The Feng Shui Detective's Casebook Part 17

After three or four more minutes, Joyce decided she could delay no longer. Head down, she marched past the row of cheap cars owned by teachers and tried again to force herself to look on the positive side. It was possible that she might meet some interesting people on this a.s.signment. A hunky male gym teacher or two to add to her inadequate, stop-start social life would not go down too badly.

She pushed open the Plexiglas doors. An involuntary s.h.i.+ver ran down her spine as she stepped into the dark belly of the monster.

It was pleasing to discover that the foyer was found a cool and quiet s.p.a.ce, lined with displays of children's artwork. A notice board stood on one side, covered with pieces of A4 paper, gently flapping in the breeze. A sculpture of Beethoven made out of recycled materials took pride of place on a small pedestal, next to a bronze bust of some unidentifiable local dignitary. There were no hunky gym teachers to be seen. Looking to her right, she found a window at a counter with a secretary on the phone. She waited politely for the woman to finish her conversation.

'Yes?' the receptionist eventually asked.

'h.e.l.lo! I'm from CF Wong & a.s.sociates, the feng shui feng shui people? I've come to do some work in, er . . .' She quickly pulled the letter out of her bag. 'Mr LA Waldo's quarters?' people? I've come to do some work in, er . . .' She quickly pulled the letter out of her bag. 'Mr LA Waldo's quarters?'

The receptionist blinked. 'You're the feng shui feng shui master?' She didn't hide the incredulity in her voice. master?' She didn't hide the incredulity in her voice.

'Yes,' said Joyce, wounded and proud at the same time. She straightened her spine and tried to look haughty. 'I am. am. I am going to do the initial readings, and then my colleague, a senior I am going to do the initial readings, and then my colleague, a senior feng shui feng shui master, will come along a little later to confirm my findings.' master, will come along a little later to confirm my findings.'

The receptionist spoke to a spiky-haired boy of about seventeen typing at a computer behind her. 'Eric, go and show this young lady to the head's apartment. You can finish that later.'

The boy slouched out of the office through a side door, perfunctorily introduced himself as Eric Chan, and set off down a corridor at a brisk pace, with Joyce scampering along behind. Her bag, which contained a lo pan lo pan and a large number of and a large number of feng shui feng shui reference books (she wanted to get everything right and didn't trust her memory), was heavy, but he didn't offer to carry it. Don't they teach them politeness any more? Then it occurred to her that the young man probably thought she was a student like he was, not realising that she was a proper working woman from The Real World, with a real desk and a real office in town. reference books (she wanted to get everything right and didn't trust her memory), was heavy, but he didn't offer to carry it. Don't they teach them politeness any more? Then it occurred to her that the young man probably thought she was a student like he was, not realising that she was a proper working woman from The Real World, with a real desk and a real office in town.

She suddenly felt it was very important to let him know this. 'You go to this school then?' she asked, trotting to catch up.

'Yeah. We take turns helping in the office. I'm doing nine to ten today. Bit of a pain really.'

'Why?'

'I'd rather be in the lab. Doing computer games. Anything rather than be a slave to Ms Koslowski.'

'Is that the receptionist?'

'Yeah.'

He lapsed into silence without asking her anything about herself. She soldiered on: 'I used to go to a school like this. When I was young. Well, a bit like this. When I was a student, ages and ages ages ago. But not these days. These days, I'm a ago. But not these days. These days, I'm a feng shui feng shui expert. I've come to do the reading on your head teacher's room. Does he have bad fortune or anything? If so, it's my job to fix it.' expert. I've come to do the reading on your head teacher's room. Does he have bad fortune or anything? If so, it's my job to fix it.'

He half-turned his head to look at her.

'You're a feng shui feng shui expert?' expert?'

'Yeah.'

'Oh.'

Joyce took this as an insult. 'What do you mean, "Oh"?'

'Nothin'.'

'I'm probably the youngest feng shui feng shui expert in town. And our consultancy gets the most exciting cases, too. That's because we specialise in crime scenes. We've done murders,' she said, deliberately using the word without dramatic emphasis, as if it was a term she had to use constantly. expert in town. And our consultancy gets the most exciting cases, too. That's because we specialise in crime scenes. We've done murders,' she said, deliberately using the word without dramatic emphasis, as if it was a term she had to use constantly. Murders, ho hum. Murders, ho hum.

This time he stopped walking, freezing so abruptly that she b.u.mped into him.

'Murders? Well, if you're an expert in scenes of crime, you shouldn't be doing the headmaster's quarters. You should be doing room 208A.'

He looked hard at her. She a.s.sumed he was sizing her up, trying to decide whether she was telling the truth. Then his head tilted to one side, as if he was thinking about something. He snorted but said nothing.

'What?' she asked.

'Nothing.'

He started walking again, turning suddenly to sprint up a staircase.

Joyce followed with difficulty, her bag getting heavier by the minute. Why did schools always have so many staircases and so few elevators?

