Inspector Chen and the Private Kitchen Murder

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Inspector Chen and the Private Kitchen Murder Page 2

by Xiaolong Qiu


  Still, Chen registered something recognizable about the ex-library, despite the dramatic changes in the area. On top of the umber-colored building, the black hands of the big clock kept moving in an undisturbed circle, with its beginning invariably coming to its ending, like a metaphor he had read in his college days.

  On that early May morning, Old Hunter appeared to be over-dressed for the occasion, wearing a black blazer of light material, khaki pants, black loafers, and holding a bright red umbrella in his right hand.

  It was a fine, cloudless day, but it seemed to be understandable, Chen reflected, for an old man in his brand-new clothes to carry an umbrella.

  ‘Well, you’ll soon learn the true reason for such a bright-colored umbrella,’ Old Hunter said with a mysterious smile, much like a Suzhou opera singer about to reveal an astonishing secret in an exciting drama.

  Once they entered the park, they turned immediately right to a tree-shaded trail with green-painted benches scattered at intervals. The park, though smaller thanks to the nearby skyscrapers and subway stations continuously encroaching on its original size, appeared to be touching an equivocal cord in Chen’s memory.

  Old Hunter raised his hand, pointing to a sizable crowd at a turn in the trail. Most of the people gathering there were old, gray- or white-haired, sitting on stools or squatting, talking loudly to one another like in a morning food market.

  Chen noticed something else. Almost every one of them had an umbrella set out in front of them, unfolded on the ground. It made an amazing scene, eerily reminiscent of colorful mushrooms popping up in the sunlight after a spring drizzle.

  ‘You see,’ Old Hunter said, moving closer to one of the umbrellas. ‘The umbrellas function like stands, with information sheets scotch-taped to them along with the color pictures of young men or women. So detailed and vivid, their parents are therefore capable of matching them for all sorts of arrangements.’

  ‘And umbrellas can be handy for a rainy day too, I see,’ Chen said, nodding. ‘A clever idea indeed! So the practice at the corner is just like a first step in the tradition of arranged marriage in ancient China, isn’t it?’

  ‘For those steps in ancient China, you should have listened to more Suzhou opera, through which you will learn all the details about the routine practice of professional match-makers in the old days, such as the consultation of the fortune teller by examining the Chinese horoscope and the birth date for matching of the young people in question,’ Old Hunter said with greater gusto. ‘For the matching corner here, the arrangements are done by the parents, and based on nothing but commercial or materialistic considerations and calculations in today’s society.’

  ‘Yes, totally materialistic. It’s some progress for China in the twenty-first century!’

  ‘Tremendous progress, you may say,’ Old Hunter said, shaking his head like an angry rattle drum. ‘But you have to be realistic. In the present-day China, how can young people afford to be romantic without an apartment under their own name? A medium-sized one near the park is worth seven or eight million yuan. For an ordinary couple, that amount means more than they could possibly make by working hard all their lives without spending a single penny.

  ‘The housing market is soaring out of control like crazy, but few are worried about the enormous bubble, thanks to the wonderful myth that the Party authorities can always keep the bubble from bursting, so everything is all right with China.

  ‘Take a close look,’ Old Hunter went on, leaning down to the information sheet posted on a yellow umbrella before an elderly woman.

  Attractive, tall, slender in her early thirties, and looking younger for her age. Never married. Good job in the state-run bank with excellent pay – more than ten thousand per month along with numerous benefits. The shikumen unit she stays in with her parents is already under her name, and under the government planning for demolishing …

  That meant she was eventually entitled to the unit, Chen supposed, which could be worth more in the event of its being pulled down in accordance with the city planning, as people living there would then be able to claim sizable compensation.

  Bemused, he moved over to a purple umbrella next to the yellow one.

  New apartment in Luwan District along with a car spot in front of the building. All the mortgage paid. With another wing room for rent in Huangpu District …

  ‘That beats me, Old Hunter. How come a car spot is listed here?’

