The Mystery of Revenge (16 page)

It would be such a relief if she could just die. The afterworld couldn’t be worse than the world she was living in right now. She returned to the dresser and took out the revolver Tom kept in one of his drawers. The gun was cold when she held it in her palm, not much weight either. She slowly popped open the safety. Tom had showed her how by
accident.

“Don’t touch it,” he screamed when he saw her pulling at it. “There are bullets in
it!”

“Why do you keep the bullets in?” she had
asked.

He shrugged after he pushed the gun back under his underwear. “My father knew I would never put the bullets in, so he gave it to me fully
loaded.”

“Will it go off by itself?” she was nervous
then.

“Oh, no, as long as the safety is on, nothing can go
wrong.”

But it would go wrong now because she had no intention of letting him off so easily after he had deliberately ruined her life. If she died because of him, she wanted him to be punished as well. She sat there, thinking hard. If she planned it carefully, she could deliver a huge blow to the bastard. It might not kill him, but it would surely ruin his career, which he milked so shamelessly out of her love. Without her financial support, he could never have gone off to attend the competition, let alone get a prize. She should make sure no one would hire him in the future. Let him go back to his old way of living, working several jobs, this time for life. She smirked when she imagined what he would do if he was forced into playing at the bars and clubs again. “Serves him right” was all she could
say.

To pull it off though, she would need a partner in crime. She needed someone she could trust, someone who would do anything for her, and someone who would understand. She went into the living room and picked up the phone. Half way through dialing, she stopped, hesitating for a second, then put the phone back
on.

Epilogue

Fang Chen was numb with exhaustion by the time the judge had declared a mistrial. After several weeks of deadlock among the jury who couldn’t agree on the second-degree murder charge, it was finally over. Even though he preferred a guilty verdict, he had to admit it was a better outcome and a bittersweet relief. For what he had done, Tom Meyers had gotten what he
deserved.

“I want him to suffer as much as he made me suffer,” Yi-yun had told him on the
phone.

“I’ll do my best,” he had
promised.

He almost didn’t pick up the phone when it rang because he was ready for his lunch, but as soon as he heard her voice begging him to hear her out, he gave in. He didn’t think he could ever drop the phone even if he had tried. She apologized for what she had done in tears and told him she had regretted it ever since. “I’m sorry,” she was sobbing over the phone, which instantly melted his heart, “if I hurt you. Do you hate
me?”

No, he could never hate her, he said, because he couldn’t stop loving her. He heard his voice crack with
pain.

“Oh, if only I knew,” she
moaned.

“It’s still not too late if you want to come back,” he said a little hesitantly. He could see the two of them being together again, maybe not as happy as before, but they would get along. He doubted that he could forget everything, but he would
try.

She broke down. “It’s too late now,” she cried. “If you knew, you would never take me back.” He didn’t know what she meant by
that.

She was quiet for a few seconds to dry her tears, he guessed. When she started talking again, she was rather calm and confident. “It’s all over now. You’ll be happy to know that I have a plan to avenge our common tormenter for
good.”

He stiffened. “What do you plan to
do?”

“I can’t tell you over the phone, but you will find out when you come to my apartment. You have to come immediately. You only have thirty minutes, and I want you to be here between one to one fifteen.” Her voice became stronger and
icier.

“Okay,” he said rather
uncertainly.

“You need to bring a pair of gloves and a small duffel bag. I will leave my apartment door open, so don’t ring the bell. Just come in, and make sure to wear your gloves
first.”

“Yi-yun, you aren’t going to do something stupid, are you?” he was
alarmed.

“No, nothing stupid. For once, I think I’m good. I will tell you all about it when we meet again.” She stopped, then asked softly: “You still love me, don’t
you?”

“Yes, I will always love you,” he said
fervently.

“I will too after today,” she said. “Now please write down my address. See you in thirty minutes.” She hung up the phone without saying good-bye.

He rushed out of his office and drove home, taking a pair of gloves from the kitchen cabinet and a duffel bag from his closet. He parked his car at the back of the street where she lived. Her building was extremely quiet at that hour of the day, and nobody was around. He put on his gloves and pushed her apartment door
open.

The living room curtains were half drawn, and the midday sun was just touching the legs of the dining table. He saw her lying on the floor with a gun next to her and the pillow on top of her. There wasn’t too much blood as if she had kept her neatness even in death. Her face wasn’t changed at all, still beautiful but rather pale, as of sleeping on a sick bed. She had left a note on the dining table addressed to My Dearest Fang. He put it in his pocket without reading it as he suddenly realized what else was in front of
him.

