Mrs Pa took a look around the living room and sighed. That would have to do. The polished surface of the dining table gleamed and the windows were so clear that one might have thought that there was no glass in them at all. The deep-pile cream carpet was spotless and all the silverware mirrored the light and sent pale reflections dancing across the walls.
Mrs Pa felt a modest pride in her diligence as a cleaner. It would not do to lose humility, but on the other hand, she was good at her job. A pity that this was not her own home, prepared for the use of her own family, but then you had to be thankful for what you had. And she was very thankful indeed for Precious Dragon, last seen sitting placidly on the deck of the houseboat belonging to Detective Chen and Inari, sucking his pearl and guarded by the badger. Mrs Pa felt that Precious Dragon was as safe as he could be at present and this had allowed her to get on and do a good job on the Pang's living room after what appeared to have been a fairly riotous party.
Some of the things Mrs Pa had found in the living room had been . . .surprising. She had put them all in a plastic bag, thankful that she was wearing rubber gloves.
So much for the living room, anyway. Now, she planned to turn her attention to the three bedrooms and the bathroom. This took a further two hours and was even more distasteful, especially considering whatever it was that she found under the bed. It looked as though it had been organic, like a lump of ancient meat, about the size of a human head, but green and fluffy. She then scoured the bathroom, which was filthy, and cleaned all the traces of white powder from the black marble surfaces. Nasty stuff. Detective Chen might be interested in some of the things that she had found, but then again, there was the question of her employer's privacy: Mrs Pa was a strong believer in minding her own business.
At last the house was clean from ceiling to floor and Mrs Pa felt a great sense of satisfaction at what she had achieved. Making order out of chaos, that was a wonderful thing to be able to do, even if it was something as small as washing up. She peeled off the rubber gloves, put all the cleaning materials tidily away beneath the sink, and wrote down her hours for Mrs Pang on a piece of paper. Mrs Pang might have some very odd parties but she paid her bills on time and Mrs Pa would receive the money next week when she called again. She'd already collected last week's wages. It was good to be working again, to feel that she was helping not only herself, but her grandson and Mai.
She walked out into the steamy afternoon and waited for the downtown tram. It was now about half past five, with her shift timed to end shortly before Mrs Pang returned home from work. The house was high in the foothills, with a faint breeze from the sea adding thousands of dollars to even the most average property, and from the vantage point of the tram stop she could see out across the whole city, to the harbor where her own little shack stood and where Precious Dragon sat upon the deck of a boat, and beyond to the shadowy blue humps of the islands. From here, with the sound of the downtown traffic muted and the lush vegetation swaying in the sea breeze, Singapore Three might almost be a pleasant place to live.
Almost.
The tram arrived, only a few minutes late, and Mrs Pa squeezed her way on. All the way down to the city she thought about what she might buy Precious Dragon as a treat, and when she eventually got off the bus, she found a bakery near the entrance to the harbor and bought everyone a steamed bean bun. She could afford it now, and Inari deserved something for her kindness. She even bought one for the badger, though she wasn't sure whether this was really appropriate. But she did not want to leave him out. Then she made her way in the evening sunshine to the walkway and out across the decks of the boats. The Chens' houseboat was moored close to shore at the moment, the result—so Inari had informed her—of a recent typhoon warning, and one reached it by stepping precariously across the decks of other moored craft. Mrs Pa wondered whether the Chens' neighbors knew about Inari's demonic origins: they must see her at fairly close range. But perhaps the sunglasses and the hat were enough. It seemed quiet enough, anyway: there was no one about. Mrs Pa climbed the steps onto the main deck of the houseboat and called out, "It's only me! I'm back."
There was no reply. Perhaps they were around the other side. Mrs Pa walked around the deck, but there was no one sitting on the bench. She began to feel uneasy. She knocked cautiously on the door that led to the inside of the houseboat, but again, there was no answer. Mrs Pa opened the door and went down the narrow stairs, finding herself in a long room decorated with batik images of waterbirds and boats. It was a lovely, calm place, the floorboards scoured and sanded until they were almost white, and everything in tranquil shades of blue and green. It was a world away from the vulgar opulence of the Pang's living room and yet its emptiness was not having a calming effect on Mrs Pa: the reverse, in fact.
"Precious Dragon?"
A bedroom, curtained off from the main room, revealed nothing except a stack of paperback books on both sides of the bed. A small bathroom was equally tidy, but bare. Mrs Pa found that her hands were starting to shake as she replaced the bedroom curtain; she felt an overwhelming sense of dread, a black cloud swimming through the quiet, hot air and enveloping her in its shadows.
She'd felt so strongly that she could trust Inari. Now, she wondered how she could have been so stupid. She didn't even have real proof that the demon woman was Chen's wife: she could easily have stolen a photograph of the detective. Precious Dragon had seemed to trust her, too, but despite everything, he was still a small child and maybe he had made a mistake. The blackness was churning her sight. She sat down heavily on the couch, still clutching the bag of buns.
"They are not here," said a voice like earth. Mrs Pa leaped, nearly dropping the bag. She looked down to see the badger staring up at her. The black and white head was sleek and damp, as if the badger had been swimming. The badger's eyes were as black and opaque as those of a skull.
"Where are they?" Mrs Pa faltered. With a crossness born of fright, she repeated, "Where's my grandson?"
"They are not here," the badger repeated. "They are close by. We had to leave this place."
"Why? Inari told me that she wasn't planning to take Precious Dragon anywhere."
"An assassin came," the badger said.
"What?" Mrs Pa's heart sank in dismay. "Oh no. Like the thing the other night?"
"Perhaps. This thing was not human, but not a demon either: we do not know what it was. It was fierce and fast. I bit it in the leg." The badger's eyes glittered in what might have been satisfaction. "It fell into the harbor, and then it proved it could not swim. It sank like a stone. We waited, but it did not come back. But where there was one, there will be others, and so Inari has taken your grandson into her keeping and is hiding nearby. We need to go back to the shore."
"What do we do then?" Mrs Pa asked. She would do anything to keep Precious Dragon safe, but her age weighed down on her, pressing. If only she were younger . . .
"That is for my mistress to say. We are to head for the trees that line the shore. She will see us coming. Carry me, please."
It was not a suggestion. Mrs Pa was about to protest that she couldn't bend down and pick up a creature as heavy as the badger, but then there was a dark sparkle in the air, and she blinked. The badger was no longer standing at her feet. Instead, a large and somewhat battered iron kettle stood there instead.
"Well," Mrs Pa said aloud. "That was a surprise."
She picked up the kettle gingerly by its handle and carried it up the stairs to the deck. She was apprehensive, but all was quiet. With the buns in one hand and the badger-teakettle in the other, Mrs Pa clambered back over the decks to the shore, and whatever might be waiting there.