The Pink Lotus, page 17
“I invited him,” Kenny said, appearing beside Doug. “I know you’ve worked pretty closely with him, and I figured you’d want him to know.”
Doug put his arm around Kenny’s shoulders—a stretch, given that Kenny was four inches taller than him—and patted his other hand on his friend’s chest, managing not to spill any champagne. “I’m glad you did. I wouldn’t have thought to, and that might’ve hurt his feelings. Jonesy’s a good guy, underneath it all.”
Kenny put his own arm around Doug’s shoulders, and gave it a brotherly squeeze. “We’ve got something else in common now, you and I. Fatherhood is wonderful, you’ll love it. I mean, it’s really hard sometimes; especially at first, when they won’t sleep. But then when they fall asleep on your shoulder, and their little face is turned toward you, all peaceful and trusting...” he sighed, and a wistful smile softened his features. “There’s nothing better in the whole world.”
“It’s going to be at least a week until I can experience that,” Doug said.
Kenny laughed. “Use that week, old chum. Get all the sleep you can now.”
George was standing nearby with a group that Doug recognized, but didn’t know well, and he called George’s name.
“What’s up, buddy?” George asked with a grin, in the deep baritone that resonated like the notes of a symphony.
“How long did it take before Tommy let you sleep all night?”
“Hasn’t happened yet,” George said. At the sight of Doug’s reaction, he laughed out loud, throwing his head back. “He’s up to about five or six hours between screaming for milk, which is a vast improvement from where we started.”
Doug’s heart sank with dread. “How old is he? He’s more than three months now, right?”
“Thirteen and a half weeks,” George said.
That suddenly sounded like an eternity. Doug’s face must have shown it, too, because George started laughing again. He felt Kenny’s shoulders shaking with laughter as well.
“Don’t worry, old chum,” Kenny said through the laughs. “It’ll be done before you know it. Then they just keep getting bigger and bigger, and you’ll start thinking how wonderful it was when they were little.” He took a sip of champagne, and then added, “And if you’re completely out of your mind, you’ll start thinking how wonderful it would be to have another one, so you can have that little baby in your arms again.”
“Run!” George told Kenny, and they all laughed again.
**
Yang Liling had arrived, along with her cousin Yajun—but interestingly, no Pan Yintao—and she was now monopolizing Fred’s attention. Stuart approached Doug and bumped shoulders with him.
“Congratulations again, Doug,” Stuart said.
“Thanks, buddy. But how are you doing? How are you holding up since...” He didn’t know exactly how to put it.
“Since I got arrested and spent a weekend in jail for something I didn’t do?” The tone was jocular, but there was genuine pain, and perhaps fear, in Stuart’s green eyes.
“Yeah, that,” Doug said. “How are you, really?”
Stuart shrugged. “Kenny says there’s more than reasonable doubt, now that Mark Chapman confirmed that he saw me leave. But I’m not so sure.”
Doug cocked his head. “Why is that?”
Stuart shrugged again. “What if Mark changes his story before Kenny gets him under oath?”
That was interesting. “Why do you think he would?”
“I don’t know, just a feeling,” Stuart said. Doug stared at him, and after a few seconds he relented and elaborated. “When I saw him arguing with Jimmy Lockhart in the men’s room, it looked almost as if he was frightened or something. I don’t know, it’s hard to describe. I just got a feeling there was something more going on, and Mark was scared of it.”
Doug pondered that for a second. “You mean scared enough that someone could pressure him into changing his story?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Doug nodded slowly, rolling that around in his head for a moment. If Mark Chapman was scared of something, and it was obvious to Stuart when Chapman had been talking privately with Jimmy Lockhart—that might mean Mark Chapman knew who killed Lockhart.
Doug needed to talk with him again. And soon.
Stuart was gazing across the room, toward where Fred and Liling were talking with Kenny and Abbie. Doug nodded their direction.
“I think this is the first time I’ve seen Liling without Pan Yintao trailing behind her.”
Stuart made a face. “She works on Wednesdays.”
“Works...you mean at The Pink Lotus?”
