Qiu Xiaolong - The Mao Case

“Joy Gate?” It was a dance hall where Shang had once shone like the moon, as Peiqin had told him. Then he remembered another case with a sudden ache in his heart. Not too long ago, one of his colleagues had been murdered there while he was stationed outside. “That’s nothing too suspicious, I think.”

“But the way she went there was. She kept looking over her shoulder, like she was worried that she was being followed. Then she slipped into a hair salon and, instead of having her hair done, she left through the back door, putting on a pair of sunglasses before she emerged out of a side lane. I happened to be buying a pack of cigarettes nearby, so I didn’t lose sight of her. To follow her into the Joy Gate, I spent all the money in my pocket for an entrance ticket. Sure enough, she was there, dancing with a tall, robust man who had a round face like a full moon.”

“Do you mean that she’s a ‘dancing girl’?”

“No, I don’t think so. Those dancing girls don’t make a lot of money. And that was the only time I saw her go there. Most of the time, she goes to Xie Mansion. There are dancing parties there every week.”

“So the man is someone she knows from Xie Mansion?”

“That I don’t know. I will never be admitted there and I know better than to try. But that same evening, I think I saw him at her place.”

“You tailed her from the dance hall back to her home?”

“No, not exactly. She danced only a couple of dances and then she left. I was curious, so I followed her out. She hailed a taxi and I squeezed into a bus. It took me much longer to get to her apartment complex. There’s no way I could get in, of course, so I walked around, hoping to confront her if she came out. Then looking up, I saw someone standing by the window of her room – the man from the dance hall. For a short moment, she was leaning against him, in a most intimate manner.”

“When was this?”

“About a couple of months ago.”

That was before Chen’s investigation started, possibly before Internal Security’s too, Yu reflected. Apparently, no one had been seen at her place since.

“Anything after that?”

“The light went out and I saw nothing more.”

“That could have been a neighbor of hers.”

“It was the man she had danced with, I’m positive. That round-moon-like face of his was unmistakable. I followed her for several more days, but without ever seeing him again. I wasn’t able to watch her all the time. I had to work, carrying frozen pigs on my back at the food market. Then I was fired and yesterday I confronted her.”

“What did you say to her?”

“When I told her that I’d seen the man in her room, all the blood went out of her face. She kept saying it was none of my business. I told her I’d been fired and that she could help me a little. So she took the money from her purse, about two hundred and fifty. She said she’d call the police if I ever tried to approach her again.”

“Are you going to contact her again?”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet, but there must be something going on between Jiao and the man. He must have given the money to her.”

“Hold on, Peng. How did she get her money – from the man as a lover or as a buyer?”

“Perhaps both, but who cares? It’s just like the old saying: If she weren’t a thief, she wouldn’t feel guilty or ner vous. She wouldn’t have given me the money for nothing.”

“But that’s blackmail. If she reported it to the police, you could get into big trouble.”

“I’m a dead pig. What difference would it make throwing me into a cauldron of boiling water?” Peng said, crunching the last sweet and sour rib and wiping his fingers on the paper napkin. “What I did in those years is nothing today. Go to any high school, and you can see so many students billing and cooing on campus, behind the trees and in the bushes. But I went to jail for many years for that.”

“Many people suffered in those years.”

“I tried to start over but people avoided me like a piece of stinking meat. And after all these years, they are still telling their horrible stories about me and Qian. Do you think I really care about anything now?”

Peng was lost in self-pity, half drunk, his face red like a cockscomb. Yu didn’t think he could get any more out of him, not with six bottles of beer empty on the table.

“You have suffered a lot, but don’t try things like blackmail. It won’t do you any good.”

“Thank you, Mr. Journalist. I won’t if I have any other choice.”

“If you happen to think of anything else, you may contact me,” Yu said, putting down his cell phone number on a scrap of paper.

“I will,” Peng said, draining the last cup.

“Don’t tell anybody about our talk. Some people may try to get you into trouble,” Yu said, rising. “Take your time here.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m going to finish the noodles too.”

Walking out of the restaurant, Yu turned back to see Peng burying his face in that bowl of noodles again, the same scene he had witnessed earlier. Perhaps there was a reason Peng’s coworker had commented on his rice-eating capability.

CHEN ARRIVED AT THE tea house on Henshan Road, in the company of Old Hunter. The waitress recognized them, led them into the private room, and left them alone.

As soon as he seated himself at the table, Old Hunter started briefing Chen about what he had done and what Yu had found out from Peng. For once, he wasn’t like a teasing Suzhou opera singer but instead talked fast, not digressing at all. Chen listened without interruption. Old Hunter then drained his cup and stood up. “I have to leave, Chief.”

“Why such a hurry?” Chen said. “The second cup of tea is the best.”

“I have to get back to the hot-water house opposite her apartment complex. An old security guard named Bei has a habit of fetching hot water in a stainless-steel cup and scurrying back to his cubicle around noon. I bet he buys a penny’s worth of hot water to warm up his cold rice. The owner of the hot-water house will try to introduce me to him today.”

“Be careful. Internal Security is watching.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be sitting there, it will be simply a chance meeting between two old customers at the hot-water house. Who’ll bother? So you see, I’m going to have a second pot of tea in an hour. Bei’s retired too. Two retirees may have plenty to talk about.”

“Really, like in one of your favorite proverbs, a piece of older ginger is spicier indeed.”

“Spicier indeed,” the retired cop echoed with a wry smile. “But I’ll tell you what! It’s another Mao case, and my left eyelid has been twitching all morning. That may not be a good omen.”

“Rub your left eye three times and say, ‘It’s a good omen,’ ” Chen said, smiling. “It works, according to my mother.”

Chen rose to accompany the old man to the door of the tea house, watching him until he was out of sight. Then Chen came back to the table, to the suddenly solitary teacup. The waitress must have removed the other one.

He was disturbed at the thought of Yu’s involvement, though it might not be something that could be helped. For such a Mao case, Old Hunter alone could do only so much, and Detective Yu had to chip in, a reinforcement which was already making a difference. There was no stopping a loyal partner like Detective Yu from throwing in his lot with Chief Inspector Chen.

What Yu had discovered was a possibility not to be ignored, Chen contemplated, sipping at the tea without tasting it.

If Peng had seen the mysterious round-faced man only once and Internal Security hadn’t seen him at all, either before or after, it practically excluded the possibility of his being a secret lover. More likely, he was a one-time buyer who negotiated with Jiao at Joy Gate. It would have been out of the question for her to bring the valuable antique to the dance hall. So they then chose to close the deal at her apartment. As for Peng’s glimpse of the “intimate scene” at her window, it might not mean that much. After all, Peng might not be a reliable narrator.