by Lei Mi
Fang Mu also smiled, and then opened the interview room door.
Head drooping, Luo Jiahai sat in his chair unmoving. Fang Mu thought he was asleep. But when the policeman undid his cuffs, Luo Jiahai reached a hand over to massage his other wrist where the cuffs had left red marks and Fang Mu realized he had been awake the whole time. He contemplated the man for a moment and then asked for someone to bring in a bottle of mineral water in.
When he handed him the water, Luo Jiahai thanked him in a quiet voice. After twisting the cap off he just took a tiny sip, then put the cap back on and placed the bottle on the table in front of him.
Fang Mu lit a cigarette and scrutinized him from the other side of the table. After a few minutes he slid the cigarette pack over to him.
Luo Jiahai looked up and shook his head. "No, thank you. I don't smoke."
Fang Mu nodded slightly and continued to smoke in silence.
The two of them sat on either side of the table from one another. Between them were the slowly twirling and dissipating trails of smoke. One stared at the bottle of mineral water in front of him, while the other stared at him through the smoke. Luo Jiahai remained silent, as both sat waiting, and as Fang Mu sized him up.
Fang Mu knew that on the other side of the one-way mirror everyone was waiting anxiously for Luo Jiahai to start talking. He really wanted to tell Tai Wei to be patient, actually; an analysis of current circumstances, including Luo Jiahai's words and behavior, led him to believe that it was quite possible that Shen Xiang and Sang Nannan were both already dead. Whether they were found sooner or later didn't matter; it was too late to save them.
What interested Fang Mu more was to learn the sequence of events that had led to this incident. What exactly had Luo Jiahai meant when referring to the smell? Why had he killed Teacher Qin? Just how were Shen Xiang and Sang Nannan related to this murder case…?
After he finished his cigarette, Fang Mu said in an unhurried tone, "You wanted to see me. Is there something you wanted to say to me?"
Luo Jiahai did not respond right away; he waited a few seconds before looking up. Fang Mu did not avoid his gaze, but rather stared right back at him. In Luo Jiahai's eyes was a look of exhaustion mingled with deep despair and grief.
After a long while, Luo Jiahai spoke in a low voice. "Officer Fang, if I said I'm not a bad person, would you believe me?"
"I have no intention to try and make a character assessment here, but I'd rather believe that you are a good person." Fang Mu raised his voice very slightly. "But you've killed someone. Everyone makes excuses for himself after making a mistake. If you want me to believe that you're a good person, then you'll have to convince me."
Holding his breath, he concentrated on Luo Jiahai, waiting for him to explain his motives. But Luo Jiahai just hung his head again and didn't move.
He had thought it would be easy to get Luo Jiahai talking, but the latter's continued unwillingness to communicate surprised him. He composed himself and decided to change tactics.
"Shen Xiang's really pretty, right?" Fang Mu lit another cigarette. Through the upwardly curling smoke in front of him, he saw clearly that Luo Jiahai's shoulders were trembling a little. He decided to strike while the iron was hot. "You really love her, right? I bet she really loves you, too."
Luo Jiahai's shoulders were trembling more and more violently now. His whole body was like a quivering autumn leaf.
Fang Mu shifted his gaze to the corner of the interview room and spoke as if to himself. "People who like the color white usually have an inward yearning for purity. They live neat and tidy lives, and like everything to be clean and in order." He tapped the ash from the end of his cigarette. "I assume Shen Xiang has helped you wash your clothes and clean your dorm room. Am I right?"
Luo Jiahai's arm suddenly lashed out, abruptly sweeping across the table, sending the bottle in front of him flying straight at the one-way mirror. It struck with a plastic thump and bounced to the floor.
"Shut up!" he shouted wildly, glaring at Fang Mu.
Fang Mu watched him calmly. Luo Jiahai's eyes were brimming with tears and his ash gray lips were trembling.
Fang Mu said, slowly but clearly, "Shen Xiang is dead. Am I right?"
Luo Jiahai's tears tumbled down his cheeks. He hung his head and buried his face in his palms, chest heaving with muted sobs.
Fang Mu waited quietly. After a few minutes, Luo Jiahai's state of mind had calmed a bit, so Fang Mu opened his mouth again to speak. "And now, this girl who so yearned for purity, cleanliness, and order is doomed to lie in an unknown place, her body slowly becoming deformed from swelling. It's rotting and stinking and might even be buried under a big pile of maggots."