The pregnancy was obvious. He could see it with his inexperienced, naked eyes. Poor Yi-yun, no wonder she knew it was too late. She finally tasted her own medicine and knew there would be no way out. He understood then what she had planned and why she did it. She had to die because she couldn’t face the harsh reality. If her death was ruled as a suicide, everyone in the community would know, including her parents. But if it was a homicide, her parents wouldn’t be humiliated at all, and she would be remembered as a nice girl who was killed by a scoundrel. Not many people would pay attention to her pregnancy when a killer was in the picture; instead, they would concentrate on the crime and
punishment.

He carefully left her body untouched, taking off the gloves on her hands and picking up the gun and the pillow. He couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that she had so calmly planned everything including the last detail before she killed
herself.

The gloves prevented him leaving any unwanted fingerprints, and the duffel bag hid the pillow and the gun. He had worn a baseball cap so nobody could tell who he was even if he ran into anyone near the building. The timing was good; nobody was around the
neighborhood.

He took everything home first, then went back to his office. Around midnight, he left his apartment and drove to the Charles River, which was dark and quiet under the new moon. He walked up the BU Bridge and dropped the gun, which didn’t even make a splash. Then he put the two pairs of gloves together meshed with leftovers in a plastic bag and dropped it inside a big trash bin. Next day, he put the duffel bag into the washer and casually dropped the pillow in one of the open trashcans in her neighborhood because he wanted it to be found so Tom Meyers would be surely brought in as a
suspect.

He got rid of everything except the note, which made him cry every time he read it. He eventually burned it after the visit of Detective Winderman, who seemed to have some suspicions about the entire case. Fang Chen was alarmed when the detective mentioned the possibility of a suicide while looking at him oddly. By then, he had memorized every word in the
note.

Dearest Fang,

Please forgive me. I know I’ve hurt you immeasurably, but I could do nothing now but beg for your forgiveness. Oh, how I regretted to leave you, you of all people, who loves me dearly and wholeheartedly.

My heart is full of gratitude and love when I’m writing this. Thank you for helping me one last time.

Please take the gun away, and throw it in the river or somewhere nobody can find it. The missing gun should connect him to me—I told Ann about the gun, so she would tell the police if being questioned. I want him to pay for his cruelty. Yes, he is a heartless man who you knew before I did. I was so blind that I didn’t even see when all the evidence was staring at me. For my naïveté, now I have to “drink the bitter wine,” as the old Chinese saying goes.

I will have to use a pillow so my neighbor won’t hear the gun shot. Please be careful and discreet when you get rid of the evidence because I don’t want you to get into trouble.

Good-bye, my dearest Fang!

Love with all my heart. (And she literally drew a heart next to the sentence.)

Yours forever,

Yi-yun

Staring ahead, Fang Chen smiled with tears in his eyes. He remembered the time when Paul Winderman brought up the topic of testing the gunpowder on her hands, which tickled him to no end. She was wearing a pair of gloves when she did the deed. Such a smart cookie, she had planned her revenge
perfectly.

So Tom Meyer would be punished, mistrial or not. From what he heard, the BSO had put him on a long-term leave without pay as soon as he had been charged as a murder suspect, and Fang Chen doubted they would extend his contract when his original one ended. After all, who would want a criminal in their rank when there were so many talented pianists out there who could play as well as he did? Served him
right!

When the news of mistrial reached Paul Winderman, the detective was sitting in his office, reading an autopsy report of a recent murder case in the city. He looked up from his desk at the deputy who brought him the news without any expressions. After a second or two, he nodded and dismissed the young
detective.

Only when the deputy left, Paul Winderman breathed a sigh of relief and took off his reading glasses. The sun had been shining brightly through the window and reflected on a file cabinet sitting at the corner of his office. Three drawers of the steel-framed cabinet contained all the cases he had been working on since he started his career as a homicide
detective.

Slowly, Paul opened the top drawer labeled “Case Pending” and took out a file. From it he took out a sheet of paper and folded it twice before putting it into his pocket. Prior to moving the file from “Case Pending” to the bottom drawer, he wanted to make sure his assumption wasn’t just a speculation. He owed it to himself as a
detective.