by Zhou HaoHui
‘What’s going on here?’ Pei asked the restaurant’s head of security.
‘This particular customer had been drinking quite a bit. I believe his table got through three bottles of wine. He tried to go after our violinist. But our people kept the situation under control.’
About fifteen seconds later, several waiters carried Sheng back into the frame. Although he appeared to be muttering unhappily to himself, he was more or less docile.
Pei continued watching the monitor. Suddenly his eyes widened. ‘Pause the recording!’ he yelled.
The timestamp read: 21:37:15.
‘Who’s that man there?’ Pei asked, pointing at the screen.
The security chief had to all but glue his nose to the monitor before he spotted the individual in question. The man was far away from the camera and he was walking towards the restaurant’s exit. His head was turned slightly – he was watching Sheng.
‘Just another customer,’ the security chief said, shrugging. ‘There was a commotion. Of course people were going to watch.’
Pei’s heart was beating like a jackhammer. Even though the man was standing in a dimly lit area some distance from the camera, Pei was struck with an undeniable sense of déjà vu. From the way the figure carried himself, and from the brimmed hat he wore low over his face, he looked exactly like the person in the security footage of the Longyu office.
Unfortunately, he was too far away for the camera to get a clear picture, and the darkness around him made it all but impossible to make out his features. ‘I want to talk to the servers who were working that night,’ Pei said.
The security chief sprinted out of the room and returned several minutes later with a young male and female employee in tow.
Pei pointed at the monitor. ‘Look at this footage and tell me if you have any recollection of this customer,’ he instructed.
After examining the image for a moment, the waitress slapped her forehead. ‘Oh, that must be the customer who was sitting in the corner, right? I recognise the hat. He sent Zheng Jia flowers, but he didn’t leave a name. I remember that very clearly. I’m totally sure that’s him.’
‘Who’s Zheng Jia?’ Pei asked.
‘Our violinist,’ said the security chief. ‘The one that this customer chased after, earlier in the recording.’
‘Oh?’ Pei immediately began calculating what the connection between those three people might be. He turned to the waitress. ‘Can you describe that customer’s features to me?’
‘Umm… I don’t know. I didn’t get a very good look at him.’
‘You can spot him when he’s just a speck on a screen, but you can’t remember what his face looked like?’ the security chief scolded.
‘He was sitting in the couples’ booth. It’s tucked into the corner of the restaurant and the lighting is very low. You know, for the mood,’ she said hastily, defending herself. ‘And he wore a hat the entire time. I couldn’t have got a good look at him even if I tried.’
This answer did not seem to satisfy her superior. ‘If he was on his own, why did you have him sit in the couples’ booth?’
‘I’m sure the customer chose the seat intentionally. She had nothing to do with it.’ Pei waved the security chief away, stood up and looked at the waitress. ‘I’d like to take a look at that booth.’
She led him into the dining area. It was quite late now and the last diners of the evening were finishing their meals. A young woman in a white blouse and emerald dress was standing on the stage in the middle of the room, playing a piece on her violin. Her eyes were shut. Pei didn’t recognise the piece – he knew hardly anything about classical music – but he did know good music when he heard it.
There was no doubt she had talent. Her violin-playing flowed like water and was as intoxicating as wine. He kept his eyes fixed on her.
‘That’s Zheng Jia,’ the waitress whispered in his ear.
Pei nodded. ‘I’d rather not interrupt her while she’s playing. Show me the booth first.’
Just as the waitress had said, the booth was located in the dining area’s most out-of-the-way corner. The lighting was dim and atmospheric, so that anyone passing would see only silhouettes sitting there. Pei sat down on one of its padded benches.
‘He was sitting right here, wasn’t he?’
‘That’s right,’ the waitress said. ‘How did you know?’
‘This is the only seat in the place that gives you a view of the entire restaurant.’ Noticing her puzzlement, Pei shook his head and shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it. You can go back to your customers now.’