Luo Jiahai's wails had subsided into a string of spasmodic sobs, but upon hearing Fang Mu's words, another wave of violent weeping came over him.
Fang Mu's voice was flat and even, but had a ruthless edge to it. "You said before that you didn't want Shen Xiang and yourself to leave this world with the weight of such a crime on your backs. And I doubt Shen Xiang would want to say goodbye in such a disgusting state, either. So," he paused, "tell me, where is she? I assure you, we will treat her remains with respect."
Luo Jiahai nodded desperately, but continued to be so racked by sobs that he was unable to speak. Fang Mu put his cigarette out in the ashtray and stared intently at the prisoner, keeping his expression even but feeling his heart beating inside, as rapid and forceful as a drum.
Luo Jiahai's tears finally stopped. Gasping for air, he stuttered, "Jiangbin City, Red Park, n-near the steel market, th-there's an abandoned old factory building. Shen Xiang and Sang Nannan are in a tool room on the s-second floor."
Fang Mu exhaled in relief, quietly so that Luo Jiahai wouldn't notice. He glanced casually at the one-way mirror. On the other side of the glass, Tai Wei would be contacting colleagues in Jiangbin City so they could rush over to the location.
The few words he uttered seemed to have completely drained Luo Jiahai of energy. His body drooped on the chair, limp, his hands covering his face and the tears streaming slowly between his fingers.
Fang Mu, too, felt exhausted. He well-knew that the person in front of him quite probably had killed the two young women, but his appearance was no different from that of a typical inexperienced, sensitive, fragile university student. Though he still had a lot of questions about these two missing person cases, Fang Mu did not have the heart to continue questioning.
He signaled at the one-way mirror and very quickly the door to the interview room opened and two policemen walked in.
Fang Mu stood up. "Take him back to his cell. We'll talk more another day."
The two policemen gave an affirmative response, put the cuffs back on Luo Jiahai, and appeared to have to push to get him to the door. On his way out, he suddenly struggled and shouted over his shoulder. "Officer Fang!"
Fang Mu signaled to the two policemen to wait. With a hoarse voice, Luo Jiahai pulled a solicitous face and begged, "Once you've found Shen Xiang, may I...may I see her, one more time?"
Fang Mu stared at him for a few seconds, and then slowly nodded his head.
After watching Luo Jiahai be escorted away, Fang Mu felt suddenly drained. He sat down on the chair, pulled out another cigarette, and was just reaching for his lighter when a hand appeared over his shoulder, and with a click, its thumb lit the lighter it was holding.
Fang Mu moved his head closer to light his cigarette and then turned. It was Tai Wei.
Tai Wei pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. Suddenly, he looked at Fang Mu and laughed. "So it turns out you've got some skills after all, kid."
Fang Mu exhaled a puff of smoke and smiled noncommittally.
"You think it's possible those two girls are still alive?"
Fang Mu hesitated a moment, then shook his head. "Practically impossible. Luo Jiahai's attitude is that of someone who has cut off all means of retreat."
Tai Wei sighed. "That's what I thought, too."
&
nbsp; "Aren't you in a hurry to head back?"
"No." Tai Wei leaned lazily against the back of his chair. "They're already dead. Getting back a day or half a day sooner won't make any difference."
Fang Mu tamped out his cigarette in the ash tray. "Let's go. I'll treat you to dinner."
Fang Mu and Tai Wei sat across from each other at a table in a small restaurant not far from the precinct. While waiting to be served, the two of them sat smoking in silence. There seemed to be nothing more to say.
It was Fang Mu who broke the silence. "You married?"
Tai Wei choked on a mouthful of tea. Wiping his chin with his napkin, he asked, "How'd you know?"
Fang Mu smiled and pointed at the ring finger on Tai Wei's left hand; there was a faint depression in his skin from where he had been wearing a ring. Tai Wei's face went a bit pink. He scratched at the mark on his finger, as if wishing to rub it off.
Fang Mu chuckled. "Your wife must be pretty ferocious. But she depends on you a lot."
Tai Wei looked interested. "You can tell?"
