by Qiu Xiaolong
“Well, that I don’t know.” He added after a pause, “I have been asking myself the same question, but I have not got the answer yet.”
That, at least, was truthful. Occasionally he still wondered what would have become of him had he continued his literature studies. Perhaps he would be an assistant or associate professor at a university, where he could teach and write too, a career he had once dreamed about. In the last few years, however, he had somehow come around to a different perspective. Life was not easy for most people, especially during China’s transitional period between socialist politics and capitalist economics. There might be a lot of things of more importance or at least of more immediate urgency than modernist and postmodernist literary criticism.
“Son, you still yearn after the other kind of life, don’t you— study, books, all that sort of thing?”
“I don’t know. Last week I happened to read a critical essay, another interpretation of the poem about a butterfly flying in The Dream of the Red Chamber. The thirty-fifth interpretation, the author claims proudly. But what is all that to our people’s life today?”
“But—but don’t you want Fudan or Tongji University anymore?”
“I do, but I don’t see anything wrong with what I’m doing.”
“Is police work a preferable way of making a living?”
It was just one way to make a living, he thought. And literature, too, might be just another commodity, like everything else in today’s market. If an academic career provided him with no more than secure tenure and a middle-class living standard, would he feel more rewarded?
“I don’t mean that, Mother. Still, if I can do something in my work to prevent one human being from being abused and killed by another, that’s worth doing.”
He did not say anything more. There was no point elaborating on his defense, but he remembered what his father had once said to him. “A man is willing to die for the one who appreciates him, and a woman makes herself beautiful for the one who appreciates her.” Another quotation from Confucius. Chen did not worship Confucius, but some of his sayings seemed to stick with him.
“You have been doing quite well in Party politics,” she observed.
“Yes,” he said, “so far I’ve been lucky.”
But his luck might be changing at that very moment. It was ironic that in the defense of his career choice, he had momentarily forgotten the trouble hanging over his head. He did not want to discuss it with his mother. She had enough worries of her own.
“Still, I’d like to give you a piece of my mind.”
“Go ahead.”
“You’ve got luck, and talent, but you don’t have the inner makings for such a career. You’re my only son, I know. So cut your losses. Try something that really appeals to you.”
“I will think about it, Mother.”
He had thought about it.
If you work hard enough at something, it begins to make itself part of you, even though you do not really like it and know that part isn’t real.
That was the line he had written under the poem “Miracle” to that friend far away in Beijing. It could be about poetry, but also about police work.
Chapter 28
It was already nine o’clock when Chief Inspector Chen reached his apartment.
A message light blinked on his machine. Too many messages in one day. Again he sensed a dull pounding at his temples—a new headache coming on. It could be an omen, a signal for him to stop. But he pushed down the button before he dropped his briefcase.
“Comrade Chief Inspector Chen, this is Li Guohua speaking. Please give me a call when you return. I’ll be working late in the office tonight. Right now it is ten to five.” It was Party Secretary Li’s voice, formal and serious even when leaving a message.
He called the bureau; the phone was picked up on the first ring. Li was waiting for him.
“Come to the office, Chief Inspector Chen. We need to have a talk.”
“It’ll take me about thirty minutes. Will you be still there?”
“Yes, I’m waiting for you.”
“Then I’m on my way.”
Actually it took more than thirty minutes before he walked into the Party Secretary’s fifth-floor office. Li was having instant beef-flavored noodles. The plastic bowl stood amidst the papers scattered across the mahogany desk. There was a small heap of cigarette butts in an exquisite tray of Fujian quartz with a dragon design.
“Comrade Party Secretary Li, Chief Inspector Chen Cao reporting,” Chen said, observing the correct political form.
“Welcome back, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen.”
“Thanks.”
“How’s everything?”
“Everything is fine,” Chen said. “I tried to report to you this morning, but you were not available. Then I had to be out for the most of the day.”
“You have been busy investigating the case, I know,” Li said. “Now tell me about it.”
“We’ve made some real progress.” Chen opened his briefcase. “As Detective Yu may have reported, we targeted Wu Xiaoming as the chief suspect before my trip to Guangzhou. And now we have several other leads and they all fit together.”
“New leads?”
“Well, one is the last phone call Guan received on May tenth. According to the stub book of the public phone station at Qinghe Lane, it came in around nine thirty, about three or four hours before her death. That call was made by none other than Wu Xiaoming. It’s confirmed.” He put a copy of the record on the desk.
“It’s not just this one particular call. For more than half a year, Wu made a considerable number of calls to her—three or four a week, on the average, some quite late at night. And Guan called him. Their relationship was apparently something more than what Wu admitted.”
“That might mean something,” Li said, “but Wu Xiaoming had been Guan’s photographer. So he could have contacted her from time to time—in a professional way.”
“No, it’s much more than that. We’ve also got a couple of witnesses. One of them is a night peddler on the corner of Hubei Road. She said that on several occasions shortly before Guan’s death, she saw Guan returning in a luxurious white car, in the company of a man, late in the night. Wu drives a white Lexus, his father’s car.”