When she reached the top, she saw that Eric Chan had slowed down, and was again throwing curious glances her way. 'So does this feng shui feng shui stuff really work?' stuff really work?'

'Course it does. Otherwise the police wouldn't use it, would they?'

'Police use it?'

'Yeah. I know loads of officers. I work with them. I know their first names, like. Some of them. Inspector Gilbert Tan for example, who I know as Gilbert, and, oh, loads of others . . .'

'Oh.'

'So what happened in room 208A?'

'Nothin'.'

'Don't tell me then. I don't care. Schools are such boring places. Nothing interesting ever happens in school. I am tell me then. I don't care. Schools are such boring places. Nothing interesting ever happens in school. I am sooo sooo glad I'm out there in the real world with a real job. Real life is way more interesting. This is like living in a bubble. I pity people like you, stuck here . . .' glad I'm out there in the real world with a real job. Real life is way more interesting. This is like living in a bubble. I pity people like you, stuck here . . .'

Inflamed by the challenge implicit in her words, he sneered at her: 'Huh. There's a lot of real life in here. You'd be surprised.'

'Like . . . ?'

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her squarely. 'Like this, for starters. One of our students got so p.i.s.sed off with her teacher that she picked her up and threw her out of the window.'

'Really?'

'Yeah. That interesting interesting enough for you?' enough for you?'

'Geez. Violent school, is it?'

The boy considered the question. 'Not really. Just sometimes things blow up. You know how it is. That's where it happened.'

He pointed down a corridor to one of a string of doors.

Joyce slowly nodded. So that must be room 208A.

He turned and started walking again. Minutes later, t hey turned a right angle and he pointed to another staircase. 'The headmaster's flat is up there. Students aren't allowed up those stairs. There's a bell. Just press it when you get to the door.'

He turned to go, but she put her hand on his arm to stop him.

'Hang on a minute.'

'What?'

'Why have I been called to feng shui feng shui the headmaster's place if someone's been murdered or something in that cla.s.sroom?' the headmaster's place if someone's been murdered or something in that cla.s.sroom?'

'The teacher wasn't murdered. Just broke her neck.'

Joyce wasn't sure how to reply to this. 'That's bad enough. But was the headmaster involved?'

'No. I don't know why you're doing his place. Ask him I guess. Gotta go.' He raced off.

Lawrence Angwyn Waldo was a tall, charismatic man. He was old, but handsome in a craggy, wrinkly, Clint Eastwood style. He shook Joyce's hand firmly and invited her in as soon as she had announced who she was. If he was surprised or disappointed that she wasn't the usual elderly male Chinese brand of feng shui feng shui pract.i.tioner, he didn't show it. pract.i.tioner, he didn't show it.

'Come in, come in. What can I do to help you?' His voice was low but crisp, and his accent was refined in a southern-United States kind of way. Something about the precision with which he spoke made her stumble clumsily in her speech.

'Er, nothing thanks! I just need like a little s.p.a.ce you know-a table?' Without Wong, she felt out of her depth.

'Will this do?' He pointed to a large, hardwood dining table on one side of a s.p.a.cious, elegantly decorated apartment. 'Can I get you a drink?'

'No thanks, a bit early for me, ha ha!' She was immediately annoyed with herself. Why had she said that? Made it sound as if she thought he was trying to get her drunk. And that stupid laugh. Why on earth did she do it all the time?

'Cup of tea? Coffee? Juice? Water? Milk?'

'No, thanks, ha ha,' she said, and then regretted it. A drink provided you with something to do with your hands during the first awkward few minutes of meeting someone. Also, had she agreed to a drink, he would have gone off to the kitchen and allowed her to get settled and comfortable with herself.

Having missed that opportunity, she did the usual polite thing of looking around the apartment and making admiring noises. 'Wow. Nice flat!' One of the advantages of being in the feng shui feng shui business was that you could be nosey about someone's apartment without coming across as rude. 'Pretty cool!' In fact, the apartment was decorated in a way that she would have described to people her own age as Standard Boring Adult. business was that you could be nosey about someone's apartment without coming across as rude. 'Pretty cool!' In fact, the apartment was decorated in a way that she would have described to people her own age as Standard Boring Adult.

'What information can I get you?' Lawrence Waldo asked.

'Er, nothing really! Well, I need to know when you were born and stuff. If you don't mind, that is, ha ha.'

'When was I born? Having just met you, I would say: several decades too late. Ah, but such is life. We move on and others move in and there is never any time for regrets.'

She smiled and laughed, although she hadn't understood what he'd said. He wrote down his birthday and place of birth on a piece of paper and handed it to her. 'There you go. As you can see, I am very, very old indeed.'

'Yeah!' said Joyce. 'Wow, you really are! Thanks. Ha ha.' She took the piece of paper. Her smile remained frozen to her face, although she realised that she had said the wrong thing. She knew she should have said: 'You're not old,' or, 'Goodness me, you weren't really born in 1953?' or, 'Gosh, you're so well-preserved, what's your secret?' She wondered if it was too late to come out with such a comment, and then decided that it was. Why was small talk with some people so difficult? 'It's a great flat!' she said, trying to compensate. 'Now I gotta get my stuff out!' She buried her hands in her handbag, looking for her lo pan. lo pan.

