by Qiu Xiaolong
“It’s not just this one particular call. For more than half a year, Wu made a considerable number of calls to her—three or four a week, on the average, some quite late at night. And Guan called him. Their relationship was apparently something more than what Wu admitted.”
“That might mean something,” Li said, “but Wu Xiaoming had been Guan’s photographer. So he could have contacted her from time to time—in a professional way.”
“No, it’s much more than that. We’ve also got a couple of witnesses. One of them is a night peddler on the corner of Hubei Road. She said that on several occasions shortly before Guan’s death, she saw Guan returning in a luxurious white car, in the company of a man, late in the night. Wu drives a white Lexus, his father’s car.”
“But it could have been a taxi.”
“I don’t think so. The peddler saw no taxi sign atop the car. She also saw Guan lean into the car and kiss the driver.”
“Really!” Li said, throwing the empty plastic bowl into the trash can. “Still, other people have white cars, too. There’re so many upstarts in Shanghai now.”
“We’ve also found, among other things, that Wu made a trip to the Yellow Mountains in Guan’s company last October. They used assumed names and fabricated documents, registering as a married couple so that they could share a hotel room. We have several witnesses who can testify to this.”
“Wu shared the same hotel room with Guan?”
“Exactly. What’s more, Wu took some nude pictures of Guan there, and then there was a violent quarrel between them.”
“But in your previous report, you said Guan was not involved with anyone at the time of her death.”
“That’s because they kept the affair a secret.”
“That is something.” Li added after a pause, “But an affair does not necessarily mean a murder.”
“Well, things went wrong between them. They had a violent argument in the mountains. We have a witness to that. Guan wanted Wu to divorce his wife; Wu would not. That’s what caused the fight, we believe.”
“So you assume that was why Wu Xiaoming killed her and dumped her body into the canal?”
“That’s right. At the beginning of our investigation, Detective Yu and I established two prerequisites for the case: the murderer’s access to a car, and his familiarity with the canal. Now, as an educated youth during the seventies, Wu Xiaoming had lived for several years in a small village about fifteen minutes’ walk from the canal. Wu must have hoped that her body might lie at the bottom of the canal for years, until, finally, it disappeared without a trace.”
“Supposing your theory is right—hypothetically, that is—that Guan and Wu had an affair, and things went wrong between them,” Li said more slowly, seeming to be weighing every word. “Why should Wu have gone that far? He could simply have refused and stopped seeing her, couldn’t he?”
“He could, but Guan might have done something desperate to bring Wu down,” Chen said.
“I don’t see it. Guan had her own reputation, and her political career, to think about. Let’s say she was desperate enough. Do you think Wu’s work unit would have made a big deal about such an affair?”
“Maybe, maybe not, you never know.”
“So far, your theory may explain some things, but it’s flawed. I cannot see a real motive.”
“That is what we are trying to find.”
“What about Wu’s alibi?”
“According to Guo Qiang’s testimony, Wu Xiaoming stayed in his study for the whole night, developing pictures. As a professional photographer, Wu has his own darkroom and equipment; why should he have used Guo’s place that night?”
“Did Wu offer any explanation?”
“Wu said that there was something wrong with his own darkroom, but that’s not believable. Guo’s no pro—he doesn’t even have proper equipment. It did not make sense for Wu to have gone there. Guo is Wu’s buddy, and he’s just trying to cover up for him.”
“Well, an alibi is an alibi,” Li said. “What are you going to do next?”
“With a search warrant we’ll be able to find further evidence.”
“How can you justify proceeding further against Wu under these circumstances?”
“We do not have to issue the warrant on the murder charge. To start with, fabrication of a marriage license is more than enough. The witness I’ve found in Guangzhou can testify against him, not only about the false document, but also about his taking nude pictures of Guan—which amounts to a Western bourgeois decadent lifestyle.”
“Western bourgeois decadent lifestyle, um, a fashionable charge.” Li suddenly stood up, grinding out his half-smoked cigarette. “Comrade Chief Inspector Chen, there is a reason that I wanted you to come to my office tonight. It’s not just about the case, but about something else.”
“Something else?”
“To listen to a report made against you.”
“A report against me?” Chen also stood up. “What have I done?”
“About your Western bourgeois decadent lifestyle—exactly the same charge—during your investigation in Guangzhou. The report claimed that during your stay in Guangzhou you were inseparable from a dubious businessman, going to all kinds of classy restaurants, three meals a day—”
“I know who you are talking about, Comrade Party Secretary. It’s about Mr. Ouyang, isn’t it? He is a businessman, but what’s wrong with that? Nowadays our government encourages people to start their own private businesses. As for the reason that he treated me a couple of times, it is because he also writes poems.”
