Profiler (Fang Mu Eastern Crimes Series Book 1) (22 page)

Beside him, Fang Mu was thinking the same thing. Bathing in the warmth of the sun, he felt his muscles ache and his eyelids grow heavy. Over the past week, Fang Mu had been studying the case day and night, poring over the data, taking notes, and avoiding Du Yu, who was now more curious than ever. Seriously short on sleep, all he wanted to do at that moment was lie down and rest for days. And yet even on this blissfully warm day, with his eyes comfortably shut and his body relaxed, all the words and photos from the case files continued to flash through his mind, as if someone had taken a knife and carved them onto the surface of his brain.

The police analysis had not been wrong—this guy was inordinately smart. If they were hoping he had gotten sloppy and left some major clue behind, they were going to be out of luck. The only way to catch him would be through meticulously analyzing his behavior and then piecing together a picture of the man himself. And yet, what exactly could Fang Mu hope to learn from these increasingly puzzling cases?

This was what had most perplexed Fang Mu over the past several days. Through research and personal experience, he knew that in committing their crimes, serial killers always acted in a way meant to satisfy some psychological or emotional need. This sort of behavior was often known as a serial killer's personal mark. Determining and then analyzing a serial killer's personal mark was critical to cracking the case. First of all, this behavior was the basis for identifying several murders as the work of one individual, and second, it was a window into the killer's overall motive. And because the personal mark often accurately reflected the character, lifestyle, and experiences of the killer, it could lead to important clues found at the intersection of the killer, his victims, and his chosen crime scenes.

Without a doubt, the killer had meticulously arranged for the number of each crime to be hidden somewhere within the crime itself—this was not just some coincidence. At this point, not knowing anything more about their meaning, there was no choice but to understand these numbers as a kind of provocation. As for the rest of the killer's unusual behavior, could any of it be seen as his personal mark?

Superficially, some of it did seem possess the characteristics of a personal mark: dismembering Wang Qian, and then transporting Qu Weiqiang and cutting off his hands in the first crime; placing a piece of broken ceramic pottery in Jin Qiao's hand, filming her genitals and then returning her to her parents in the third crime; skinning Xin Tingting in the fourth crime. All of this behavior clearly required that the killer expend additional time, patience and skill, while also increasing his risk. And all of it was far in excess of what he needed to do avoid detection; rather, it seemed to have been performed for his own satisfaction.

Even so, this was what most puzzled Fang Mu. Because from said behavior, which at first might seem to so obviously display the killer's personal mark, it was not only impossible to determine how the killer's obsessions were either increasing in force or shifting from crime to crime, it couldn't even be claimed that there was any consistent information about the man at all. In other words, these so-called examples of the killer's personal mark were unable to fully reflect the killer's character or his psychological characteristics.

During the first crime, after the killer raped Wang Qian, he dismembered her and then pieced her back together. According to Professor Qiao, this came from a desire to "build her anew." And as for Qu Weiqiang, the severing of his hands after he was killed was supposedly motivated by jealousy. But at this point, the investigation had found no evidence that this had been a crime of passion. And the syringe that was plunged in Wang Qian's breast also remained unexplained.

During the second crime, a middle-aged woman had been killed. She was not raped, and the crime did not appear sexually motivated. As for the pornographic manga found in her bag, Fang Mu believed it had been placed there in an attempt to dishonor her. But again, the information currently available about the crime could not prove this point.

During the third crime, the killer sexually tortured the victim to death, filmed her genitals and placed a piece of broken pottery in her hand. All this demonstrated a psychosexual disorder, as well as a violent need to control the female body.

During the fourth crime, the killer skinned the victim and then clothed the male plastic mannequin beside her in her skin. This demonstrated a tendency toward transvestism. From the standpoint of academic sexual psychology, transvestism may dispose a person toward torture fetishism, but it is extremely rare for a torture fetishist to transform into a transvestite, and almost unimaginable for such a thing to occur in so short a length of time.

If this was a case of multiple personality disorder, then most likely there weren't just two or three personalities at work here, there were a whole bunch.

When this guy got out of bed each morning, he probably had no idea who he was going to be that day.

What kind of person were they dealing with here?

