Profiler (Fang Mu Eastern Crimes Series Book 1)

by Lei Mi

  The second victim was a six-year-old girl named Tong Hui. She lived next door with her family in Apartment 402. On the day of the crime, Tong Hui's mother and father were at work in the factory, leaving only Yu Huifen, her 70-year-old maternal grandmother, to look after her. According to Yu Huifen, she and Tong Hui had just laid down for an after-lunch nap when, half-asleep, she realized that the girl had jumped out of bed to go play. "Don't go too far," she had said before falling back asleep. Only when the police began examining the crime scene next door did she wake up. It was then that she realized Tong Hui was gone. As for any sounds of movement she might have heard from Apartment 401 earlier that day, the elderly Mrs. Yu had no idea.

  The police deduced that Tong Hui had most likely run into the killer while either heading out to play or returning home, and that he immediately changed his plans and decided to drink her blood instead of Yao's. Based on the state of the first crime scene (Apartment 401 of Unit 2, Building 3 in Bright Gardens), the second crime scene (the old site of the original DaMing Fiberglass Factory), and an examination of the victim's corpse, the killer probably strangled her with a rope until she was comatose, tied her up (at which point a button on her dress fell off and landed in the doorway), returned to the bedroom and emptied a duffel bag (large with yellow check), then stuffed her inside and carried her away from the scene. Then the killer traveled roughly 40 minutes southeast on foot before coming across the abandoned Yuanda Ming factory on the side of the road. There he killed Tong Hui, cut open her chest and abdomen, and drank approximately seven ounces of her blood.

  Interviews with those living nearby turned up nothing of value, because when the crime was committed, the vast majority of Bright Garden residents were at work in the factory; so even though the killer openly kidnapped Tong Hui in the middle of the day, not a single person noticed. However, an interview on the road between the first and second crime scenes provided an important clue. According to the proprietor of a small Hongyuan Road food stand (located a mile and a half from the second crime scene), he had sold a bottle of mineral water to a familiar-sounding man on the day of the crime. The man had been about 5' 7", very thin, with long, greasy hair, with nervous, bloodshot eyes, and a swath of blisters around the corners of his mouth. He was carrying a large, cloth duffel bag. When the proprietor asked him what was inside, the man responded that it was a dog. Based on the proprietor's description, the police had already made a sketch of the man and begun circulating it with orders for his arrest.

  After the meeting ended, Tai Wei was about to leave when the director called after him. "Wait a moment, Little Tai."

  The director was a very fat man, and he strained as he changed position in his leather swivel chair. Seeing that Tai Wei was still standing up, he waved for him to have a seat. Then, rotating a tea cup in his hand, the director paused to think for a moment before saying, "From what I've heard, you've been having a Jiangbin City University student help crack the case."

  "That's correct. Ding Shucheng of the Changhong City PSB recommended him. He's supposed to be quite gifted."

  "And as for your opinion?"

  Tai Wei considered his words carefully. "This person is rather interesting. It was under his guidance that we discovered the second victim. Also, his description of the suspect was essentially identical to the one given by the food stand proprietor. He said he would contact me in the next few days. I'm looking forward to hearing his opinion on the case."

  "No!" The director held up his index finger and waved it back and forth. His tone was firm. "You will not allow this so-called genius to participate any further. And not just on this case—I do not want to see you using any such methods again."

  "Why?" Tai Wei was stunned.

  "Have we not suffered enough for that incident already?" The director was nearly shouting. His face was contorted with urgency.

  Now Tai Wei was even more at a loss. He stared blankly at the director.

  Suddenly the director clapped his hand to his forehead, as if something had just occurred to him. "How long ago were you transferred here?" he asked.

  "Four years."

  "No wonder." The director's face relaxed slightly. "You can't be blamed for not knowing. Still, you must remember what I told you. That's an order." Saying this, he waved Tai Wei out of the room.

  Baffled, Tai Wei returned to his office. He was about to go ask a senior colleague what the director was talking about when his phone rang. It was Fang Mu.

  The heavy rain on the night of the murder had caused Fang Mu to catch a bad cold, and the next day he lay in bed from morning 'til night. Once his spirits had lifted a bit, he climbed to his feet and went to the library.

  From the materials he had seen during his initial meeting with Tai Wei, as well as his first-hand experience at the most recent crime scenes, Fang Mu had already begun forming some ideas about these murder-and-bloodsucking cases. If most serial killers left a symbol at the scene of their crimes, then what was the symbol of the bloodsucker?

  Well, that was obvious. The reason he was even called the bloodsucker was because his symbolic behavior was to cut open his victims after he killed them and drink their blood. Clearly, this excessive damage to the corpse was not done to vent anger or conceal the victim's identity—it came from a special need.

  So then, what was this need?

  Drinking the blood of the victim could be understood as a kind of "supplement" to the killer's own blood, suggesting that he was regularly filled with fear and anxiety that his was somehow lacking. While the source of this belief was currently unknown, it was certain that the killer's agitation had already reached very serious levels—otherwise he would never have resorted to murdering people and drinking their blood to ease his worries.

  The circumstances of the murders bore out this verdict.

