The Feng Shui Detective's Casebook Part 8

'Thank you so much for coming, Doctor. It looks really bad.'

'Have you called an ambulance?' Doctor Frankie Brackish asked.

'I just did. They should be here in five minutes. But I think it's too late.'

'Where's the bod-the patient?'

'Still in the gym,' said Ashanti, wiping her eyes and sniffing. 'I followed the special bulletin for Mrs Lavender on your database really, really carefully. But it seemed to be too much for her -'

Doctor Brackish marched sternly down the corridor. 'I hope you haven't been foolish. Jackie Lavender is not a young woman. She has a heart condition. It would be madness to overdo the exercise.'

He opened the gym doors and stepped into the cool, sprung-floored room. The lights were off and the curtains were shut.

'Now,' said a voice he thought he knew.

Switches were flicked and the room was suddenly ablaze with light.

'Surprise,' said half a dozen voices.

Doctor Brackish, blinking, stared at the individuals who stepped out from their hiding places behind the gym equipment. There was Jimmy Wegner, whose voice he had just heard. And Dominique Alegre, a client from the Millennium Health Centre. And Kees Luis de Boer, general manager of The Players. And Stan Eknath, another fitness trainer whose career he had ruined. And his patient Jackie Lavender-not collapsed on a treadmill as alleged but looking perfectly fit and smiling. And two other people: a teenage girl and an old Chinese man.

Ashanti Carle came up behind him. 'Sorry, Doctor Brackish, but it's over. The game is up, as they say in the cop shows.'

'What-what-what are you talking about?' he stuttered. 'What's going on?'

'We compared notes, that's what. Stan and Jimmy and me. You added bulletins onto the instructions on your website, sent us heart patients and tried to make us work them to death. Mr Wong says he is going to ask the police to examine the wills of patients of yours who have died. I don't know exactly what you're up to, but I know you've been using us as saps.'

'I did no such thing. The notes on my database recommend very mild exercise. Check it and see.'

'I bet they do. I bet they do now now,' said Jimmy. 'But you add special individual bulletins and delete them, don't you? You tried to make Ashanti kill Jackie-and as soon as you got the call from her that her client had collapsed, you deleted the individual bulletin in the database, didn't you? Removed the work-her-to-death stuff, so that all that was left was a mild list of exercises.'

'You can't prove any of this.'

Jimmy held up some sheets of paper. 'We printed the bulletin. And we have witnesses to everything.'

'You couldn't have. You're lying. My bulletins are in a graphic file format. You can't print them out. They would come out blank.'

Jimmy gestured at Joyce with his hand. 'We got some expert help.'

Joyce blushed. 'I wouldn't call myself an expert. But I can find and install shareware and I can reverse fonts and I can do screen dumps and all that sort of thing. It was really easy, anyone could do it.'

'b.u.g.g.e.r,' said Doctor Brackish. He turned around and faced Jimmy Wegner.

'I'll fight you in court. You haven't a chance.'

Jimmy turned to Stan. 'Hear that? He wants a fight.'

Stan grinned. 'A fight? b.l.o.o.d.y fantastic idea.'

The dark-skinned trainer peeled off his shirt in one easy movement, revealing a wiry torso with muscles rippling like a panther's.

'Let me help,' said Jimmy. He pulled his shirt over his head, to reveal his equally impressive bodybuilder's physique.

Joyce's eyes bulged, her jaw dropped open and her tongue slipped out. 'I think I'm going to faint!' she whimpered.

3

The cars that flew away

The King of Qi was having trouble governing, and needed some help.So he called the Governor of Xue Di. The Governor of Xue Di was a tough man whose name was Meng Changjun.The King of Qi said: 'I will give you a post in my government.'So Governor Meng Changjun moved to the Kingdom of Qi.The time came for tax to be collected in Xue Di. (Meng Changjun remained Governor of Xue Di.) He called his servant, Feng Yuan.Governor Meng said: 'Go back to Xue Di. Collect the taxes for me.'Feng Yuan said: 'Shall I bring the money back here?'Meng Changjun said: 'No. Buy something with the money.'Feng Yuan said: 'What shall I buy?'Meng Changjun said: 'You know what I have. Buy something I do not have.'So the servant looked all around Meng Changjun's house in the capital of Qi.Then he travelled in a chariot to the district of Xue Di.Later he came back to the Kingdom of Qi.Meng Changjun said: 'What did you buy with the money?'Feng Yuan said: 'I looked in your house. You have gold and silver. You have wine and food. You have women and heirs. I bought something you did not have.'Meng Changjun said: 'What is it I do not have?'Feng Yuan said: 'The love of your people.'Meng Changjun said: 'How you can buy love?'Feng Yuan said: 'I told the people of Xue Di that you were cancelling their debts. This will help them to have love for you.'Meng Changjun was very angry. He said: 'You have done a bad thing. You have lost my money.'But later the King of Qi said to Governor Meng Changjun: 'I do not need you any more. You can go home now.'Meng Changjun went home. He was still angry with his servant. He reached Xue Di.He found all the Xue Di people lined up on the street to greet him. They all loved him. They cheered. They sang his name.He was happy. He turned to his servant. He said: 'The servant has taught the master.'Blade of Gra.s.s, simple minds think earthly treasure only is valuable. Wise men know that treasure of the spirit is harder to find and far more valuable. The younger the age you realise this, the sooner you are born.

