Peter May - The Fourth Sacrifice

‘Eugh!’ Sophie shivered. ‘You mean people actually choose to die by having their heads cut off?’

Margaret nodded. ‘It saves you from too much suffering once you’ve slit your belly open. It’s not exactly common, but there have been several cases. I had to make a small study of them for mine.’ She turned to Li. ‘The cutter stands behind the victim and to his left if he is right-handed. And on the right if he is left-handed.’ She passed him the photograph. ‘As you can see, the cast-off pattern is on Yuan Tao’s right. So his killer was left-handed.’

Li looked at the picture for a long time. ‘Are you saying this killer is some kind of Tameshi Giri expert?’

‘No. I’d say he wasn’t a novice. He certainly knows how to handle a sword. But the cut is not very clean. There was a marked abrasion at the entry edge, and quite a large, irregular flap of skin at the exit edge. So he wasn’t an expert.’

‘Pathologist Wang thought perhaps the blade was getting blunt,’ Li said drily, and Margaret smiled at the pathologist’s implied criticism of the investigation.

‘All the more reason to think this was no expert,’ she said. ‘An expert would keep his blade well honed.’

‘The first three … mm … victims were much more cleanly cut,’ Wang offered.

‘Were they?’ Margaret frowned, computing several possibilities in her mind. At length she asked, ‘Are the photographs from the other crime scenes available?’ Wang nodded and sent one of his assistants to get them. ‘I’d also like copies of the autopsy reports on the other victims. Translated, please. And access to all the other evidence.’

Li bridled. ‘This is a Chinese police investigation,’ he said.

‘Of an American citizen,’ Margaret fired back. ‘And we don’t have two years to wait for a result.’

‘Two years?’ Sophie said. ‘What do you mean?’

Margaret turned a syrupy smile on her. ‘Deputy Section Chief Li once told me that it took him two years to clear up a murder here. Par for the course for the Chinese police, I think.’

‘That was one case,’ Li retorted, barely containing his fury. ‘And at least we broke it. If it had been in America, it would still be languishing in an unsolved cases file.’

The assistant returned with three large brown envelopes, and Margaret held them for a moment. ‘And am I allowed to look?’ she asked Li pointedly. He kept his lips pressed together in a grim line and nodded curtly. She smiled sweetly. ‘Thank you.’ And she spread the photographs from each envelope out on the table. Immediately she gasped with frustration. ‘I thought you said this was a serial killer?’

‘It’s what we believe,’ Li said more confidently than he felt.

‘Well, victim number three’s been moved from the murder scene. There’s not nearly enough blood here.’

‘We are aware of that.’ There were echoes in this for Li of that morning’s meeting. Fresh eyes casting a sceptical look at the evidence.

‘Another break in the pattern,’ Margaret said. And she started examining the blood spatter patterns in the photographs of the first two murders. ‘And yet another.’ She dropped the photographs back on the table. ‘Victims one and two were killed by a right-handed bladesman. You can see for yourself. The cast-off patterns are on the left side of the bodies.’

Li examined the photographs. ‘Well, there’s no way of making that comparison with victim number three. And, anyway, it’s perfectly possible that the killer is equally good with left or right hand.’ He was getting defensive now.

But Margaret was dismissive. ‘Unlikely.’ She picked up and began studying the photographs of the bound wrists of each of the victims in the order of their killing. ‘Pass me the silk cord we took from the decedent,’ she asked Sophie.

Sophie blanched at the prospect, and very gingerly lifted the cord between thumb and forefinger and passed it across the table. Margaret took it and looked at it very closely.

Li said, ‘We have already established that the cord used to bind the first three victims was all cut from the same length. I am sure we will find the same with that one.’

Margaret shrugged, clearly unconvinced. ‘Then why’, she asked, ‘when he was tying the wrists of Yuan Tao, did he use a different knot than the one used on the other three?’

Li frowned and took the cord, looking at the knot closely, then examining the photographs. ‘They all look the same to me,’ he said.

‘They all look like reef knots,’ Margaret said. ‘But the first three were tied by a right-handed person. Right over left and under, left over right and under. The fourth is exactly the reverse. Tied by a left-hander.’ Li looked at her, trying to absorb the implications. ‘The point is,’ Margaret went on, ‘Yuan Tao was clearly killed by someone else. It’s a copycat murder.’

The warmth of the sunshine seemed somehow surprising after the chill of the autopsy room. Margaret fished in her purse for her sunglasses and put them on. Li followed her out on to the step and lit a cigarette. They had left Sophie in the office phoning her boss to arrange protocol clearance for the handing over of autopsy reports and photographic evidence. They stood for some minutes in silence. On the games court, beyond the fence, students were still playing volleyball, their catcalls and laughter echoing back off the walls of the Evidence Centre. Somehow the simple pleasure they took in their game made the contrast with the act of dissecting the dead all the more bleak.

Finally Li said, ‘It cannot be a copycat murder.’

She shrugged her indifference. ‘The evidence speaks for itself. You can think what you like.’

‘It is impossible,’ said Li. ‘This is not America. Accounts of crimes are not splashed all over the newspapers or on television. The details of these crimes can be known only by the killer himself, and by my investigating team.’

‘Then maybe you should have a look at your investigating team.’

Her flippancy angered him, but she clearly was not in a mood to be reasoned with. He bit back a retort.

After a moment she turned and looked at him levelly. ‘Are we finished?’ She paused and added, ‘Professionally speaking.’

‘I guess so.’

‘Good,’ she said, and hit him as hard as she could across the side of his face with her open palm.

He was shocked. He had been taking a draw of his cigarette, and it was knocked from his mouth by the force of the blow. His face stung from the slap, and his eyes blurred as they filled involuntarily with tears. He blinked at her furiously. ‘What was that for?’

‘What do you think?’ And he wondered why he had even asked. ‘Why, Li Yan?’ she said. ‘Why?’ He couldn’t meet her eye. ‘Ten weeks. You never once tried to get in touch, never once tried to see me. You’ve avoided every attempt I’ve made to see you.’ She fought to hold back the tears and control her voice.

At the sound of raised voices, the driver of her embassy car, parked no more than ten feet away, turned to look out the rear windscreen. Li turned his back to the car and kept his voice down. ‘They told me that under no circumstances was I to see you, or contact you.’

She looked at him in disbelief. ‘So you’re happy to let them , whoever they are, tell you who you can and cannot see?’

‘I’m an employee of the state, Margaret. It is a privileged and trusted position that cannot be compromised by a relationship with a foreigner.’

‘Oh, I see. So your job’s more important than the woman you love, or the woman I thought you loved. Good thing I found out you didn’t. Otherwise I might have made a fool of myself by doing something stupid like falling in love with you.’ She turned away in disgust.