The young woman nodded graciously and hurried back to the maître d’s desk.
Pei scanned the restaurant. With each second that passed, he grew more confident that Eumenides had been the customer in the security footage. Everything about this booth was perfect for someone who wished to observe his surroundings while remaining unnoticed. Plus it offered multiple potential routes out, should an escape become necessary. For someone like Eumenides, it would have been the best seat in the house.
Pei closed his eyes and attempted to reconstruct that night inside his head. Why had Eumenides come? What could have drawn him there?
Aromas of exquisitely cooked pork and fish floated into the booth. The violin’s gentle melodies massaged Pei’s ears. This restaurant was certainly a good place to unwind.
With his eyes still shut, an idea struck him. He recalled Ms Mu’s earlier analysis of Eumenides.
‘Eumenides may have fostered a love of music, the arts or perhaps fine cuisine. And notwithstanding his mentor’s edicts, he may still have developed feelings for someone.’
His eyes flew open and immediately focused on the stage. Though it was a considerable distance from the booth, he had an unimpeded view of the woman performing. As the slender violinist played, her white and green outfit made her look like a frost-tipped blade of grass.
‘Eumenides might look for a woman in a similarly frail state, subconsciously hoping that he will somehow be able to heal her. He may also be looking for someone who, like him, has just been bereaved. Someone he can empathise with.’
Pei needed to have a word with Zheng Jia.
*
Twenty minutes later, the final strains of the violinist’s performance faded from the restaurant. She bowed to her audience, but rather than turn and set her instrument down, she remained rooted to the spot.
Within seconds, a waitress hurried to the stage. She took the bow from the young woman and reached for her left hand. Still holding her instrument in her right hand, the violinist slowly dismounted the stage, guided by the waitress.
Pei was genuinely pained to see a young woman with such skill at her instrument suddenly fumbling to walk. He rushed over to her.
‘Let me hold your violin, Miss Zheng,’ he said.
She turned her head.
As he registered her surprise, Pei noticed her clouded irises. ‘My name is Captain Pei Tao,’ he explained. ‘I’m with the criminal police and I’d like to ask you some questions.’
‘Captain Pei Tao,’ the violinist repeated with a friendly smile. She handed him the violin. ‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Captain.’
Her voice reminded Pei of a feather falling to the ground.
‘Your music was more than enough compensation,’ he replied. He walked beside her, taking care not to stand too close, as if her fragile frame might tear at the slightest accidental bump.
The three of them walked over to the green room behind the stage. After helping Zheng Jia into a chair, the waitress politely exited.
The violinist gestured to an instrument case lying open in front of the opposite wall. Pei placed the violin inside it and pulled up a chair for himself.
Once he was seated, the young woman asked, ‘You haven’t been in Chengdu for very long, have you, Captain Pei?’
‘I transferred here recently,’ Pei said, frowning. ‘How can you tell?’
‘My dad used to tell me stories
about what went on in the police department, so I’ve heard the names of basically everyone he worked with.’ She looked down, her face clouded with sorrow.
Pei was taken aback. ‘Your father was a police officer? Is he retired now?’
She raised her head, her expression one of genuine surprise. ‘You don’t know? You mean you’re not here because of my father’s death?’
Her question hit Pei like a smack in the face. And suddenly he understood.
‘Your father – what was his name?’ It was far from tactful, but he needed to know.
She shut her eyes and her dejection was obvious. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. My mistake. I thought…’
‘My apologies,’ Pei said. ‘It’s my fault for not making myself clear.’
She forced a smile. When she spoke next, her voice was barely a whisper. ‘His name was Zheng Haoming.’
Those three quiet syllables boomed in Pei’s ears. He studied the young woman’s face. While her features were certainly more delicate than her father’s, there was a similar intensity in her eyes. Not even her blindness could take that away.
