the previous day, “with a number of unanswered questions. And the only fact we have established is that Guan left the dorm for a vacation around ten thirty on May tenth. As for what happened to her afterward, we have discovered nothing-except the caviar.”
“Nothing else suspicious?”
“Well, there is something else. Not really suspicious, but it just does not make sense to me. She was going somewhere on vacation, but no one knew where. People are usually so excited about their vacation that they will talk a lot about it.”
“That’s true,” she said, “but in her case, couldn’t her reserve result from a need for privacy?”
“That’s what we suspect, but the whole thing seemed to be just too secretive. Detective Yu has checked with all the travel agencies, and there’s no record with her name registered either.”
“Well, she might have traveled by herself.”
“That’s possible, but I doubt that a single young woman would travel all by herself. Unless she had some other people, or one man as her companion, I think it unlikely. That’s my hypothesis, and the caviar fits. What’s more, last October she had made another trip. We know where she went that time-the Yellow Mountains. But whether she went there by herself, with some- one, or with a group, we don’t know. Yu has researched that, too, but we have no leads.”
“That’s strange,” she said, her eyes half closing in thought. “No train goes there. You have to change to a bus in Wuhu, and to get from the bus terminal to the mountains, you have to walk quite a distance. And then to find a hotel for yourself in the mountains can be a headache. It saves you a lot of money, and energy, too, to go with a tourist group. I’ve been there, I know.”
“Yes, and another thing. According to the records at the department store, her vacation in the mountains lasted about ten days, from the end of September through the first week in October. Detective Yu has contacted all the hotels there. But her name did not appear on any of their records.”
“Are you sure that she went there?”
“Positive. She showed her colleagues some pictures from the mountains. In fact, I’ve seen quite a few in her album.”
“She must have a lot of pictures.”
“For a young pretty woman, not too many,” he said, “but some are really good.”
Indeed, some of the pictures appeared highly professional. Still vivid in his mind, for instance, was the one of Guan leaning against the famous mountain pine, with white clouds woven into her streaming black hair. It would do for the cover of a travel brochure.
“Are there pictures of her with other people?”
“A lot of them, of course. One with Comrade Deng Xiaoping himself.”
“Pictures from that mountain trip?” Wang said, picking up a grape with her slender fingers.
“Well, I’m not sure,” Chen said, “but I don’t think so. That’s something-”
Something worth looking into.
“Supposing Guan made the trip all by herself,” she was peeling the grape. “She could have met some people in the mountains staying in the same hotel, talked about the scenery, taken pictures for each other-”
“And taken pictures together. You’re absolutely right,” he said. “And some of the tourists would have worn their name tags.”
“Name tags-yes, that’s possible,” she said, “if they were traveling in a group.”
“I have looked through all the albums,” he said, stealing a glance at his wristwatch, “but I may do it all over again.”
“And as soon as possible,” she was putting the peeled grape into his saucer.
The grape appeared greenish, almost transparent against her lovely fingers.
He reached across to take her hands on the table. They had a sort of mutual understanding that he appreciated: Chief Inspector Chen had to investigate.
She shook her head, looking as though she was about to say something, but changed her mind.
“What is it?”
“I’m concerned about you.” She withdrew her hand with a small frown.
“Why?”
“Your obsession with the case,” she said softly, standing up from the chair. “An ambitious man is not necessarily obnoxious, but you are going a bit too far, Comrade Chief Inspector.”
“No, I’m not that obsessed with the case,” he said. “In fact, you are just reminding me of two lines- ’With the green skirt of yours in my mind, everywhere, / Everywhere I step over the grass ever so lightly’. ”
“You don’t have to cover yourself by quoting those lines,” she said, starting to move toward the staircase. “I know how much your work means to you.”
“Not as much as you think,” he said, imitating the way she shook her head, “certainly not as much as you.”
“How is your mother?” she was changing the subject again.
“Fine. Still waiting for me to grow up, get hitched, make her a grandma.”
“Work on growing up first.”
Wang could be sarcastic at times, but it might just be a defense mechanism. So he laughed.
“I am wondering,” he said, “if we can get together again-this weekend.”
“To talk more about the investigation?” she teased him goodhumoredly.
“If you like,” he said. “I also want to have dinner with you at my place.”
“Fine, I’d like that, but not this weekend,” she said. “I’ll check my calendar. I’m not a gourmet cook like your ‘Overseas Chinese’ pal, but I can work up a pretty good Sichuan pickle. How does that sound?”
“It sounds terrific.”
She turned to him with an enigmatic smile, “You don’t have to accompany me to my office.”
So he stood, lit a cigarette, and watched her crossing the street, coming to a stop at the central safety island. There she looked back, the green skirt trailing across the long curve of her legs, and her smile filled him with a surprising sense of completeness. She waved to him before she turned into the side street leading to the Wenhui building.
Of late, he had been giving some thought to the future of their relationship.
Politically she would not make an ideal choice. Her future would be affected by her so-called husband’s defection. Even after her divorce, the stain in her file would remain. It would not have mattered that much if Chen had not been a chief inspector. As an “emerging Party member cadre,” he knew the Party authorities were aware of every step he was making. So were some of his colleagues, who would be pleased to see his career tarnished by such a union.
A married woman, though no more than nominally married, was not “culturally desirable,” either.
But what was the point of being a chief inspector if he could not care for a woman he liked?
He threw away his cigarette. One decision he had made: he was walking to Qinghe Lane instead of taking a bus. He wanted to do some thinking.
Crossing the safety island, he stepped over the green grass lightly.
Chapter 12
This May morning was bright and despite the early heat the air was fresh.
The traffic wound itself into a terrible snarl along Henan Road. Chief Inspector Chen cut his way through the long line of cars, congratulating himself on his decision to walk. New construction was under way everywhere, and detour signs popped up like mushrooms after a spring rain, adding to the traffic problem. Near the Eastern Bookstore, he noticed another old building being pulled down. In its place, a five-star hotel would soon arise. An imported red convertible rolled by. A young girl sitting by the driver waved her hand at a postman late on his round.
Shanghai was changing rapidly.
So were the people.
