Death of a Red Heroine icc-1

by Qiu Xiaolong

  Afterward, he bought a pack of Kents at the counter.

  “Not for me,” he said to her.

  He handed the cigarettes to Little Zhou.

  “Thanks, but you don’t have to, Comrade Chief Inspector,” Little Zhou said. “By the way, Superintendent Zhao is going to retire toward the end of year. Haven’t you heard?”

  “No, but thanks for your information.”

  In the backseat, they were sitting close to each other. Feeling her nearness, he was content with a light brushing of her shoulder as the car bumped along. They did not talk much. She let him take her hand. The car passed the black dome of the new city stadium, then swung around Peace Park. Little Zhou explained why he had to make such a detour. Several streets had just been declared one-way.

  It would take them much longer to get there, but Chief Inspector Chen had no cause for complaint.

  But she was already telling Little Zhou to pull up. In front of them was the separator factory, about which she was going to write a report.

  “Thank you,” she said, “for the lift.”

  “Thank you,” he said, “for the opportunity of giving you a lift.”

  When he got back to the library, it was already three thirty. He sent Little Zhou back to the bureau. He had no idea how long it would take him to work on the new list.

  An impressive list it was, including most of the influential journals and newspapers, containing detailed information with dates and page numbers. In addition, it noted a number of awards Wu had won.

  The late afternoon research was much more effective. Three hours of reading produced quite a revelation. Wu Xiaoming was apparently a productive photographer who had published widely, from the top magazines to the second or even the third-class ones. Wu’s photographs also showed a broad range of subjects, but could be classified into two major categories.

  The first was the political. With his family background, Wu had obtained access to a number of powerful people who had no objection to seeing the publication of their pictures, which could be symbolic of their stay in power, and, in turn, contribute to Wu’s career.

  The second consisted of what might be called the artistic, which showed remarkable professional expertise. One feature in this category was Wu’s characteristic arrangement: a group of pictures with the same subject taken from different perspectives. Wu seemed to enjoy producing so-called “subject sequences.”

  A group of Guan’s pictures in the Xingming Evening Post, for instance, could be seen as such a thematic sequence. These were pictures of Guan at work, at meetings, and at home. There was one of her cooking in the kitchen. Wearing an embroidered apron around her waist and scarlet slippers, Guan was frying fish, with beads of sweat visible on her brow. The kitchen apparently was somebody else’s: bright, spacious, sporting a dainty half round window above the sink. The picture focused on the soft, feminine side of a national model worker, balancing the other pictures in the group.

  Most of Wu Xiaoming’s subjects were also well known in their respective fields. Chen particularly liked the group of Huang Xiaobai, a celebrated calligrapher. The pictures showed Huang in the act of brush-penning the different strokes in the formation of the Chinese character cheng -a horizontal stroke, a dot, a slant stroke, a vertical stroke-as if each stroke represented a different phase in his life, culminating in the character meaning “truthful.”

  What came as a surprise was a sequence about Jiang Weihe, an emerging young artist, whom Chen had met on several occasions. In one of the photographs Jiang was working on a statue. Wearing short overalls, standing bare legged, she was absorbed in the effect. The statue portrayed a nude photographer, having nothing but a camera held in front of him, focusing at her. The title was “Creation.” The composition was original.

  In addition to these pictures, there were also some pieces for fashion magazines. Most of the subjects were young beautiful girls. Semi-nude or even nude photos were no longer censored in China, but still they were controversial. Chen was surprised at Wu’s extraordinary journey into the field.

  In a small provincial magazine called Flower City, Chen saw a sleeping nude on her side. Melting into the background of the white sheet and white wall was her soft body with all its soft curves. A black mole on the back of her neck was the only accent, enhancing the effect. Somehow the woman in the picture struck him as familiar, though he could not see her face. Then he remembered. Frowning, he put down the magazine.

