Last Violent Call (Secret Shanghai, #3.5)(30)

“It’s only the postman. Shout really loudly.”

Juliette harrumphed. “Zhouzhuang isn’t that small.”

“It will work. Come on, we’re burning daylight.”

Roma pulled the door open, patting his pockets to check for weapons. With a grumble, Juliette hurried up behind him, propping her hands on his shoulders and leaning close to his ear.

“I’m going to count this as an argument.”

“That was a mild disagreement and some cajoling on my end at best.” He craned his head back, giving her a short kiss. “But I will let you say so if it pleases you.”

Roma hurried off.

“Stop pleasing me so much!” Juliette yelled after him.

“I can’t help it, you’re the love of my life!” Roma shouted back. “Meet at the main road if you find the postman!”

He disappeared over the bridge. Fighting back an embarrassing little smile, Juliette pulled their front door firmly shut, crossed the bridge, and set off in the other direction.



* * *



Roma kept his pace natural, not wanting to incite any suspicion while he sought his target. He doubted the postman was responsible for any of these events, but one could never be too careful.

“Mr. Mai, I haven’t seen you in days.”

Right before Roma could pass by the flower shop, the owner inside gestured for him to come in. He could hardly say no. Besides, maybe the owner could help.

Roma ducked under the low-hanging wind chimes. The shop fronts by the main canals were stout, cramped spaces. The flower shop barely had room for two shelves on either side holding up its bouquets, with a register in the middle to conduct business.

“Sheng lǎo ye,” Roma greeted. “I don’t suppose you have seen the postman come through?”

Mr. Sheng pulled his white beard, deep in thought. He sprinkled some water over the nearest bouquets. “The postman? I don’t think he has been around yet. I am waiting for money from my son. I would know if it had arrived.”

Which meant that maybe the postman was still somewhere south of here.

Excellent.

“Let me know if he comes by, would you?” Roma asked. He pointed to a small bundle of red roses. “Also, I will have that.”

A few coins lighter and a rose bouquet acquired, Roma proceeded down the canal again, keeping his head forward this time to avoid being summoned by any more elderly shopkeepers looking for company. Try as he did to stay focused on his search, he had barely proceeded onto the next turn when he almost collided with Mrs. Ding, who ran the fish stall at the markets.

“Hello, lad,” she said. “What are you in such a rush for?”

Roma looked at the flowers in his hand.

“It’s my wife’s birthday,” he lied on the spot. “The postman was supposed to bring a gift today, but he is taking far too long to arrive. Have you seen him?”

“Sure.” Mrs. Ding pointed behind her. “He was at the Plum Blossom Teahouse just then.”

“Ding tàitài, you are a blessing to the world.” He sidled past her on the thin walkway. “I will be bringing gifts for you tomorrow too.”

The Plum Blossom Teahouse was two left turns and one canal away. This time he really did need to ignore the two elderly women who called out from their stores, then the clump of kids playing a marble game. Roma paused for the barest moment, nostalgic at the very sight, but he forced himself back on task.

He ran off the last bridge he crossed. Came to a pause a few feet away from the Plum Blossom Teahouse, then watched the postman step off its front ledge, waving goodbye to the hostess he had been chatting with.

Roma picked up his pace. With his eyes pinned on the postman, he followed him for a considerable few seconds, taking inventory of their surroundings. It wasn’t until they passed an offshoot path—one which led toward the back doors of several shops—that Roma lunged forward and grabbed the postman’s collar with his left hand, shoving him into the path and slamming him hard into the wall. His post bag full of letters made a dense thwack! against the bricks.

“Don’t yell,” Roma warned immediately. “Sometime this morning, you made a delivery for the house by the outermost canal in Zhouzhuang. Next to the large weeping willow tree. Do you remember?”

The postman was trembling under Roma’s hold. This was a different worker from the man who had been delivering around the main canals last week, younger. Juliette usually collected their mail, so Roma didn’t know if this man was new or if he just hadn’t paid enough attention to the usual faces bringing their envelopes.

“Y-yes, I remember.”

“Good,” Roma said. “Then do you remember what you delivered? There was a blank envelope mixed in there. Why did you put it with the others?”

The postman’s lip wobbled. Roma waited, counting to three in his head before shaking the man’s collar, and he relented immediately.

“I was asked! Someone gave me the envelope just before I left the post office at dawn.” The postman flinched, trying to press his head into the wall to get away. “He… he looked a little like you, actually. Slightly foreign. Spoke Chinese well, though.”

“Russian accent?” Roma confirmed.

“I—I would wager yes. Stronger than yours. You don’t have one.”