  The first victim was killed right after she got off the night shift. Her key was still in the door when police arrived at the scene. The killer probably followed her into the building corridor, and then as she opened the door, he seized the opportunity to strike, shoving her inside and strangling her to death. Afterwards, he cut her open, mixed her blood with milk and drank it down.

  The second victim was a female doctoral student. On the day of the murder she should have been in class. While taking out the trash, her neighbor noticed that her door was open. She had been killed in the living room, the weapon a flower vase taken from atop the shoe cabinet.

  The third victim was a merchant just returned from the morning market after finishing her sales early. She was killed in her own home, a flat-roofed, one-story house. Grabbing her hair, the killer had slammed her head into the kitchen stove and then strangled her to death with a lamp cord. Finally, he mixed her blood with some soybean milk she hadn't sold at market and drank it.

  The fourth victim was a divorced female teacher who had just moved into an apartment. The killer strangled her to death with the cord she had used to tie her belongings. Just as he was preparing to drink the victim's blood, he happened to spot a little girl out in the hallway. As a result, she was killed as well.

  Without this symbolic bloodsucking behavior, it would be very difficult to imagine these four cases as having been committed by the same person. The age and social status of the victims were all different, the crimes were committed in large buildings and one-story homes, and the causes of death included strangulation by rope, by hand, and being bludgeoned with a flower vase. However, the victims themselves were all cut open in the same way: with a sharp object that the killer had found at the scene and then casually left behind. He also seemed to have paid almost no mind to getting rid of the evidence. His fingerprints covered every crime scene, and when he left, he did not even close the door.

  Regarding crimes like these, Fang Mu could think of only one thing: total chaos.

  The attacker did not carefully choose his victims. He did not bring the murder weapon with him, and he did not even clean up the crime scene once it was over.

  An
d yet this sort of killer was not actually some ultra careless scatterbrain; rather, he was merely someone who frequently devolved into one.

  So the question was: what exactly did the mental disorder that caused this behavior to happen have to do with blood?

  At the library, Fang Mu typed the keywords "blood" and "psychological disorder" into the computer, which then responded that the library's third floor reading room had several books on these topics. After copying down their titles, he went directly there.

  Because Fang Mu often borrowed books from the library, the librarians working in the third floor reading room were quite familiar with him. After no more than a brief hello, Fang Mu handed Sun, one of the librarians, his book list, and asked where he could find the titles.

  "Oh?" Librarian Sun looked at the book list. "Aren't you at the law school? These are all medical titles. What are you doing researching this stuff?"

  "Nothing. Just curious, really."

  From behind his glasses, Librarian Sun looked closely at Fang Mu. Then he smiled. "They're over in that corner, shelves Z1 and Z3."

  Fang Mu followed where Librarian Sun was pointing and found the books. Heading back to check them out, he grabbed a newspaper off one of the tables. One page held an article about the two most recent murders. Above it was a sketch of the killer.

  "What do you think?" asked one of the librarians, seeing what Fang Mu was reading. "An article in the paper and an order for the suspect's arrest—won't the vampire be getting out of here as soon as he can?" He sighed and gave the paper a disdainful flick.

  "No way," said Fang Mu, not even looking up. "This kind of person generally doesn't pay attention to the news."

  "Oh, is that so?" Librarian Sun suddenly became interested. "Where'd you learn that? In class?"

  Fang Mu laughed. "It's just a wild guess." But he didn't say anything more. After taking the books from Librarian Sun, he quickly left the library.

  After shutting himself in the dorm for an entire day, Fang Mu called Tai Wei. First he asked him what had come of the hospital investigations; however Tai Wei replied that, given how many there were, it would require some time. At this point they had yet to turn up anything of value. As for their interviews with those living near the crime scenes, those were still underway. Fang Mu then told Tai Wei that he had just read several books on blood diseases and psychological disorders. He now felt that the killer had probably been treated at a mental institution—or at least had gone in for a consultation.

  "So when we have time," said Fang Mu, "you and I should go to some psychiatric hospitals and check things out." He paused. "However, the sooner the better, because a guy like this is going to strike again—and soon."

  "You're back."

  "Are you busy? I'm not bothering you, am I?"

  There was a laugh. "Not a problem. Come in."

  "Were you reading?"

  "Aimlessly. Something to drink? Coffee or tea?

  "Coffee sounds good."

  "I only have instant. That okay?"

  "Yeah."

  "Oh, my mistake. I'd better give you water instead. You're already not sleeping well."

  Another laugh." That's fine too."

  "Hey, careful. It's a little hot."

  "Thank you. Whoa, the books you're reading look so complex. Blood Disease and Psychological Disorders, Psychogenic Disorders, and this one, A Study of..."

  "A Study of Agoraphobia."

  "Agoraphobia? What's that?"

  "Putting it simply, agoraphobia is one of those things where a person fears a situation that he knows will cause him to feel helpless and terrified. "

  "Oh, so it's just another phobia?"

  A chuckle. "More or less."

  "You're really something, knowing all that stuff."

  "Oh, it's no big deal. I just like to read a bit in my spare time. Now, about that method I taught you last time—how was it? Effective?"

  "Um, not bad."

