The Gilded Game

TWO

I walked out of the car and into the room I met Peter a little more than a week ago. Sure enough, he was standing there, looking at his phone. I was standing in the doorway.

I texted him, "Look at the door."

He looked up at me.

"Hi."

"We should start searching. Where do we start?" He asked.

"How about the place your grandfather liked the most in this entire house? He should have laid down a few clues if he knew something." I suggested.

He led me up a set of brown, wooden spiral stairs with short white walls as railing.

"This is the library." He told me as he opened a polished wooden door with dust on its handle.

No one had entered the room for quite a long time, possibly since his grandfather's death.

Particles of dust, blown up from the floor when we opened the door, danced in the light as if no one was watching.

I handed Peter a mask and a pair of gloves.

"Put these on. If anything in this room ends up having to be forensically analysed, and your fingerprints are on the evidence, you'll be a suspect."

He put the gloves and mask on.

We walked around the room, searching for evidence.

A dark, polished wooden desk was right in front of the large, circular window, facing the door.

There were two books and a fountain pen on the left side and a green lamp on the right side of the desk. The lamp looked as if it was from the 1930s.

One was the Chinese version of Art Of War and the other one, a thick leather bound dark brown notebook with gold detailing.

I muttered an apology to Peter's grandfather for looking at his notebook and flipped the yellow pages of the brown book.

It was a diary, in Chinese. Some words were in black ink, and others in blue. Judging by how the ink on the strokes was uneven throughout the stroke, lighter coloured at the beginning and darker at the ends, he was using a fountain pen.

The first entry was on the eighteenth of April, 2007. Peter's day of birth.

It detailed how happy he was for his grandson's birth, and how he hoped that his grandson would grow up to be a great man, a man who could bring glory to the family name.

I continued flipping through the pages, reading about how his health was deteriorating, and how his wife was going through the same thing. I read about Peter being a good grandson to them, being obedient and filial. How he thought he wouldn't live to see Peter get married and see his great-grandchildren. How Geoffery and his wife just wanted money, and were never as filial as the other children, if at all.

On the last page, were the words "I made my second son David my heir. May he know how to lead the family in the turmoil that will surround my death."

At that time, I noticed that Peter already standing next to me, looking at the page, his eyes were filled with salty tears.

"Peter, you ok?" I asked him. I surely knew his mental state, and I felt like I may have provoked some of his trauma.

"I'm totally fine." He said, walking towards the exit. Putting down the book and praying I did not offend his grandfather, I ran up to him.

"You're not ok." I stopped him in front of his way. "Relax a bit, and I'm sorry that I..."

"I'm totally fine." He replied. "I'll get back to my room to do some stuff. Today's meeting ends here."

"Peter..." I could only watch the boy walk down the long corridor until his shadow vanished.

"He just needs some time." His butler pulled up to me. "Just give him some time. He'll be normal after that, and you can meet him then."

I thanked him and walked out of the mansion. As I was walking out, a girl, who looked like she was no older than nine, skipped towards me. She was wearing a navy blue dress with small pink flowers at the hem.

"Jiejie! Are you the detective that Peter found?" she asked me.

I shouldn't tell people I didn't know much about my job as a detective, but she was a little girl, so there was less of a risk, right?

"Yes, I am the detective," I told her.

Her parents walked towards us. The mother was wearing a designer dress, holding a bag I assumed cost way more than I could ever afford on my own, perhaps even tens of thousands of dollars. The father was wearing a crisp white shirt and black dress trousers. He looked a bit like Peter, so I assumed he was one of the uncles.

"Yan Yan! We told you not to talk to strangers! What if they kidnap you?"

Then, the mother turned to me.

"We're sorry that she bothered you, miss." She apologised

"Oh, not at all. I was just visiting my friend." I assured her. And I was lying. Sneaky.

I walked down the road lined with trees, occasionally passing some cars. A while later, I arrived at a busy open space bustling with tourists, and two malls on each side.

A small shopping spree seemed like a good idea.

I texted Agent Wong to tell her that I wouldn't need to be picked up from the house, and went into the mall.

A quick shopping spree later, I bought a black dress that resembled Princess Diana's revenge dress.

"Whatever," I mumbled to myself. Taking a bus, I returned to my small flat.