Death of a Red Heroine [Chief Inspector Chen Cao 01]

by Qiu Xiaolong

  Chen popped the tape in the recorder. Detective Yu, too, had a lot to do, dealing with all the routine work of the squad, even on Sunday. The tape was probably made about the time when he and Wang talked in the noodle restaurant. The tape started with Yu’s voice making the introduction, and then came another voice marked with an unmistakable Ningbo accent. Chen began listening as he propped up his legs on the desk, but after no more than a minute, he jumped up and rewound the tape to the very beginning:

  YU: You are Lai Guojun, thirty-four years old, living at Number Seventy-two Henan Street, Huangpu District, Shanghai. You are an engineer, having worked for ten years at People’s Chemical Company. You are married, with a daughter of five. Is that correct?

  LAI : Yes, that’s correct.

  YU: I want you to know that you are helping with our inquiry. We appreciate your help.

  LAI: Please go ahead.

  YU: We’re going to ask you some questions about Guan Hongying. She was murdered last month. You have heard of that?

  LAI: Yes, I’ve read about it in the newspaper. So I guessed your people would come to me—sooner or later.

  YU: Some of the questions may involve the intimate details of your life, but nothing you say in this room will be used against you. Whatever it is, it will be confidential. I have talked to your boss, and he, too, believes that you will cooperate. He suggested that he himself be present at the interview. I told him No.

  LAI: What choice do I have? He has talked to me, too. I will answer any question you have for me.

  YU: You can make an important contribution to the case, so the person or persons responsible for the murder will be captured and punished.

  LAI: That’s what I want. I’ll do my best.

  YU: When did you get to know Guan?

  LAI: It was about ten years ago.

  YU: The summer of 1980?

  LAI: Yes, in June.

  YU: Under what circumstances did you meet each other?

  LAI : We met at the apartment of my cousin, Lai Weiqing.

  YU: At a party?

  LAI: No. Not exactly a party. A colleague of Weiqing’s knew Guan, so they had arranged for us to meet there.

  YU: In other words, Lai Weiqing and her colleague acted as matchmakers. They introduced you to each other.

  LAI: Well, you could say that. But not so formally.

  YU: How was your first meeting?

  LAI : Guan sort of surprised me. With arranged introductions, you can hardly expect to meet a pretty young girl. More often than not, those you get introduced to are plain, over thirty, and without education. Guan was only twenty-two and quite attractive. A model worker, and taking college correspondence courses at the time. You know all that, I believe. I have never figured out why she consented to such an arrangement. She could have had a lot of men dancing around her.

  YU: What other impressions did you have of her that day?

  LAI: A moving awkwardness. Innocent, almost naive. Obviously she was not used to such meetings.

  YU: Was it her first date?

  LAI: I was not sure about it, but she had no idea how to express herself in my company. She was literally tongue-tied when we were left alone.

  YU: Then how did things work out between you?

  LAI: Well, we clicked, as some people would say, without talking much to each other. We did not stay long the first time, but we did go to a movie the next week, and then had dinner in Meilong Zheng.

  YU: She was still tongue-tied the second time?

  LAI: No, we talked a lot, about our families, the lost years in the Cultural Revolution, and the common interests we had. A few days later, I went to one of her presentations at the Youth Palace without her knowledge. She seemed to be a totally different person on the stage.

  YU: Interesting. How different?

  LAI : Well, she seldom talked about politics in my company. Once or twice, maybe, I tried to bring the topic up, but she seemed unwilling to talk about it. On the stage, she appeared so confident, speaking with genuine conviction. I was glad that she did not talk politics to me, for we soon became lovers.

  YU: Lovers—in what sense?

  LAI: What do you mean?

  YU: Physically?

  LAI: Yes.

  YU: How soon?

  LAI : After four or five weeks.

  YU: That was quick.

  LAI: It was sooner than I had expected.

  YU: Was it you who took the initiative?

  LAI: I see what you mean. Do I have to answer questions like that?

  YU: I cannot force you, Comrade Lai. But if you do, it may help our investigation. And it may also save me another trip to your boss.

  LAI: Well, it was a Friday night, I remember. We went to a dancing party in the western hall of the Shanghai Writers’ Association. It was the first year when social dancing was publicly allowed in Shanghai. A friend of mine had obtained the tickets for us. While we were dancing, I noticed that she was getting excited.

  YU: Excited—in which way?

  LAI : It was obvious. It was in the summer. Her body was pressed against me. Her breasts—I noticed—you know, I really can’t be more precise.

  YU: And you? Were you also excited?

  LAI: Yes.

  YU: What happened afterwards?