Stuart nodded. “She performs there on weeknights.”
Interesting. “But not on Fridays or Saturdays?”
Stuart smirked. “How else could she be Liling’s pet lizard when they go out on the town?”
“I thought performers never had weekends off,” Doug mused. “I wonder how she worked that out.”
Stuart smirked again. “Five bucks says she’s got something on her boss.”
Doug chuckled. That might fit. Bribery could buy all sorts of favors. Especially in Shanghai. “I wonder who owns the club.”
Stuart looked at Doug, head cocked and one eyebrow arched. “Mr. Yang is one of the co-owners, along with his brother, Dr. Yang. That’s how Liling got us in there that one time. She bribes the bouncers to not tell her father or uncle; she’s not allowed in there, you see. ‘It’s not a place for ladies.’ Ha! But she always gets what she wants, one way or another.”
He looked back toward Fred and Liling, and Doug thought he heard a note of bitterness in Stuart’s tone.
“Hang in there, buddy,” Doug said, patting Stuart’s shoulder, and then hurried away. He needed to find Jonesy.
**
“I can’t tomorrow night,” Jonesy said. “Got plans. How about Friday? That way, we can talk to the other performers when Pan Yintao isn’t there. My guess, they line up to spill the beans the minute she’s not around.”
That made a lot of sense, and Doug wished he’d thought of it that way. “He goes by Liu Fan during the day. Maybe we should talk to him then, when he’s not performing his alter ego.”
Jonesy seemed to consider that a moment. “Maybe. But let’s see what the other ‘ladies of the stage’ have to say first. Then if we decide to, we can confront Liu Fan with what we learn.”
Doug nodded. “Good idea. Thanks Jonesy.”
“My pleasure. We’ve got to get you out of the house now, before you’re tied down with baby care.” Jonesy chuckled. “I’ll meet you at your place at nine o’clock Friday night. Don’t over-dress, either. This ain’t that kind of club.”
17
Thursday, April 21
Doug went back to work the next day, but left early to visit Lucy. His mother-in-law was already there, having found her own cab that afternoon. Doug was hoping to have some alone time with Lucy, but Mrs. Kinzler stayed in the room.
First she had to give Doug a blow by blow of every little thing Danny had done the two times when the nurses brought him in to eat that afternoon—every yawn, every stretch, how red his little face got when he cried before a burp came out, and what a cute little sound those burps were.
Doug listened with a polite smile, nodding along, pretending to be grateful. “I feel like I was right there,” he said when she’d finally finished.
Lucy gave him a look—one of those looks that said ‘I agree with you, but don’t push it’—and then said, “Mother, would you go tell the nurse I’d like some fresh water?”
“Of course, dear. I’ll put her right on that.” Mrs. Kinzler hurried out, no doubt eager for the opportunity to tell the nurse what to do.
“God, she’s driving me up the wall,” Lucy muttered when her mother had disappeared down the corridor.
Doug chuckled. “That bad?”
“You wouldn’t believe it.”
“I bet I would.”
She laughed. “Yes, I bet you would. For starters, she’s been telling me every little thing I’m doing wrong—or at least, she thinks I’m doing it wrong—and she even corrected the nurse a couple of times when she gave me advice on nursing him. The poor nurse had to physically insert herself between us so she could get a good look. My mother hovered over me before that.”
Doug laughed, too. “I can believe all of it. You know I had to pretend to have a talk with Bao last night, telling him to keep his hands to himself while I was away and he was alone with your mother.”
Lucy giggled. “You didn’t!”
He laughed again. “No, not really—but she thinks I did. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it isn’t necessary.”
“If you’d tried to explain, she would have banished Bao from the house.”
“Don’t I know it! I’m not that crazy.”
Lucy crossed her arms. “She had words for me, about her ‘concerns’ regarding our moral character here in Shanghai. She did not approve of you going out last night.”
Doug’s pulse pounded in his ears, though it wasn’t surprising that she’d react that way. His own mother wouldn’t have waited even that long before sharing her opinion, with righteous indignation fueled by religious certainty.
