Don't Cry Tai Lake (33 page)

“Mi remains hysterical, but she's slowly giving in. Don't worry about it,” Huang said with a reassuring chuckle. “My colleagues are working on Fu, and I'm at his apartment again, this time with an official search warrant. I did a thorough job yesterday, but I didn't find a copy of the restructuring plan.”

“He might have destroyed it,” Chen said after a pause, “But I think there may be something else there.”

“What?”

“For what happened at Liu's place that night, there're two possible explanations. One is that Fu had planned to murder Liu all along. But the other is that he made up his mind when he got there. If the murder was unpremeditated, then the perpetrator picked up something at the apartment to use as the murder weapon and took it with him afterward.”

“The missing murder weapon? Yes, you talked about some possible items when we were at the crime scene. Let me check my notebook—”

“After our discussion at the crime scene,” Chen went on without waiting for him to check, “I examined the picture of Liu and his son that was taken last summer. There are nine statuettes in the background. That statuette is an annual award given at the end of the year, but in the pictures taken by your colleagues last week, there are still only nine statuettes. It might mean that Liu didn't get one for the last year. But I talked to his son Wenliang the day before yesterday, and he mentioned that there should be ten statuettes because the company had won the award ten years in a row. Several months after their picture was taken, Liu told Wenliang specifically about winning another statuette.”

“Ah, it's in the notebook. Nine of them,” Huang said, checking through his notes. “So one statuette is definitely missing, and they are really heavy—”

“But Fu could have dumped it somewhere else. We can't rule out that possibility, Huang.”

“I'll start all over again. The statuette is taller than a beer bottle. His room isn't large, practically a dorm room—” said Huang, then he paused and suddenly switched topics. “Oh, I almost forgot. Shanshan contacted me for help, Chief. She asked for permission to see Jiang before he is sent to prison. It is against regulations, but she says that she knows you.”

“She does and of course, you may help her. What harm would it cause? You can make arrangements for her, can't you?”

“So you think it would be okay?” Huang asked, not even trying to conceal the surprise in his voice.

“It's not really my concern. It's up to the Wuxi Police Bureau, but I don't see any reason why she shouldn't be allowed to visit him.”

“I've thought about it, Chief. He's being transferred tomorrow. I may have the police car pull up outside the bureau briefly while I go to buy a pack of cigarettes at a grocery nearby. She can walk over to the car and talk to him through the window for a couple of minutes. I think that's about all I can do.”

“That's good,” Chen said. He knew why Huang tried to ask permission, and he could picture the puzzled look on the young cop's face.

“Well—”

“When, Huang?”

“What?

“Her meeting with him?”

“Around noon, that's the time the police car will leave the bureau.”

“Help her, Huang. Do it as a favor to me—”

The cell phone then indicated another call coming in. “Sorry, I've got another phone call. I'll call you back,” he said before he found out the call was from Comrade Secretary Zhao in Beijing.

“You haven't really relaxed during your vacation, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen.”

“You know me, Comrade Secretary Zhao. Being a cop may be my lot in life, but I have truly enjoyed this vacation at the center.”

“Some people have complained to me about your having conducted a secret investigation while in Wuxi. I told them that you don't have to let everybody know what you're doing, and in fact, that you were doing some research there, per my instructions.”

Once again, Zhao was being supportive, for which Chen was grateful. It might be a good opportunity, he thought, to speak to the influential Party leader about the environmental issues.

“Yes, I wanted to talk to you about something. I've followed your instructions, and kept my eyes open for any problems in China's great reform. The cadre center is located by the celebrated Tai Lake, which is now terribly polluted. I focused my research on issues of the environment. It seems to me that the problem isn't just about one particular lake, or one specific company. Pollution is so widespread that it's a problem all over China. To some extent, it's affecting the core of China's development with GDP-centered economic growth coming at the expense of the environment. It can't go on like this, Comrade Secretary Zhao. Our economy should have a sustainable development.”

