‘Was anything else taken?’
‘Yes, many things-other scrolls, books, ornaments. Some of value, others not. All insured. A few things were broken, but I have had the study cleaned. I ruminated for several days before taking this action.’
‘I’ll have to talk to these people.’
He nodded. ‘Certainly, but Dr Caswell left Australia for Tibet a week ago on sabbatical leave. Mrs Tsang, my housekeeper, is at your disposal. My daughter may be a little hard to locate, but I assume you have ways of doing that.’
Yes. Before we get into that, could you tell me why you called me in on this? I mean, I haven’t got lot; any connections with the…’
He smiled again and the skin hardly crinkled. ‘You were going to say “Chinese community” although you know that I am a Tibetan. It’s very difficult for you. Well, Mr Hardy. I made some enquiries when this matter arose. I needed someone discreet, of course, and you come highly commended on that score. But I also learned that you fought against the Chinese communists in Malaya.’
‘Yes, well…’
‘The only successful anti-guerilla campaign in history. I wish my poor country had had such allies. You know of the subjugation of Tibet by China?’
I knew that the Dalai Lama wasn’t top dog there anymore and that the Chinese didn’t have any trouble going up mountains from the Tibetan side, but my knowledge ended about there. Kangri took silence for assent and went on, ‘I left my country in 1950 when the conquest began. I went to the United States to study and to go into business.’
‘What business was that?’ I had the notebook at the ready.
‘Importing art objects from my country and India. I prospered, then I came here where I have continued to prosper. My country has been forgotten, overlooked. It is an anachronism, an irrelevance. My edition of the scroll will perhaps correct that. It will show that Tibet had a rich, humanistic culture, that it was not just a society of peasants and priests.’
I had already classified the good doctor as a pretty shrewd number. I had the feeling that his business might have involved some corner-cutting and I’d have bet that his doctorate wasn’t from Harvard. But all the signs were that he could write a good cheque; and if he wanted to think I’d idealistically thrown my young body into the fray against the communistic menace, instead of just wanting to get out of Australia and having the sense to do what I was told for a while, who was I to disillusion him?
‘Does anyone else know you have the scroll? I mean, other Tibetans, scholars?’
‘No. Only the people I have mentioned. My daughter would not be interested enough to tell anyone. Mrs Tsang is totally discreet. Dr Caswell would realise the penalties of any publicity.’
‘Penalties?’
‘Obvious, surely. This is a highly erotic work. The newspapers would fall on it as a spicy story. My edition would be seen in the worst possible light. I shudder at the thought.’
I could see his point; headlines like ‘Sex Scroll Stolen’ wouldn’t strike the right scholarly note. I had a lot of questions, but some of them I could put to other people. I closed the notebook and stood up.
‘Just one question, Dr Kangri; don’t be insulted. As your agent I’m protected if I get hold of the scroll only if it’s your property. Is it?’
‘Yes, in every sense.’
‘Good. Perhaps you could give me a list of places that would be interested in such things-dealers, collectors.’
‘I’m afraid not. You’re slipping into the same mistake, Mr Hardy, assuming I am part of some sort of community in this city. There is no Tibetan community in Sydney. I know of no… shop that would have any knowledge of such a scroll as this.’
‘If some dealer in oriental things got hold of it would its value be immediately apparent?’
‘Not necessarily. I can’t bear to think of such a thing.’
‘I’ll have to think of it then. Could I see your housekeeper?’
‘Of course.’ He opened a drawer in the desk, took out a cheque book and looked at me enquiringly.
‘A hundred and twenty-five dollars a day and expenses,’ I said. ‘Two days fee in advance if that’s convenient.’
He wrote and handed me the cheque. He stood up with another of those easy, youthful movements and went around the desk. ‘I’ll send Mrs Tsang in here. I’m afraid I have an appointment now, so I will hope to get a report from you soon, Mr Hardy. You appreciate that I am very distressed over this, and I am placing all my hopes in you.’
It was just as well he told me. For all the emotion he displayed we could have been talking about a lost sock. We nodded inscrutably at each other and he went out. I wondered if I should go behind the desk but I decided not to. I perched on the edge of it instead. Nice desk, good wood, carved. Nice carpet; good bookshelves; nice cupboard, pity about the smashed lock. Pity about the priceless scroll too.
The woman who knocked at the door was medium-sized with black hair drawn tightly back and a very erect carriage. She stood straight and still with her knuckles just an inch from the door jamb. I felt awkward in the oppressively scholarly room and even more so now summoning forward someone who lived in the house. I tried a smile and a wave.
‘Come in, Mrs Tsang, come in.’ I sounded like a housemaster or what I imagined a housemaster sounded like-we didn’t have them at Maroubra High. She walked in and stood in front of me. I was going to have to go the whole hog.
‘Please sit down.’ She sat in the chair I’d vacated, still stiff and straight in her dark plain dress and sensible shoes. Like Dr Kangri she had a smooth brown face and she gave off an air of having lived on this earth for a good spell rather than looking old. Her mouth was thin and straight, her slanted black eyes were still; as Kangri had seemed to minimise emotion she minimised movement.
‘You know why I’m here, Mrs Tsang?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Sir, maybe I’d got the housemaster note right after all.
‘Can you help me?’
She shook her head.
‘Were you in the house when the study was… disturbed?’
‘Some of the time, not all. I went shopping. The house was not always attended.’
‘Did you set the alarm system?’ As a matter of professional habit I’d noticed that the house had a thorough, if not very modern, set of door and window alarms.
‘Yes, sir; but the alarm, it does not always work. Dr Kangri has said that the system provides a deterrent and that is enough.’
She said this, one of the dopiest things it’s possible to say in Sydney where there’s a burglary every five minutes, as if it was a revered, unquestionable statement.
‘Did you come into this room that day?’
‘No, sir. I dust the room once a week, that is all. I did not come in here until Dr Kangri cried out that the scroll had gone.’ She paused as if for breath. ‘And I have not been in since, until this time.’ It sounded pat, rehearsed, but she had a strange lilt in her voice and it was hard to tell-she might have sounded like that when buying cabbages.
I ran through the usual questions: see anything unusual that day? No. Any deliveries to the house? No. Gas, phone, electricity men? No. Then I gave her one that made her blink.
‘Where is Dr Kangri’s wife?’
Blink. ‘She died several years ago.’
I felt that I was getting better at reading her and I guessed that Kangri’s widowhood didn’t displease her. Then the stillness came over her again and she didn’t blink when I asked her where I might find the good doctor’s daughter and what her name was.
‘May Kangri,’ she said evenly. ‘She left an address recently for her cheques to be sent to.’
‘Cheques?’