“But it could have been a taxi.”
“I don’t think so. The peddler saw no taxi sign atop the car. She also saw Guan lean into the car and kiss the driver.”
“Really!” Li said, throwing the empty plastic bowl into the trash can. “Still, other people have white cars, too. There’re so many upstarts in Shanghai now.”
“We’ve also found, among other things, that Wu made a trip to the Yellow Mountains in Guan’s company last October. They used assumed names and fabricated documents, registering as a married couple so that they could share a hotel room. We have several witnesses who can testify to this.”
“Wu shared the same hotel room with Guan?”
“Exactly. What’s more, Wu took some nude pictures of Guan there, and then there was a violent quarrel between them.”
“But in your previous report, you said Guan was not involved with anyone at the time of her death.”
“That’s because they kept the affair a secret.”
“That is something.” Li added after a pause, “But an affair does not necessarily mean a murder.”
“Well, things went wrong between them. They had a violent argument in the mountains. We have a witness to that. Guan wanted Wu to divorce his wife; Wu would not. That’s what caused the fight, we believe.”
“So you assume that was why Wu Xiaoming killed her and dumped her body into the canal?”
“That’s right. At the beginning of our investigation, Detective Yu and I established two prerequisites for the case: the murderer’s access to a car, and his familiarity with the canal. Now, as an educated youth during the seventies, Wu Xiaoming had lived for several years in a small village about fifteen minutes’ walk from the canal. Wu must have hope
d that her body might lie at the bottom of the canal for years, until, finally, it disappeared without a trace.”
“Supposing your theory is right—hypothetically, that is—that Guan and Wu had an affair, and things went wrong between them,” Li said more slowly, seeming to be weighing every word. “Why should Wu have gone that far? He could simply have refused and stopped seeing her, couldn’t he?”
“He could, but Guan might have done something desperate to bring Wu down,” Chen said.
“I don’t see it. Guan had her own reputation, and her political career, to think about. Let’s say she was desperate enough. Do you think Wu’s work unit would have made a big deal about such an affair?”
“Maybe, maybe not, you never know.”
“So far, your theory may explain some things, but it’s flawed. I cannot see a real motive.”
“That is what we are trying to find.”
“What about Wu’s alibi?”
“According to Guo Qiang’s testimony, Wu Xiaoming stayed in his study for the whole night, developing pictures. As a professional photographer, Wu has his own darkroom and equipment; why should he have used Guo’s place that night?”
“Did Wu offer any explanation?”
“Wu said that there was something wrong with his own darkroom, but that’s not believable. Guo’s no pro—he doesn’t even have proper equipment. It did not make sense for Wu to have gone there. Guo is Wu’s buddy, and he’s just trying to cover up for him.”
“Well, an alibi is an alibi,” Li said. “What are you going to do next?”
“With a search warrant we’ll be able to find further evidence.”
“How can you justify proceeding further against Wu under these circumstances?”
“We do not have to issue the warrant on the murder charge. To start with, fabrication of a marriage license is more than enough. The witness I’ve found in Guangzhou can testify against him, not only about the false document, but also about his taking nude pictures of Guan—which amounts to a Western bourgeois decadent lifestyle.”
“Western bourgeois decadent lifestyle, um, a fashionable charge.” Li suddenly stood up, grinding out his half-smoked cigarette. “Comrade Chief Inspector Chen, there is a reason that I wanted you to come to my office tonight. It’s not just about the case, but about something else.”
“Something else?”
“To listen to a report made against you.”
“A report against me?” Chen also stood up. “What have I done?”
“About your Western bourgeois decadent lifestyle—exactly the same charge—during your investigation in Guangzhou. The report claimed that during your stay in Guangzhou you were inseparable from a dubious businessman, going to all kinds of classy restaurants, three meals a day—”
“I know who you are talking about, Comrade Party Secretary. It’s about Mr. Ouyang, isn’t it? He is a businessman, but what’s wrong with that? Nowadays our government encourages people to start their own private businesses. As for the reason that he treated me a couple of times, it is because he also writes poems.”
“I’ve not finished yet,” Li said. “The report also says that you went to a massage salon.”
“Oh, the massage salon. Yes, I went there because I had to find Xie Rong, the witness I have just mentioned. She works in the salon.”
“Well, a copy of the massage salon receipt says that you paid for what is called the ‘full service’ there. The Internal Security people have got hold of the copy, and people know what ‘full service’ means.”
It was the second time that Internal Security had been mentioned to Chen during the day. First in Director Yao’s office, now in Li’s. Internal Security was a special institution, dreaded particularly by policemen—the police of the police.
“Why Internal Security?”
“Well, if you haven’t done anything wrong, you don’t have to worry about the devil knocking at your door in the depth of the night.”
“I don’t know how they could have obtained such a receipt. I did not have one myself. In fact, Mr. Ouyang had paid for me. I did not even know that it was a salon before I got there. As for the ‘full service,’ whatever it may mean to other people, I did not have any.”
