Qiu Xiaolong - A Case of Two Cities

“We know what case you were investigating in Shanghai.”

“How?”

“Xing applied for political asylum here. It’s been widely reported in the American newspapers. It’s a quandary for our government so we’ve paid close attention to the development of the case in China.”

“I’m not here because of Xing,” he said.

“But it doesn’t take a chief inspector to lead a writers’ delegation.” She had a sense of déjà vu. In another city, she had voiced similar questions. It didn‘t take a chief inspector to act as a tour guide. But it was more than that-there was their reversal of roles for the part of tour guide.

“Things in China are complicated. Honestly, I don’t know why I was chosen to head the delegation. What I was investigating in Shanghai might not have been pleasant to some people, I think. That’s a possible reason why they sent me out.”

“Sent you out? What do you mean?”

“As a delegation head, I had to stay away from the investigation.”

“But that’s only a matter of two or three weeks. What’s the point-”

Then the Chinese writers discovered them and came over excitedly.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Zhong said.

“The tram ride is not for the claustrophobic,” Shasha said with a giggle.

Afterward, in the midst of the Chinese, Catherine had hardly any time alone with Chen.

That evening, they went to a dinner held at a magnificent Chinese restaurant on Olive Street. A banquet of yajin -to relieve the shock. A representative of the city government also attended. There were speeches of formalities from both sides. In spite of all the condolences, people did not lose their appetite. It was a long and good meal and they didn’t get back to the hotel until after ten.

Back in her hotel room, Catherine wondered whether Chen would phone her again. He didn’t. Others kept calling in, however, including her mother. She decided not to mention Chen to her mother, who would perhaps ask questions for hours.

She then tried to do some research on Xing on the laptop, which had been delivered to the room. It was a long and fruitless search. She was tired and sleepy. Absentmindedly, she keyed in the name of Chen Cao in Chinese. There were a number of articles about his police work. Quite a few about his writing too. She found a recent poem of his entitled “35 Birthday Night.”

There was a siren against the night sky. She rubbed her eyes. She was awake, alone, reading a poem in the hotel room.

FURTHER CHANGES TO THE delegation activity schedule appeared inevitable. The long-planned visit to Mark Twain’s home was canceled. Zhong raised the safety issue regarding the caves, where people could easily get lost, and Bao, who had passionately proposed the visit in Los Angeles, became the one against it in St. Louis. Chen wasn’t so keen on going to Hannibal, either.

Catherine was busy making new arrangements for the delegation, and Detective Lenich wasn’t coming by until later this morning. But Chen had a visitor in his room after breakfast. It was Shasha. She’d come to thank him. While in Los Angeles, he had interpreted for her when she spoke to an American agent. The agent had phoned, saying that a large publisher was interested in her books.

“Thank you,” she said. “You are a good boss. And a good friend too.”

“I have done nothing. It’s your book, Shasha.”

“I wish I could do something for you too, Chen. You seem to have so much on your mind.”

“The investigation of Little Huang’s death is going nowhere, and we are stuck here in St. Louis. As the delegation head, I can’t help but be concerned.”

“It’s not your fault. You were dragged into the delegation. I don’t think anybody could have done better in your position.”

“Now that we are on the subject, Shasha, I have a question for you. Chairman Wang called me just two days before the trip. I knew little about the conference, or about the delegation. Now the Americans believe that except for you and I, everyone else in the delegation could be a suspect.

“Why?”

“From five to six-fifteen that afternoon, I was reading in a café down in the mall, and a bookseller there confirmed my alibi. You called from your room to my room around five-forty, and the front desk also remembered you picking up my room key shortly afterward. In other words, you and I alone have solid alibis.”

“You are a cop, Chen,” she said sharply, “I don’t think I am in a position to discuss this with you.”

“No, I don’t suspect anyone in our delegation. But to discuss the case with Detective Lenich, I need to know more about them.”

“Well,” she said slowly, looking at him in the face, “I would like to ask you a question first.”

“Go ahead, Shasha.”

“You already knew Catherine, didn’t you?”

“Yes, we met in Shanghai,” he said, surprised by her observation, but determined to say no more than necessary.

“The way she looks at you, I knew,” she said. “You may take me as a busybody, but to tell the truth, your friend Ling wanted me to keep an eye on you. Now don’t get her wrong. Whatever problems there may have been between you two, she’s concerned about you.”

“Yes, you move in the same circle, I should have known, but let’s not talk about her for the moment-”

“Let me finish. She told me she had her reasons to be concerned about you- about you, not because of your relationship, you know what I mean, though she didn’t go into any details with me.”

“I see,” he said somberly. Ling could have called him directly, although the details of her concerns wouldn’t have been pleasant or positive to him as a cop, especially in the midst of an investigation on the number-one corruption case in China, he supposed. “Thank you, Shasha.”

“That’s why I have been concerned too. Ling is a good friend of mine. Not every high cadre’s child really wants to be an HCC-not me, not Ling. Now, what do you want to know?”

“How were the people selected for the delegation? For instance, Peng doesn’t write anymore, and he hardly speaks at the conference. Considering what he suffered during all the political movements, some compensation is understandable-”

“Who didn’t suffer those years?” Shasha said with a cynical smile. “But his daughter has married an HCCC

“HCCC?”

“High Cadre’s Children Cadre. In other words, those HCC themselves have become high cadres. Peng’s son-in-law has been rising fast-already a member of the Central Party Committee. So he put in a word for Peng with the Writers’ Association. ‘The old man has suffered enough. We have to think of a symbolic compensation for him. It’s also good for China ’s image. Perhaps you may arrange a visit abroad for him.’ “

“So he was chosen because of his son-in-law,” he said, “not because of his work.”

“And Bao was chosen for symbolic considerations too, though different ones. He complained to everybody-as a representative of the working-class writers left out in the cold in the nineties. As for me, nobody put in a word for me. The people at the Writers’ Association know more about my connections than about my writings. Now Zhong might have come into the delegation on his own merits, but his mistress in Beijing, a well-connected writer, must have made phone calls for him too.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” he said, but now he knew why Zhong kept calling back to Beijing. “Still, I’m not qualified to be the delegation head. Why would they choose me?”