“I’ve not finished yet,” Li said. “The report also says that you went to a massage salon.”
“Oh, the massage salon. Yes, I went there because I had to find Xie Rong, the witness I have just mentioned. She works in the salon.”
“Well, a copy of the massage salon receipt says that you paid for what is called the ‘full service’ there. The Internal Security people have got hold of the copy, and people know what ‘full service’ means.”
It was the second time that Internal Security had been mentioned to Chen during the day. First in Director Yao’s office, now in Li’s. Internal Security was a special institution, dreaded particularly by policemen—the police of the police.
“Why Internal Security?”
“Well, if you haven’t done anything wrong, you don’t have to worry about the devil knocking at your door in the depth of the night.”
“I don’t know how they could have obtained such a receipt. I did not have one myself. In fact, Mr. Ouyang had paid for me. I did not even know that it was a salon before I got there. As for the ‘full service,’ whatever it may mean to other people, I did not have any.”
“But why approach your witness there?” Li said, lighting another cigarette for himself. “I, for one, can’t see why you did not have the girl brought into the Guangzhou police bureau for questioning. It’s common practice, and it produces results.”
“Well—this way might be more effective, I thought.”
Chief Inspector Chen had considered bringing her to the local police station, but he had made a promise to Professor Xie, and he owed a lot to Ouyang, too. Besides, it was beyond Party Secretary Li, who lived in the high cadre residential building complex in west Huaihai Road, to understand how ordinary people like Xie Rong were intimidated by the high cadres and their children. Xie would not have dared to say anything against Wu in the Guangzhou Police Bureau.
“I stayed in Guangzhou for only five days,” Chen went on. “With so many things waiting at the bureau here, I could not afford the time to investigate in a routine way, and the people in Guangzhou Police Bureau were too busy to help me. I had no choice.”
“You spent over two hours in the massage room, alone with her. Afterwards, you took her to the White Swan Hotel, a private room, too. And you paid more than five hundred Yuan for the-meal—more than a month’s salary. You call that investigation, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen?”
So,
Chief Inspector Chen’s every step in Guangzhou had been watched. He realized what serious trouble he was in. Party Secretary Li was well informed about his trip.
“I’ve an explanation, Comrade Party Secretary Li.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. I treated her to make sure that she would cooperate with us. The meal was expensive, but everything in Guangzhou is expensive. And I made a point of paying out of my own pocket.”
“For a massage girl! You are generous indeed.”
“Comrade Party Secretary Li, I was investigating a murder case there. As a detective, I decided to approach a witness in a way I thought proper and right. How come I was under surveillance every step of the way in Guangzhou?”
“What you did there may have aroused people’s suspicions.”
“Comrade Party Secretary Li, it was you who introduced me into the Party. If you do not trust me, what’s the point of my saying anything more?”
“I trust you, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen. As a matter of fact, I’ve told Internal Security that all you did in Guangzhou was necessary for the investigation. I’ve even said that you had discussed everything with me.”
“Oh, thank you, Party Secretary Li. You’ve done such a lot for me, ever since my first day in the bureau. I am most grateful.”
“You don’t have to say that to me.” Li shook his head. “I know you have done good work. And on this case too.”
“So we have to—” Chen came to a sudden halt, coughing with a fist against his mouth—”go on with our investigation.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Li sighed, leaning over his desk. “They were talking about making a formal complaint against you. That’s why I had to go out of my way for you, but I don’t think there is any more I can do.”
Chen levered himself out of the chair and then slumped back, looking up at the pictures of Li on the wall—showing the long career of a politician with other politicians. He tried to dig a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, but Li handed him one from the case on the desk.
“I’m gone?” Chen asked.
“No, not if you are not around to goad them. Let things cool down. That’s what I promised them. That you would be busy with something else.”
“So I have to suspend the investigation?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a murder case. Why should the Internal Security people come after me, but not after the murderer?”
“This is not an ordinary murder case.”
“There aren’t any ordinary murders.”
“Well—” The Party Secretary seemed ruffled. “You may have a point, but other people may have theirs, too, Comrade Chief Inspector.”
“Yes?”
“Have you ever thought about the consequences of the case— the political consequences, I mean?”
“Well, there may be some,” Chen admitted after a moment’s hesitation.
“There may be a lot, some people think,” Li said.
Chen waited for Li to go on.