  LAI: We went back to my place with a group of friends. We talked and had some drinks.

  YU: Did you drink a lot that night?

  LAI: No, only a cup of Qingdao beer. In fact, I shared the cup with her. I remember that because later—later we kissed. It was our first time, and she said we smelled of each other—from the same cup.

  YU: That sounds really romantic.

  LAI: Yes, it was.

  YU: And then?

  LAI: People were leaving. She could have left with them. It was already twelve thirty, but she stayed on. It was a terrific gesture. She wanted to help me clean up, she declared.

  YU: So you must have been terribly pleased with her offer?

  LAI: Well, I told her to leave everything alone. It was not a night to worry about dirty dishes and leftovers.

  YU: I guess you would say that.

  LAI: She would not listen to me. Instead, she started hustling and bustling in the kitchen. She did everything, washing the dishes, sweeping the floor, wrapping up the leftovers, and putting them in a bamboo basket on the balcony. She said that the food wouldn’t go bad that way; I did not have a refrigerator at the time.

  YU: Very domestic, very considerate.

  LAI: Yes, that’s exactly what a wife would choose to do. So I kissed her for the first time.

  YU: So you stayed in the kitchen with her all the time?

  LAI: Yes, I did, watching in amazement. But after she finished, we moved back into the room

  YU: Go on.

  LAI: Well, we were alone. She did not show any intention of leaving. So I suggested I take a few pictures of her. I had just got a new camera, a Nikon 300. My brother had bought it for me in Japan.

  YU: That’s a fancy one.

  LAI: She was reclining on the bed, saying something about the transience of a woman’s beauty. I agreed. She wanted to have some pictures that would capture her youth. After a few shots, I proposed to have a picture of her wrapped in a white towel. To my surprise, she nodded and told me just to turn around. She started taking off her clothes there and then.

  YU: She undressed herself in your presence?

  LAI: I did not see. I did, of course, afterward.

  YU: Afterward, of course. So what happened afterward?

  LAI: Well ... I guess you don’t have to ask.

  YU: Yes, I have to. You’d better give us an account, as detailed as possible, of what happened between you and her that night.

  LAI: Is it necessary, Comrade Detective Yu?

  YU: I understand your feelings, but the details may be important to our investigation. It’s a sexual murder case, you know.

  LAI: Fine, if you think that can really help.

  YU: Did you have sexua
l intercourse with her then?

  LAI: She made herself really clear. It was she who gave the unmistakable signal. So that was the only natural thing for me to do. You are a man, aren’t you? Why should I say any more?

  YU: I understand, but I still have to press for some details.

  LAI: More details. Heavens!

  YU: Was it the first time for her, or for you?

  LAI: Not for me, but for her.

  YU: You were sure about that?

  LAI: Yes, though she was not too shy.

  YU: How long did she stay that night?

  LAI: The whole night. Well, more than that. Early next morning, she phoned the department store, asking for sick leave. So we had practically all the next morning in the room. We made love again. We did some shopping in the afternoon. I chose for her a white wool sweater with a red azalea on the right breast.

  YU: Did she accept it?

  LAI: Yes, she did. And I started talking about marriage.

  YU: And how did she react?

  LAI: Well, she seemed unwilling to talk about it that day.

  YU: You talked about it again, I believe.

  LAI: I was head over heels—laugh at me if you want—so I did mention it a couple of times. She seemed to avoid the subject every time. Finally, when I tried to discuss it with her seriously, she left me.

  YU: Why?

  LAI: I did not know. I was confounded. And terribly hurt, you can imagine.

  YU: Did you quarrel with her?

  LAI: No. I didn’t.

  YU: So it was all of a sudden? That’s really something. Did you notice any sign of it before she said anything about it?

  LAI : No, it happened three or four weeks after that night—that night we slept together. Actually, she had come to my place a number of times during the period. Eleven in all, including the first night. I can tell you how I remember. Every time we stayed together, I drew a star above the date on my calendar. We never quarreled. Then, out of the blue, she dumped me—for no reason at all.

  YU: That’s strange indeed. Did you ask her for an explanation?

  LAI: Yes, but she would not say anything about it. She kept saying that it was her fault, and she was really sorry.

  YU: Normally, when a young girl, especially a virgin, has slept with you, she will surely insist on your marrying her. To make a chaste woman of her, so to speak. But she didn’t, saying it was her fault. What fault?

  LAI: I did not know. I demanded an explanation, but she would not give any details.

  YU: Could there be another man involved?

  LAI: No, I did not think so. She was not that kind of woman. In fact, I inquired about it through my cousin, and she said not. Guan simply left without giving a reason. I tried to find out, and at first I even thought that she might be a nymphomaniac.