From 'Some Gleanings of Oriental Wisdom'

by CF Wong, part 22.

Wong read through the chapter he had just written and pondered. The story of the wise servant Feng Yuan reminded him of a related tale, and he was feeling creative. Perhaps he could write another chapter this morning-or even two? It was 10 am and he didn't have any appointments until a reading of a new Szechuan restaurant at 1 pm. It appeared that neither Mr Pun nor any of his board members was in need of his services today.

He flipped to a fresh page of his journal to begin writing again, but then noticed a movement from the corner of his eye. His secretary Winnie Lim had adopted a curious posture. She was sitting up straight behind her desk with her arms spread out in front of her. Her hands, palms down, were stretched out flat with the fingers splayed. She looked as if she were performing some sort of spell.

'What?' he inquired.

'Drying nails. Two colour holographic blend. Mus' keep fingers horizontal for ten minute.'

'Oh.'

'You answer phone.'

'Okay okay.'

Joyce looked up from the magazine she was reading. 'No probs. I'll I'll answer the phone. He's the big boss. He shouldn't have to answer his own phone. People'll diss him. I can do all that secretary stuff, easy.' The young woman beamed a 100-kilowatt smile at her boss and yanked the phone off his desk on to her own. answer the phone. He's the big boss. He shouldn't have to answer his own phone. People'll diss him. I can do all that secretary stuff, easy.' The young woman beamed a 100-kilowatt smile at her boss and yanked the phone off his desk on to her own.

Wong did not return the smile. Instead, he gave her a malevolent glare.

Joyce was in disgrace and he wanted her to know it.

She had brought a group of friends into the office the previous night. They had apparently missed the 7:30 showing of a movie and she had decided to kill some time by giving them a tour of her workplace.

As a result, Wong arrived at the office at eight the next morning to find that it stank of stale beer and was littered with small polystyrene boxes from the hamburger store. But worst of all, there was writing on the wall-a Chinese character drawn badly in blood- in blood-a shocking sight, and extremely negative feng shui. feng shui. After he had got over his fright, he had become puzzled. His knowledge of Chinese characters was encyclopedic, but he was unable to precisely identify the one on the wall, and had wasted half an hour going through his old stroke-order dictionaries to try to locate it. After he had got over his fright, he had become puzzled. His knowledge of Chinese characters was encyclopedic, but he was unable to precisely identify the one on the wall, and had wasted half an hour going through his old stroke-order dictionaries to try to locate it.

When Joyce finally arrived at the office at 10:25, looking the worse for wear, she had apologetically explained that it wasn't a Chinese character at all, but an accidental splash of burgundy, a type of red wine from the land of the gwailo. gwailo.

'But why is wine on wall wall?' Wong had asked.

Her eyebrows came together crossly, as if he had asked a totally unreasonable question. 'Well, you know, you open some wine, you have a bit of a party, the wine gets splashed all over the wall, you know how it is.'

Wong did not know how it was, as was evident from his irritated expression.

Joyce, clearly feeling guilty as well as hung over, wearily tried to make amends. She promised to get some super-strong stain remover. 'Mind you, the way I feel now, I wouldn't know whether to splash it on the wall or drink it,' she'd said.

An uneasy silence had descended.

So later that morning, when she offered to man the phone, the feng shui feng shui master a.s.sumed that she was attempting to make up for her sins, which remained startlingly obvious on the office wall. Then he remembered that Joyce's mobile phone was out of order-water had short-circuited the electronics. He realised that the real reason she wanted maximum access to the office's single phone line was to keep her social life going. Pestilent master a.s.sumed that she was attempting to make up for her sins, which remained startlingly obvious on the office wall. Then he remembered that Joyce's mobile phone was out of order-water had short-circuited the electronics. He realised that the real reason she wanted maximum access to the office's single phone line was to keep her social life going. Pestilent mat salleh. mat salleh.

After this, an uneasy peace was maintained for precisely seven-and-a-half minutes. And then the phone rang.

'h.e.l.lo?' said Joyce. 'Yeah, this is CF Wong's office. Oh. Well, I'm afraid he's in a meeting. Can I help you? I'm his personal a.s.sistant.'

Wong was surprised to hear this. What meeting was he in?

'A what? A garage? No, we don't do garages. Who is this? Sorry, but Mr Wong is a busy man. He has to do a lot of important offices and shops and homes. He doesn't have time for garages. Try one of the cheap ones. There are lots in the phone book, probably. Look under 'feng shui people' or 'mystics' or something. Good luck. Bye-ee.' people' or 'mystics' or something. Good luck. Bye-ee.'

She lowered the handset and gave her boss a self-satisfied smirk. 'There you go. Got rid of a time-waster for you. He wanted you to do his garage. I mean. mean.'

Wong was confused. 'I am not in a meeting.'