“Timing is the heart of the matter here. In the present political climate, do you think your investigation will be helpful to the Party’s image?” Li paused—for effect—before he resumed. “Who is involved in the case? A national model worker and a married HCC in an adulterous bed—if your hypothesis is correct. What would people think? Ideological bankruptcy! What is worse, people would come to see the HCC as a product of our Party system, and blame the high cadres of the old generation for every problem. And some could even use it as an excuse to slander the government. After what happened in Tiananmen Square last summer, a lot of people are still shaken in their belief in our socialist system.”
“Could it be so serious?” Chen said. “With Wu’s family background, our media would probably never cover the case at all. And I don’t think that people would react in the way you’ve said.”
“But it is possible, isn’t it? At present, political stability is of paramount importance, Comrade Chief Inspector. So, officially the investigation will go on, and its responsibility still lies with us,” the Party Secretary continued. “But if you don’t stop, you can count on Internal Security making a parallel investigation. If necessary, they will block your investigation with whatever charge they can bring out against you.”
“A parallel investigation, I see.”
“You cannot give those people any ‘queue’ to grab. Or they will really tear off your scalp.”
Chief Inspector Chen had enough queues, he was well aware, for others to grab. Not just the trip to Guangzhou.
The Party Secretary seemed to be doing some heavy thinking. “Besides, your hypothesis may account for some facts,” Li said, “but there is no eyewitness. No weapons. No hard evidence of legal value. Nothing but circumstantial evidence in support of what is, essentially, an imaginative theory. And finally, no motive either. Why should Wu have murdered her? So at present, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen, nothing can justify the continuation of the investigation.”
“Well—” Chen said bitterly, “no politics can justify it.”
“Consider the case closed—at least for the time being. We don’t have to declare this. Let’s wait. When the political wind changes, or when you get hold of irrefutable evidence, or find the motive, we’ll talk about it again.”
It was always possible to wait. No one could tell, however, when that wind would change. And what irrefutable evidence could there be since the final definition of what was probative would be made somewhere else?
“But what if the weather does not change, Comrade Party Secretary?”
“You want the entire system to bend to you, Comrade Chief Inspector?” Li said, frowning. “I’ve made myself clear, I believe: I do not want to declare, as an official decision, that you are no longer in charge of the case. Yes, I am the one who introduced you into the Party, but as a Party member, first and foremost, I have to protect the interests of the Party. You’re a Party member, too. So we are both supposed to be aware of the paramount importance of serving the Party’s interests.”
Any further argument would be futile, Chen concluded, and he made no further protest. “I see, Party Secretary Li,” he said, rising from the table.
“I cannot see why you’re so hooked on this case,” the Party Secretary said as Chen left.
Nor could Chief Inspector Chen himself.
Not even back in his apartment, after thinking about it all the way home. Turning on the light, he collapsed into the chair. The room looked bare and shabby—staggeringly empty, forlorn.
A room’s like a woman, he reflected. It also possesses you. Besides, you have to spend a fortune to make it love you.
Whether this was a metaphor he had read somewhere, or just a momentary spark of his own mind, he was unsure. Poetic images came to him, more often than not, at unexpected moments.
He could not fall asleep, he knew, but after an eventful day, it was good to lie down on the bed. As he was gazing up at the shadows flickering across the ceiling, surges of loneliness came rushing over him. Occasionally, he enjoyed a touch of solitude in the depth of night. But what struck him was more than a melancholy sense of being alone. It was as if his very existence were becoming doubtful.
Guan must have experienced those lonely moments too; as a woman she had to bear even more pressure, alone in her cell-like dorm room.
He got up, went into the bathroom, and rinsed his face with cold water. He had to make an effort to think about the case from the Party Secretary’s perspective, but his thoughts moved back to Guan.
Looking out at a light in the distance, Chief Inspector Chen detected an affinity between the dead woman and himself. In their careers, both had been smooth and successful—at least in other people’s eyes. They had been promoted to positions normally beyond the reach of people of their age. As Overseas Chinese Lu had observed, luck had fallen in Chen’s lap. Some of his colleagues’ jealousy was understandable. Jealousy could also explain Guan’s unpopularity among her neighbors.
&n
bsp; They both also happened to be, in a newly coined Chinese term, “not-too-young youths.” It had carried weight with the bureau housing committee, but other than that, it was anything but pleasant, with its strong connotation that these people should have married a long time ago.
Success in a political career helped little in one’s personal life. On the contrary, it could hurt. Especially in modern times, in China. Being a Party member meant being loyal to the Party first according to the Party Constitution, which was not necessarily attractive to a potential spouse. A would-be husband would, more likely than not, prefer a wife who pledged loyalty to him first, who would take care of their family with all her heart and soul.
