“Here.” The man glanced at Gyeong-ae’s mother, seated across from Geumcheon. She could see that the newcomer was concealing something beneath his overcoat, but she was unable to follow their Japanese.
Geumcheon felt no need to keep it under wraps. “Let me take a look.” Extending his hand, he shot Gyeong-ae’s mother a quick glance. When Gyeong-ae’s mother saw the pair of worn-out shoes he pulled out, her head jolted back in astonishment. The detectives exchanged a glance, overjoyed. Gyeong-ae’s mother now knew that they had her cornered. She felt dizzy but fought to stay alert.
“You recognize these shoes.” Geumcheon took on a menacing expression. “Whose are they?”
“What are you talking about?”
The underling charged toward her and grabbed her by the shoulders. She was thrown to the floor, moaning; he kicked her a few times for good measure.
Jang Hun had been under surveillance, and as he was higher in the group’s hierarchy, he was brought to the station a day after Byeong-hwa. After the recent melee between Jang Hun and Byeong-hwa, Geumcheon had noticed an unfamiliar pair of shoes under the outer quarters’ side veranda at Jang Hun’s. He had been visiting the house frequently, as part of his rounds, so it was strange to find these old shoes lying around, though there hadn’t been any recent visitors. Furthermore, Jang Hun was never seen wearing them. Soon after his arrest, the shoes were taken to several haberdasheries for examination.
The detective had already searched the house. Ready to charge both Chiang Kai-shek’s and Kim Byeong-hwa’s factions with anything he could come up with, he knew that he must seize this opportunity to root out both bands of radicals. Geumcheon found it odd that in the aftermath of the recent fight, the two groups showed no outward signs of hostility. They do say that people grow closer after a quarrel.
“You called Jang Hun and Kim Byeong-hwa to your house so they could meet the visitor from Russia, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why are you doing this to a foolish old woman? I know nothing.” Gyeong-ae’s mother pleaded desperately.
“I don’t mean that you did,” he thundered. “Your daughter did!”
“My daughter wears makeup and perfume and wanders around at night as if it’s broad daylight. That’s all she ever does.” Gyeong-ae’s mother was used to these investigations because of her husband, and she deliberately made her voice shake. She wasn’t actually ruffled, but those damn shoes had made her flinch.
That fool! Why didn’t he just put them in the trash if he didn’t want to wear them? Why did he have to bring us all this grief?
“Then why does your daughter live with someone like Kim Byeong-hwa? Does he sell face powder? Or perfume?”
“How would I know? She must have followed him around blindly because he’s handsome and tall. How would I know if that good-for-nothing is made of horse bones or ox bones?”
“You’re quite the orator, aren’t you? You must have learned that from your husband, the esteemed Mr. Hong, no?” But then Geumcheon lost his mocking tone: “You recognize these shoes, don’t you?”
“If I did, I would tell you. Why would I lie?”
“Perhaps you’re right.” Geumcheon looked to his subordinate, who barked, “Stand up!”
Gyeong-ae’s mother sprang to her feet, trembling all over.
“You’d better confess the truth if you want to be treated well,” said the underling under his breath.
Ten years ago, she had suffered such indignities several times because of her husband. Now her knees buckled and her legs trembled violently with the sudden fear that she was being dragged away to undergo the same humiliation. But what could she do? If she told them what she knew, her daughter would fall into a living hell. The mother braced herself, vowing that she would never allow her Gyeong-ae to wither away in prison for years, even if she had to die on the spot.
After almost an hour of brutality, Gyeong-ae’s mother fumbled around in the dark to find her clothes, sobbing and wiping the tears away with stiff, rubbery hands. She followed the detective out to a brightly lit room. Her molars clattering against each other, she couldn’t shut her mouth; she didn’t even possess the energy to sit down. Her hands and feet felt as if they had been cut away from her body.
“There’s just one thing you need to say. This ranting and raving will get you nowhere, and your daughter will have to go through the same thing. If you love her at all, you’d better tell us what we want to know. We know everything, so don’t pull any tricks,” coaxed the detective.
No, she would endure it, for if she didn’t, she knew her daughter and Byeong-hwa would be subject to treatment several times harsher than hers.
Senility of a Middle-Aged Man
When Sang-hun heard that his son had been arrested, he quietly stopped by the big house. It had been a while since his last visit. He knew that his son wasn’t guilty and that he’d be out after a few months in a detention cell. It might even be good for him. Sang-hun took the news lightly, figuring that it wouldn’t be inconvenient for him if his son were out of sight for a while. He would be able to do as he pleased.
Sang-hun’s wife refused to greet him, but his daughter-in-law welcomed him in.
“How’s the baby? Where is he?”
“He’s sleeping in the main room.”
Sang-hun’s wife wondered what had sparked the sudden interest in his grandson. Her husband went into the empty main room and remained quiet for a long time. Has he been watching his sleeping grandson all this time? “Go and see what he’s up to,” Sang-hun’s wife told her daughter-in-law.
In spite of the resentment San-hun felt for his own son, it was possible that he loved his grandson. The two women, however, didn’t trust his sudden devotion. They had found it hard to look him in the face that afternoon; his expression was oddly distorted, and his eyes wandered wildly. Was he now in dire need of money after inviting his concubine to live with him? Was he under the influence of opium?
The daughter-in-law hesitated before the door, made rustling sounds, and opened it a crack. “Is the baby still asleep?”
Sang-hun was fumbling in his son’s desk at the far end of the room. Startled, he looked toward the door. “Yes. Child, why don’t you come in for a minute?”
“Are you looking for something, sir?”
The desk drawers were all open.
“Do you know where he put the key to the cabinet in the outer quarters?”
“I don’t know. It should be there somewhere.” She knew that the keys were kept in the small safe at the front of the loft, and Deok-gi always carried the key to the small safe in his wallet.
“It’s just that during the funeral I left one of my documents in the cabinet, and I think the police would release Deok-gi if I could show it to them.” His eyes took on a faraway look, as if he were indeed in deep trouble. “Are you sure you don’t know?” he studied her face.
She didn’t like to deceive her elder, even if, admittedly, he behaved more like a young playboy. Now he had whirled into the house and had begun to ransack it for its valuables.
“Child, where is the small safe the grandfather used?”
The daughter-in-law opened the loft, took out the safe, and brought it to him.
His face brightened. “Bring me the key.”
“Your son always carries it with him.”
Sang-hun grew despondent again. Like a child playing with a toy, he tried to open it with other keys. By no means did he fit the picture of a dignified elder.
The daughter-in-law was about to leave when she asked, “Since the police want it, maybe we could send a messenger over to retrieve the key from my husband.” She didn’t know what he was after, but the possibility of her husband’s release tempted her.