As they left the office, Chen didn’t speak. Both he and Huang were lost in thought as they moved to the front gate.
“I’m sorry,” Huang said. “I forgot that the car is parked near the apartment complex. Let’s go back.”
Chen came to an abrupt stop and then looked up. There were several visitors signing a register book at the front entrance. Instead of turning and heading to the back door, Chen walked over to the security guard standing there.
“So, is it required that people sign in and out here?” Chen asked the security guard, pointing at the register book.
“We’re from the Wuxi Police Bureau,” Huang said, producing his badge in a hurry.
“Anything you want to know, sir,” the security guard said, “and yes, that’s the rule. All visitors have to sign in.”
“Oh, and there’s a video camera here too,” Chen said, pointing at it.
“Yes, our late boss ordered a lot of equipment, including the video cameras. They’re state of the art, appropriate for a large state-run enterprise, but we still stand here on guard twenty-four hours a day.”
“I see. That’s good. I’d like a copy of the visitor registration book for the last seven days, along with the tapes from the camera.”
“That can be easily done, sir,” the security guard said, nodding his head like a rattle drum.
But it took more than a few minutes to duplicate the tape and the pages. Huang was watching, bewildered, when his cell phone rang. He looked at the number, excused himself, and walked over to a shaded corner, out of their hearing.
It proved once again to last longer than he had expected.
When he returned to the front entrance, Chen was already holding a large envelope in his hand.
“Let’s have a bite at the canteen here,” Huang said. “I still have the company canteen coupons Fu gave us the first time we were here. So I can afford to be your host today.”
“That’s a good idea,” Chen said.
They made their way to the canteen. It was past the lunch hour, but there were still a handful of employees eating and talking. They chose a table toward the side, close to the window, where there were no people around.
“What do you think?” Huang said over a steaming-hot bowl of beef noodles strewn with chopped green onion.
“To begin with, Mi may be an unreliable narrator.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a term I picked up in my literature studies in college, which means a narrator who doesn’t provide a reliable account from an unbiased perspective,” Chen said, adding a lot of black pepper to his noodles. “Mi put on a passionate defense of Liu, but it was more a defense of her own actions, at least subconsciously, on the grounds that a happy, contented husband wouldn’t have an extramarital affair. Like an echo of the old saying, ‘If the fence is tight, no dog will stray in.’ But it’s undeniable that Liu hadn’t been a good husband, and that he kept the home office for his rendezvous with Mi. In her attempts to defend her position as a little secretary, Mi may not be able to give us truthful statements.”
“I see your point, Chief. There are some inconsistencies in the statements regarding Liu. I put them together on a piece of paper while she was talking, in an effort to connect them, but some of them simply couldn’t be connected.” Huang then said, “I still like the theory that Mrs. Liu was responsible.”
“That’s just one of the possible theories,” Chen said, seeming to back away from his earlier assertiveness. “It’s unsupported so far.”
“True. By the way, the phone call I took earlier was about a new development. Well, not exactly new, since it’s based on an old scenario being pushed by Internal Security. As of now, they have reached their conclusion, obtained approval from above, and officially taken Jiang into custody.”
“Have there been any new evidence or breakthroughs?” Chen asked, apparently surprised at how quickly Internal Security was moving the case along.
“No, not any I’m aware of. From what I just learned from the head of our local team, the case has been attracting a lot of attention internationally; the longer it drags on, the more damage it could do to the government’s image. So people from above gave the green light to Internal Security’s plan. I don’t like it. If this is how it’s going to work, then what the hell are we cops for?”
“I don’t like it either,” Chen said, putting down the chopsticks even though he hadn’t finished his noodles. “Can you me get a copy of Jiang’s statement regarding his argument with Liu?”
“Yes. He insisted that he hadn’t talked to or met with Liu for months. I’ll get you a copy.”
“Also, can you get a copy of the phone records for the company? Particularly the general manager’s office, if that’s available.”
Huang wasn’t sure he was following Chen’s thinking. He had assumed the scenario in which Mrs. Liu murdered her husband was beneath Chen’s approach, his examination of the crime scene, and the questions he asked at the company.
Perhaps Chen had another objective in mind, Huang mused. Maybe he wanted to rule out the possibility of Jiang’s being the murderer.
But was it too late? The “approval from above” that Internal Security had received sounded ominous. A chief inspector on vacation, no matter how well connected, could hardly match that. Perhaps that was what made Chen a different kind of cop-persistence. Chen plodded on, conscientiously, if circumspectly, in his own way.
“But Internal Security is ready to conclude the case in the interests of the Party. It’ll be over in just a matter of days, I’m afraid,” Huang said, broodingly. “Not that I’m not willing to confront them if we could obtain any real evidence or witnesses, and with you at my side-”
He broke off his sentence, however, at the sight of Shanshan walking into the canteen and striding over toward them.
“Oh, you’re here, Chen!” Shanshan said, fixing her stare on him, “and along with Officer-”
Her face showed surprise, which was quickly turning to something like anger.
There was surprise on Chen’s face too, though perhaps for a different reason.
“This is Shanshan, my friend. And this is Officer Huang.” Chen rose and made a hurried introduction, which wasn’t necessary for either of them. “He is a fan, having read every one of my mystery translations.”
The second part of the introduction was meant for her benefit, Huang realized. He wondered whether she would buy that explanation, but he picked up on the cue not to reveal that Chen was a cop.
“Mr. Chen is truly a master. I’ve read all the books he’s translated. He’s also a poet, you know, and that makes a huge difference in his translations. The language is superb.”
“You seem to know your fans among the police very well, Master Chen,” she said, with undisguised sarcasm. “Or is this another ‘chance’ meeting?”
“I think I have to leave now, Mr. Chen,” Huang said, rising. “You may call me any time.”
“No, stay, Officer, and please continue discussing your important police work,” she said. “I’m leaving.”
They watched her retreat from the canteen in a hurry.
“I have some explanations to make, I think,” Chen said, rising and smiling a bitter smile.
“Catch up with her,” Huang said. “We’ll talk later.”
All of a sudden, the legendary chief inspector looked defeated and crestfallen, not that legendary after all.
TWELVE
Chen didn’t catch sight of Shanshan when he hit the street after hurrying out of the chemical company. She must have turned at the intersection, but in which direction, he had no idea. She had walked away fast, in a state of high dudgeon.
Her reaction wasn’t beyond comprehension. She’d asked him about his connection to the police officer who had released her, a question he’d parried, keeping his real identity a secret.