"I just had an idea," said Tai Wei, who up until then had been lounging idly and not saying a word. "I'm sure you've noticed it yourself. Every one of these murders has at least one unexplainable element that does not appear to have anything to do with the crime itself. The syringe in the first murders, the pornographic manga in the second, the CD in the fourth. These all seem to hint at something about the killer's methods and the victims themselves."

"Oh?" Fang Mu said. "Tell me what you're thinking."

Sitting up, Tai Wei turned to him, his eyes bright. "Actually, I've had a feeling about this ever since I heard about the first crime scene, where a syringe was discovered in the victim's breast. Because the thing is, during the second crime, the victim was killed in a hospital. You think that's a coincidence? And don't forget how the manga found in her bag was filled with scenes of torture porn, and then the third victim just happened to be tortured to death."

Chopping the air with his hand, Tai Wei continued. "I think that every one of these murders can be looked at in two ways. In all of them, the elements that don't seem to fit are actually hinting at the characteristics of the next crime."

Fang Mu said nothing. In fact, this sort of thought had occurred to him as well. Although Tai Wei hadn't mentioned the broken pottery from the third crime, Fang Mu had already done a good deal of research on the piece as well as Grayson Perry, its creator. As he discovered, Perry himself was a transvestite, and in the fourth crime, the killer had dressed a male plastic mannequin in the female victim's skin, demonstrating a desire to change genders.

If this hypothesis was correct, then they were faced with two questions. First, what was the killer's motive? And second, what was being hinted by the CD left at the fourth crime scene?

Exhausted, Fang Mu massaged his temples. The degree of difficulty in figuring out what was going on in the mind of someone this psychologically unstable was enormous.

"Regardless," Fang Mu said, "I think the next victim will be someone from this school and…"

"And will somehow be related to the number five," said Tai Wei, gloomily completing his thought.

They both wondered if they should tell everyone on campus to avoid everything related to the number five. At a loss, the two of them gazed at all the people passing by, cheerful smiles on their faces, hearts full of hope for the beautiful future they knew life held in store for them.

Lecture Theater 5.

Men's Dormitory 5.

Dining Hall 5.

The fifth lane on the racetrack.

The fifth basketball court.

…Perhaps more…

Even though the sun was shining just as brightly as before, Fang Mu and Tai Wei felt a cold breeze blow through them.

It was already late fall.

CHAPTER
17
Pigs

I
t was fated to be an unusual day.

Before noon, Professor Qiao summoned Fang Mu to the Psychological Consultation Room. First he asked him whether he had been involved in any of the investigations taking place on campus. Muttering to himself about how Professor Qiao himself had already asked him to analyze one of the cases, Fang Mu initially just hemmed and hawed.

But when Professor Qiao narrowed his eyes at him, Fang Mu admitted everything he knew about the situation thus far. When he was done, Professor Qiao frowned and successively smoked two cigarettes. Then, strangely enough, he just spoke a few stock sentences reminding Fang Mu to be careful, and waved him out the door.

Fang Mu sensed that Professor Qiao was dissatisfied with him, but when he considered that this meant the professor might now join the case, and how much easier this would make it to catch the killer, he felt a little better.

Later that afternoon, something happened in the private study room that mortified Fang Mu.

Tai Wei had photocopied several documents and given them to Fang Mu, who hoped to find some more clues hidden within. So he had retreated to a remote corner of the private study room and started to read. He preferred it, as Du Yu and Zhang Yao had occupied the dorm room and were doing their thing.

By the time Deng Linyue saw Fang Mu and walked over, he was already looking at several pages that had been photocopied from the pornographic manga. He didn't even notice her.

"Hey," she said, smiling at him. "You read comics, too, huh? Which one is this?"

When Deng Linyue bent over to get a better look, Fang Mu tried to cover the pictures of stark-naked flesh bound in rope, but it was already too late.

Deng Linyue stared blankly at the pictures for several seconds. Then she blushed to the tips of her ears.

"Um, you have very…unique taste," she said. Then not even daring to glance at him, she spun around and ran off.

Fang Mu hurried to explain, but by then she had already left the room.

"Oh, hell!" Fang Mu yelled, tossing the papers onto the desk.
This is just not my day
, he thought.

As if the day hadn't been chaotic enough already, Tai Wei called him around nightfall.

"I'm at
Caijia
Village
," he said, his voice agitated. "Find a cab and get here as fast as you can!"