"My guess is you take your ring off when you get to work, and you don't put it back on until you go back home. It's obvious you're still very afraid of your wife's wrath. A woman that can scare someone with a personality like yours into being honest must certainly be quite formidable." Fang Mu laughed. "But this indicates that your wife cares deeply about your marriage, so she depends on you a lot. Congratulations."
A rare warmth filled Tai Wei's eyes as he gave a low laugh. "She's like a little kid; she has to hold hands even when we're sleeping."
Seemingly because he had shared something private with Fang Mu, Tai Wei opened up and began to talk more. This man, downing his drink in large gulps with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, again looked like that policeman who had once in all seriousness given Fang Mu a bullet as a present.
It gave Fang Mu a familiar, friendly feeling toward him.
Over the course of many sips and toasts, Fang Mu learned about how Tai Wei had married and been promoted, and Zhao Yonggui had been transferred to his precinct as bureau chief; some of the cops who had worked on the Sun Pu case back then had been promoted, while some had lost their lives.
Fang Mu told Tai Wei that he had taken the civil service exams before he graduated and now he had a job working for the Provincial Public Security Department's Criminal Psychology Research Institute and that his immediate superior was Professor Qiao's student Bian Ping.
Meeting again after not having seen each other for some time, their conversation tended to revolve around common memories. But not all of their memories of past events were the stuff of happiness; this was an unavoidable fact. Other than the Sun Pu case, Fang Mu and Tai Wei did not have a whole lot between them to talk about.
"Sometimes I'll drive over to Southview Homes at Jiangbin City University, to the basketball court, and then I'll go to the gym and down into that basement." Already a bit tipsy, Tai Wei squinted out the restaurant window, the side of his face barely discernable through the smoke looming upward from his lips. "I don't do anything; I just sit there. Sometimes it feels like everything that happened that year was just a dream. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I'd have a hard time believing someone could be so brutal." He laughed lightly. "You saved my life. Come to think of it, I still haven't really thanked you for that."
Fang Mu dipped his head. After a long while, he answered softly. "No need."
Tai Wei seemed to have no intention to keep talking about it either. He turned to look at Fang Mu. "What about you? You've done pretty well for yourself."
"Not really; my job is sometimes pretty boring. Actually, back then I wanted to get into the Municipal Bureau, but later on it was Bian Ping who insisted on having me transferred over to his unit."
Tai Wei guffawed. "You're complaining about being idle? If you'd come to the Municipal Bureau you'd have learned what being worked to the bone is like." He turned back to the window, and his face gradually darkened. "Well, you still ended up becoming a cop. Did you do it for Professor Qiao?"
Fang Mu took a sip of his drink and hung his head without answering.
Tai Wei breathed a gentle sigh. "Actually, I'm still of the opinion that being a cop doesn't suit you."
Fang Mu offered a vague smile and lit another cigarette for himself.
"You ever thought about changing careers?"
"Never!" This time Fang Mu's reply was decisive, resolute.
"Never!" Tai Wei repeated.
Fang Mu knew Tai Wei clearly remembered that this was exactly how he had answered back when Tai Wei had asked whether Fang Mu was planning on becoming a cop or not. It was the same answer, yet the outcome had been completely the opposite. It was hard to know whether the fault had lain with Tai Wei or with the sharp-eyed, pale-faced man in front of him.
Tai Wei attempted to soften his tone. "In the future, if you get a chance, I suggest you get a different job."
Fang Mu said nothing for quite a while. Suddenly, he lifted his head and asked, "When did you start thinking I'm not suited to be a cop?"
Tai Wei stared at him for a few seconds. "Back in that basement."
"Oh?" Fang Mu raised his eyebrows and looked at Tai Wei, a faint smirk on his lips. "Are you going to report me?"
Tai Wei's countenance broke into a smile. "No. I would never. But by the same token, I will never believe that you are a good cop."
"Just what is a good cop?" Fang Mu asked.
Tai Wei looked stumped. After mulling it over for a long time, he said, "I don't know. But you're definitely not one. You're a person who is unable to keep from getting emotionally involved in a case; you always invest too much of yourself. If a case comes along that can't be solved with the law, or whenever you don't want to use legal means to solve it, then you always revert to your own methods." He paused. "I know that only yesterday, you almost took a bullet for Luo Jiahai."
