by Qiu Xiaolong
“But to set up a decoy for him may just be like waiting for a rabbit to knock itself out on an old tree, as the proverb goes,” Yu said. “And he is far more dangerous than a rabbit. I talked to Chen; he believes such a psychopath is capable of anything.”
“Do you have a better idea?” Li turned to Yu, almost fiercely. “Or does your Chief Inspector Chen?”
“Perhaps the bureau is too small of a temple for someone like Chen,” Liao joined in.
Yu, surprised by the animosity demonstrated by both Li and Liao, made no response.
No one made any further objection to Hong’s proposal. No one had a better idea, as Li had put it. So Hong was going to a dance club that afternoon.
Afterward, Yu considered it necessary to contact Chen. After the headline “ Shanghai in Crisis,” he didn’t think that Chen would keep burying his head among books.
As he picked up the phone, he thought he knew how to guarantee Chen’s full attention.
“I have to talk to you now, Chief. Let’s meet in front of Bund Park.”
“Why Bund Park?”
“The third red mandarin dress victim was found there this morning, close to the Tai Chi Corner on the Bund, just a stone’s throw from the park.”
“What-the third one was found on the Bund?”
“You’ll read about it in the newspapers-perhaps along with a reader’s letter, asking, ‘What is our Chief Inspector Chen doing?’ ”
“I’m on my way, Yu.”
FOURTEEN
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, YU arrived at the Bund again.
Checking around, he chose a green bench that faced the park. Sitting there, he could see down into the shrub grove where he had examined the body earlier. A crowd was still lingering there. The shrub grove looked somewhat like the flower bed where the first victim was found, but that might just be a coincidence. He didn’t believe the murderer could have chosen the places to dump the bodies for that reason.
With the heavy traffic along Zhong Road, it wasn’t practical to cordon off the area. There wasn’t any yellow crime scene tape there, which would have attracted even more people. Nor was it necessary. Any evidence at the scene was long gone.
It wasn’t long before he saw Chen emerging out of the throng, climbing up the flight of steps. A man taller than most of the people around him, Chen wore a trench coat and was carrying a briefcase. He had a pair of tortoise-rimmed, amber-lensed glasses that accentuated his broad forehead. Perhaps Chen didn’t want people to recognize him, what with reporters still at the scene, looking around for familiar faces. Chen came to a halt as he reached the top step and took off his glasses. Then he spotted Yu and came over.
Chen took a seat beside Yu.
“What do you think of the location?” Yu asked.
“An act of deliberate defiance. Any clues?”
“No. Like the previous two victims, there was no evidence at the scene.”
“No sexual assault on the victim?”
“No. None that I could see, but she was also naked under the red mandarin dress.”
“What about her identity?”
“A singing girl. Identifying the victim was quicker this time,” Yu said, thinking it unnecessary to elaborate. “She was a K girl.”
“Another one in the entertainment business.”
“Yes, so Liao really wants to focus on that angle,” Yu said. “He sees a motive as well as a pattern-hatred against girls in the sex business. It fits in with your analysis of the killer as a psychopath, including the red mandarin dress.”
“The red mandarin dress must be significant. No question about that. Victimology analysis, through which you explore a possible relationship between the victim and the murderer, helps too. But the first victim doesn’t fit, does she?”
“I raised the same question.”
“Another thing that’s beyond me,” Chen said, standing up and casting a glance toward the shrub grove. “He took a deliberate risk in dumping the body on the Bund, knowing that traffic and people go by here all night long.”
“It was an act of vanity, I suspect. To show his defiance, and to taunt and torment the police. As you said, a serial killer has his signature-unique ways to commit a crime, like placing the body in a public location. Irrational, but it makes sense to his irrational mind.”
“I’ve got a strange feeling, Yu. Not that he is so cocky, but that he is so desperate-”
“What do you mean, Chief?”
“He is desperately sick. An end to all this may not be unacceptable-a death impulse or whatever,” Chen said, but he declined to explain further. “What are you going to do now?”
“Hong is going to set herself up as a decoy, posing as a dancing girl.”
“A decoy is a good tactic, if you’re certain of the murderer’s pattern. A dancing girl makes sense, but it may not yield results in a week. A lot depends on the circumstances. Besides, it can be dangerous for the decoy.”
“Yes, I’m concerned. She is a young cop.”
“If she insists on doing it, then assign an officer to protect her, to always remain in her company.”
“I’ll talk to Liao about it.”
“Also, try to keep her assignment as a decoy a secret.”
“Within the bureau?”
“Not in your group, naturally, but from everyone else. The criminal may be well connected,” Chen said, frowning. “For instance, consider his choice of the Bund last night. He could have learned about the neighborhood committee patrol. The Bund happens to be one of the few public places-perhaps the only one-that was barely covered by such patrols. It’s all government and business buildings along Zhongshan Road, and there is no residential neighborhood committee nearby. The police patrol alone was not enough to cover the area.”
“It could just be a coincidence.”
