No Comfort for the Lost Read Free

school in the city; when she was jeered at and tormented by the other students, she’d been hastily removed. “With her father’s encouragement, I had already established my clinic in her house. Taking up residence there, I confess, made my life a great deal easier.”
    Celia paused to take a bite of the sandwich. It was good, and she was surprised by the return of her appetite. The detective used the break in conversation to scan the room.
    He reached inside his coat and extracted a notebook. “When did you last see Li Sha?”
    “Wednesday of last week, when she came for dinner, as she often did. She seemed her usual self that day.”
    “Did you give her the dress she was wearing? You don’t usually see Chinese women in Western clothes.”
    “I did. She wanted to blend in better, and she thought people might stare less if she dressed like everyone else.” Li Sha had been so pleased with Celia’s present, even though the gown was far too big. She had wanted to conceal the pregnancy for a while and had rebuffed Celia’s offers to have the dress properly altered. “I believe people stared more.”
    He took additional notes, then paused to consider her. “After she left the parlor house, what did she do? A Chinese woman alone would live mighty precariously.”
    “I tried to find her work, but it was difficult. People in this city might hire Chinese men, but they do not hire Chinese women,” said Celia. “I finally did find her a position with my apothecary, Hubert Lange. A good man doing a great favor for me.”
    “Must have been a pretty big favor, to hire a former prostitute.”
    “Some time ago, I saved him from a serious scandal. One of his customers fell ill, terribly ill, from a concoction he was selling. It nearly killed the woman, but I nursed her back to health. Mr. Lange has been grateful ever since.” And she had taken advantage of that gratitude. He had been good to Li Sha, though, and she had given him no reason to complain about her work or her conduct.
    “Li Sha cleaned his shop a few evenings a week,” continued Celia. “After the shop had closed, when there were no customers to see her. Nonetheless, the situation was not easy for her. I believe people were harrying her in the streets, provoked by the audacity of a Chinese woman venturing outside the boundaries of Chinatown.”
    “Any particular threats you know of?”
    “None at all.”
    Someone in the coffeehouse dropped a piece of cutlery, the clank jarring the hushed quiet. The proprietor was attempting to move within earshot again, wiping down tables located progressively nearer to the one where she and Mr. Greaves sat.
    “Any idea who might be responsible for her death, Mrs. Davies?” the detective asked.
    “A member of the Anti-Coolie Association?” she offered.
    He didn’t blink at the suggestion; it was not such a foolish idea, then.
    “I’d considered them myself,” he said. “Even though I can’t really see the men who rioted a few weeks back bothering with a prostitute.”
    “Perhaps they were the ones who’d been harrying her, though.” Celia recalled the man on the street who’d glared at Barbara after the meeting Monday night. Would her cousin have been attacked if she’d been alone? “It has to be someone from the Anti-Coolie Association, doesn’t it? They’re whipping up so much hatred against the Chinese that even my cousin has felt it.”
    “I don’t know, ma’am,” he said, “but I’ll find out.”
    “Thank you.”
    “I’d like to start by talking to anybody who knew Li Sha,” he said. “Anyone who might know what happened in her final days. Where was she living?”
    “Sometimes she stayed at the Chinese Mission, although she did not like it there. But usually she stayed with Tom.”
    “Tom?”
    “The father of the child she was carrying,” Celia answered. “But Tom would never have done this.”
    “I’ll determine that,” Mr. Greaves said. “What is Tom’s full name, and where can