  ‘Your luxurious apartment with a garage spot was state-assigned to you before the beginning of China’s housing reform. At the time, you did not pay a single penny for it, did you? And certainly not for the garage spot. That’s why our Party officials are supposed to be loyal to the Party – in return for all the benefits. But it’s just human nature for them to want more. Hence all the corruption cases under our one-Party system,’ Old Hunter said, almost in one breath. ‘Back to the garage spot for your apartment – it’s a matter of course for a Party official like you, whether you need it or not. You have a bureau car and a designated driver anyway. But for the ordinary people, a designated car spot can make all the difference. Otherwise, you may have to drive around for hours without finding a parking place. Guess how much for a car spot?’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Two hundred thousand yuan. For the young people listed in the matching corner, they lose their social status without a car spot and a car.’

  ‘That’s absurd. The air quality is getting so horrible with more and more cars in the city.’

  ‘Who cares? Incidentally, you may also see how much the second income at the agency means to me. For my poor daughter, she has not even a spot for her bike in the common courtyard of our shikumen house. Nothing whatsoever worth showing off for her in the matching corner here.’

  ‘I’m on leave, you know, but I may be able to speak to some people about a job—’

  Chen cut himself short, choosing not to elaborate further. A number of his connections were beginning to avoid him, he recalled, since the news of his being on convalescent leave had come out.

  ‘Your situation is totally different, Chief. You don’t have to worry about things on the info sheet on an umbrella. A three-bedroom apartment for yourself at the upper end of the city. Not to mention your Party cadre rank with numerous perks. And a real celebrity as the published poet to boot.’

  ‘Come on, Old Hunter. You are looking for someone for your daughter, not for me. I’m here today only as a consultant for you.’

  ‘Have a piece, sir,’ a woman in her mid- or late-fifties stood up and handed a sheet over the umbrella to Chen. ‘Take a good look at the picture, and you may call me any time at the number listed. Absolutely a beauty, my daughter, only twenty-two, and so sweet too. All she needs is to have a good, successful man like you with a large apartment. And a bureau car too under your disposal, right?’

  Chen took the info sheet without answering the question. She must have overheard his talk with Old Hunter. He cast a glance at the color picture above the description: a sweet girl with almond-shaped eyes and cherry lips, smiling up at him like in a dream.

  ‘It’s too noisy. We can hardly talk,’ Old Hunter said. ‘Let’s move to the bench over there.’

  It would make a natural scene, Chen observed, the two of them discussing the information gathered at the matching corner. After all, the visit to the corner might have functioned like a prelude in a Suzhou opera, which would then lead to what Old Hunter had not yet disclosed.

  But Chen was uncomfortable at the idea of sitting there with those colorful umbrellas incessantly twirling in view. He looked up to see something like an antique bamboo tea pavilion at the end of the park trail.

  ‘Let’s have a cup of tea there, Old Hunter. Years ago, I used to go to Bund Park for my English studies, but for a change, occasionally to this park too, sitting on a bench possibly just in that area. But I don’t think there was a tea pavilion standing there at the time.’

  ‘That’s fine with me, wherever you prefer
, our nostalgic chief inspector. We can go to the hot water house next time.’

  For the time of the day, the business at the tea pavilion appeared practically non-existent. It was too expensive for the old, and too old-fashioned for the young. Nor was it a traditional teahouse; in addition to tea, it also sold soft drinks, coffee and a variety of snacks.

  They turned out to be the only customers, sitting at a bamboo table outside, yet close enough to the pavilion window where they were able to have hot water added easily.

  The tea waiter brought out a teapot along with several small dishes of sugar-covered yang berries, roasted peanuts and fried sunflower seeds, and placed all of them on the table before withdrawing into the pavilion without further ado.

  ‘The tea is not too bad,’ Old Hunter said wistfully, taking a sip from the dainty cup. ‘Alas, if only I could come here every morning with my birds, sipping at the tea, humming a Suzhou opera tune, carefree just like other retirees.’

