Stephen Leather: Inspector Zang and the falling woman

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."

"Water?" repeated Sergeant Lee.

Inspector Zhang turned to look at her. "Celia Wong drowned, but her clothes were dry when she went off the building. How could that be if she had only just drowned?"

Sergeant Lee frowned but said nothing.

"How does someone drown without their clothes getting wet?" whispered Inspector Zhang to himself. "Now that is a mystery." He folded his arms. "I think we need to take a closer look at the list that the security guard gave us."

They drove back to New Bridge Road police station. Inspector Zhang had left the list in his desk and he took it out while Sergeant Lee fetched him a glass of water so that he could take his aspirin.

"What are you looking for, Sir?" she asked when she returned with his water.

Inspector Zhang swallowed a white tablet and washed it down and then tapped the list. "Mrs. Wong must have gone to that particular building for a reason," he said.

"You think she went there to see someone? A man?"

Inspector Zhang smiled. "I certainly think she went to see someone, but I think it much more likely that it was a woman she was calling on." He passed her the list. "There are only three single women living in the building. We shall go around first thing in the morning."

Inspector Zhang and Sergeant Lee arrived at the River Valley apartment block at eight o’clock on the dot. Mr. Lau was already at his desk and he buzzed them in.

Inspector Zhang showed Mr. Lau the list of tenants. "I see there are three single women living in the block," he said.