Don't Cry Tai Lake (30 page)

“I don't know what you are talking about, Chief—”

“Chief Inspector Chen,” Huang said, stealing a glance at the business cards in her hand. While the first one stated Chen's position with the Shanghai police, the second one represented him as a member of the Chinese Writers' Association and of the Shanghai People's Congress.

“My vacation here is only a pretext,” Chen said. “You should be able to guess why I want to talk to you today.”

“If it's about Liu's murder, hasn't Jiang already been arrested?”

“You are well-informed, Mi.”

“Then what do you want to talk to me about?”

“Well,” he said deliberately, “because I don't want to see a young, beautiful woman like you get into trouble for something that's not exactly your fault.”

“I'm totally lost, Chief Inspector Chen.”

“In a murder investigation, things may appear to be complicated, but what's behind it all can be simple when seen from the perpetrator's perspective,” Chen said, a cigarette smoke ring spiraling out of his fingers. “It's always done for something—money, power, or whatever the criminal hopes to gain. Now, what could Jiang have possibly gained by killing Liu? Nothing. On the other hand, someone else could gain tremendously.”

“What are you talking about?”

She kept playing dumb, Huang noted, and he himself felt no less dumb, having no clue as to what Chen was driving at.

“About the death of Liu, you made several statements. And I want to remind you, Mi, that perjury is a serious crime,” Chen said. He reached over and pressed the start button on a mini recorder sitting on the coffee table.

“What's all this? I've told the police officers—including Officer Huang—only the truth and everything I know.”

“Let me say this one more time, Mi. You're responsible for what you did, but you don't have to be responsible for somebody else. You have to ask yourself whether it's worth your sacrifice.”

It was an intriguing dialogue. Chen pushed on like he was playing a tai chi game, pointing rather than striking. Huang wondered how this could work. It wasn't likely that Mi would fold in the face of such an insubstantial bluff.

“People take a lot of things for granted,” Chen went on. “Like the water in the lake. I still remember a song about how clear and beautiful the water is here.”

“Liu tried his best to contain the pollution,” Mi said. “I worked closely under him, I know.”

“You worked closely under him, in both the company office and at his home office. So let me ask you a question. You said that you saw Jiang arguing with Liu in his company office. And you were quite specific about the date. It was in early March, the day before Women's Day.”

“Yes, that's right.”

“In Liu's office at the company, correct?”

“Correct. Fu saw him too.”

“So the local police took your statement at face value, especially because it was corroborated by your present boss, Fu. After interviewing Jiang, who denied meeting with Liu at the company that day,” Chen said, turning to Huang, “Officer Huang double-checked with Fu on his statement. It seems that Fu isn't so sure about the date.”

“No, he was not at all sure,” Huang said, even more mystified than before. He hadn't double-checked anything with Fu. Nor had he discussed such a plan with Chen.

“But I remember it clearly,” Mi said, shifting nervously in the chair.

“According to our research, Liu was at a business meeting in Nanjing that day,” Chen said, taking out a folder without opening it. “He didn't come back until very late that night—practically the next day. We checked the company calendar and Web site, as well as the hotel records, which showed he had a late checkout, around nine
P.M.
We also obtained a copy of the night train ticket for which he had been reimbursed. What's more, we talked to Mrs. Liu about it. She, too, remembers the date clearly because he came back late that night. It was raining heavily, and he apologized for waking her up. He bought a present for her for Women's Day, which was the next day.”

For a moment, Huang was too astonished to play along. Fortunately, Mi was so flabbergasted that she didn't notice anything about Huang.

“Oh, maybe I didn't remember the date too accurately. It was about two months ago, you know,” she said rather lamely. “But I did see Jiang arguing with Liu in his office.”

“No, that's a lie. But it was somebody in the background who wanted you to make that false statement, and you had no choice but to comply. Nor were you fully aware of the complications involved. Anyway, you had to support the people above, didn't you? You might not have been able to think too clearly under the stress.”

“Yes, I've been so terribly busy of late and under a lot of stress. I might not have been able to get the date right. Whatever Jiang might have done, it wasn't any of my business, so I didn't try to pay close attention to it. I'm sorry about the possible mistake, Chief Inspector Chen.”

“But it's a murder case, Mi. An innocent man could have been convicted because of your perjury.”

“No, that's not true. How could it be perjury? People's memories may not always be reliable, you know that. What do you want me to do? Both you and Officer Huang are here, so I can give you another statement. The meeting between Jiang and Liu was definitely in March, of that much I'm sure.”

“Let's put it aside for the moment, and talk about another statement you gave. On the night of the murder, you said you were at the company office, working late on the IPO plan. That was just about a week ago. Your memory couldn't have failed you concerning that part, too? ”

There was no mistaking the ominous hint; she got it and turned ghastly pale. Mi stared first at Chen, and then at Huang, wringing her hands, panic-stricken and tongue-tied.

“You told us that you were so busy working at the office that evening,” Chen went on, “that you didn't leave until after eleven. You were so overwhelmed with work that you didn't even have time to go to the company canteen. Correct?”

“Correct,” she said. “We were so busy preparing for the IPO. It was a Sunday, but a number of people were at the office working, including Fu. Fu talked to me that evening and we discussed the company's business plans.”

“Now, I want to remind you again, Mi. Perjury is a serious crime. You have to consider whether it's worth it or not,” Chen added, crossing his legs, breathing into his cup, and then taking a leisurely sip of his tea. “Confucius says,
A man lays down his life for one who appreciates him, and a woman makes herself beautiful for the one who loves her
. But it really depends on who.”

“I'm afraid that what you're saying is over my head, Chief Inspector Chen.”

“Fine, let me ask you a question. Liu went to his home office, as a rule, through the back door of the building, right?”

“I think so. It's a shortcut.”

