"Charlie Chan - 7405 - The Temple Of The Golden Horde" - читать интересную книгу автора (Chan Charlie)

There was a knock on the door.
A hesitant knock, and then a little stronger as if the knocker were forcing courage. Chan opened the door.
"Inspector Charlie Chan?"
She was a small, slender Chinese girl in her early twenties. Her face was as pale as new ivory, but there was a spirit to it, her dark eyes sharp and bright. Not an old-fashioned Chinese girl, but one of the modern, Chinese-American kind. As if to prove this, she wore a thoroughly American dark green sweater and swinging miniskirt. Chan bowed, smiling.
"Of the Honolulu Police, yes," he said. "Please come in. I am honored by this visit of a distant countrywoman so young and so pretty."
The girl flushed at the compliment, but she stepped into the suite, looking around curiously as if wondering how a famous detective lived. For a moment, the liveliness of her youth overcame whatever was making her pale and uneasy. Chan waved her to a seat.
"A glass of wine, perhaps?" Chan asked gently.
"What?" She seemed startled for a second, then sat down. She shook her head, refusing the offered wine, and sat with her knees tightly together as if suddenly remembering what trouble had brought her to Chan. "You... You're the real Charlie Chan? I mean, you're the famous detective?"
"Oh yes," Chan said with a grin. "I am Charlie Chan, Chief of Honolulu Detectives, and a very ancient policeman. That much is true."
"Mr. Chan, it's my brother! He -!"
Chan held up his hand. "All journeys start with the first step. What is your name, young lady?"
The girl took a deep breath, "I'm sorry. My name is Chan, too, Inspector. Betty Chan of San Francisco. I've lived here all my life. That's why, when I read in the paper you were here, I decided to come to you. My -"
"To meet an unknown member of my family is like discovering a rare new rose in my garden. You are the daughter of what Chan?"
"My father was Chan Wu Han, Inspector. He was no one important, a waiter in Chinatown. He died when I was a child."
"I remember your father. He was a waiter in the Kung Shi Restaurant. I was served by him once many years ago. At the time he had only a son."
"You do remember him!" the girl said, amazed and for an instant smiling back. Then her face darkened again. "Yes, he had one son, older than I am. My brother Benny. Now he's dead, Inspector! Benny is dead."
"I'm sorry." Chan said sympathetically.
"Perhaps he's better off dead, Mr. Chan," the girl said bitterly, "but he was all I had."
"His death was recent?"
"He disappeared four days ago, Inspector. Yesterday they found him in Half Moon Bay. He'd drowned." She looked up at Chan. "The police say it was an accident, but I know that Benny was murdered!"
Chan sat down facing the girl. "That's a grave charge, Miss Chan. You have some reason to suggest the police are mistaken?"
"I know Benny didn't drown by accident!"
The pretty young girl glared at Chan. The detective showed no reaction, his dark eyes watched her. "You know of some one who wished your brother dead?"
"No, I don't know anyone special. Benny wasn't important, just a handyman at The Temple Of The Golden Horde. It's a kind of religious cult down on Half Moon Bay south of here. The Khan, he runs the temple, was always very good to Benny. Benny lived down there, was never in any trouble, but -"
"You know, then, of some motive for murder, Miss Chan?"
She shook her head. "No, Benny never hurt anyone."
"You have, then, some evidence his death was not an accident as the police say?"
"No, I don't!" Betty Chan cried. "All I know is that Benny couldn't have drowned unless someone drowned him!"
Chan sat back thoughtfully. His smooth ivory face frowned.
"The police are most skilled in matters of murder, Miss Chan. They make few mistakes, and without a shred of proof to the contrary, a wise man must agree with them. I suggest -"
"They may know murder, Mr. Chan, but they didn't know Benny the way I did!" Betty Chan said hotly, and then her eyes began to fill with tears where she sat with her knees pressed so tightly together. "He... he wasn't very bright, Inspector Chan. Before he went to work for the Temple, I took care of him. He wasn't crazy or anything, but..."
She looked up. "The truth is that Benny was retarded, Mr. Chan. Not very badly, but enough to have the mind of maybe a twelve-year-old boy. He could take care of himself day to day, but he couldn't plan things or think of the future, and the best job he ever had before the Temple was a messenger."
She was crying harder now, but without a sound, the silent tears flowing down her pretty young face. Chan watched her, but the detective said nothing. She was talking out her pain, and it was best to let her release it all her own way.
"I loved Benny, he was so gentle," she said through her tears, "but it was hard to take care of him, so when the Temple offered him the handyman's job it was a Godsend. Benny loved the Temple; he was very religious-minded, and he loved the Khan and his work down there. He felt actually needed, responsible, and that was important to Benny. He knew he wasn't like other men, so to have real importance gave him great pride and a great sense of duty. Do you understand, Mr. Chan?"
Chan nodded. "You are saying that Benny would never commit suicide. From your description I must agree such men do not kill themselves. But such men do have many accidents, Miss Chan."
"No, Inspector, they don't. They're super careful, always afraid, never take any chances."
"Still, this Temple Of The Golden Horde, is it on a bay? Perhaps very close to the water?" Chan asked. "A dark night, a man walks unknowingly too close to the edge? Could your brother swim, Miss Chan? Such men usually -"
"No, Benny couldn't swim, not a stroke," Betty Chan said.
"Then it is possible -"
"It is impossible that Benny drowned by accident," the girl said, interrupted. "Benny saw a friend drown when he was in his teens, and he never got over it. He never went near any water again. He couldn't swim, wouldn't even go on a beach, wouldn't go in a boat, hated even to come near to a bridge. You see, Mr. Chan, Benny had a pathological fear of water!"
Chan scrutinized her young face. She had all but stopped crying now, her eyes set in a firm certainty. Her brother's death had not been an accident.
"Of this you are certain?" Chan said at last.
"Yes," Betty Chan said. "Benny could never have gone near the sea. He couldn't have ever been close enough to an ocean to fall in by accident. Will you... investigate, Mr. Chan?"
Chan thought for a time. Then he nodded. "There would appear to be enough doubt to raise questions. You have said you know of no enemies, no reason for murder. But did your brother do any unusual act recently? Did he speak to you of any fears or dangers?"
"No, nothing. He'd just come back from Honolulu on an errand for the Khan at the Temple, on the night he vanished. He never reached the Temple that night."
"Can you name the nature of the errand?"
"Just to pick up some kind of scroll in Hawaii, and bring it to the Khan at the Temple."
"This scroll, did it vanish, too?"
"No, I don't think so."
Chan nodded. "I'll need the location of the Temple."