Apricot's Revenge

by Song Ying

“Zhu Mei-feng’s alibi is genuine,” Yao said.

  “Yes, it’s iron-clad.” Xiaochuan hesitated before turning on the engine. “But the timing was simply too pat.”

  “Did you see how calm she was?”

  “She wasn’t just calm. She seemed, well, more like detached,” Xiaochuan said.

  “Detached?”

  “That’s right. Where to next?”

  “Let’s go see Zhou Zhengxing.”

  “All right.”

  They roared off down Shennan East Road.

  * * *

  Back at Landmark Building. The blue glass-plated skin of the twenty-four-story high-rise was tinted from the splendid sunset.

  Xiaochuan and Yao Li hurried into the lobby, where they flashed their badges at the security guard and headed for the elevator.

  In the twenty-fourth-floor CEO’s office, the two officers sat in the secretary’s office, where Ah-ying offered them freshly brewed black tea.

  “We have some questions for Mr. Zhou,” Xiaochuan explained.

  “Mr. Zhou is out of town.”

  “Oh? Out of town?” Xiaochuan was surprised.

  “Where did he go?” Yao Li asked.

  Ah-ying picked up the red phone on her desk and dialed an extension. “Ah-mei, do you know where Mr. Zhou went? Oh, yes, I see. Thank you. It’s nothing.”

  “Mr. Zhou flew to Shanghai this morning.”

  That was unexpected.

  “Mr. Zhou’s secretary said it wasn’t a planned trip. He left in a hurry, probably business related, but she had no idea who he was meeting there,” Ah-ying added.

  “Can you reach him?”

  “I can try.”

  Ah-ying dialed Zhou’s cell phone, but received a recording in a woman’s voice: “Your call is being transferred to voice mail.”

  Xiaochuan and Yao Li exchanged glances. Yao gestured to say there was nothing they could do now.

  “Think he’s running away?” Xiaochuan whispered to Yao.

  “I doubt it.” Yao shook her head. “That would be an admission of guilt.”

  “All right, then,” Xiaochuan said to Ah-ying, “please keep trying to reach Mr. Zhou and let us know when you hear from him.”

  “I will. We’ll do our best to cooperate.” Ah-ying looked up with lovely eyes, highlighted by dark circles, that showed a hint of sorrow.

  This woman is heartbroken over Hu’s death, Yao Li said to herself. “How are things at Landmark these days?” she asked in a show of sympathy.

  “Not good. Everyone is unsettled and rumors are flying.” Ah-ying was noticeably upset.

  When the captain of a ship, whose word is law, dies, it’s only natural for tumult on deck to follow, especially if the death is suspicious. No one could tell where the ship would sail next on such stormy seas.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?” Ah-ying asked.

  “Yes, thank you.” Xiaochuan said, “Is Zhong Tao in?”

  “He’s with a client.”

  The door to Zhong’s office, across the hallway, was open.

  “Who is it?”

  “Mr. Lu, the General Manager of Shenzhen Development Bank, is here, probably for a loan payment. Our Mr. Hu has only just died, and they’re already here to collect.”

  Ah-ying was clearly unhappy.

  Xiaochuan looked at his watch—5:20.

  “We can wait.”

  “Here are some newspapers.” Ah-ying handed them some local papers and left the room.

  “Thank you,” Yao Li said.

  As they sat in the office, Yao flipped through the papers. Time slowly ticked away.

  Suddenly the strains of what sounded like a harmonica floated over from somewhere nearby; the melody was familiar, but the name of the tune unknown. It had a serene yet sorrowful feel.

  Xiaochuan looked around, but couldn’t locate the source.

  “Did you hear a harmonica?” he whispered to his partner.

  She shook her head.

  Now he was puzzled.

  * * *

  About twenty minutes later, the door to Zhong’s office opened, and out stepped two middle-aged men in suits and ties. The first one, a heavyset man, had an arrogant look.

  “Please rest assured, General Manager Lu,” Zhong Tao said in an even tone, “that I’ll pass your views to Mr. Zhou.”

  “Remember, no later than the middle of next month.” The heavyset man gestured.

  “Absolutely,” Zhong replied.

  After seeing the two men to the elevator, Zhong turned and saw the two officers.

  “May we have a word with you, Mr. Zhong?” Xiaochuan said.