“So when you go there it's also through the back door?”

“Yes, when I had to work with him there. There's no point in going through the front gate, it would take at least ten more minutes.”

“You don't know about the advanced security camera recorder at the back door, I'm guessing.”

“No, I didn't know. But why are you asking?”

“The back door closes at eight, and then the security guard leaves for the night. We all know that. However, the camera there records people going through the door all night long, and I don't think you knew about that.”

“Yes,” Huang said, echoing Chen's statement. He was beginning to see the light for the first time, though he didn't know anything about a hidden camera. For all he knew, there could be one and he was determined to play along. “The camera there records all night long, Mi.”

“I don't know anything about it.”

“Why? Because Liu didn't think that you needed to know those things as a little secretary. If so, it was totally understandable that he didn't even mention it to you. But we've obtained the tape for that night and studied it carefully—”

“Everyone going in and out the back door that night is on the tape,” Huang contributed hastily.

It was obvious that Chen had Mi trapped. She opened her mouth helplessly, but no words struggled out.

“Has your memory been refreshed, Mi?”

“So many things have happened of late,” she said at last, repeating what she'd said earlier, “I've been so worn out that my memory might not prove to be accurate.”

“A young, energetic office manager is supposed to remember a lot of things,” Chen pushed on relentlessly. “Anyway, the videotape is admissible as evidence in court, you know.”

“Do you need us to play it for you now?” Huang chipped in again.

“You—” She sprang up, as if galvanized, before she swayed, slumped back into the chair.

Chen waited, pouring himself a cup of tea, and another for Huang, without looking at her.

It took only a minute or two, however, for Mi to try to pull herself back together again.

“I worked so hard that evening, Chief Inspector Chen. I might have stepped out, briefly, for some fresh air, and not even thought about it. I'm still not sure, but something like that could have eluded my memory.”

“Now you have perjured yourself repeatedly in a murder investigation.”

“No, I just forgot.”

“You signed your earlier written statements, and we also have your new testimony recorded here and in the presence of Sergeant Huang and me. One small lapse in memory is possible, but not so many lapses in both of your statements. Definitely not. It's up to the police to decide whether this amounts to perjury or not. Right, Sergeant Huang?”

“If this isn't perjury, I don't know what it is,” Huang said.

Instead of responding immediately, she kept staring at them like a melting snowwoman, her eyes like two black coal balls.

She'd been caught lying, trapped in the very act of it. Huang tried to think of all the possible scenarios. Out of all of them, if she kept insisting that it was just memory lapse, she might still get away with it. After all, leaving through the back door didn't have to mean going to Liu's home office. Huang guessed there was no security camera there. There were no witnesses or evidence against her. No motive, either.

What's more, Internal Security could simply brush aside the scenario of her and a co-conspirator being the real culprits, since they had already reached their own conclusion and were ready to convict Jiang.

The silence weighed on all of them like a huge rock.

So what was Chief Inspector Chen going to do?

“Fu wasn't in Wuxi over the weekend, was he?” Chen said unexpectedly, changing the topic.

This was another thrust that left Huang perplexed. Why was Chen bringing Fu in at this critical juncture?

“Yes, he was in Shanghai for a business meeting.”

“He was in Shanghai, that much is true, but I'm not at all sure about the business meeting part. I happen to have some pictures taken there last Saturday, the day before yesterday.”

Chen produced a large envelope containing a bunch of enlarged pictures. The first two or three pictures showed Fu and a young woman emerging from a hotel onto a street thronged with people. Then photos of the two walking, hand in hand, with the hotel visible in the background, and one of them showing the two kissing passionately, regardless of the passers-by. The pictures weren't of high quality, but Fu was recognizable and the girl was someone Huang had never seen before. The last photo Chen brought out was of a large sign standing in front of the hotel.

“Look at this sign. This so-called hotel rents rooms by the hour,” Chen said with emphasis on “by the hour,” handing the picture to her. “On Nanjing Road. Who would go to such a hotel with him?”

“A prostitute?” Huang said.

The picture began trembling in Mi's hand.

“No, she's not one of those girls soliciting customers on Nanjing Road. That much I can tell you, Mi. She's his fiancée. The cop in his old neighborhood in Shanghai has confirmed that. Fu has kept his relationship with her a secret here at the company. Why would he do that, Mi? You know better than anybody else, I would think. Anyway, that Saturday afternoon in Shanghai, Fu and his fiancée sneaked into that sleazy hotel, where they stayed for more than two hours. What were they doing there? You can easily imagine that. Here's a picture of them leaving the hotel. Look at the happy, radiant smile on her face. There's a young attendant—you can see here—who stands at the hotel door, shouting, ‘Clean, convenient, we change the sheets after every customer. Hot showers twenty-four hours. Mandarin Duck Bath … Worth every penny. Fifteen minutes in the spring valance is worth tons of gold.'”

It was astounding that Chen chose to launch into this vivid narrative at this juncture, almost like a Suzhou opera singer who got carried away by the details of the story he was narrating.

“That's so dramatic,” Huang improvised.

“For everything under the sun, Sergeant Huang, there must be a reason. A reason may be inexplicable to others, but so transparent to the man or the woman involved in it.”

Again, Chen didn't push further. Instead he spread those pictures on the table like a mosaic.

“Take a good look at them. And think really hard about it, Mi. No one else knows about our conversation. Not yet, anyway. Officer Huang is my loyal assistant, so you don't have to worry about him.”

“What do you want exactly, Chief Inspector Chen?”

“All of this must have come as an overwhelming surprise to you,” Chen said, looking at his wristwatch. “Sergeant Huang and I are going to have lunch at the center canteen. So you may take your time thinking things through. It wouldn't be a good idea for you to leave, but if you want anything for lunch, I can bring it back for you.”