  Chen had not finished his research at the library’s closing time. He borrowed the copy of Flower City. The librarian was gracious, offering to put all the other magazines on hold, so that Chen could resume his work without waiting the next day. He thanked her, wondering if he could afford to spend another day in the library. Besides, he found it hard to concentrate there. Something subtle in the atmosphere disturbed him. Or in his subconscious? Chief Inspector Chen did not want to analyze himself-not in the middle of the case.

  It could be the first important breakthrough in the investigation, but he was not lighthearted. Wu Xiaoming’s involvement was leading to something more than Chen had expected.

  It meant a confrontation with Wu.

  And quite possibly, with Wu as a representative of the HCC- high cadres’ children.

  Back in his office, he made a call to Wang. Luckily she was still there.

  “Thank you so much for your help.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Wang’s clear voice sounded close. “Any progress?”

  “Some,” he said. “Are you alone in the office?”

  “Yes, I have to meet a deadline,” she said. “I’ve also done some additional research on your suspect, but you may already know a lot about him.”

  “Tell me.”

  “In terms of his position, Wu’s just a member of the staff of Red Star in Shanghai, but he may be far more important. As everybody knows, the magazine is the mouthpiece of the Party Central Committee, which means he has direct contact with some people at the very top. What is more, the publication of these people’s pictures puts him in close relationship with them.”

  “That much I suspected.”

  “Also, there is some talk about him being promoted to a new position-acting cultural minister of Shanghai.”

  “What?”

  “Yes. People say Wu is both ‘red and expert’-young, talented, with a degree from an evening college. He is also on the list for the same seminar you’re going to attend.”

  “Well-as an ancient saying goes,” Chen said, “‘foes must meet in a narrow path.’ I’m not worried about that, only-”

  “Only-what is the problem?” She was quick to catch him.

  “Well, let me put it this way. In an investigation, one important link is motive. There must be one reason or another for people to do something, but I cannot find it.”

  “So without the motive, you cannot go forward in the investigation?”

  “Yes, that’s it,” he said. “Circumstantial evidence may point to Wu, but there’s no convincing theory explaining why he would act in such a way.”

  “Maybe we should have another cup at the Riverfront Cafe,” she said, “to talk more about the case.”

  “At my place, tomorrow evening,” he said. “You haven’t said no to my invitation, have you?”

  “Another party?”

  “No, just you and me.”

  “With romantic candlelight?”

  “If there’s a power failure.”

  “You never know,” she said, “but I’ll see you.”

  Chapter 17

  Monday morning Chief Inspector Chen had a meeting at the city hall.

  On his way back to the bureau, he bought a piece of transparent rice cake from a street vendor and ate it without really tasting it.

  Detective Yu was not in the large office. Chen picked up a manila envelope delivered that morning containing a cassette tape that bore the following label: Examination of Lai Guojun held at Shanghai Police Bureau, 3:00 P.M., June 2, 1990. Examining Office
r Detective Yu Guangming. Also present at examination, Sergeant Yin Wei.

  Chen popped the tape in the recorder.

  Detective Yu, too, had a lot to do, dealing with all the routine work of the squad, even on Sunday. The tape was probably made about the time when he and Wang talked in the noodle restaurant. The tape started with Yu’s voice making the introduction, and then came another voice marked with an unmistakable Ningbo accent. Chen began listening as he propped up his legs on the desk, but after no more than a minute, he jumped up and rewound the tape to the very beginning:

  YU: You are Lai Guojun, thirty-four years old, living at Number Seventy-two Henan Street, Huangpu District, Shanghai. You are an engineer, having worked for ten years at People’s Chemical Company. You are married, with a daughter of five. Is that correct?

  LAI: Yes, that’s correct.

  YU: I want you to know that you are helping with our inquiry. We appreciate your help.

  LAI: Please go ahead.

  YU: We’re going to ask you some questions about Guan Hongying. She was murdered last month. You have heard of that?

  LAI: Yes, I’ve read about it in the newspaper. So I guessed your people would come to me-sooner or later.

