what she has in her bag.'
Sergeant Lee unzipped the bag and took out a Nokia mobile phone, various items of make up, her wallet, some breath mints, a set of keys and a Parker pen.
Inspector Zhang picked up the keys. 'There is no keycard, I see. To get into the main door.'
'So someone must have buzzed her in,' said Sergeant Lee.
'Perhaps,' said Inspector Zhang.
'Inspector Zhang, I am confused. Do you think that Mrs. Wong killed herself? Or do you think she was murdered?'
'She could not have drowned herself and then thrown herself off the roof,' said Inspector Zhang. 'And it would of course be impossible for to her have drowned after she jumped. There is therefore only one possibility remaining. She drowned and then someone else threw her off the roof.'
'But why would anyone do that?' asked Sergeant Lee.
'A very good question, Sergeant,' said Inspector Zhang. 'For if we know why the crime was committed, we will certainly know who did it. For now, I think we should go and see Mr. Wong.'
He picked up Mrs. Wong’s mobile phone and scrolled through for her husband’s mobile phone number. He was just about to press the call button when Sergeant Lee put her hand on his. 'That might not be a good idea, Inspector,' she said. 'He might think that it was his wife calling.'
Inspector Zhang realised that she was right, and used his own phone to call Mr. Wong. When Mr. Wong answered, Inspector Zhang arranged to go around and see him early that evening.
'Can’t you tell me what it is over the phone?' Mr. Wong asked.
'Interviews are always better conducted face to face,' said Inspector Zhang, and he ended the call.
Inspector Zhang and Sergeant Lee arrived at Mr. Wong’s apartment at six o’clock and he was clearly not happy to see them. 'What is it you want?' he asked as they sat down on the sofa. 'This is a very upsetting time for me; the last thing I want is to be answering more questions.'
'We have had some more information regarding the death of your wife,' said Inspector Zhang. 'It might be that you are correct when you say that your wife didn’t kill herself.'
'What are you saying, inspector?'
'I need to ask you some questions about what you were doing last night.'
'I was here,' said Wong. 'You know I was here. You were in my apartment.'
'But before that. What time did you come home?'
'I came home after work. My wife was here and she said she was going out for dinner with a friend. I cooked for myself and I watched some television. When she didn’t come back by ten o’clock I called her cell phone but she didn’t answer.'
'Can anyone confirm that?'
Mr. Wong frowned. 'Why do I need anyone to confirm anything?'
'It’s simply procedure, Mr. Wong.'
Mr. Wong sighed. 'As it so happens, I went to talk to my neighbour at about ten o’clock. His television was on loud and it was disturbing me. I asked him to turn the volume down.'
'His name?'
'Mr. Diswani.'
'Thank you,' said Inspector Zhang. 'And one more thing. I noticed yesterday that you have a plaster on your hand.'
Wong held up his right hand. There was a flesh-coloured sticking plaster on his little finger. 'I cut myself.'
'Do you mind telling me how?'
'When I was cooking. It’s just a small cut. It’s nothing.'
Inspector Zhang nodded thoughtfully.
'Why are you asking me these questions?' said Wong.
'We’re trying to find out what happened to your wife.'
'You said she fell from a building.'
'That’s true,' said Inspector Zhang. 'But it now appears that something happened to her before she came off the roof.'
'What do you mean?' said Wong quickly.
'I’m afraid I can’t go into details at this stage, but we are now sure that Mrs. Wong didn’t kill herself.' He patted his stomach. 'Could I impose on you to use your bathroom,' he said. 'My stomach isn’t so good today.'
Wong pointed down a corridor. 'Along there, first door on the right,' he said.
Inspector Zhang thanked him and walked along to the bathroom. When he got back to the sitting room, Sergeant Lee was sitting on the sofa next to Wong. They were looking through a photograph album. There were tears in Wong’s eyes.
'We’ll leave you now, Mr. Wong,' said the inspector. 'And once again I’m sorry for your loss.'
Wong sniffed. 'What will happen now, inspector?'
'Our investigation will continue,' said Inspector Zhang.
Mr. Wong showed them out. Inspector Zhang smiled at Sergeant Lee as the door closed on them. 'I never trust a man who cries easily,' he said.
'He’s just lost his wife,' said Sergeant Lee. 'Wouldn’t you cry if you lost your wife?'
Inspector Zhang considered the question for several seconds, then he nodded slowly. 'I would grieve. I would be sadder than I have ever been in my life. But I’m not sure that I would cry. Grief is not about tears; grief is a state of mind.' He took off his glasses and polished them with his handkerchief. 'But perhaps you are right. Perhaps I am too critical of Mr. Wong.'
'Perhaps it is the goatee,' said Sergeant Lee.
Inspector Zhang smiled and walked down the corridor, stopping at the apartment next to Mr. Wong’s. He knocked on the door. It was opened by an elderly Indian man.
'Mr. Diswani?' said Inspector Zhang. He held out his warrant card. 'I am Inspector Zhang from New Bridge Road police station.'
Mr. Diswani blinked at the warrant card and then nodded. 'I am Mr. Diswani,' he said,
'Did Mr. Wong have occasion to talk to you about the volume of your television set last night?'
Mr. Diswani’s jaw dropped. 'He called the police about that? I told him, it was no louder than usual but he pointed his finger at me and called me terrible names.'
'And what time was this?'
'About ten o’clock,' said Mr. Diswani. 'And I turned the volume down immediately, but then I could barely hear it. Come in for yourself and listen. I don’t understand why he was so angry.'
'It isn’t a problem,' said Inspector Zhang, putting away his warrant card. 'You enjoy the rest of your evening.'
Mr. Diswani closed the door, muttering to himself. Inspector Zhang and Sergeant Lee walked to the elevator and went down to the ground floor. 'So what do you think, Sergeant Lee?' asked the inspector as they headed for their car.
Sergeant Lee sighed. 'It is confusing,' she said.
'Yes, it is,' agreed the inspector. 'Let us suppose that she was murdered, that she was dead before she hit the ground. So the question we have to ask, Sergeant Lee, is why the murderer felt that they had to kill Mrs. Wong twice.'
'Overkill,' said Sergeant Lee as Inspector Zhang unlocked the front passenger door and climbed in. Sergeant Lee got into the driving seat and closed the door. 'Perhaps the killer wanted to make sure that she was dead,' she said.
'There are easier ways to do that,' said Inspector Zhang, settling back into his seat. 'Besides, I think it would be obvious that she was already dead so there would be no need to make sure.' He sighed and took off his spectacles. 'I think I am getting a headache,' he said, massaging his temples
'I have aspirin in my bag,' said the sergeant.
'We can wait until we’re back in the office,' said Inspector Zhang. 'Aspirins are best taken with water.' He put his spectacles back on. 'Water,' he said. 'I’d forgotten, the water.'