  "In that case, can you tell me what it is you're afraid of?"

  "There...really isn't anything."

  "Relax." A short laugh. "With many things, so long as you change your perspective, your view of the thing will change as well. For example..."

  A mouse is clicked.

  "Which of these animals are you afraid of?"

  "Um, the rat."

  "Okay then, the rat. Look, here's a photograph of a rat ." A small chuckle, but not condescending. "No need to be nervous. Look at the screen. Are you afraid?"

  "Of—of course."

  "That's fine, don't be nervous. Were you bitten by a rat when you were young?"

  "No."

  "In that case, who among your family is scared of rats?"

  "My mom."

  When you were young, your mother would often take you out to play, correct?"

  "Yes."

  "When you and your mother were together, did you ever see a rat?"

  "Yes."

  "What happened?"

  "One time my mom was carrying me to preschool. We were passing through a park when a rat sprinted across the road in front of her. My mom screamed at the top of her lungs and ran, nearly dropping me. Another time when we were returning home there was a dead rat outside our door. My mom was too scared to get close. She just held my hand tight and we stood there for a very long time. We didn't go back inside until our neighbor finally picked it up and took it away."

  A chuckle, and then: "I understand. Do you love your mother?"

  "Of course."

  "If your mother were in danger, would you be willing to protect her?"

  "Of course."

  "How old is your mother?"

  "Um, fifty-one."

  "All right, imagine this scene: Your gray-haired mother—wait, is your mother's hair gray?"

  "Yes, on her temples."

  "Okay, let's continue. It's wintertime, a strong wind is blowing outside, and your gray-haired mother is standing in the wind, shaking. Crouched before her is a rat, blocking her path. The rat is huge, with black fur and red eyes. And it's staring right at your mother. Don't tremble now, you must be brave."

  "O—Okay."

  "Your mother tries to go left, she tries to go right, but no matter what, she can't get past. Her fear and worry increase. Tears drip down her face. She mumbles to herself, 'What do I do, what do I do?' Will you help your mother?"

  "Yes!"

  "Sit down. Now look. It's less than a foot long; with one stomp you could turn it into a pulp and make sure it never frightened your mother again."

  "That's true."

  "All right then; protect your mother! Come over here, stomp the thing to death."

  A chair is suddenly knocked over. There follows the bang-bang-bang of someone stomping on the floor.

  "Good, good. Calm down. Want some water?"

  "No, no. I'm okay. Thank you."

  "Deep breaths. Very good, very good. Now, take another look at this picture. Is the fear still there?"

  "It's a little better."

  "This is just a hateful little thing, unworthy of your fear. For your mother, you can be brave."

  "Yeah, yeah, that's much better."

  "Wipe your sweat with this."

  "Thanks. You should be a psychologist."

  "A psychologist? No, I merely enjoy investigating peoples' minds."

  "Man, when I'm with you I feel so relaxed, so happy."

  "That's good. I'm more than willing to help."

  "You know, you remind me a lot of one of my friends."

  CHAPTER

  6

  Bloodlust

  It was already the second time Tai Wei was pulling Fang Mu out of class.

  This time it was Criminal Procedure. Fang Mu and Meng Fanzhe were sitting in the last row. Meng Fanzhe looked relaxed and self-satisfied. The reason for this was that he and Fang Mu had developed a plan; whenever attendance was called, Fang Mu would answer for him, saying Meng Fanzhe's name out of the corner of his mouth. Although Fang Mu didn't mind helping out, this
did mean that he and Meng Fanzhe would have to attend every class together. Having gotten used to being alone all the time, Fang Mu found this rather difficult. And he also knew that it was doing nothing to solve the problem itself.

  As Fang Mu followed Tai Wei out of the room, he sensed that Meng Fanzhe was again becoming anxious and upset. Fang Mu wished he could reassure Meng Fanzhe that Professor Song was highly unlikely to take attendance a second time that day, but he didn't have time. The look in Tai Wei's eyes made him too nervous to think about anything else.

  When they reached the hallway, Fang Mu asked Tai Wei in a whisper: "What is it?

  Did something else happen?"

  "Yes. No deaths, but another girl has gone missing."

  The words slipped out of Fang Mu's mouth. "She's young, isn't she?"

  There was no need to respond. The look in Tai Wei's eyes made the answer obvious.

  At around 10 p.m.. the night before, Police Substation Eight in the Hongyuan District received a report that a female first-year student at Number Eight Middle School had gone missing. According to those who gave the report (the student's parents), she was a 13-year-old named Xu Jie. Normally Xu Jie would head straight home after school, arriving around 5 p.m., but by 10 p.m. there was still no sign of her. Filled with worry, the parents searched for her every way they could, all without success. Finally, they notified the police.

  During the subsequent investigation, an important piece of information was provided by the owner of a street-side barbecue stand. At around 4:40 p.m. on the day of the disappearance, the owner had seen a girl fitting Xu Jie's description speaking to a very thin, slovenly-dressed young man. Feeling that this man's physical characteristics were very similar to those described in the so-called "vampire's" arrest warrant, the officers of the local substation immediately contacted the city bureau's special investigation team.