  ‘Yes, after three sips at the tea,’ Chen said with a knowing smile, mimicking the old man’s way of talking, ‘it’s time to come down to business, just like in one of your favorite old proverbs. But retirees or not, who can afford to be really carefree in today’s society?’

  ‘Exactly, like in another old proverb, people don’t go to the temple without having to pray for some special favor from the Buddha image. And I have to talk to you, Chief, about a proposal made by my boss Zhangzhang.’

  ‘Sure, it’s something to talk about over the tea.’

  ‘I was told about your taking sick leave from that new office of yours. It was a young secretary named Jin who picked up my phone call, but she hummed and hawed about what’s wrong with you. You’re fine, aren’t you?’

  ‘Well, it’s up to the people above to tell the doctor to say whether I’m fine or not, but it’s an enjoyable break for me, I have to admit that.’

  ‘But you’re not a man who would enjoy such a leave, that much I know.’ Old Hunter was spitting out a much-chewed tea leaf. ‘So how about joining our agency? As a special consultant, as Zhangzhang has just discussed with me this morning. You may keep the position at that new office of yours, whether still on convalescent leave or not.’

  Chen was taken aback by the retired cop’s suggestion, but he saw where it was coming from. One of the questions he had to answer for himself, however, was how long such a leave would last, and for that matter, how much worse his trouble could turn out to be?

  Besides, it could give his enemies another handle in the event of his being caught moonlighting for the agency. Not to mention the fact that private investigation was not officially allowed in ‘the socialism with China’s characteristics’, with it practicable only in a sort of gray area.

  ‘Remember the consultant job you gave me at the Traffic Control Office years ago, Chief? I mentioned it to Zhangzhang, and he thought it’s a good idea for you to serve as an honorary consultant for our agency – with a six-figure pay annually. For a man of your caliber and connections, it’s nothing. But you don’t have to come to our agency regularly. No more than four or five times a year. And we’ll talk just like today, drinking tea in a park or listening to Suzhou opera at a teahouse.’

  ‘What a generous offer! Your agency must have been expanding and making a huge profit.’

  ‘We started by catching those cheating husbands and making not much, you know that. But then we had some more lucrative cases, doing what some of our Big Buck clients do not want police to do. Of course, we make risk control management our top priority, and you don’t have to worry about it.’

  ‘But I cannot get paid for doing nothing – simply drinking tea or enjoying Suzhou opera in the name of a special consultant. You have to tell me what I am supposed to do.’

  ‘Well, as a matter of fact, there’s something you may be able to help us with at this moment. Not as an active investigator, of course, but believe it or not, your name has been brought up by our client, a mysterious man named Sima. In fact, he could have come to us with you in mind.’

  ‘That’s strange.’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ Old Hunter said, clearing his throat. ‘To begin with, as an experienced gourmet, you must have heard about those most expensive dining places in the city.’

  ‘I know a thing or two about those expensive restaurants, but I don’t know exactly what you’re talking about.’

  ‘The most expensive one in the city today is not a restaurant. Rather, it’s something called a “private kitchen”.’

  ‘That’s more and more interesting! Go on and tell me about it.’

  Chen was not unfamiliar with the trend of the so-called private kitchen dining, but he was amused at the ironic reversal of roles between the two men. Old Hunter was anything but a gourmet, and it was fun to have him deliver a culinary lecture in a Suzhou opera fashion.

  ‘You know what? The real art of cooking is the last thing people care about in the restaurant business today. First and foremost for them, the profit. For instance, the chickens marked as free-range, natural-food-fed could be just a joke of imagination. Likewise, the shrimp not fresh, the fish long dead, the meat frozen for months, the vegetables rotten, you can go on and on. So imagine the quality there. But for a private family dinner, the host doesn’t have a fixed menu, nor an expense spreadsheet to calculate for profit. That’s why the private kitchen came into fashion for the wealthy.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard something about private kitchens or “private recipes”, but they’re like other restaurants in the end. They still have to open for business seven days a week, so there’s nothing that private except for the self-claimed private recipes.’