He then launched into a detailed account of his research, making good use of what he had learned—mainly from Shanshan—in the last few days. Zhao listened without interruption. Toward the end of his report, Chen added cautiously, “In the course of my research, I happened to look into a case related to environmental issues—”

“I knew you would come to that, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen. Go ahead, but you don't have to give me all the details. I'm not a cop.”

Chen briefed Zhao about the facts of the case before he made his plea.

“Jiang has been cleared of the murder charge, but he'll still be convicted. Now, I've witnessed firsthand the disastrous damage caused by pollution. An environmental activist should not be punished for his efforts to solve this problem.”

“I'm pleased to learn that you are concerned about environmental issues, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen,” Zhao said, his voice distinct over the line from Beijing. “We aren't going to leave a polluted lake to our children. And our economy should definitely follow a pattern of sustainable development. I cannot agree more with all of this. There will be a politburo meeting here next week. I'm retired, but I'm still going to attend the meeting and raise this issue. Turn your report in to me as soon as possible. I may use some of the figures in it.

“As for Jiang, it's not up to me to look into a specific case, as you know. For an emerging cadre like you, it's necessary to keep a larger picture in mind—it's not just about one case, or about one person. You've done a good job as a capable police inspector, and as a conscientious Party member too, but you also have to keep the perspective of the local authorities in mind. Their worries may not be totally unjustified.”

“But—”

“No
but,
Comrade Chief Inspector Chen. You have a lot of work waiting for you back in Shanghai. A retired old Party member, I, too, have my responsibilities.”

That was an unmistakable signal that their talk had ended. And also that Chen's vacation in Wuxi was at an end.

In the distance, he heard the cries of a wild goose flying alone across the lake.

There was no point in his staying at the center any longer. He had done what he could, and he now had to finish the report for Comrade Secretary Zhao. Still, there were things for him to wrap up here.

He had to see Shanshan before leaving. She'd been avoiding him since that night, but he was going to say good-bye to her and tell her that he would come back. What else he could say? He didn't know. He hadn't yet revealed that he was a cop—one that worked in the system and for the system—but she probably had guessed as much.

He went back to the bedroom, where he stood with his hand on the frame of the window overlooking the lake. There was a lone sail drifting across the lake, moving past an islet enclosed in something like white duckweed. He looked at his watch and made up his mind.

There wasn't much for him to pack, and in less than fifteen minutes, he was ready. He then took another look at the empty room, finished the herbal medicine in the tiny thermos bottle, and left carrying his small piece of luggage.

At the front desk, he returned the key to the same receptionist who had greeted him on the day he arrived. Now she was smiling up at him with admiration in her eyes, when Director Qiao hurried over.

“No, you can't leave so soon, Chief Inspector Chen,” Qiao said, with sincerity etched on his face. “It's only been a week.”

“I really appreciate all that you've done for me here, Director Qiao. But I have to leave and—between you and me—I'll tell you why. I have to finish a report that Comrade Secretary Zhao needs for an important meeting in Beijing. The center is a fantastic place, but with all the buzz about the murder, I can't concentrate on my report anymore.”

“I understand, but at least let's have a farewell banquet—”

They were interrupted by a young boy approaching them nervously, holding an envelope in his hands.

“Are you Mr. Chen?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Here's a letter for you. Confidential. You need to sign the special delivery receipt for me.”

It was a new sort of business in Chinese cities. Instead of sending things through the post office, people used a service for intra-city delivery. With one phone call, a letter or package would be delivered in a couple of hours. The only equipment the business needed was a bicycle or a motorcycle. Chen had no idea who would have arranged for such a special delivery to him.

“Thank you.” He signed his name on a form and took the letter, then turned back to Qiao without opening it. “I'll come back as soon as I can, Director Qiao. Let me take a rain check on your invitation.”

“Then let the center's car take you to the station.”