  “Of course. In here, please.” Zhong showed them into his office.

  It was a well-furnished office, with all the essential office equipment, including a black computer keyboard and a late-model LCD screen, but it was not particularly large.

  “Those two men were—”

  “Here for a loan payment.” Zhong said pointedly; he poured cups of Maxwell House instant coffee for the officers while he put away the documents on his desk. “Landmark’s image has suffered with the death of Mr. Hu, and the bank is afraid we’ll default on a loan.”

  “How much is the loan?” Xiaochuan asked.

  “No one knows the exact figure, nor the amount of Landmark assets. There’s a rumor that Landmark’s debts outstrip its assets.” Zhong’s response surprised the officers.

  “Could that be true?” Xiaochuan asked.

  “It’s alarmist talk. Landmark is one of the province’s model enterprises,” Zhong said with a hint of mockery. “Besides, as the saying goes, a skinny dead camel is still bigger than a horse.”

  “Are you, Mr. Zhong, now Landmark’s gatekeeper?” Yao joked.

  “Oh, I’m hardly qualified for that,” Zhong responded modestly. “In the wake of CEO Hu’s death, Mr. Zhou is now number one, while our deputy CEO, Mr. Li, is in charge of operations. Those of us in middle management are glorified migrant workers who will likely become the proverbial monkeys who disperse after the tree falls.”

  Everyone in the company knew that Zhong Tao had been Hu Guohao’s man, so his comments were worth parsing. People in Landmark’s inner circle were aware that Zhong was indebted to Hu for recognizing his abilities and giving him important tasks. As Hu’s trusted assistant and a member of the up-and-coming generation, Zhong had a competitive edge, but stood no chance to defeat Zhou Zhengxing in a fight for control of Landmark without the backing of Hu’s widow, who had inherited Hu’s stock ownership.

  “We want to know more about what happened on June twenty-fourth,” Xiaochuan said to change the subject as he opened his notebook.

  “What exactly?”

  “We heard that you rode with Hu Guohao to Greater Meisha on that afternoon.”

  “Yes, I did. He got off at Greater Meisha and I went on to Lesser Meisha.”

  “What were you doing in Lesser Meisha?” Xiaochuan asked.

  “A college reunion,” Zhong said with a nod. “Classmates from C University who work in Shenzhen. We don’t get to see each other often, so we partied all night.”

  “A beach party? How many were there?” Yao asked.

  “Seven.” Zhong sounded very much at ease.

  “Where in Lesser Meisha?”

  “Am I a suspect?” Zhong asked with a smile.

  “No, this is just routine police work,” Yao Li assured him. “We have to talk to everyone who’s connected to Mr. Hu.”

  “We went to the barbecue pits at eight o’clock, and stayed there till about two in the morning.”

  Yao Li had been to the barbecue grounds with friends once in the past. There were more than a hundred individual pits, each big enough to accommodate eight to ten diners. Nicknamed the Barbecue Playground of a Thousand, it provided everything for paying guests: fatty beef, mutton, pork chops; a variety of seafood, including prawns, squid, silver cod, and so on; as well as beer, soft drinks, and other popular snacks. When night fell, the dark ocean provid
ed a festive backdrop for merrymaking crowds around pits in which fires flared impressively.

  “Did you go anywhere else that night?”

  “For a while, yes.”

  “When?”

  “Around eleven, just for a little while. I’d had too much to drink and was sick.”

  “Could you give us the names of your friends?” Xiaochuan asked.

  “Of course.”

  Zhong took out a brown notebook and flipped through to find the right page, from which he copied the names and phone numbers of his friends onto a notepad.

  Xiaochuan took the note; there were six names: Fu Tong, Zhang Jusheng, Qi Xiaohui, Dai Zhiqiang, Ding Lan, Luo Wei.

  “Only six?” Xiaochuan questioned.

  “And Zhong Tao makes seven, doesn’t it?” Zhong said impishly.

  Xiaochuan had to laugh at himself.

  Zhong’s Mandarin had a distinct Sichuan accent. Xiaochuan recalled a line he’d read somewhere that went, “No matter where you go, you’ll always find a hometown friend by listening for Sichuanese Mandarin.”

  “You’re from Sichuan, aren’t you, Mr. Zhong?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Zhong said.

