A Perfect Crime

by A. Yi

  Mr He had a worn-out hunting dog who walked by lifting his legs in a languid, funny way, like a dignified mare. Every once in a while they stopped, Mr He to scratch his arm while the animal smeared his flea-infested back all over his master’s leg. He lay down periodically, refusing to continue, to which the old man responded with a gob full of phlegm and a kick to his stomach: ‘Useless dog, hurry up and die.’ He snorted a response and Mr He whipped the sorry mutt with his leather belt before he pulled himself up onto his unsteady feet. Mr He had to keep throwing biscuit crumbs onto the road ahead just to get him to walk on.

  I understood the guy’s particular kind of loneliness. He was used to being someone important in the military academy, looking down on people. It wasn’t death that scared him, more like the way time seemed to stretch out endlessly. He hardly slept. He was up early every morning walking the dog, coming back as the sun rose, when he would make a big fuss over breakfast. Then he would walk to the sentry box to collect the newspaper, which he read fastidiously all morning, taking in each and every word before launching into the operation that was lunch. Then came the hour-long nap and another walk with the old dog. Mr He wasn’t a nice guy, no nicer than my aunt, but he wasn’t the right victim either.

  I couldn’t be bothered to follow him any more so I went home, shoved some soapy water in the lock and had another go with the pliers. I stood there, anger rising up in me like steam building in a bottle, slowly expanding and pressing against me until I exploded under the pressure. Gripping the pliers, I attacked the lock, but it fought back.

  I lay down on the bed and tried to calm myself, but panic gripped me. I got up and lay back down again, repeating the cycle, each time thinking I’d come up with a solution, only to descend deeper into my anxiety. The last time I got up I felt so impotent, all I could think of was how much I wanted to punish it. So I pissed into the lock. Then I grabbed the base, hunched one shoulder up like a bull, roared three times and turned it upside down. It crashed to the floor. It was too much to hope that the force might’ve popped it open, but I did notice that the underside had a plastic bag glued tightly across it. I ripped away the bag and found some bubble wrap and old newspapers, inside which was a round, flat piece of jade carved with the image of a Buddha. It was shiny like a mirror. The room was dark, so I went to find some light and watched as the Buddha danced under the rays. He laughed with his mouth, eyes and eyebrows. Even the red birthmark on his temple was laughing – laughing so that the rolls of fat and robes covering them were billowing like waves.

  I too laughed, laughed so that tears gathered in my eyes. I wanted to pick up the phone and tell someone, anyone, about how I’d managed at least to unlock the strange mind of my petty aunt and her secret hiding place. She’d been almost stupidly clever. She didn’t trust anyone, not even herself. She believed the most dangerous place to be the safest. She’d stuck her most precious possession on the bottom of the safe.

  Just then Old He returned and I checked the time on my mobile: 6.30 – dinnertime exactly. That’s right, fucking army guy.

  Build-up

  The next morning I went to the market and wandered around for some time before picking out a shopkeeper who looked as if he might know a thing or two about antiques. He had a bony face and white hair and he peered out from behind a pair of thick glasses. I decided that if he gave me a reasonable price I’d just take it and leave. But he examined the Buddha without saying anything. I asked him how much it was worth and he um-ed and ah-ed, started to utter something and swallowed it. He looked at me uncomfortably. I kept pushing him until he spoke.

  ‘Young man, how much do you think it’s worth?’ ‘I’m asking you. You’re the expert.’

  He traced the Buddha’s outline with his thumb. ‘Yes it’s made out of jade, but it’s a bit cloudy.’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Five hundred.’

  I took the Buddha back. ‘Five hundred? Go buy yourself some instant noodles.’

  ‘Then how much do you think it’s worth?’

  ‘Ten thousand.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Watch me sell it for twenty thousand if you don’t believe me.’

  He laughed. ‘You’re a funny young man.’ He was mocking me, so I started to walk off until I heard him call out after me: ‘Three thousand. Let’s be serious. Three thousand is a reasonable price.’