"What's going on?"

"No time for questions; this one's big. Get here now. When you're nearby, call me and I'll come meet you." Saying this, Tai Wei promptly hung up.

Caijia
Village
was located on the outskirts of
Jiangbin
City
, and all its residents were registered as city dwellers. Although there was no land there to farm, the people kept to their rural traditions. After dark, they merely ate dinner, turned out the lights, and went to sleep. So even though it wasn't yet 7 p.m., the village was almost totally dark. Almost, that is, because one section was still lit up and there Fang Mu could see the bright flash of police lights.

When he saw Tai Wei standing by the side of the road smoking a cigarette, Fang Mu felt his spirits plummet. Even from a distance, he could see Tai Wei was stooped over, his collar unfolded and his hair blown in all directions by the fall wind. Thanks to the jeep headlights beside him, Fang Mu could make out Tai Wei's downcast expression. Even after knowing him all this time, Fang Mu had never seen Tai Wei look like this.

Fang Mu jumped out of the cab and walked toward him. Seeing him coming, Tai Wei tossed away his cigarette, turned to him, and actually grinned.

I know how you're feeling,
thought Fang Mu,
but don't smile. It's terrifying.

Once they were inside the jeep, Tai Wei absentmindedly asked him, "How much was the cab ride? I'll pay you back."

"Don't worry about it."

Tai Wei didn't seem to want to make a big deal over such a small thing, so he said nothing and just kept driving.

A few minutes later, Tai Wei and Fang Mu drove into a small courtyard. An enormous, hundred-watt spotlight shone onto the courtyard, making it bright as day. The faces of all the people milling about looked pale as ghosts in the light. They got out of the jeep.

"You're finally here," one of the men said suddenly. He was crouching by the corner of the courtyard wall.

Fang Mu looked toward the sound of the voice. The man was a medical examiner. Fang Mu had seen him before during the Ma Kai case.

Another man was crouched beside him, a cigarette in his mouth. After glancing up at Fang Mu, he looked away and said nothing.

Fang Mu recognized this man as well. He was named Zhao Yonggui. He had been one of the two policemen present when Professor Qiao invited him to the Psychological Consultation Room.

Right now everyone in the courtyard was staring at Fang Mu. For a moment, he didn't know what to do.

Then Tai Wei called out to him from a corner of the courtyard. "Over here!"

Walking over, Fang Mu could smell a strong odor coming from that direction. When he reached Tai Wei, he saw that he was standing within a pigpen made of crushed brick, wooden planks, and tree bark.

Fang Mu carefully stepped inside. Thanks to the powerful police spotlight, every inch of the pigpen was immediately visible.

The mud was six inches thick. Pig feed was everywhere. The feeding trough had fallen down and was now half-submerged in the mud. It was indeed a sorry way to raise pigs.

At that moment, however, none happened to be in sight. And even though the mud-covered figure lying absolutely still in the muck before him did closely resemble one, Fang Mu was certain that it was a person.

"Who…is that?" he asked, his voice shaky.

Tai Wei didn't respond, just handed him an evidence bag. Inside was a mud-caked passport. It was open.

Fang Mu could make out a picture in the upper-right corner. In it, a blond-haired, blue-eyed white man grinned vapidly. According to the card, his name was Thomas Gill, he was from the
United States
, and he had worked for the foreign teachers administrative department at
Jiangbin
City
University
.   

The victim was a foreigner. It was just as Tai Wei had said—this one was big.

Suddenly Fang Mu looked up and glanced all around, as if he were searching for something.

Tai Wei knew what he was looking for, so he handed over another evidence bag. Inside was a watch, just as mud-caked as the ID booklet. But Fang Mu could still see that the hour hand, minute hand, and second hand were all stopped at five.

Fang Mu stared at the watch. This was the fifth murder. 

"How about it, Tai Wei?" yelled the medical examiner, a touch of impatience in his voice. "Can we get started?"

Tai Wei turned and motioned for them to begin processing the scene, and then looked back at Fang Mu. "I made them wait for you to observe the scene before they could begin examining it," he said, "although some police from the local substation did manage to disturb a few things before we arrived. Anyway, I know that seeing the scene in its original state is extremely important to criminal profiling." He gave Fang Mu a very self-satisfied wink.

