by Qiu Xiaolong
“You sound like a happily innocent man,” Old Hunter said. “Whose car is it?”
“Take a good look at the white plate. It’s not difficult to guess.”
“Wu Xiaoming’s car—or rather Wu Bing’s car, right?”
“Yes. So you should let me go now.”
“Well, that is the very reason why you are being held here,” Chen said. “I tell you what. We have been watching you for days.”
“Why—so you’ve purposely trapped me,” Guo said. “You will regret it.”
“Comrade Adviser Yu,” Chen said to the old man, “thank you for bringing this suspect to us. From now on, it’s no longer a traffic violation case. I’m taking it over.”
“My last piece of advice to you, young man,” Old Hunter said, grinding out his cigarette. “Use your brains. Don’t you know who Comrade Chen Cao is? The new Metropolitan Traffic Control Director, as well as chief inspector of homicide, and head of the special case group, Shanghai Police Bureau. The game is over. You’d better come clean. A cooperative witness will be punished with leniency. Director Chen—Chief Inspector Chen—I should say—may work out a deal for you.”
As Old Hunter left the office, Chen stepped out, too, walking him to the elevator. “Have the car thoroughly examined, especially the trunk,” he said in a subdued voice, “for any evidence.”
“Yes, that’s what I’m going to do, Chief Inspector Chen.”
“Do it in an official way, Comrade Adviser Yu.” He held the door for the old man. “Have some other officer work together with you. Ask him to sign for anything, too.”
When he moved back to the office, he said to Meiling, “It’s important that we not be disturbed.”
“Now,” he said to Guo, closing the door, “let’s have a talk.”
“I’ve got nothing to say,” Guo said, folding his arms across his chest and staring defiantly ahead.
“We are not talking about a license or speed limits. It is about Guan Hongying’s case.”
“I know nothing about it.”
“In your testimony,” Chen said, producing a file folder from the cabinet, “you said that on the night of May tenth, Wu Xiaoming drove to your home around nine thirty. Wu turned your study into a darkroom, and stayed there for the night, developing his films. On that same night, a white Lexus was seen at a gas station about five miles from the Baili Canal. It was in that very canal that Guan’s body was found the following day. And it was Wu Xiaoming’s car, no mistake about it. We have the receipt bearing the gas ration coupon number. So who was the driver that night?”
“Wu might have lent his car to somebody else. How can I be responsible for that?”
“According to your testimony, Wu’s car was parked right in front of your home. Wu did not step out of the darkroom for one minute throughout the night. You were very emphatic. But you did not say that you yourself did not leave during the night. You had the car keys, as you do today. So you must have been the driver—unless you are providing a false alibi for Wu.”
“You cannot bluff people like that, Comrade Chief Inspector. Whatever you may say, I did not drive the car that night. Period.”
“You may call it a bluff, but we have a witness.”
“There’s nothing your witness can say against me. It’s the nineties now, no longer a time when you can detain a person just as you please. If it’s a case concerning Wu, don’t put pressure on me.
“Don’t give me that,” Chen said, reaching for his briefcase. “I’m not talking about Wu, but about you. About obstruction of justice, perjury, and being an accessory to a homicide. You said in your testimony that you did not know who Guan was. False. Let me show you something.”
Chen produced a picture. The picture of Guan with a man on top of her. “Take a close look,” he said. “This was taken in Wu Xiaoming’s mansion, wasn’t it? Tell me that’s not you.”
“I don’t know anything about the picture,” Guo said doggedly, but with a hint of panic in his voice.
“You lied in your testimony, Mr. Guo Qiang,” Chen said, taking a leisurely sip of his tea. “You won’t get away with it.”
“I did not kill her,” Guo said, wiping away the sweat that had begun to bead on his forehead. “Whatever you say, you have no evidence to prove it.”
“Listen, even if we cannot nail you for the murder, the picture alone is enough cause to lock you up for seven or eight years. Plus your false testimony. Fifteen years, I’d say. You will be an ancient, white-haired hunchback when you walk out again. I’ll make sure you will have a wonderful time in there. You have my word on it.”
“You’re threatening me.”
“Think about your family, too. How will your wife react when she gets hold of that picture? Will she wait for you for twenty or more years? I don’t think so. You were married just last year, weren’t you? Think about her, if not about yourself.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Of course I can. So here is your chance: Work with me. Tell us what you know about Wu and Guan, and what Wu did on May tenth. A deal may be possible.”
“So you really think you can touch Wu?”
Chen understood the doubt in Guo’s mind.