  Yu: Why? Was there anything abnormal about her sexual behavior?

  LAI: No. She was just a bit—uninhibited. She wept and cried the first time she came. In fact, after that she came every time, biting and screaming, and I believed that she was satisfied. But now she’s dead, I really should not say anything against her.

  YU: It must have been hard for you when you broke up?

  LAI: Yes, I was devastated. But I gradually came to terms with it. It was a losing game for me anyway. She was not the type of woman I could afford to make happy in the long run. Failing that, I myself would not be happy. But she was a wonderful woman in her way.

  YU: Did she say anything else at your parting?

  LAI: No, she kept saying that it was her fault, and she actually offered to stay that night with me if I wanted. I said No.

  YU: Why? I’m just curious.

  LAI: If her heart’s going to leave you forever, what’s the point of having her body for one more night?

  YU: I see, and I’d say that you’re right. Have you tried to contact her again since then?

  LAI: No, not after we parted.

  YU: Any form of contact—letters, postcards, phone calls?

  LAI: It was she who dumped me. So why should I? Besides, she became more and more of a national celebrity, with big pictures in all the newspapers, so I couldn’t avoid her national model worker image.

  YU: Male pride and ego, I understand. It has been a difficult subject for you, Comrade Lai, but you have been most helpful. Thank you.

  LAI: You will keep it confidential, won’t you? I am married now. I’ve never told my wife anything about it.

  YU: Of course. I said so in the beginning.

  LAI: When I think of the affair, I am still confused. I hope you will catch the criminal. I don’t think I will ever forget her.

  There was a long silence. Apparently the conversation came to an end. Then he heard Yu’s voice again:

  Comrade Chief Inspector Chen, I found Engineer Lai Goujun through Huang Weizhong, the retired Party Secretary of the First Department Store. According to Huang, Guan had made a report to the Party committee when they first started dating. The Party committee had looked into Lai’s family background and discovered that Lai had an uncle who had been executed as a counterrevolutionary during the Land Reform movement. So the Party committee wanted her to end the affair. It was politically incorrect for her, an emerging model worker and Party member, to get involved with a man of such a family background. She agreed, but she did not make a report to Huang about her parting with Lai until two months later, and she did not give any details about it.

  I’m collecting more information about Lai, but I don’t think he is a suspect. It was so many years ago, after all. Sorry I cannot stay in the office this morning; Qinqin is sick. I have to take him to the hospital, but I’ll be home after two or two thirty. Call me if there’s anything you need.

  Chen punched the off button. He slumped back in his seat, wiping the sweat from his forehead. It was getting hot again. He took a cola out of the little refrigerator, tapped on the top, but put it back. There was a small fly buzzing in the room. He poured himself a cup of cold water instead. That was not what he had expected.

  Chief Inspector Chen had never believed in such a mythical embodiment of the Communist Party selfless spirit as Comrade Lei Feng. A sudden wave of sadness washed over the chief inspector. It was absurd, Chen thought, that politics could have so shaped a life. If she had married Lai, Guan would not have been so successful in her political life. She would not have been a national model worker, but an ordinary wife—knitting a sweater for her husband, pulling a propane gas tank on her bike rack, bargaining for a penny or two when she bought food in the market, nagging like a broken gramophone, playing with a lovely child sitting on her lap—but she would have been alive.

  If Guan’s decision appeared absurd in the early nineties, it would have been most understandable in the early eighties. At that time, someone like Lai who had a counterrevolutionary relative was out of the question. Lai would have brought trouble to the people close to him. Chen thought of his own “uncle,” a distant relative he had never seen, but it was that uncle who had determined his profession.

  So it could be said that the decision of the First Department Store Party committee, however hard, was made in her interest. As a national model worker, Guan had had to live up to her status. That the Party should have interfered in her private life was by no means surprising, but her reaction was astonishing. She gave herself to Lai, then parted with him without having revealed the true reason. Her act was intolerably “liberal” according to the codes of the Party. But Chen thought he could understand. Guan had been a more complicated human than he had supposed. All that had happened, however, ten years earlier. Could it have anything to do with Guan’s recent life?

  It might have been a traumatic experience for her, which would explain why she’d had no lover for years until she crossed Wu Xiaoming’s path.

  Also, Guan had been one who dared to act—despite the shadow of politics.

  Or was there something else?

  Chen dialed Yu’s home.

  “Qinqin is much better,”
Yu said. “I’ll come back to the office soon.”

  “You don’t have to. Nothing particular is going on here. Take good care of your son at home.” He added, “I’ve got your tape. A great job.”