One-and-a-half hours later, Joyce had finished her preliminary readings of the princ.i.p.al's flat. It was a medium-sized apartment and there were no unusual influences in it except for a small west-facing extension (good for enhancing income) and a southern balcony with unpleasantly knife-shaped railings (bad for incoming ch'i ch'i linked to fame and pa.s.sion). linked to fame and pa.s.sion).

Her mobile phone rang. CF Wong called to say that he had arrived at school and was on his way up to the flat.

Lawrence Waldo, who had disappeared into his office in the main school building for most of the intervening period, returned to the flat. 'Tea break?' he asked. 'Nearly done?'

'Yes, just about! My boss Mr Wong should be here in a min -'

The doorbell rang.

'That'll be him, ha ha.'

'Right on cue. You must be psychic,' the head teacher said, and took two steps with his long legs from the middle of the living room to the front door. He opened it to let the feng shui feng shui master into the apartment. master into the apartment.

'I am Mr -'

'Mr Wong. Ms McQuinnie's boss. Yes. She told me.'

The geomancer entered the room looking a bit worried. 'Everything is okay? Ms McQuinnie do good job, I hope? Not hurt your fish or anything?'

Waldo, looking slightly baffled at this query, tried to put him at his ease. 'Ms McQuinnie has been very efficient. She has produced vast numbers of sheets of paper covered with notes, which she will no doubt interpret for me when she is ready. Unless that is your role, of course.'

'Ah. Good.'

Joyce was determined to keep control of the a.s.signment for as long as possible. 'This is all very straightforward,' she said. 'It's a neat place.'

'Nothing bad, then?' Waldo asked.

'Well . . .' Joyce looked deeply concerned and slowly sucked her breath in.

The princ.i.p.al became concerned. 'Is there something bad?' there something bad?'

She picked up her charts and pretended to examine them closely. 'I can't see any major shars shars in here, I'm glad to say. But I feel some negative energy coming from outside. From the school block over there. From the direction of . . . It's hard to say.' in here, I'm glad to say. But I feel some negative energy coming from outside. From the school block over there. From the direction of . . . It's hard to say.'

She stepped out onto his balcony and Waldo followed.

Wong stayed in the room, wondering what Joyce was up to.

The young woman closed her eyes and advanced one hand in cla.s.sic mystic style. She reached out in the general direction of the block to their left. 'I feel a lot of negative energy coming from that direction. From the area of the second floor. Maybe kinda over there . . . room . . . two-zero-something or thereabouts sort of thing, you know.'

Wong decided that his a.s.sistant had gone mad. 'Er, Joyce maybe I take over and -'

The head teacher interrupted. 'That's interesting. We have had some very specific problems with room 208A just a few days ago. What sort of feeling do you get from there?'

'I'm not sure, but it's very negative. A bad feeling. As if there was some violence there recently?'

The princ.i.p.al sat down. 'I'm very impressed. We managed to keep it very quiet, kept it out of the press and so on. Did someone from school tell you about it? Be honest.'

'It's amazing what feng shui feng shui can tell you,' said Joyce, not wanting to tell a direct lie. can tell you,' said Joyce, not wanting to tell a direct lie.

The full story came out over the next twelve minutes.

Lawrence Waldo began by telling them at great length about what a wonderfully well-managed and happy school he ran. Then he revealed that 'in a rare-very rare-instance of school violence', a student attacked a teacher last week. 'It was awful. She was not a big girl, but she was st.u.r.dy. She somehow managed to pick up the teacher-who was also not a big person-and pushed her out of the window. Poor Ms Ling.'

'Aiyeeah!' said Wong. 'Teacher killed? What floor?'

'Thankfully not,' said Waldo. 'The cla.s.sroom was on the second floor. She fell only three or four metres. But she was was hurt, quite badly. Unfortunately.' hurt, quite badly. Unfortunately.'

'I felt there was some violence coming from that direction,' said Joyce, who was enjoying her role as a mystic seer. 'Like someone breaking their neck or something like that.'

'She may or may not have broken her neck,' said Waldo. 'Hopefully not. But she landed on her head and was paralysed. Had to be taken away on a stretcher. Very traumatic for all of us. Doctors are not sure if she will ever be able to walk again. Fortunately for her, there were some old PE mats piled up against the wall in that quarter of the playground, and she partly landed on one. If it hadn't been for that, she could easily have died.'

Joyce turned to look at her employer and saw that he was tense and excited. His skinny chest was stuck out and his eyes were bright. She knew that look-it was the expression of a feng shui feng shui master who has suddenly discovered a factor that could dramatically increase his earnings for a site visit. master who has suddenly discovered a factor that could dramatically increase his earnings for a site visit.