danilov turned away to walk home.
‘Oh, sir,’
‘What is it, Strachan?’
‘You will crack this case, you always do, sir.’
‘Will I, Strachan? I’m not sure about this one.’
He thrust his hands into the pockets of his old coat, buried his head between the lapels and walked off into the Shanghai night.