“What did you tell her?” he asked.
Lucy shook her head. “Not that it will do any good, but I told her a new baby is worth celebrating, and that we’re grateful our friends want to celebrate with us. I told her I would have gone if I could, and that scandalized her. ‘A woman in your condition? Why, I never heard such a thing!’” Lucy put a hand on her cheek, mouth opening in mock shock as she aped her mother’s voice.
They shared a laugh. Just at the moment her mother walked back through the door.
“What’s so funny, dears?”
Doug and Lucy shared a look.
“Doug was just telling me something our friends said last night. You wouldn’t understand the reference, since you don’t live here.”
Mrs. Kinzler’s lips pursed, and her nose raised in the air a little. “I’m certain I wouldn’t,” she said, the words a little bit clipped. She took a seat, and looked directly at Doug. “Have you written to your parents today, Douglas?”
Doug cringed. “Not yet.”
“No? My goodness, you must get right on that. I sent a cable to Herbert this morning, so he’d know the baby is here, and what his name is. And then I wrote him a full letter with the rest of the details, and put that in the mail before I came here. Your mother will be so disappointed if she finds out from someone else.”
A shiver of panic ran through Doug’s belly. “You didn’t write to my mother about Danny yet, did you?”
“Not yet,” Mrs. Kinzler said, sounding a little cagey. “I started a letter to her right after I finished Herbert’s and Marty’s, but I didn’t have time to finish it today. I’ll try to mail it tomorrow.”
So Doug only had tonight to write to his parents. At least I have that much. Thank God she prioritized writing to her husband and her son over his parents and ran out of time. It would have been much worse if Mrs. Kinzler had put her letter to his parents in today’s mail. But even so, he hated being pressured into doing it right away.
“There was too much going on last night, and I’ve been at work all day today,” Doug said by way of explanation. “I’ll be sure to write to them tonight.”
Mrs. Kinzler’s expression was frosty. “Yes, apparently there were more important things to do last night than to write to your mother about the birth of her grandson.”
It was all Doug could do to ignore the comment, so he turned to Lucy and asked her how many times she’d gotten to hold Danny.
“At least a dozen,” she said, letting her exhaustion show. “The nurses woke me up every two hours to feed him. I only slept in short bits all night and all morning. Then Mother came right after lunch.”
And she’d been awake ever since. He could read between the lines on that one.
“You’ll sleep when the baby sleeps for the first two or three months,” Mrs. Kinzler said.
Lucy remained sanguine, though Doug wasn’t sure how she managed. “Yes, George told me that before Danny was born.”
“It bears repeating,” Mrs. Kinzler said. “You’ll have to let that chinaman do all of the house work for a while. And Douglas, you’ll do what you can to make things easier on her, won’t you? You’ll need to direct your servant so your wife won’t have to when she’s exhausted.”
Doug took a deep breath. “I’m sure Bao and I can manage things while Lucy sleeps.”
“And I’ll be here to make sure things run smoothly while you’re otherwise occupied, dear,” Mrs. Kinzler said, patting her daughter’s hand. “That’s why I came.”
Lucy managed a smile. “Thank you, Mother.”
Doug didn’t miss the tiny note of sarcasm in Lucy’s tone, and almost laughed. Mrs. Kinzler seemed oblivious.
“No thanks necessary, my dear. What else is a mother supposed to do when her only daughter has her first baby? I only wish you lived closer to Chicago, but we mothers do what we must regardless.”
The nurse came in and announced that Danny was ready for another feeding, “so Mr. Bainbridge will have to leave.” Doug gave Lucy a kiss, sorry to leave her. But not sorry to take a break from her mother.
**
While sitting in the waiting room, Doug dashed off a quick letter to his parents on plain stationery. After debating with himself a moment, he opted to forgo tradition and write a single letter addressed to both of them. Given the tone of their last letters, he kept his short and to the point.
April 21, 1938
Dear Mother and Dad,
I’m writing to inform you that your grandson, Daniel Timothy Bainbridge, was born yesterday evening in Shanghai. He weighed 7 lbs. 3 oz and was 20 ½ inches long. Mother and baby are both healthy and well.