He opened his briefcase again. In it was the envelope of the Party Central. Ling might have purposely chosen it for others to see. He had been carrying it with him. Not for any sentimental reason. He did not want to leave the letter at home with Internal Security snooping around.
“This is a case,” he said, flashing the envelope at Guo, “directly under the Central Party Committee.”
“So—” Guo stammered, staring at the envelope, “it’s a decision at the highest level.”
“Yes, the highest level. Now, you’re a clever man. Wu must have tipped you off about his maneuvers against me. What’s the result? I’m still chief inspector, and metropolitan traffic control director, too. Why? Think about it.”
“They are planning something against the old cadres?”
“That is your interpretation,” Chen said. “But if you think Wu will help you, you are dead wrong. Wu would be only too happy to have a scapegoat.”
“Are you sure you can work out a deal for me?”
“I’ll do my best, but you have to tell me everything.”
“Let me think—” Guo lifted his gaze from the envelope to Chen’s face and slumped further into the chair, making his hunchback more pronounced. “Where shall I start?”
“How did you come to know about the relationship between Wu and Guan?”
“I came to know Guan first—as one of those party girls. A lot of them were at Wu’s parties. They came of their own will. Some wanted to have fun, drinks, karaoke, and whatnot, some wanted to meet Wu, some wanted to take a look at the mansion, and some wanted to have their pictures taken . . . You have seen those pictures, haven’t you?”
“Yes, every one of them. Go on.”
“Wu Xiaoming has all the advanced photography equipment. His own darkroom,, too. He published quite a few. Some of those hussies were just delirious about publicity. Wu’s got quite a reputation among them. And a way with them, too. Not to mention the other offers he could make.”
“What are the other offers?”
“Good, lucrative jobs, for instance. With Wu’s connections, it was not difficult for him to arrange such things. People are willing to do things for him, you know, so someday they might ask for something in return. Also, Wu introduced several girls to modeling agencies.”
“So in return, they let him take pictures—even those pictures?”
“Well, some of them fell for him anyway, with or without his offering anything. They let him pose them, totally nude, before his camera. You don’t need me to tell you what happened afterward, Comrade Chief Inspector. One girl was so eager, she told me, that she was willing to sleep with him just for the pictures. ‘I’ll work for them,’ that’s exactly what she said.”
“Why did Wu want to take those pictures?”
“I don’
t know—Wu’s a man who keeps his own counsel— except for one thing he told me. He was a bit drunk that night, I think.”
“What was that?”
“Those pictures could prevent the girls from getting him into trouble.”
“I see. You said that you first met Guan at a party. So was she like one of those party girls?”
“Well, at first I had no idea that she was the national model worker. There were no formal introductions at these parties. There was only one thing different about her that I noticed. She appeared to be unusually stiff when I tried to dance with her.”
“Had Wu told you anything about her?”
“No, not right away. But I could tell she was different. Unlike the other girls, she took it seriously.”
“Seriously—what do you mean?”
“The relationship with Wu. Most of the girls were there just for fun. A one-night stand, you might say. Some are far more liberal than you can imagine, offering themselves without your asking. Guan was different.”
“So Guan expected something serious out of the affair—but was she not aware that Wu was married?”
“She was well aware of it, but she believed that Wu would divorce his wife for her sake.”
“Now that’s really something—for a national model worker to go after a married man—what made her think she would succeed?”
“I don’t know.”
“But what made you think Guan wanted Wu to marry her?”
“It was so obvious. The way she clung to him in such a wifely way and put on an air of inviolable chastity to everybody else.”
“Did Wu treat her just like one of those girls?”
“No. Wu was also different.”
“Can you try to be more specific here?” Chen said, handing a cup of tea to Guo after he had made another for himself.
“For one thing, Guan did not like the parties. Altogether, she was at them only three or four times, and she would withdraw into Wu’s room after one or two dances. Wu stayed with her in his room, even when the party was going on like crazy outside. That was most unlike Wu.”
“Staying alone with a girl in his room. That’s very like Wu Xiaoming, I’d say.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. Wu stayed with a girl in his room after the party, but not during it. Wu was quite considerate toward Guan, going out of his way to humor her. Last year they even took a trip together. To the Yellow Mountains, I think. That was Guan’s idea, too.”
“They shared the hotel room as a couple,” Chen said. “I’m afraid that it was not just Guan’s idea.”
“I don’t know. Guan was okay, surely not plain, but you should have seen those actresses, more beautiful, and much younger. But Wu never made a trip with any of them except Guan.”
“Well, you may be right,” Chen said, nodding. “But then what happened between the two of them?”
“Wu realized that she was too serious, too demanding. It became a problem. She must have put a lot pressure on him, but it was out of the question for Wu to divorce his wife.”