The whole time he was talking, Fang Mu had his head down. After a while he tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette. "I don't see anything wrong with the way I do things."
Tai Wei shook his head. "You're going to get yourself killed."
Abruptly, Fang Mu broke into a laugh. "Well, I'm still alive, aren't I?" Without waiting for Tai Wei to answer, he raised his cup. "No more talking. Let's drink!"
By tacit understanding and through mutual evasion, the meeting between old friends ended with both of them drunk off their heads. By the time they staggered back to the precinct, the news had come back from Jiangbin City. The bodies of Shen Xiang and Sang Nannan had been discovered at the location indicated by Luo Jiahai, and the cause of death for both had preliminarily been identified as hemorrhagic shock. The difference between them was that Shen Xiang's fatal wound had been in her carpal artery, while Sang Nannan had been stabbed more than 20 times. More specific circumstances of their deaths would not be determined until a forensic investigator had conducted further tests. A minor jurisdictional dispute occurred between the precinct and the Jiangbin City criminal police; each side considered its own territory to be where the principal offense took place. An agreement was reached: Tai Wei and his people would return to Jiangbin City in advance, and only after the primary evidence was gathered would it be decided who would have jurisdiction over the Luo Jiahai case.
As they were parting ways, Fang Mu pointed at the drunken-eyed Tai Wei's ring finger on his left hand. The latter waved drowsily, but it was unclear whether he had understood what Fang Mu had meant.
As Tai Wei's Jeep disappeared around the corner, Fang Mu stood silently watching as the cloud of dust it had kicked up drifted lazily through the air. Turning, he saw the police insignia on the door to the precinct shining brightly in the midday sun. He shaded his brow with his hand and stared mutely at the insignia, thinking it seemed slightly larger than before. And in his mind, the insignia continued to grow until it seemed to overwhelm the sky.
Am I really not cut out to be a cop?
CHAPTER
3
Yang Jincheng lifted his head wearily from the desk and stretched his arms, but a twinge of pain in the base of his neck caused him to give up halfway through. He hunched over again and stared blankly at the monitor for a while. Finally he picked up the cup of already cold tea and downed it in one gulp.
While scrutinizing the empty tea cup that dangled heavily in his hand, he contemplated its considerable value and as such, its uniqueness in the Institute, and could not help but smile.
He stood and paced around the office a few times. When his feet brought him near the door, on a whim he pulled it open and walked out.
Once outside his office, all exhaustion drained from Yang Jincheng's face and he regained the appearance of the forever energetic Director Yang, tolerant yet astute, witty yet dignified.
He walked slowly down the exquisitely decorated corridor. He kept his pace slow not because of age, but rather to give an impression of being unhurried, calm and collected. Occasionally someone passing by would stop to bow and then scurry off. Yang Jincheng looked through the floor to ceiling windows on either side of him as he walked past. It was already nearly 8:30 in the evening, but there were many offices whose lights still shone on research personnel busy at their tasks. Yang Jincheng felt great satisfaction at seeing such bustling activity; he felt like a drill sergeant reviewing his troops, strolling in front of their ranks as they stood tall and orderly and enjoying a sense of detached superiority that he alone could feel.
After patrolling past several offices, patting the shoulders of a number of people, and receiving a number of compliments, Yang Jincheng gradually made his way back to his own office. He sat down in the largest, most comfortable chair in the entire Research Institute, and bit by bit the exhaustion that had disappeared without a trace returned to him. He sat in a hunched posture for a long time until he finally placed an arm weak and tingling from lack of circulation on the desk in front of him.
His fingers touched the computer mouse and the monitor lit up automatically with a crackling sound. Its white light gradually illuminated his face. He stared without focus as the screen became brighter and brighter until suddenly, as if he had just thought of something, he sat up straight, clicked on the "My Computer" icon and went into the hard drive. After a succession of easy clicks along a path he had taken hundreds of times, he had opened a folder that was buried deep down in his files. Unnecessarily, Yang Jincheng's glance swept the empty room and then he quickly entered a password. He then leaned his face up close to the monitor and gazed at it steadily. A faint smile slowly emerged on his face. The smile spread from the corners of his mouth to both cheeks and across his visage until it seemed that every hair in his eyebrows was bouncing with joy.