  “Me too.”

  “My family’s from Chengdu.”

  “Chongqing here.”

  “Ah, so you’re a kiddo from Chongqing,” Zhong quipped, using a familiar phrase.

  Xiaochuan was engaged by Zhong’s charm and characteristic Sichuan sense of humor.

  “We were just told that Mr. Zhou is on a business trip. Urgent?” Xiaochuan probed.

  “I don’t know. His secretary just told me that he left in a hurry.” Zhong was obviously in the dark about Zhou’s trip.

  “Has something happened?”

  “I hope not.”

  Xiaochuan looked at his watch.

  Then he heard the harmonica again, this time a sad melody, like someone pouring their heart out; to him it felt like bone-chilling spring water flowing over his heart.

  Xiaochuan’s brows quavered slightly; he closed his eyes and thought he saw a plume of flickering blue flames.

  He’d heard the melody before, and though he couldn’t recall its name, the sorrowful tune tugged at his heart.

  Turning to glance at Yao Li, he said, “It’s getting late. We should head back now.”

  “I’ll treat you both to a hot pot in Jiujiulong someday.” Zhong Tao smiled.

  “Thank you.”

  As Zhong stood up to see them out, Xiaochuan saw him stare at something out the window. A peculiar expression came over him, as the muscles at the corners of his mouth trembled slightly. His hand shook so much he knocked over his coffee cup. His face was tinted a rosy red by the fiery sunset. Tears welled up in his eyes.

  Xiaochuan followed his gaze. Through the tinted windows, he saw a Boeing jumbo jet heading southwest into the sunset, its red and green lights pulsing on the wingtips. The plane was too low for him to see the logo, but as it roared through the sky he felt the impact of its power.

  A confused Yao Li looked at Zhong Tao, who was oblivious to the two of them.

  But he recovered and nodded to apologize for his behavior. Still embarrassed, he righted the coffee cup, which had been empty, thus sparing the desk the mess of coffee stains.

  The scene, which had lasted less than twenty seconds, had left a deep impression on both officers.

  “That was weird,” Xiaochuan said to Yao Li in the elevator.

  “It sure was. I think he saw something.”

  “A Boeing 747 flying toward Huangtian Airport.”

  “A Boeing jet?”

  “That’s right.”

  Yao Li could only shake her head in bewilderment.

  FOUR

  “Alibi”

  — 1 —

  The Y District Public Security Building. All the lights were burning in the Criminal Investigation Team’s sixth-floor office.

  The second case meeting was under way, and the detectives were caught up in a much more animated atmosphere. Bureau Chief Wu Jian, who was in charge of criminal investigation, was in attendance. A man of medium build, he had the look of a typical southerner, with a swarthy face and thick lips. With more than two decades in criminal work, he was an honest and forceful, no-nonsense police officer who had handled many important cases.

  “This afternoon we received permission from municipal authorities to perform a judicial autopsy on Hu Guohao,” Cui announced to begin the meeting. “The Public Security Hospital will work overtime to complete it as early as possible. I’ve told Tian Qing to observe the process.”

  The news energized the officers around the table.

  “Hu Guohao’s body will be cremated on July second, so time is of the essence.” Cui drove home the tight schedule.

  “Why the rush?” Zheng Yong, the squad’s ladies’ man, ventured softly.

  “The date was chosen by Landmark’s Board of Directors on the twenty-sixth, and agreed to by the widow.” Cui shot him a searing look. “We can’t do anything to stop them if we have no solid evidence that the death was not accidental.”

  “Under normal circumstances, the Board’s decision makes perfect sense,” Chief Wu added, in his deep, full, and infectious voice. “First, the body can’t stay out too long. Also, July second is a Sunday, which lends itself to a more impressive memorial.”

  “Now let’s hear what you all found out over the past two days.”

  Cui offered a cigarette to Chief Wu, who turned it down with a wave and a smile. Zheng Yong tossed the squad leader a yellow plastic lighter, which he used to light his cigarette; he took a deep drag, sending a plume of white smoke curling into the air.

  Xiaochuan and Yao Li opened their notebooks and reported on their interviews with Zhu Mei-feng and Zhong Tao.