  YU: Some of the questions may involve the intimate details of your life, but nothing you say in this room will be used against you. Whatever it is, it will be confidential. I have talked to your boss, and he, too, believes that you will cooperate. He suggested that he himself be present at the interview. I told him No.

  LAI: What choice do I have? He has talked to me, too. I will answer any question you have for me.

  YU: You can make an important contribution to the case, so the person or persons responsible for the murder will be captured and punished.

  LAI: That’s what I want. I’ll do my best.

  YU: When did you get to know Guan?

  LAI: It was about ten years ago.

  YU: The summer of 1980? LAI: Yes, in June.

  YU: Under what circumstances did you meet each other?

  LAI: We met at the apartment of my cousin,

  Lai Weiqing.

  YU: At a party? LAI: No. Not exactly a party. A colleague of Weiqing’s knew Guan, so they had arranged for us to meet there.

  YU: In other words, Lai Weiqing and her colleague acted as matchmakers. They introduced you to each other.

  LAI: Well, you could say that. But not so formally. YU: How was your first meeting?

  LAI: Guan sort of surprised me. With arranged introductions, you can hardly expect to meet a pretty young girl. More often than not, those you get introduced to are plain, over thirty, and without education. Guan was only twenty-two and quite attractive. A model worker, and taking college correspondence courses at the time. You know all that, I believe. I have never figured out why she consented to such an arrangement. She could have had a lot of men dancing around her.

  YU: What other impressions did you have of her that day?

  LAI: A moving awkwardness. Innocent, almost naive. Obviously she was not used to such meetings.

  YU: Was it her first date?

  LAI: I was not sure about it, but she had no idea how to express herself in my company. She was literally tongue-tied when we were left alone.

  YU: Then how did things work out between you?

  LAI: Well, we clicked, as some people would say, without talking much to each other. We did not stay long the first time, but we did go to a movie the next week, and then had dinner in Meilong Zheng.

  YU: She was still tongue-tied the second time?

  LAI: No, we talked a lot, about our families, the lost years in the Cultural Revolution, and the common interests we had. A few days later, I went to one of her presentations at the Youth Palace without her knowledge. She seemed to be a totally different person on the stage.

  YU: Interesting. How different?

  LAI: Well, she seldom talked about politics in my company. Once or twice, maybe, I tried to bring the topic up, but she seemed unwilling to talk about it. On the stage, she appeared so confident, speaking with genuine conviction. I was glad that she did not talk politics to me, for we soon became lovers.

  YU: Lovers-in what sense?

  LAI: What do you mean?

  YU: Physically?

  LAI: Yes.

  YU: How soon?

  LAI: After four or five weeks.

  YU: That was quick.

  LAI: It was sooner than I had expected. YU: Was it you who took the initiative?

  LAI: I see what you mean. Do I have to answer questions like that?

  YU: I cannot force you, Comrade Lai. But if you do, it may help our investigation. And it may also save me another trip to your boss.

  LAI: Well, it was a Friday night, I remember. We went to a dancing party in the western hall of the Shanghai Writers’ Association. It was the first year when social dancing was publicly allowed in Shanghai. A friend of mine had obtained the tickets for us. While we were dancing, I noticed that she was getting excited.

  YU: Excited-in which way?

  LAI: It was obvious. It was in the summer. Her body was pressed against me. Her breasts-I noticed-you know, I really can’t be more precise.

  YU: And you? Were you also excited?

  LAI: Yes.

  YU: What happened afterwards?

  LAI: We went back to my place with a group of friends. We talked and had some drinks.

  YU: Did you drink a lot that night?

  LAI: No, only a cup of Qingdao beer. In fact, I shared the cup with her. I remember that because later-later we kissed. It was our first time, and she said we smelled of each other-from the same cup.

  YU: That sounds really romantic.

  LAI: Yes, it was.

  YU: And then?