“For once, Party Secretary Li may have a point. The murderer’s choice of the Bund makes the message a political one, but I doubt it’s a call for action against three-accompanying girls. Rather, it’s a secret, strange message, full of contradictions. The contradictions may serve, however, as a point of entry for us, just like symptoms for a psychoanalyst.” Chen added, “Incidentally, I’ve adopted a similar approach for my literature paper.”
“Really!” Yu said. “Your paper must be an interesting one, but first tell me about the contradictions in the case.”
“Let me start by telling you about my paper, briefly,” Chen said. “I’ve read a few classical romance stories, and I’ve been confused by their contradicting messages. This reminded me of something in the red mandarin dress.”
“Or vice versa,” Yu said grumpily. That was just like his bookish boss. They had three murder victims, and the chief inspector actually wanted to discuss his literature paper.
“In psychoanalysis, a patient may have problems or contradictions beyond his own comprehension, and an analyst is supposed to find the cause embedded within the subconscious. I tried to focus on the contradictions in this case too, especially with regards to the red mandarin dress. So I have put together a list.”
“Now you have another list.”
Chen ignored him. “To begin with, the contradiction between the graceful dress and the obscene pose.”
“I think we discussed that last time. He could have been hurt by someone wearing such a dress,” Yu said. “And, according to Liao, by a girl in the sex business.”
“That leads to another contradiction relevant to Liao’s theory,” Chen said. “The dress is too conservative for a three-accompanying girl. Too old-fashioned. According to Mr. Shen, it was probably made more than ten years ago, and made in a style that dates back even further. There was no entertaining business at that time, nor three-accompanying girls.”
“No, I don’t think there was.”
“Then there is all the attention to the details of the dress. It’s not a dress likely to be affordable for a three-accompanying girl. The dress is exquisite, made with high-quality craftsmanship.”
&n
bsp; “Yes, Mr. Shen has mentioned that.”
“And then the torn slits on the dress. White Cloud did an experiment for me.”
“So you have her working as your assistant,” Yu said, remembering what Peiqin said about the possible relationship of the two. “What experiment?”
“Well, she knows much more about the dress than I do. She demonstrated that there’s no way that the slits could be torn accidentally, no matter how roughly the dress is put on. In other words, the criminal must have deliberately torn them. With no sexual assault, no penetration or ejaculation, why would he insist on such an appearance? There must be a reason for it.”
“You mean it’s not for the sake of misleading us, but a reason understandable only to himself?”
“Possibly not even understandable to himself. More like a ritual. Only with the victim in the mandarin dress, with all the details observed, like torn slits, bare feet, loose bosom buttons, and the obscene pose, of course, does the ritual become complete. For him, only part of the kick is physiological. The other part may come from the ritualistic behavior that accompanies acts of sexual perversion. Again, not unlike those romantic stories, the contradictions may hardly be comprehensible to the author. So why?”
“Why?” Yu echoed, noticing another group of people swarming around the shrub grove. There was also a TV station car pulling up nearby, causing a temporary traffic jam. “I haven’t studied psychology, but I know a patient has to sit and talk in front of a doctor. In our case, with no clues as to the identity of the criminal, how and what can we analyze?”
It was an issue Yu had raised last time, and Chen hadn’t been able to give him a real answer.
“Well, by analyzing those contradictions, we may still come to know something.”
“Really, Chief!”
“To begin with, the style and material for the dress probably came from the sixties. Possibly the early sixties, but not after the outbreak of the Cultural Revolution in 1966. Based on Mr. Shen’s opinion, we may assume it’s a conservative style for a married woman in her thirties. If this original mandarin dress wearer were alive today, she would be in her mid-sixties or seventies.”
“So you are now talking about the original mandarin dress wearer thirty years ago?” Yu asked.
“Doesn’t Liao also believe that the case is related to the original mandarin dress wearer? For me, it’s just another wearer, of different social status and age than Liao assumed. And following that, it leads to the man connected to her. Let’s assume for the moment that he was the same age. If so, now he would be in his sixties or possibly seventies.”
“Yes?” Yu said in exasperated confusion. “How does all that come into your picture?”
“Now for our serial murderer. Three victims in three weeks, the bodies dumped at three public locations. Do you think an old man could have been up to the task? Just now I stood by the shrub grove for several minutes. Not once could a car have slowed down or pulled up there without other cars behind it honking like mad. So if he pushed the body out while driving, most likely he would have been seen by the cars behind him, even at night. He must have driven around several times, I believe, before he would have been able to pull it off.”
“That’s true. To dispose of the bodies like that, one would have to be really quick and agile.”
“So the murderer has to be no older than a middle-aged man. But if so, the one connected to the original mandarin dress wearer was, at the time, only a boy.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s another contradiction, to be sure, but again in these psychological studies, there’s something called Oedipus complex.”
“Oedipus complex?” Yu repeated.
“A son’s subconscious sexual desire for his mother.”
