Qiu Xiaolong - Death of a Red Heroine

“Thank you, Comrade General Manager,” Yu said. “You may start by telling me what you know about her work in the store.”

“She was a manager of the cosmetics section. She had worked at the store for twelve years. She did her job conscientiously, attended every Party group meeting, and helped other people in whatever way she could. A role model in every aspect of her life. Last year, for instance, she donated three hundred Yuan to Jiangshu flood victims. In response to the government’s call, she also bought a large sum of government bonds every year.”

“What about people’s opinion of her work?”

“She was very efficient. A competent, methodical, and highly conscientious manager. People always had a high opinion of her work.”

“A model worker indeed,” Yu said, knowing that most of General Manager Xiao’s information could have been obtained from her official file. “Well, I’ve got to ask you questions about something else.”

“Yes, any question you want to ask.”

“Was she popular-with the other staff?”

“I think so, but you’ll have to ask them. I can’t think of any reason why she should not be.”

“And as far as you are aware, Guan had no enemies in the store?”

“Enemies? Now Comrade Detective Yu, that’s a strong word. She might have had some people who didn’t like her so much. So has everybody. You, too, perhaps. But you don’t go in fear of being murdered, right? No, I wouldn’t say she had enemies.”

“What about the people in her private life?”

“That I don’t know,” the general manager said, slowly tracing the line of his left eyebrow with his middle finger. “She was a young woman, she never talked to me about her personal life. What we talked about was work, work, and work. She was very conscious of her position as manager, and as a national model worker. Sorry, I cannot help you.”

“She had a lot of friends?”

“Well, she hadn’t too many close friends in the store. No time, perhaps. All the Party activities and meetings.”

“She had not discussed her vacation plans with you?”

“Not with me. It wouldn’t have been a long vacation, so she did not have to. I have asked several of her colleagues; she had not talked with them either.”

Detective Yu decided that it was time to interview the other employees.

A list of people had been prepared for him.

“They will tell you whatever they know. If there’s anything else I can do, please contact me,” Xiao said earnestly.

The interviews were to be held in a formal conference room, spacious enough to seat hundreds of people. The interviewees were waiting in an adjacent room, accessible through a glass door. Detective Yu was supposed to call them in one by one. Pan Xiaoxai, a close friend of Guan’s, was the first. With two small children at home, one of them disabled, she had to hurry back home during the lunch break. She had been sobbing in the waiting room. He could tell that from her swollen eyes.

“It’s awful-” she said bleakly, taking off her glasses and dabbing her eyes with a silk handkerchief. “I can’t believe that Guan’s dead. .. I mean-what a wonderful Party member. And to think, the last day Guan was in the store, I happened to have the day off.”

“I understand your feelings, Comrade Pan,” he said. “You were one of her closest friends, I’ve heard.”

“Yes, we’ve worked together for years-six years.” She wiped her eyes and sniffed loudly, as if anxious to prove the genuineness of their friendship. “I’ve been working here for ten years, but in the toy section first.”

In reply to Yu’s question about Guan’s personal life, Pan admitted reluctantly, however, that the deceased had not been that close to her. In all those years, she had been to Guan’s dorm only once. In fact, what they had been doing together was mostly window shopping during lunch break, comparing prices, or having curried beef noodles in Sheng’s Restaurant across the street. That was about it.

“Did you ask her anything about her personal life?”

“No, I never did.”

“How could that be? You were close friends, weren’t you?”

“Um-she had a certain way about her. Difficult to define, but like a line was drawn. After all, she was a national celebrity.”

At the end of the interview, Pan looked up through her tearstained glasses, “You will find out who did it, won’t you?”

“Of course we will.”

Zhong Ailin, who worked with Guan on the morning of May tenth, was next. She started to offer her information immediately. “Comrade Detective Yu, I’m afraid I won’t be helpful. On the morning of May tenth, we talked very little, two or three words at the most. To me, she seemed all right. She didn’t tell me that she was leaving for a real vacation. As far as I can remember, she mentioned that she was going to take only a few days off. That’s quite normal. As the department head, she sometimes worked extra hours. So she had earned a lot of days off.”

“Did she say anything else to you during that day or that week?”

“She was a national model worker, always busy, working and serving people wholeheartedly, as Chairman Mao said long ago. So most of the talking she did was to her customers, not to us.”

“Any idea who might have killed her?”

“No, none at all.”

“Could it be somebody who worked with her?”

“I don’t think so. She was not a difficult person to get along with, and she did her job well.”

According to Zhong Ailin, some of her colleagues might have been envious of Guan, but it was undeniable that she knew the ropes at the store and was a decent and reliable woman-politics aside.

“As for her life outside of the store,” Zhong concluded, “I don’t know anything-except that she was not dating anyone-had probably never dated anyone.”

Zhong was followed by Mrs. Weng, who had worked the afternoon shift on May tenth. Mrs. Weng started by declaring that the investigation was none of her business, and that she had not noticed anything unusual about Guan that last day.

“There was nothing different about her,” she said. “She might have put a light touch of eye shadow on her eyelids. But it was nothing. We have a lot of free samples.”

“What else?”

“She made a phone call.”

“When?”

“It would be about six thirty, I think.”

“Did she have to wait long before she started talking?”

“No. She started talking immediately.”

“Anything you happened to overhear?”

“No. It was short,” she said. “It was her business, not mine.”

Mrs. Weng talked more than the first two, however, offering opinions even without being asked. And she went on speculating about some information which she believed might be of interest. Several weeks earlier, Mrs. Weng had gone with a Hong Kong friend to the Dynasty KTV Club. In the semi-dark corridor, she saw a woman emerging from a private room with a tall man, practi- cally leaning on his shoulder-the woman’s clothes in disarray, several buttons undone, her face flushed, and her steps reeling. A shameless karaoke girl, Mrs. Weng thought. A private karaoke room was an open secret, almost a synonym for indecent practices. But then it occurred to Mrs. Wen that the karaoke girl looked like someone she knew. As the image of the drunken slut was at such odds with the one flashing through her mind, recognition did not come until a few seconds later-Guan Hongying! Mrs. Weng could scarcely believe it, but she thought it was her.

“Did you take a closer look at her?”

“When recognition came to me, she had already walked past me. It wouldn’t do for me to chase someone there.”

“So you’re not positive.”

“No. But it was my impression.”