  ‘Ten thousand.’

  He muttered again to himself before offering five. I looked the old guy straight in the eye and enunciated, ‘Fifteen.’

  ‘There you go, you started with ten thousand and now you want fifteen.’

  ‘Twenty thousand.’

  He flapped his hands helplessly. I heard him muttering behind me and organising his thoughts, so I walked outside and hid behind a tree, from where I could see his shop door. Within seconds he popped his head out like a little mouse and looked around him. He spotted me and started waving his hands wildly.

  ‘You! Come over here!’

  ‘You want to buy it?’

  ‘Yes, for ten thousand.’

  ‘What do you take me for?’

  I walked off. I was playing hardball, but if I’m honest I had no idea how much it was worth. If he didn’t come after me it would be no big deal. I’d just go back. I had thick skin. But I could tell from the way he was acting that it was worth some serious dosh. The old guy was running after me, clanking like a rusty bike chain. He couldn’t catch up and I was only walking, so I stopped.

  ‘If you’re serious, go get the money. I’ll wait for you here.’

  He ran back, leaving his dignity behind him. He stopped at the door and looked round to check that I was still waiting. An obscene smile spread across his face and he held up one finger. I made a show of putting together my thumb and index finger. Got it.

  After returning with the money, he wanted to check the jade Buddha again to be sure I hadn’t swapped it for another one. Then he handed me a bundle of notes. Ten thousand. I pushed it back and he held out another bundle. I stuffed one bundle in my bag and the other in my pocket.

  ‘You’re not going to count it?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s all there.You’re just worried I’m going to change my mind.’

  At that moment a beggar came shuffling up to us carrying a metal bowl. I peered in, only five- and ten-cent coins. I unceremoniously dumped one of the ten thousand yuan bundles into his bowl. The beggar looked up at me and his neck stiffened. It seemed for a moment as if he was going to cry, but no tears came so I kicked him, which seemed to jolt him awake. He dropped his stick and disappeared like the wind. The shopkeeper was stunned. He must have realised I didn’t give a shit how much the Buddha was worth. I only needed ten thousand.

  I ate lunch. Deciding to save a few cents, I then took the bus to the train station.

  The square in front of the station was hemmed in by a wall on one side, upon which was painted a gigantic map of China. People passed before it like swelling, pulsing shoals of fish. I joined them, standing in front as if standing before the river of time. Tomorrow the Chief of Police might be standing here too. He’d ponder the very same question I was pondering right there and then: where would someone go if they were on the run? To me, this was a question with endless possible answers. The Chief of Police would cut the map in two according to two fundamental possible choices: the first, places of emotional resonance; the second, places with people known to the fugitive.

  I thought for a bit and realised I didn’t have a strong emotional connection to a single person in the whole wide world. There was my cousin, I guess, on my father’s side. But the only person I really felt a bond with was myself. For ages I’d dreamed of climbing some famous mountain and watching the sun rise. Indeed, for a while I believed it to be the only way to cure an exhausted heart.

  I went to the ticket hall and started queuing. I was going to buy a ticket for the next day, 4.30 in the afternoon. After standing in the queue for half an hour I realised that the train would
only be passing through this station, so there was a chance it could be delayed. I left the queue to think through my options again. I ended up buying a ticket for a train that left the next day at 4.10 because it originated in the city. After that I found an airline ticket office far from the station and called them. I used the video function to show them my ID and bought myself a discounted ticket for a few hundred, leaving at 9.00 in the evening the next day.

  In the afternoon I went back to the clothes shop. The owner was wearing an old skirt suit and was taking a nap with her head on the counter. Dribble was leaching from the corner of her mouth and her eyes weren’t fully closed, revealing a ghastly white cleft. The doorbell tinkled as I entered. The shirt, suit, leather shoes and briefcase I’d tried on last time were dumped in a pile and still hadn’t been put away.

  I knocked on the counter, bringing her back from distant dreamlands.

  ‘Anything caught your fancy?’

  I pointed to the four items. She looked at them, looked at me and then it came back to her.