“But why approach your witness there?” Li said, lighting another cigarette for himself. “I, for one, can’t see why you did not have the girl brought into the Guangzhou police bureau for questioning. It’s common practice, and it produces results.”
“Well—this way might be more effective, I thought.”
Chief Inspector Chen had considered bringing her to the local police station, but he had made a promise to Professor Xie, and he owed a lot to Ouyang, too. Besides, it was beyond Party Secretary Li, who lived in the high cadre residential building complex in west Huaihai Road, to understand how ordinary people like Xie Rong were intimidated by the high cadres and their children. Xie would not have dared to say anything against Wu in the Guangzhou Police Bureau.
“I stayed in Guangzhou for only five days,” Chen went on. “With so many things waiting at the bureau here, I could not afford the time to investigate in a routine way, and the people in Guangzhou Police Bureau were too busy to help me. I had no choice.”
“You spent over two hours in the massage room, alone with her. Afterwards, you took her to the White Swan Hotel, a private room, too. And you paid more than five hundred Yuan for the-meal— more than a month’s salary. You call that investigation, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen?”
So, Chief Inspector Chen’s every step in Guangzhou had been watched. He realized what serious trouble he was in. Party Secretary Li was well informed about his trip.
“I’ve an explanation, Comrade Party Secretary Li.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. I treated her to make sure that she would cooperate with us. The meal was expensive, but everything in Guangzhou is expensive. And I made a point of paying out of my own pocket.”
“For a massage girl! You are generous indeed.”
“Comrade Party Secretary Li, I was investigating a murder case there. As a detective, I decided to approach a witness in a way I thought proper and right. How come I was under surveillance every step of the way in Guangzhou?”
“What you did there may have aroused people’s suspicions.”
“Comrade Party Secretary Li, it was you who introduced me into the Party. If you do not trust me, what’s the point of my saying anything more?”
“I trust you, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen. As a matter of fact, I’ve told Internal Security that all you did in Guangzhou was necessary for the investigation. I’ve even said that you had discussed everything with me.”
“Oh, thank you, Party Secretary Li. You’ve done such a lot for me, ever since my first day in the bureau. I am most grateful.”
“You don’t have to say that to me.” Li shook his head. “I know you have done good work. And on this case too.”
“So we have to—” Chen came to a sudden halt, coughing with a fist against his mouth—”go on with our investigation.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Li sighed, leaning over his desk. “They were talking about making a formal complaint against you. That’s why I had to go out of my way for you, but I don’t think there is any more I can do.”
Chen levered himself out of the chair and then slumped back, looking up at the pictures of Li on the wall—showing the long career of a politician with other politicians. He tried to dig a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, but Li handed him one from the case on the desk.
“I’m gone?” Chen asked.
“No, not if you are not around to goad them. Let things cool down. That’s what I promised them. That you would be busy with something else.”
“So I have to suspend the investigation?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a murder case. Why should the Internal Security people come after me, but not after the murderer?”
“This is not an ordinary murder case.”
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“There aren’t any ordinary murders.”
“Well—” The Party Secretary seemed ruffled. “You may have a point, but other people may have theirs, too, Comrade Chief Inspector.”
“Yes?”
“Have you ever thought about the consequences of the case— the political consequences, I mean?”
“Well, there may be some,” Chen admitted after a moment’s hesitation.
“There may be a lot, some people think,” Li said.
Chen waited for Li to go on.
“Timing is the heart of the matter here. In the present political climate, do you think your investigation will be helpful to the Party’s image?” Li paused—for effect—before he resumed. “Who is involved in the case? A national model worker and a married HCC in an adulterous bed—if your hypothesis is correct. What would people think? Ideological bankruptcy! What is worse, people would come to see the HCC as a product of our Party system, and blame the high cadres of the old generation for every problem. And some could even use it as an excuse to slander the government. After what happened in Tiananmen Square last summer, a lot of people are still shaken in their belief in our socialist system.”
“Could it be so serious?” Chen said. “With Wu’s family background, our media would probably never cover the case at all. And I don’t think that people would react in the way you’ve said.”
“But it is possible, isn’t it? At present, political stability is of paramount importance, Comrade Chief Inspector. So, officially the investigation will go on, and its responsibility still lies with us,” the Party Secretary continued. “But if you don’t stop, you can count on Internal Security making a parallel investigation. If necessary, they will block your investigation with whatever charge they can bring out against you.”
“A parallel investigation, I see.”
“You cannot give those people any ‘queue’ to grab. Or they will really tear off your scalp.”
Chief Inspector Chen had enough queues, he was well aware, for others to grab. Not just the trip to Guangzhou.
The Party Secretary seemed to be doing some heavy thinking. “Besides, your hypothesis may account for some facts,” Li said, “but there is no eyewitness. No weapons. No hard evidence of legal value. Nothing but circumstantial evidence in support of what is, essentially, an imaginative theory. And finally, no motive either. Why should Wu have murdered her? So at present, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen, nothing can justify the continuation of the investigation.”