concentration.
He sipped at the black coffee, which he hoped would help clear his head, taking in the pleasant smell of the fresh-baked goods in the room. He left the croissants and fruit cup untouched, to eat later, during a break, along with a second cup of coffee. It was a sort of routine that he had set up here, a working pattern during his vacation.
Like the weatherman in the movie, he had been playing a role too much, and now it was beginning to play him, in the ever-recurring pattern from the dream, a dream from which he’d had such a hard time waking up.
He was playing a role at the center, that of a hardworking Party cadre, the same role that everybody else here was playing.
Sergeant Huang had agreed to play Dr. Watson to Chen’s Sherlock Holmes, though Huang had been going out of his way to do much more than that.
The latest information from the young cop highlighted the noose that was being tightened around Jiang’s neck by Internal Security. They had gathered a bunch of new statements from local businessmen, who had sworn that Jiang had blackmailed them with threats that he would expose their problems.
But Chen didn’t give their statements too much credit. They could have sworn to any wild story suggested by Internal Security. Jiang being a threat to their business practice, they would naturally cooperate, seizing upon it as a god-sent opportunity to get rid of him. It was difficult to rule out the blackmail scenario, but there didn’t seem to be anything firsthand for the police to work with, for instance, a recording of Jiang’s conversations with those businesspeople.
When he finally put down the folder, Chen tried to shift his mental focus by recreating on a piece of paper the crime scene scenario being pushed by Internal Security. But a number of details didn’t fit. Supposing Liu and Jiang were having a face-to-face negotiation, and a fight broke out. If so, there should have been some signs of struggle at the scene. Liu would have fought back instead of waiting passively for the fatal blow. And the fatal strike would have come from the front, rather than from behind. Then there was the lack of fingerprints too. The criminal could have wiped them up, but if it had been unpremeditated, it was more likely that the killer would have fled without cleaning up.
Moreover, the amount of the blackmail, even if it was a large amount, wouldn’t have presented a real problem for Liu. He didn’t even have to take it out of his own pocket, it could have been written off as a consulting fee, as the other companies mentioned in the folder had done.
Also, if Liu had chosen to confront Jiang that way, he would have been ignoring the potential consequences- particularly the possible impact on the IPO plan. Jiang could have done something desperate, which would have resulted in a disastrous situation for the both of them, as in the proverb, where the fish dies struggling to get free of the net and the net breaks as the result of the fish’s struggles.
Chen lit a cigarette and drained the coffee in one gulp before he stood up and began to pace about the room.
Now, supposing a different man, for a different reason, had come to visit Liu that night. That could explain a lot of things that didn’t make sense in the blackmail scenario.
Chen gazed at the smoke rings spiraling up-indeed, a lot of things …
The young attendant reappeared carrying the tiny thermos bottle of herbal medicine. She glanced at the breakfast tray, which had hardly been touched except for the coffee.
“The breakfast wasn’t good?”
“It’s very good. I’ll eat it a bit later.”
“It’s better to take the medicine after you eat.”
“Yes, I know that,” he said and motioned her to leave the medicine on the table.
He pulled out another cigarette, but changed his mind and put it back into the box before absentmindedly moving over to the French window in the back.
Out the window, on the cedar deck, he saw a tung-oiled paper umbrella unfolded against the railings, red- pointed like a gigantic breast, trembling slightly in the wind.
He sat down in the antique dark wood chair by the window and stretched his feet onto the windowsill. In postmodern theory, it could be said that the sight of the shapely chair arms took him, he thought with a touch of amusement. Indeed, many would be contented to just sit here-
But the morning wasn’t going to be a quiet, contemplative one for him. His cell phone rang, sounding like the alarm clock in the dream. He glanced at the number on the screen. It was Sergeant Huang.
“Liu’s rival had a solid alibi too.”
“Who?”
“Zhang Tonghua, the head of another chemical company in Wuxi, who was Liu’s main rival in that line of the business.”
“Oh, the man you targeted,” Chen said. “Of course, Zhang could have hired a killer to do the job, but then it would have become too much of a wild goose chase.”
Chen thought about the puzzling details of the crime scene, details which couldn’t be accounted for in a scenario involving a professional killer, either.
“But the timing of it,” Huang said, not giving up. “We can’t miss the connection between his murder and the IPO plan. Surely it’s not a coincidence.”
This point had been first made by Chen. Huang had obviously embraced and elaborated upon it and probably saw it as his own by now. Still, it made some sense while nothing else did.
“Oh, about Shanshan’s phone record,” Huang went on, “I’ve found something for you.”
“Yes?”
“The threatening calls were made from public pay phones. They were by no means a kid’s prank calls.”
“That’s what I suspected.”
“What’s more,” Huang said after a pause, “somebody else is interested in her phone calls. Her calls are being tapped in connection with the investigation into Jiang.”
“Oh, that’s interesting. Who’s bugging her?”
“Internal Security. According to them, she and Jiang know each other well. She could have been involved.”
“Have they found anything?”
“Not yet. At least, they haven’t said anything to me. But I’ll follow up, Chief.”
“Thanks for telling me this, Huang,” Chen said. “Call me immediately if there’s anything new.”
After he hung up with Huang, Chen tried to fit the new information into the puzzle. As before, his efforts failed to lead anywhere. So, for the sake of change, he decided to write a report about the environmental issue to Comrade Secretary Zhao. Chief Inspector Chen was a cop, and a busy one, but nonetheless a responsible citizen like Shanshan. It was up to him to write this report, whether it would appeal to the top leaders or not.
He had hardly completed the first paragraph when he found himself slowing down. It was turning out to be much harder than he had anticipated. So far, all he had was a hodgepodge of high-sounding yet empty sentences that didn’t prove anything. It wasn’t his territory, and he didn’t have anything concrete or solid to support his argument. He was quickly losing confidence in his ability to write such a report.
He lit another cigarette and his mind began wandering back to the case. He realized, much to his dismay, that it was only when he was thinking like a cop that he was able to proceed with confidence.
Since when had he become a cop who looked only at his own feet? True, in case after case, Chief Inspector Chen had been too busy with his job to do anything else, but there’s no denying that there were privileges for an emerging Party cadre. He wasn’t exactly a high-ranking cadre yet, but he felt a sense of obligation to the system that had treated him well.
Thinking of Shanshan and her arduous uphill battle for the lake, he turned back to the table, opened the laptop and started to type.