“That I gratefully accept, Director Qiao.”

He walked out of the center's office and a shiny black limousine was waiting for him outside. The limousine driver, a short, middle-aged man with a receding hairline, said in a respectful tone, “Railway station, sir?”

“No, let's go to the Wuxi Police Station.”

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, THE
limousine drove up to the Wuxi Police Bureau, which was located at the center of the city. It was a sprawling concrete complex with a shining vertical sign in the front of the main building and a gray iron gate on the side. Two armed cops guarded the entrance.

“Do you want to drive in?” the driver asked, glancing first at the gate and then over his shoulder.

“No, I'll get out here. Right here—not in front of the bureau, please.”

“Whatever you say,” the driver said without trying to conceal the puzzled look on his face.

“You may go back to the center,” Chen said. “I'll take a taxi to the railway station when I'm done here.”

“There're several trains to Shanghai today,” the driver said good-naturedly. “Don't worry about getting a ticket. You can buy one at the train station easily—even just five minutes before the train leaves.”

“Thanks, I'll do that.”

It wasn't yet noon. Chen looked around for a place to sit. Across the street, he caught sight of a teahouse, which didn't exactly face the bureau but did command a good view of it. It was one of the new fashionable Hong Kong–style establishments, serving tea, as well as other drinks and snacks, with several plastic tables outside and a large pink umbrella sporting a Budweiser logo. It almost looked like an open café. He chose a table behind a willow tree.

Thinking that the local cops might frequent the place, Chen put on a pair of sunglasses. Hopefully no one would recognize him except perhaps Huang.

For a change, he had black tea, with a wedge of lemon placed on the edge of the cup. Sipping at the tea, he noticed a grocery store not far from the bureau. It was a mid-sized store that supposedly stayed open for twenty hours, where customers were constantly moving in and out, around a flowering pear tree standing near the entrance. Chen leaned back in the chair, crossing his legs.

He had made the decision to come here on the spur of the moment. With Comrade Secretary Zhao pushing for Chen's report and Shanshan refusing to accept his calls, this would probably be the only opportunity for him to see her before he left for Shanghai that afternoon.

She wanted to say good-bye to Jiang, a natural gesture to someone in trouble given her generous personality. Chen thought he understood, and if anything, it made him think even more highly of her.

Looking around, he prayed that he could get hold of her before she met with Jiang. Chief Inspector Chen wasn't going to do anything to prevent the meeting. He simply wanted to tell her that he had to leave, and that he would come back.

His cell phone vibrated. He snatched it out and answered it. It was from Sergeant Huang.

“I've called you a couple of times, Chief, but you were always on your phone.”

“Sorry, I had a call from Beijing,” he said, realizing that he must have been too engrossed in his talk with Zhang to notice the incoming call.

“We had a real breakthrough after I spoke with you, Chief, and it's all due to our conversation. The moment I put down the phone, I started searching Fu's place all over again. You know what? The missing statuette was there, sitting on the top shelf in the midst of some other awards and statuettes, staring me right in the eyes.”

“Exactly, like in ‘The Purloined Letter.' It speaks of a devilish mind.”

“What?”

“That's the title of a short story by Poe.”

“Then I have to read it, Chief. Still, working a case under you, I could learn far more than from ten years of reading Conan Doyle or Poe,” Huang said, paraphrasing an old proverb. “Anyway, after I bagged the statuette, which was covered with his fingerprints, as well as some tiny black stains—which are Liu's blood, I bet—I went to join my team at the chemical company. They were still working on Fu, who denied everything except for his clandestine affair with Mi, saying that he had just broken it off with her, so she must be out of her mind and reacting to that. With Mi still hysterical and Fu continuing to deny everything, Internal Security actually tried to call into question the investigation's shift from Jiang. Fu might still have had a chance to get away with it, but the sight of the statuette finished him. He collapsed right then and there, and confessed everything.”