'Yeah, yeah, but that's what secretaries say. Good ones anyway.' Joyce threw a dirty look at Winnie, but she didn't seem to be listening. 'You mustn't make it too easy for people to get hold of you.'

'But who was it?'

'Dunno. Some idiot. I told him you didn't do garages. You don't, do you?'

Wong thought about this. 'First you ask price. Then Then I decide if I do it. Better.' I decide if I do it. Better.'

Joyce lifted her feet on to her desk and picked up her magazine. 'Okay, but I bet you couldn't charge much for something like that,' she said, flicking through the pages.

'Depend on who belong to it.'

'It belonged to some bloke called Young. Nevis Young or something like that.'

Wong leapt out of his chair as if he had been scalded. 'Nevis Au Yeung?'

Joyce peered over the top of her magazine at him. Unnerved, she had difficulty keeping her voice steady. 'Yeah, that's it. D'you know him?' She quietly took her feet off her desk.

The feng shui feng shui man was instantly short of breath. His bony chest appeared to be constricted. He couldn't speak. He found himself stiff and swaying like a poorly-a.s.sembled scaffold, his mouth wide open. He began hyperventilating. man was instantly short of breath. His bony chest appeared to be constricted. He couldn't speak. He found himself stiff and swaying like a poorly-a.s.sembled scaffold, his mouth wide open. He began hyperventilating.

'Uh-oh,' said Joyce, dropping her magazine and sitting bolt upright. 'I guess I did something wrong.'

Wong clamped his mouth shut and took three deep breaths through his nose. He spoke quietly. 'You mean the secretary of Nevis Au Yeung called to me?'

'No.'

'Who was it?'

'It was the guy himself. Nevis wotsit.'

Wong's eyes bulged and he looked as if he was about to fall over. 'Aiyeeah! Aiyeeaaaaah!' The feng shui feng shui master's thin body started to tip backwards. He was about to faint. master's thin body started to tip backwards. He was about to faint.

Winnie, her fingers still spread in front of her, shrieked. 'Get him! I think maybe he will fall over and break his head.'

The geomancer again swayed steeply backwards.

Joyce shouted to Winnie: 'You get him-you're closer.'

'Cannot-ah! Nails not dry!'

But Wong didn't fall over. His knees buckled and he merely collapsed heavily into his seat, his eyes still glazed. Thirteen seconds pa.s.sed.

Then he jerked himself to his feet again and spoke urgently: 'Call him back! Find the number in the book. Quick! He is the vice-chairman of East Trade Industries Company Limited. Also, he is the 39th richest man in Asia.' (Wong, like many of his friends, obsessively memorised the Forbes' Forbes' listing of the world's wealthiest people every year.) listing of the world's wealthiest people every year.) 'Yes, boss,' said Joyce, suddenly suffused with guilt.

'Phone book is there,' said Winnie.

'I'll see if I can do a last-call-received redial thing on this phone,' the young woman said, punching a few b.u.t.tons. She bit her lower lip and crossed the fingers on her free hand. Success! 'There you go. It's ringing.'

All three held their breath.

'Hi. Is that Nevis? Yeah? My name's Joyce. I'm the a.s.sistant of CF Wong, the feng shui feng shui man? You called just now?' man? You called just now?'

'Give me the phone.' Wong, still emotional, spoke with difficulty, his voice husky.

'Well, I'm just calling to say that he's just come out of his meeting. He said he doesn't normally do garages but he might do yours, 'cause you are on Mr Pun's board and all that.'

'Give me the phone.'

'Is it an urgent job? You want him to come today? He probably can, but we'll have to charge a one hundred per cent surcharge for express service. As a board member, you are ent.i.tled to one free normal visit, but we have a surcharge for urgent a.s.signments.'

'GIVE ME -' 'Yeah, one hundred per cent. And if you want Mr Wong himself to do it, instead of one of his staff, that will be a further one hundred per cent. That okay?'

Wong lowered the hand that was reaching out to the handset. Two hundred per cent surcharge? It sank in that Joyce seemed to be handling this rather well.

The young woman, starting to relax, leaned back in her plastic seat. 'If money is like not really a major problem, I would suggest you go for the annual package price. You get a monthly visit from Mr Wong himself. It's way cheaper than booking individual visits.'

Nevis Au Yeung's tinny voice could be heard coming out of the handset, but not loud enough for the Wong to hear what he was saying.

The frantic feng shui feng shui master knew that Au Yeung was one of the wealthiest members of Mr Pun's board of directors. But he had never shown any interest in master knew that Au Yeung was one of the wealthiest members of Mr Pun's board of directors. But he had never shown any interest in feng shui. feng shui. What had changed the tyc.o.o.n's mind? What had changed the tyc.o.o.n's mind?

Wong tiptoed around to the side of Joyce's desk to eavesdrop. All he could hear was an unintelligible buzz from the handset.

'Yeah,' she replied. 'Sounds good. What's the address? Ridley Park? Yeah. What number? Got it. See you at eleven. Bye-ee.'

She put the phone down with a self-satisfied smirk.