Fang Mu forced himself to squeeze out a thin smile.

Two policemen wearing rain boots then hopped into the pigpen. After struggling to pull the corpse out of the mud, they laid it on a plastic tarp that had been placed in the middle of the courtyard.

The victim was small in stature, looking to be about 5'6", which meant that in the
U.S.
he was probably considered quite short. Although his body was caked with mud, several of his wounds were still visible. Some were so deep that the bones stuck out.

"Damn," said the medical examiner, frowning as he slipped on a pair of gloves, "it looks like the pigs have been nibbling on this guy for a while. You go handle your business, Tai Wei. With a body like this," he pointed at the corpse, "it's going to take me a little while."

Tai Wei nodded and then led Fang Mu into the house.

Navigating the chaos of farm tools and cooking utensils that had been placed haphazardly in the central room, they made their way into the inner room of the house.

Just like outside, it was ablaze with light. A bony man who looked like a farmer was sitting earnestly on a small stool in one corner of the room. He was the homeowner, and seemed to be the one who had called the police. Sitting on the edge of the
kang
bed were two policemen, while an interview notepad had been placed on the
kang
table in between the two parties.

As soon as Tai Wei and Fang Mu entered, the two policemen stopped the interview and stood up. In the corner of the room, the owner also quickly stood up.

Tai Wei waved for him to sit down and then grabbed the notepad and flipped through a few pages. After a moment, he turned to the owner, who was still nervously standing in place, and said, "Repeat for me everything you just said to these two men."

A miserable look on his face, the owner said, "Chief, I've already told it multiple times and I still haven't eaten yet. Besides, my pigs are over at Second Son Wu's house, and I know that cheapskate would never feed them for me."

After the "Chief" promised to buy both the farmer and his pigs dinner, the man very reluctantly began to talk.

"Yesterday I got in a big fight with my no-good, spendthrift wife," he said, "after which she returned to her parents' home. Once she was gone, I went and played poker at a little store nearby, and then came home around five that afternoon. As soon as I entered the courtyard, it occurred to me that I hadn't fed the pigs all day, so why weren't they screaming for food? They still seemed to be doing all right, weren't making a sound. But in any case I heated up a pot of swill and then went to go feed them. While feeding them, I decided to save some electricity—it's so expensive out here in the countryside, sixty-eight cents per kilowatt hour, you guys in the city only pay thirty-nine cents, right?"

At this point the man launched into a nearly two-minute-long tirade against the government's policies toward farmers, which only ended when Tai Wei was forced to remind him to stay on topic.

"Oh, what was I talking about again?" the farmer said. "That's right, saving electricity. So I kept the light off, but as I looked around I could tell something was wrong. I only own four pigs, so what were five doing in the pen? At first I thought one of my neighbor Second Son Wu's pigs must have jumped the fence, and just as I was feeling really happy about that possibility, I noticed that it was just lying there and not eating, so I prodded it with my stick, but still it didn't move. That's when I shined my flashlight over on it and, my God, it was a person! So I called the police and someone from the local substation came out here, showed me his badge, and then called you guys."

At this point the medical examiner entered the house. He turned on the faucet in the central room and washed the mud off his hands.

From the inner room Tai Wei called out to him. "How's it look out there?"

"Cause of death was shock due to blood loss," said the medical examiner, shaking the water from his hands as he walked into the room. "We still have to take a closer look at some of the places that were eaten by the pigs, but it's clear he was stabbed at least fourteen times."

Nodding toward the farmer, he continued. "It's no surprise he took the victim for one of his pigs. This was one heavy guy, at least two hundred pounds. Your pigs have been eating well." Noticing that everyone was now frowning and looking like they wanted to vomit, he cackled with laughter.

Tai Wei muttered the word
sicko
under his breath and then turned to Fang Mu, only to find the kid was staring off into the corner, mumbling to himself.

"Pig...pig...pig…" he murmured.

Tai Wei was about to ask him what he was talking about, when Fang Mu abruptly turned to the farmer and asked: "You just said that when you first saw the victim, you thought he was a pig, right?"

The farmer nearly jumped with surprise at the sudden question. "Yes," he said, "that's right. It was dark and I couldn't see any of the pigs clearly. Besides, with him lying face down in the pigpen like that, what was I supposed to think?"