  ‘But this one is truly different. It’s in a private shikumen house. Residential, not for business, with dinner served only for selective guests, once a week, at a traditional round table for no more than eight people, and the menu depending on the food supply of the day. People have to make a reservation long beforehand. What’s more, they have to prove their qualifications.’

  ‘What qualifications?’

  ‘Wealth, social status, and so on. The minimum expense per person is at least ten thousand yuan, sometimes much more. The chef as well as the host there is a young woman named Min Lihua. A courtesan, or a mingyuan – a recently rediscovered word for a celebrated courtesan in the high society before 1949 – since our official newspaper today will not admit the existence of courtesans in the socialism with China’s characteristics.’ Old Hunter resumed, stroking his chin energetically after taking another gulp of tea, ‘Not too long ago, I went to an ernai – second concubine – café for one of your investigations, you remember? Min is different. She is not kept by a man. Still single, but with a number of rich and powerful men dancing around her. They spend money like water in her company. At first, she just entertained those really close to her, but the word about her private kitchen dinner spread around, making it increasingly difficult to book, even at such an exorbitant price. And an invitation to the dinner meant people gained a lot of face, almost like an acknowledgment of their social status.’

  Chen nodded without making an immediate response, thinking he had heard about the new trend, but of late, his own trouble left him with little mood for such a private kitchen dinner, let alone one of dubious reputation.

  ‘According to our client Sima, Min is not just a consummate chef, but a knockout with incredibly charming grace and sophistication. She’s from a “good family” in the Republican period before 1949, with her great-grandfather being a scholar/official and a culinary connoisseur, and her grandfather being a wealthy banker, both of them spared no cost to develop the Min specials at the dinner table. She is said to have inherited the family recipes. That’s how she got the Internet nickname, Republican Lady.’

  ‘The nickname does not sound politically correct,’ Chen said reflectively. ‘Ours is “People’s Republic of China” under the Communist Party after 1949, not “Republic of China” under the Nationalist or Kuomintang. The “Repu
blican” seems to refer to the pre-1949 period exclusively.’

  ‘As Sima has told us, the nickname was given to Min online because of someone named Lin Weiyin. A beautiful, talented poetess who shone in the Republican period. No one like her has emerged since the Communist Party took power—’

  ‘Lin Weiyin. Yes, she’s a gifted poetess who hosted a renowned literature salon with an elite circle of men competing for her attention. But she did not cook – or, at least, she wasn’t known for her culinary skill.’ Chen decided to change the subject before digressing too far. ‘But what about Min’s trouble?’

  ‘She’s in custody for a murder case after a private dinner party last Friday.’

  ‘A murder case!’

  ‘As private investigators, we make a point of keeping away from a case already under official investigation. As you know, some of those cases could have conclusions reached for political reasons even before the beginning of the investigations. We know better than to get ourselves into trouble. But Sima turned out to be one with numerous connections, as he assured us, and the retaining fee he offered was too high for our agency to say a downright no to.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Two hundred thousand to start with and another two hundred thousand at the end of the job. Plus all the expenses covered.’

  ‘Unbelievable. But what does Sima want you to do for such an amount?’

  ‘To prove she is innocent and get her out as quick as possible.’ Old Hunter paused theatrically again. ‘But there’re some odd things about the case. Min is celebrated, but she’s not involved in politics, and for that matter she’s not even a Party member. But she’s shuangguied like a corrupt Party official in an undisclosed location.’

  Literally, shuanggui meant detention at a specific location and for a specific duration. It was not part of officially established legal procedure, but was supposedly justified in that, for some high-ranking Party officials, once out of custody after the detention time limit, they could destroy evidence and conspire with their accomplices. In reality, shuanggui was adopted mainly for damage control, through which the authorities made sure that any dirty details of corruption scandals would not come out; by the end of shuanggui, it would be a matter of course for those involved to plead guilty to the pre-written script, leaving the Party’s great, glorious image untarnished.

 

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