Lucy and I are very happy, and I hope you’ll be happy for us.
Doug
**
Doug left with his mother-in-law when visiting hours ended at eight o’clock. He told her that Bao had promised something special for dinner, in honor of Danny’s birth yesterday.
Mrs. Kinzler didn’t look thrilled. “I hope it’s not something Chinese,” she said. “I don’t know how they eat some of the things that they eat.”
Doug didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just said, “I’m not sure what he’s making, Mother Kinzler. Bao is a very good cook, though, so whatever it is I’m sure it will be delicious.”
“We’ll see, I suppose.”
Without Lucy there as a buffer, this could be a long evening. And it could be an especially long week.
**
“Do they have regular radio stations here? Or only Chinese ones?” Mrs. Kinzler asked after dinner. She hadn’t complained about the shrimp and cuttlefish with rice noodles, but she had been remarkably quiet. Doug hoped having the radio on would continue that trend.
“There’s an American station,” Doug said, and turned on the radio. After it warmed up for a couple of seconds, he tuned the dial to XQHA. The static gave way to the music of the band at St. Anna’s Ballroom.
“Do they only play swing music?” Mrs. Kinzler asked with a slight frown.
“Mostly that,” Doug said. “They do announce the news a few times each evening.”
“Do they have a station here that plays Amos and Andy? Or Hollywood Playhouse? Herbert and I like to listen to those. We’re not fans of The Shadow, so if that’s playing, I’ll read one of Lucy’s magazines instead.”
“They have dozens of radio stations in Shanghai, in several different languages. I’m sure at least one of the English language stations plays American serials.” He began adjusting the dial slowly, passing several musical numbers—orchestral, as well as songs sung in several languages—and pausing every time he heard a speaking voice in English.
“Would you mind if we listened to the news before we continue looking for a show?” he asked his mother-in-law when he heard an announcer giving local Shanghai updates in a mid-Atlantic accent that could have been either American or British.
“I have no objection to that,” she said. “It’s your radio, after all, Douglas.”
He had no doubt that she still had opinions, regardless of whose home it was, but he kept quiet and listened to the local news.
“Governors of the Shanghai Electric Company have proposed a rate hike of fourteen percent, to take effect in May. The governors cite the rising cost of coal and urge the Municipal Council to approve the rate change at next week’s council meeting to maintain solvency of the utility.
“An unnamed Chinese man was arrested today on Kiukiang Road after firing a gun at an automobile parked in front of the Central Bank of China. Businessman Zheng Yao was wounded in the attack and taken to Lester Hospital in serious condition. Businessman Yang Yanwei was also in the vehicle at the time of the attack and assisted police in identifying the gunman. Police will not comment on possible motive, but unconfirmed reports claim that Zheng and Yang had just concluded an agreement to sell cotton from Yangtzepoo mills to the Japanese military command in Hixi, and the attack was retaliation by the Nationalist resistance.”
Doug sat up straighter. Yang Yanwei was Liling’s father.
18
Friday, April 22
Mrs. Kinzler’s expression when he told her he was going out that night reminded him of his mother’s when he was a teenager, home from boarding school for the summer, and had asked if he could borrow the car.
Something about the way her lips pursed for the thousandth time since she’d arrived barely a week ago set him off. He should have kept his mouth shut, but that was God damned impossible.
“Is something wrong, Mother Kinzler?”
She regarded him haughtily for a moment. Then after glancing around to be sure Bao wasn’t within earshot, she said, “You probably don’t know, Douglas, but many men give in to weakness and initiate adulterous affairs when their wives have a baby. I’m sure your father and mother sheltered you from such things, which is why I’m warning you of it. There will be temptations while Lucy is unable to perform her wifely duties. I know you were raised in a Christian household, so you’re equipped with the moral armor to resist painted ladies. But it bears reminding yourself often that those women lead to darkness and moral decay, and happiness lies in waiting for your wife.”