He had first met Sergeant Zheng Haoming eighteen years ago, when he was a young man and the sergeant had questioned him about his connection to the warehouse explosion that they thought had killed Yuan Zhibang and Pei’s then girlfriend, Meng Yun. Sergeant Zheng had been the first person to investigate the Eumenides murders, and so many years later he’d been the first to realise that the serial killer had re-emerged. The last time Pei had seen the sergeant was at the scene of his murder.
Pei had had no idea that this blind young woman was Sergeant Zheng’s daughter. But now that he’d identified the figure in the security footage, it made chilling sense that Eumenides had been in the same restaurant as Zheng Jia. He had come here for her. But Pei still needed to find out why.
Although the young woman couldn’t register any changes in Pei’s expression, she did notice his silence. ‘You didn’t know my father, did you?’ she asked with disappointment.
‘Actually, I did. He was a legend. I heard countless stories about him while I was at the police academy. Not only that, but I first met him eighteen years ago. And… I know that your father died in the line of duty while investigating a case.’
Zheng Jia’s lower lip trembled as she smiled. But Pei saw a new emotion break through her pain. It was pride.
‘I should thank you,’ she said, ‘for having identified the killer so quickly. My father can rest in peace and I won’t have to live with the torment of knowing that his murderer is on the loose.’
Pei took a deep breath. Zheng Jia had obviously been following the news reports too. She assumed that Yuan, who’d blown himself up at the Jade Garden restaurant, was her father’s real killer. Her words, so heartfelt and full of gratitude, were like knives to Pei’s ears. It was as if Eumenides himself were mocking him.
Eventually, Zheng Jia broke the silence once again. ‘We don’t have to talk about my father. I know your time is valuable. So what did you want to ask me?’
Pei wasn’t sure how to broach the subject, so he decided not to reveal the whole truth just yet. ‘I’m currently investigating a different case. There was a car crash. One that we believe was not an accident. The person killed in the crash had dined here earlier that evening. He caused something of a commotion, as I’m sure you recall.’
‘The drunk customer?’ Zheng Jia shivered. ‘He scared me half to death.’
Pei nodded. ‘That’s the one.’ He considered his next words carefully. How could he avoid discussing the April 18th case while still asking about Eumenides?
‘It’s strange. You aren’t the first person to ask me about that man,’ she said. ‘You know, my father used to come to the restaurant sometimes when I performed. If he’d been around that night, he would have taught that customer a lesson. But look at me’ – she pointed to her eyes – ‘do you really think I’m capable of taking revenge on anyone?’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that we suspect you,’ Pei said hurriedly. Sensing an opening, he added, ‘We’re just interested in a friend of yours.’
‘A friend of mine?’ Her tone wavered, although her expression did not.
‘That’s right,’ he said, in the most casual manner he could muster. ‘He’s around your age, maybe a few years older, and he enjoys your performances. He sent you flowers once. How well would you say you know him?’
She shook her head. ‘Someone sent me flowers that night, but they did it anonymously. I don’t know who he is.’
‘Oh?’ Pei sensed that he had to dig deeper. ‘He hasn’t attempted to contact you outside this restaurant?’
‘No, he hasn’t,’ the young woman answered definitively. ‘Why? Does he have something to do with the death of that drunken customer?’
Usually Pei could tell whether someone was lying by watching their eyes. With Zheng Jia, however, it wasn’t so simple. But her last question had given him a hint, so he gambled with a lie. ‘No, nothing that serious. He might have seen something though. We’d like to hear his testimony, in case there are any leads we’ve missed.’
‘Oh,’ she said indifferently. Her shoulders slumped slightly. ‘But I don’t know him.’
Pei shut his eyes and shook his head. ‘If that’s the case, then it looks like I’ve done all I can here. If you do happen to hear from him, could you please let me know? The security chief has my card. He can put you in touch with me.’
She nodded and Pei left.
*
Zheng Jia listened as Captain Pei’s footsteps grew fainter. She thought about his request.