  “Zhu Mei-feng told us she took the twelve-twenty Chinalink bus from Wenjindu to Hong Kong’s Kowloon station on the twenty-fourth. She received a call from her husband’s driver at about eight the next morning, informing her what happened to Hu, so she rushed back on the ten-twenty bus to Wenjindu Station,” Yao Li reported.

  “Any proof?”

  “Yes, she showed us her round-trip tickets.”

  Xiaochuan took over. “We then went to the customs office at Wenjindu and checked their computer records. Her story checks out.”

  Yao Li continued her report:

  “Following Team Leader Cui’s instructions, we learned that Zhong Tao was also in Lesser Meisha on the night of June twenty-fourth. He and six college friends met at the barbecue pits on Lesser Meisha beach. He said there were four men and two women, all graduates of Sichuan’s C University, some of whom had majored in international business, others in Chinese.”

  Yao flipped a page in her notebook to report on her conversation with the six friends. She was unable to speak with one of them, who was away on a business trip. What the other five said pretty much corroborated Zhong’s account.

  They had spent the night on the barbecue grounds, partying from dusk till about two in the morning. The five interviewed individuals told the police that Zhong was with them the whole time, except for a brief moment. He was sick from drinking too much, so Ding Lan helped him back to the vacation villa to change clothes. That happened around 11:05. Just under half an hour later, Ding and Zhong returned to the grounds, where Zhong was mocked by his friends. They remained on the beach until 2:05 before returning to their rented villas to rest.

  “So Ding Lan was Zhong Tao’s alibi for those twenty-five minutes,” Yao Li said.

  “What do we know about Ding Lan?” Chief Wu asked.

  “Nothing of particular interest. She was a top student in the Chinese department at C University, a member of the college Party organization, and a scholarship winner every year. She’s had many suitors but has dismissed them all. She’s now the editor of a special column in a Shenzhen woman’s magazine and drives a white Citroën. Her colleagues say she’s a tough cookie, loves to eat and party, but is serious and professional whe
n it comes to her work, and has had success at the magazine,” Yao Li said.

  “She seems to be a woman with a heart,” Xiaochuan added, “and she speaks her mind.”

  “Then we can’t really count the twenty-five minutes as an absence,” Cui offered.

  “That’s right.”

  Yao continued: “Fu Tong is an international business major at C University, with average grades. A Chinese chess fanatic, he often went from dorm room to dorm room, looking for opponents. He’s known as a bit of a slacker but is well liked. He owns a trading company in Shenzhen with an annual income of six to seven hundred thousand yuan. He drives a black Honda, which he drove to Lesser Meisha that day.

  “Zhang Jusheng is an English major, generally considered somewhat aloof. A top student in high school, he entered C University with the highest score in his county. A good student, he’s a voracious reader, and is well versed in psychology. He succeeded in wooing the prettiest girl in his class just before graduation. Now he’s involved in overseas training, running the New World Training Center, which is well known in Shenzhen.

  “Qi Xiaohui, a graduate of C University’s law school, is the son of a provincial deputy department head, so his family is quite well off. A heavy beer drinker in college, he also enjoys fine cigarettes. He has his own law firm in Shenzhen and handles cases of mixed importance. One involved trademark infringement, which earned him a bit of fame and a spot on a provincial TV legal program. His wife is a TV anchorwoman. That day on the beach, he and Zhong Tao had engaged in a beer-drinking contest—Zhong lost.

  “Dai Zhiqiang, a bookish math major, writes software for a computer company.

  “Luo Wei, a business management major, is smart and capable. Working in the loan department of a bank, and considered one of its top employees, she is a high-salaried white-collar worker. Her husband is a section head at the Municipal Finance Bureau.”

  “Did you check Zhong’s background?” Chief Wu asked.

  “We did. He was a top International Finance student at C University. With excellent grades and a cool head, he was known even then for his understated manner. In school he was generous and helpful to others; he lent out money all the time and often forgot how much someone owed him. He’s an avid table tennis player who once won second prize at a college tournament. We were told that he enjoyed his classmates’ support and once organized the class to overthrow a selfish class leader who flattered their teacher for his own benefit. After coming to Shenzhen, he worked for a prominent South China stockbroker, where he managed several accounts and did quite well. He then jumped to Landmark as the CEO’s executive assistant. He’s still single.”