“What? That’s supposed to help us find a boy who grew into a middle-aged man who is capable of committing three murder cases in three weeks?” Yu said without trying to conceal the satire in his tone. “That’s totally beyond me.”
Yu had never heard of the so-called Oedipus complex. Absurd as it might sound, however, it was not unlike the chief inspector, who was known for his unorthodox ways.
“No, I don’t think it’s too likely, either,” Chen said in an unperturbed way, “but according to the theory, he’s probably a middle-aged man with a traumatic experience in his childhood, possibly during the Cultural Revolution. And he must have had conflicting feelings toward the woman who wore the original mandarin dress.”
“That’s a novel theory indeed,” Yu exclaimed. “So after waiting twenty years, his passion for his mother suddenly drove him into a frenzied killing streak.”
“It’s not my theory, Yu,” Chen said. “Still, it explains some of the contradictions.”
Yu regretted his satirical comment to his boss. After all, Chen had been thinking hard about the case, checking through his books. Still, his approach appeared to be too psychological, too academic.
“Oh, some people are talking about your vacation during the investigation,” Yu said, changing the subject.
“Let them complain. Just tell them I’m too busy with my paper.”
“But even Old Hunter says that you could put your paper aside for a short while.”
“That’s exactly what I am going to do, but we don’t have to tell the others.”
A young couple came over. After looking around for several minutes, they chose to sit on the bench, beside the two cops. This wasn’t unusual on the Bund. While there were more and more places for young people in the city, the Bund was still the number-one spot. There were all the colorful vessels sailing in the background and the romantic memories of the city still vibrant in the impressive neocolonial buildings. Besides, it was free. So lovers would take any available seat on the Bund. That made it impossible, however, for Chen and Yu to continue their discussion of the murders.
“So are you going to push ahead with your theory?” Yu said, rising.
“It’s just a theory in books,” Chen said. “In fact, your focus on the possible triggering factor in Jasmine’s murder may be the right direction. But we may have to move back further in history.”
Yu didn’t know how much further they could move back. Still, there was no telling what surprises his boss would come up with.
FIFTEEN
ON TUESDAY MORNING, CHEN woke up still exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept at all. There was also the suggestion of a nagging headache. He started rubbing his temples.
He had spent the weekend working on the red mandarin dress case, pushing along several fronts.
He’d phoned a friend in the United States, asking for her help with a background checkup of Weng. With her connections, she soon obtained the required information. What Weng had told Yu was basically true. He had been a special buyer for an American company. The divorce proceedings with his wife had hit no snag and should be finalized in a month or two. In fact, his wife was looking forward to it, as she had a new boyfriend.
He’d contacted Xiong, the city government cadre who had spoken to Tian’s factory about his actions during the Cultural Revolution. Xiong said that he’d done so because of an anonymous letter he’d received about Tian’s atrocities. According to Xiong, he didn’t try to put any pressure on the factory. Once somebody in Xiong’s position had spoken, however, it was a matter of course that other people would do everything possible to comply. That spelled the doom for Tian. An anonymous letter was smart, though not necessarily suspicious, as it allowed the author to “kill with somebody else’s knife.” Xiong had no idea at all who had written the letter.
Chen also researched the mandarin-dress-related mass-criticism during the early part of the Cultural Revolution. Like Peiqin, he recalled the image of Wang Guangmei being mass-criticized and humiliated in a mandarin dress. Thinking that others could have suffered like that as well, he had a computer search done by White Cloud and then, also with the help of White Cloud, he got in touch with Yang, a movie star who had been mass-criticized
in a mandarin dress. There were some minor differences in details, though. As far as Yang remembered, it was a white dress, and she wasn’t barefoot. Instead, she had on worn-out shoes, which symbolized a bourgeois promiscuous lifestyle. Yang offered one more detail that differed. Her dress slits had been cut up to the waist, revealing her panties, and it had been done by the Red Guards with a pair of scissors. The murder victims’ slits, in contrast, seemed to have been torn, as in a struggle. He immediately checked with Yu, who confirmed his impression. With the first victim, the dress could have been torn in rage by the perpetrator, and for the second and third, possibly in an effort to produce similarity among the victims. Whatever the interpretation, the suggestion of sexual violence was unmistakable.
On Monday, he talked to Ding Jiashan, the attorney who represented the diners in the food poisoning case against Tian. According to Ding, there was something suspicious about the whole thing. It was a case few attorneys would be interested in. The attorney’s fees would almost certainly be higher than what the clients would recover from such a small restaurant, but the diners seemed to be so determined that they were willing to pay his fee up front. And they were prepared too. They had the receipt from the restaurant, they had the record from the hospital, and their stories supported one another. So, on their behalf, the attorney complained to the business bureau first, which fined Tian heavily and closed the restaurant for violations. The diners seemed to be happy with the initial result but, a few days later, when he tried to contact them about the next step, they had canceled their phones. The attorney wasn’t even sure that they had given him their real names.
This further confirmed the scenario that somebody had been after Tian. But that wasn’t necessarily a lead in the red mandarin dress case.