‘If you do happen to hear from him, could you please let me know?’
The world seemed to fall away from her. Like she was standing on a stage but without an audience. If only she knew when her friend would visit her next.
15
BEHIND THE MURDER
5 November, 8:35 p.m.
Jin River Stadium
The stadium was packed and buzzing. It was the first football game of the season for the Chinese Super League and the Chengdu Peppers had just taken the kick-off. Brother Hua was sitting in the middle of the front row watching the match with a permanent scowl. He wore a pair of dark glasses, and a flesh-coloured listening device was embedded in his ear.
It was the date of his death notice. That the day coincided with this opening game, an event that Brother Hua was scheduled to attend, seemed quite intentional. But despite the threat to his life, he’d refused to back out.
The Longyu Corporation had purchased the Peppers two years prior. They’d invested millions in the team and had finally turned a struggling side into one of the most prominent rising stars of Chinese football. Today’s match was their debut in the elite national league and the game had attracted attention from across the country. There were even some international scouts and journalists in the stands.
Months before his death, Mayor Deng had announced that he would attend this match in person. But the tragedies that had struck the Longyu Corporation in recent days had changed many things. Mayor Deng, Vice President Lin and Vice President Meng had been murdered one after the other and the once-towering corporation now teetered on the brink of collapse. Brother Hua had taken it upon himself to come to the match as the Longyu Corporation’s official representative.
The Jin River Stadium could seat 54,000 and it was full. Such a crowded, noisy environment would provide excellent cover for Eumenides, and Brother Hua had taken this into account. A decade as Mayor Deng’s bodyguard had honed his mind into a finely tuned instrument and he had already assessed Eumenides’ possible entry points along with several potential methods for an attempted assassination.
Captain Pei had implored him to stay at police headquarters, but Brother Hua had insisted on going to the game.
‘I won’t retreat into my shell like a turtle. This is a moment of crisis for the company and our competitors are frothing at the mouth at the thought of the Longyu Corporation’s collapse.
They’re already lining up to take our place. By attending this game, I’ll be sending them a message that we’re still standing and will not be cowed. I’m going to sit right there in front of everyone and I’m going to watch our team win. At the same time, I’m going to wait for Eumenides to show his face, and then the two of us will finish this once and for all.’
On hearing Hua’s impassioned speech, Pei stopped insisting that he remain at police headquarters and instead dispatched a team of plainclothes officers to protect him at the stadium. Sending out bait for Eumenides was an impossible paradox, as Pei’s predecessor, former captain Han Hao, had discovered to his cost. But there was no other way to bring Eumenides out into the open. In any case, this was ultimately Brother Hua’s decision.
Twenty members of the criminal police force were dressed as football fans and stadium employees and dispersed around the stands, their sharp eyes monitoring their surroundings for any unusual activity. Brother Hua himself was flanked by six men that he had handpicked from the company’s best bodyguards.
The journalist Du Mingqiang stood near them, looking out of place beside such hulking figures. His gaze roved from seat to seat and then back to Brother Hua, his features registering first excitement and then fear, seemingly flitting between the two emotions every few seconds.
It was now two days since Du had published his article about the murders in the Longyu Building. It had swept the internet like a raging fire. Innumerable readers had posted comments online, questioning Eumenides’ motives, wondering whether he’d abandoned his quest for justice or whether he’d never truly believed in his supposedly honourable mission.
Thrilled by the article’s success, Captain Pei had encouraged Du to strike while the iron was hot and write a follow-up piece. So Du interviewed Vice President Meng’s widow and daughter, and the public’s opinion of Eumenides finally began to shift. The image of the noble vigilante crumbled, revealing a heartless killer. The second article concluded with the most shocking revelation of all: that Eumenides had issued Brother Hua with a death notice. Du followed this bombshell with a public plea for Eumenides to stop his killings and find a peaceful resolution.