  ‘But I offered them to you for two hundred and you didn’t want them.’

  ‘No, I want them. Two sets’

  I peeled four notes from the bundle of money. She eyed them suspiciously until a smile suddenly opened across her face like an umbrella and she sprang into action. I felt like God sprinkling sweet nectar on this wretched woman.

  She poured me tea and kept saying, ‘I knew you were a decent young man.’

  I figured that if I gave her a list she could source the stuff for me from other shops if she didn’t have them: a leather belt, shoe polish, cologne, a hat and the rest of the half-used bottle of hair gel – for free, of course. I got her to swap the hat for a bigger one.

  After she’d put the stuff in a bag, she rubbed her hands together like a child waiting for her reward. I took out another two hundred.

  ‘Thank you, Uncle,’ she said. ‘Uncle must be a very important man.’

  I also bought some rat poison, a couple of packets of crackers and water to take care of Old He’s dog. I ripped open and polished off one packet as soon as I got back home. Then I poured rat poison onto another packet of crackers, bashing the plastic bag until they were broken into crumbs. After that was done, I started packing excitedly as if I was just a normal tourist off on holiday. I stuffed the money deep into the bottom of my bag and filled it up with underpants, shoe polish, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a towel, shampoo, soap, more crackers and water, then I placed the glasses, briefcase, shirts, suits, socks, the leather belt, leather shoes, hair gel, a comb and the bottle of cologne on top of those. I slipped the train tickets and two ID cards into my wallet. One of them was fake. I got it before I could grow a beard just for a bit of a laugh. It cost me one hundred yuan from a guy who specialised in fake documents. Say hello to Li Ming, from Beijing.

  I grabbed the hat and kneaded it before putting it on. Then I checked to see that I hadn’t forgotten anything. I didn’t trust myself, so I opened my bag and tipped everything out. Turns out I was right to, as I’d forgotten to pack a razor. Not that forgetting a razor was a fatal error or anything – I could’ve just bought one downstairs. But it reminded me that this was one of the last things over which I would have total control and responsibility. If they caught me, that is.

  After that I started tidying up the flat. The living room was small and when my aunt was here she’d stuffed it with all sorts of useless objects. I closed the windows on two sides, pulled the curtains across and started pushing the TV table, sofa, shoe rack and bonsai into one corner. Then I mopped the floor clean and went to the bathroom to get to the washing machine. I pushed it out and placed it close to the door. I put the switchblade and rope in another corner of the room. I found the end of the duct tape and stuck the roll to the wall.

  I lay down on the floor, doused myself in the last remains of my anxiety and called my mother. This was the first time I’d ever picked up the phone and called her of my own volition. We were always fighting.

  When Pa died, Ma didn’t shed a single tear. She just launched herself into her business selling fizzy drinks and snacks. She was stingy, my ma, preferring to drink only boiled water and do all her own heavy lifting. If I tried to eat any of her stock she’d bat me away, saying it was unhygienic, that they’d all been fried in second-hand oil. I’d retort that such famous brands couldn’t possibly endanger their customers’ health in such a way and she had to admit that it was also a question of lost profit.

  ‘Why do you care so much about making money?’ I asked.

  ‘For you, of course.’

  ‘For me? And yet I’m not allowed to eat even one packet?’

  ‘I’m trying my best to scrape together a living. For you, yes.’

  ‘And what if I get cancer? Won’t it all have been for nothing?’

  ‘Well, you’re not having it anyway,’ she replied in her arbitrary way.

  Money was her only love. Every cent that passed through my fingers made her eyes bulge in anguish. If she was forced to choose between me and one thousand yuan, well, you get the picture. Later I came to see it all differently. Those funny arguments only happened because she was scared to see me grow up, this illiterate woman whose one measure of life was the struggle to make money. It was her sole means of controlling me.

  I argued with her less after that. She could do whatever she wanted. But now, as her voice reached out to me from the other end of the phone and I thought about the fact that I was about to leave this world for ever, tears welled up in my eyes. You only have one mother. I’d read that in a book. I sat up quietly and listened to her solemn counsel.

