Qiu Xiaolong - When Red is Black

“I understand, Comrade Party Secretary Li,” Detective Yu said. “I will do my best.”

“What is Chief Inspector Chen up to? It’s hard to understand. He insists on taking his vacation in spite of the urgency of solving this important case. And I don’t know how long his vacation will last.”

“Nor do I,” Yu said, knowing that Chen had not told the Party boss about his translation project. But he did not like the implication-whether Party Secretary Li really meant it or not-that he would not be able to handle a “special case” without Chief Inspector Chen supervising him.

In the special case squad, the spotlight usually was on Chen, and the credit went to him too. It was little wonder since Chen was an emerging Party cadre with connections stretching as far as Beijing. It was plain that he was being groomed to succeed Party Secretary Li and it would be good for the bureau to have a party secretary who actually knew something about policework, even if he had not been trained for it. And to be fair, Chen did a good job. It did not matter to Yu how much credit he personally received for an investigation he conducted together with Chen. It was all the work of their special case squad. Yu had not complained about staying in Chen’s shadow. Not too many bosses like Chen were left in the police force. Yu sometimes considered himself lucky to be Chen’s partner. Nevertheless, this did not mean that only Chief Inspector Chen was up to the job.

Yu did not care much what others might think, or say, behind his back, but he could not help feeling upset when his colleagues, and now Party Secretary Li, brought the issue up to his face, as if the special case squad was nothing but Chen, as if Yu deserved no recognition.

Even Peiqin had once mentioned something to that effect, he remembered.

What Party Secretary Li said hurt him, Yu realized somberly. It was as if the earth stopped moving with the absence of Chief Inspector Chen.

But what else could Chen possibly have done if he had been involved with the investigation? In fact, Yu and Chen had discussed every aspect of the case.

“Don’t worry, Party Secretary Li. I’ll take care of it,” Yu said. “The case will be solved shortly.”

“I have given my junlingzhuang to the city government, Comrade Detective Yu.” Junlingzhuang was a pledge an ancient Chinese general gave: something would be done or he would be removed from his position.

“Then I give mine to you, Party Secretary Li.”

Afterward, Yu regretted his impulsive response. Perhaps something had been going on in his subconscious for a long time. Perhaps it was the time for him to think about a career change. For him, the case of Yin Lige was taking on a new dimension. It was no longer simply that he was determined to solve it all on his own, with Chief Inspector Chen on leave. It was also an investigation that might testify to the meaning of his profession, his career. He had believed that, even though only a bottom-level cop, he could make a meaningful difference to society. In addition, his was a meaningful task because it was significant to Peiqin, as Yang’s writing had meant such a lot to her.

The political aspect of this investigation was not his concern. If anything, it only highlighted the fact that nothing was free from politics in China, a fact he had known for a long time. The problem was how to make a breakthrough at the shikumen house. Instead of continuing the interviews of the shikumen residents, he decided to review his strategy with Old Liang first.

They had concentrated on the possibility that someone who lived in the building had killed Yin. They seemed to have excluded the possibility that an outsider had committed the crime because no stranger had been seen entering or exiting, either through the front or the back door. But what about the possibility of a cover-up? What if one witness, or more than one, was not telling the truth?

A problem immediately presented itself. There were three people in the courtyard who came from three different families. While the neighbors’ relationships-with the exception of those with Yin-might have been as wonderful as Old Liang declared, it was hard to imagine that three different families were involved in a conspiracy to commit or cover up a murder. That someone had left through the front door was therefore practically impossible. As for the back door, the shrimp woman was positive about her statement: she had never budged. But was she telling the truth?

While Detective Yu made this analysis, Old Liang clung to his insider theory.

“You should keep interviewing the shikumen residents,” Old Liang maintained. “If you want me to participate in the interviews here with you, that’s fine, but I think it’s worthwhile for me to continue making background checks.”

“Your background checks are important, but we really need to speed it up. There are more than fifteen families in the building. Party Secretary Li is pushing me for results.”

“So we are running out of time.”

“We have to be more selective in choosing our interviewees. Let’s take a look at the next name on the list.”

Lei Xueguang was the fifth suspect listed.

“Oh, that Lei! Believe it or not, Yin helped him, in her way,” Old Liang began, in a most dramatic tone that reminded Yu of his father, Old Hunter. “But you know what they say, No good deed goes unpunished.”

In the early seventies, Lei, then a high school student, had been caught in the act of stealing from a district government van and sentenced to ten years. It was his hard luck that this particular year there was a “strike-hard-against-crime campaign.” As a result, those caught were punished much more severely than in other years. When Lei was released, he was jobless. There was no possibility of his finding work in a state-run company. Private business was then just beginning to be allowed, but only in a very limited way, as a “nonessential supplement to the socialist economy.” If Lei had a first-floor room with a door opening onto the street, he might have been able to turn it into a tiny store or eatery. Several people in the area had done that, converting most of their living space to business use. Lei did not have such a room. Nor any connections. His attempt to obtain a business license proved to be fruitless.

To the surprise of everyone in the lane, Yin mentioned Lei in an essay published in Wenhui Daily, as an example of the insensitivity of the neighborhood committees. “A young man has to find some way to support himself, or he may get into trouble again,” she wrote. The local committee members must have read the newspaper; Lei was granted a business license to run a green-onion-cake booth at the head of the lane. Nobody had any real objection, except those reckless bike riders who tore in and out of the lane all the time. The new onion-cake maker must have heard about the newspaper column. The first time Yin came to the booth to buy food, he refused to accept any money from her.

Business was not bad. Lei soon had a local girl working with him, and she became his girlfriend. Nor did it take long for him to begin to plan to expand. In addition to the onion cakes, he began a lunchbox service, offering a variety of popular specialties such as pork steak, beef in oyster sauce, dry-fried belt fish, or Aunt Ma’s spicy tofu, each choice served on top of steamed rice, plus a small cup of hot and sour soup. Since his space was rent-free, Lei was able to provide fairly good food at low prices. The plastic boxes and disposable chopsticks especially appealed to white-collar workers from the new office buildings nearby. The fame of Lei’s lunch boxes spread. Customers had to stand waiting in long lines to order. He set up a second big coal stove at the lane entrance, and hired two provincial girls to help him.