“Why?”
“His wife’s family is powerful. You know who Wu’s father-in-law was? Liang Xiangdong, the first secretary of Huadong Area.”
“But Liang died during the Cultural Revolution.”
“Well, there’s something you may not know. Wu’s father-in-law died, but his brother-in-law has become the Second Party Secretary of Anhui Province. What’s more, his mother-in-law, still alive and kicking, is a member of the Central Party Discipline Committee in Beijing.”
“We know that,” Chen said. “All the HCC connections and nepotism. But now tell me, what was Wu Xiaoming’s reaction to Guan’s demand?”
“At first, Wu simply laughed, behind her back, of course. Just another of her model masks, he said, like those worn by Beijing opera players, ‘different ones on different stages’ He was not too bothered with it. Perhaps he liked its novelty.”
“So when did their relationship became problematic?”
“Honestly, I did not notice anything until that picture session. It was after a party last December. At the party, Guan was her usual self, as stiff as a bamboo stick, but Wu made her drink several cups of Maotai. Whether he had put something else in the wine, I don’t know. Soon she passed out. Wu asked me to help her into the bedroom. And to my surprise, he started undressing her there. She was not aware of anything, as innocent as a white lamb.”
“Did he tell you why he wanted you to be there?”
“No, he just started shooting pictures in my presence, those pictures, you know. He said something like—’Strip a national worker model naked, and she’s just another wanton slut.’ It was not something uncommon, I mean, a nude picture session for him.”
“Nor uncommon for you, either?”
“Well, things like that had happened before—once or twice. With other girls, of course. Wu wanted me to take pictures, Wu and the girl together on the bed. But that night, Wu wanted me to pose with Guan, and that’s the picture you have got. I swear to you that I just posed with her. I did not do anything else.”
“You must have been a Liu Xiawei of the twentieth century.”
“I don’t know Liu Xiawei. But I was dumbfounded. Before that night, Wu had told us not to bother her. He had never made such a point about the other girls. In fact, Wu did not care at all with the other girls.”
“What do you think could be the reason for Wu’s sudden change that night?”
“I do not know. Perhaps Wu wanted to use those pictures to prevent her from making trouble.”
“Did Wu succeed?”
“I have no idea. Afterward, they continued to see each other. What happened occurred several weeks after the photo session.”
“What happened?”
“They had a fight.”
“Again, you have to be more specific here,” Chen said. “Did you witness the fight?”
“No, I didn’t. I happened to visit him shortly afterward. Wu was simply beside himself.”
“When was this?”
“At the beginning of March, I believe.”
“What did he say?”
“He was drunk, talking in delirious rage. It appeared that she had taken something important from him.”
“Something she could use to threaten him?”
“Right, Comrade Chief Inspector. Wu did not tell me what it was. He said something like—’The bitch thinks she can blackmail me. She’ll pay for it. I’ll fuck her brains out!’ Yes, it was something to blackmail him with.”
“Did he tell you what he was going to do about it?”
“No, he didn’t. He was in such a murderous rage, cursing like mad.”
“Then what happened?”
“Then one night in mid-May, he suddenly came to my place to develop pictures, saying there was something wrong withhis darkroom. He stayed in my study that night. It was a Sunday, I remember, because my wife complained to me about it. We usually go to bed early on Sunday. Several days later he called me, and during our conversation, he repeated two or three times that it was the night of May tenth, the night that he came to work at my place. I did not understand his emphasis on the date until one of your men asked me about that night.”
“You told Detective Yu exactly what Wu had told you to, and established an alibi for him.”
“Yes, but I didn’t know that I was providing an alibi for him, nor did I know that Wu had committed murder. Later I looked up the date. That Sunday was actually May thirteenth. But at the time I spoke to Detective Yu, I didn’t recall that.”
“Did you ask him about it afterward?”
“I called him the following day, telling him that a policeman had interviewed me. He asked me out to the JJ Bar. Between cups, he said that he was going to be promoted to be Acting Culture Minister of Shanghai, and that he would pay me back with interest.”
“Did he mention Guan at all?”
“No, he didn’t. He just asked what date I had told Comrade Detective Yu, and he se
emed to be relieved by my answer.”
“Anything else?”
“No, he did not say anything else that day, and I did not ask,” Guo said. “I’m not holding anything back, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen.”
The phone started ringing. “It’s Comrade Adviser Yu on the line, and he says it is urgent,” Meiling said. “Do you want to speak to him?”
“Yes, put him through.”
“We’ve found something in the car trunk, Chief Inspector Chen,” Old Hunter said. “A long strand of a woman’s hair.”