  ‘Son, you’ve completed an important stage in your life, so make sure you listen to what your uncle and aunt tell you and work hard.’

  ‘Mm,’ came my reply.

  We didn’t have much to say to each other, so I asked, ‘Has Auntie arrived?’

  ‘Yes, she’s here. She’s very good to me. She brought me lots of expensive clothes.’

  ‘When’s she coming back?’

  ‘Tomorrow afternoon.’

  That was enough, so I hung up. Only one day left now. It was time. I decided to text Kong Jie. She was the only person I knew who would come over.

  My aunt is driving me mad, I can’t take it any more. I could kill her.

  What is it? Calm down, we’ll think of something, she replied.

  Her voice was like a heavenly waterfall cascading over my body. Moments later it was gone. I hesitated. I could feel excitement in every bit of my body. I heard her voice again and it came clearly – soft, honest. Anxious. Loyal. It was the sound of love, even if I wasn’t the only one to receive it. I burst into loud sobs.

  I cried so hard it didn’t feel real. I paced the room. I was miserable, because I knew now I would kill her. Because I could.

  I found a notebook and wrote the date, but I couldn’t think of anything to say so I jotted down some random sentences and then wrote:

  it’s her, it’s her, it’s her

  it’s her, it’s her, it’s her

  But I tore that page out and burned it. I needed to leave this for the police. I started again:

  cousin cousin cousin cousin

  cousin cousin cousin cousin

  I wrote page after page, until my hand hurt so much I had to stop.

  Action

  The alarm was set for 9.00 but I was awake by 8.00. I sent a text to Kong Jie.

  We can’t stand each other. I’ve nowhere to go. I’m packing my stuff and leaving this afternoon at 2.00. Can you come?

  Can’t you fix it? she replied.

  No, I’ve already bought a train ticket back home for this evening.

  There was nothing for a long time. I stared at the phone, my plan falling apart. Relationships never last. What’s important to one person is just piffling dog shit to another.

  Just then her reply bleeped onto the screen.

  Don’t be too hasty, see if you can fix things first?

  Can
we talk?

  Sure, she replied.

  I called her. ‘Can you come, then?’

  There was no sound on the other end. She didn’t want to. She was nice to everyone, but I creeped her out. I was an inconvenience.

  ‘Forget I said anything. It doesn’t matter,’ I said, and hung up.

  After a while she sent a message.

  I’ll be there. Don’t be upset. No matter how bad things get, they can always be fixed. Trust me.

  Thanks.

  My reply was deliberately cold. But I was relieved. She was coming.

  Old Mr He was making a stir-fry next door; I could hear the metal spoon scraping the bottom of the wok. The sound made my teeth hurt. I took pleasure in knowing that his stupid mutt would soon be dead.

  I changed into a T-shirt, put on my cap and went downstairs. It was nearly time for the guards to swap shift. I slapped my flip-flops against the tarmac so that they echoed. The guard looked at me sideways, his hands stuck firmly to the seams of his trousers and his body still, like a sculpture. I walked closer to get a better look. Sweat poured from his hat like rain from the eaves. His fingertips and buttocks were trembling from the strain.

  I coughed a few times while I thought of something to say.

  ‘Hey, buddy, are you on duty this afternoon?’

  He turned his face ninety degrees like a robot to look at me and saluted.

  ‘Yes, until 3.00.’

  ‘I’ve got a friend coming at 2.00. Could you let them in?’

  ‘What does he look like?’

  ‘It’s a girl.’

  He smiled meaningfully.

  I removed my cap and fanned myself. ‘It’s roasting,’ I said.

  ‘Sure is,’ he said, taking a moment to relax.

  He obviously wanted to chat, but I sauntered off. I loathed everything about his life. I wasn’t going to become friends with him.

  There were still a few more hours to kill, so I found a struggling barber’s shop, walked in and announced, ‘My hair’s a mess. I want it sorted.’