  LAI: People were leaving. She could have left with them. It was already twelve thirty, but she stayed on. It was a terrific gesture. She wanted to help me clean up, she declared.

  YU: So you must have been terribly pleased with her offer?

  LAI: Well, I told her to leave everything alone. It was not a night to worry about dirty dishes and leftovers.

  YU: I guess you would say that.

  LAI: She would not listen to me. Instead, she started hustling and bustling in the kitchen. She did everything, washing the dishes, sweeping the floor, wrapping up the leftovers, and putting them in a bamboo basket on the balcony. She said that the food wouldn’t go bad that way; I did not have a refrigerator at the time.

  YU: Very domestic, very considerate.

  LI: Yes, that’s exactly what a wife would choose to do. So I kissed her for the first time.

  YU: So you stayed in the kitchen with her all the time?

  LAI: Yes, I did, watching in amazement. But after she finished, we moved back into the room

  YU: Go on.

  LAI: Well, we were alone. She did not show any intention of leaving. So I suggested I take a few pictures of her. I had just got a new camera, a Nikon 300. My brother had bought it for me in Japan. YU: That’s a fancy one. LAI: She was reclining on the bed, saying something about the transience of a woman’s beauty. I agreed. She wanted to have some pictures that would capture her youth. After a few shots, I proposed to have a picture of her wrapped in a white towel. To my surprise, she nodded and told me just to turn around. She started taking off her clothes there and then. YU: She undressed herself in your presence?

  LAI: I did not see. I did, of course, afterward.

  YU: Afterward, of course. So what happened afterward? LAI: Well… I guess you don’t have to ask.

  YU: Yes, I have to. You’d better give us an account, as detailed as possible, of what happened between you and her that night. LAI: Is it necessary, Comrade Detective Yu?

  YU: I understand your feelings, but the details may be important to our investigation. It’s a sexual murder case, you know.

  LAI: Fine, if you think that can really help.

  YU: Did you have sexual intercourse with her then?

  LAI: She made herself really clear.
It was she who gave the unmistakable signal. So that was the only natural thing for me to do. You are a man, aren’t you? Why should I say any more?

  YU: I understand, but I still have to press for some details.

  LAI: More details. Heavens! YU: Was it the first time for her, or for you?

  LAI: Not for me, but for her.

  YU: You were sure about that? LAI: Yes, though she was not too shy.

  YU: How long did she stay that night?

  LAI: The whole night. Well, more than that. Early next morning, she phoned the department store, asking for sick leave. So we had practically all the next morning in the room. We made love again. We did some shopping in the afternoon. I chose for her a white wool sweater with a red azalea on the right breast.

  YU: Did she accept it?

  LAI: Yes, she did. And I started talking about marriage.

  YU: And how did she react?

  LAI: Well, she seemed unwilling to talk about it that day.

  YU: You talked about it again, I believe.

  LAI: I was head over heels-laugh at me if you want-so I did mention it a couple of times. She seemed to avoid the subject every time. Finally, when I tried to discuss it with her seriously, she left me.

  YU: Why?

  LAI: I did not know. I was confounded. And terribly hurt, you can imagine.

  YU: Did you quarrel with her?

  LAI: No. I didn’t.

  YU: So it was all of a sudden? That’s really something. Did you notice any sign of it before she said anything about it?

  LAI: No, it happened three or four weeks after that night- that night we slept together. Actually, she had come to my place a number of times during the period. Eleven in all, including the first night. I can tell you how I remember. Every time we stayed together, I drew a star above the date on my calendar. We never quarreled. Then, out of the blue, she dumped me-for no reason at all.

  YU: That’s strange indeed. Did you ask her for an explanation?

  LAI: Yes, but she would not say anything about it. She kept saying that it was her fault, and she was really sorry.

  YU: Normally, when a young girl, especially a virgin, has slept with you, she will surely insist on your marrying her. To make a chaste woman of her, so to speak. But she didn’t, saying it was her fault. What fault?