The Mystery of Revenge (7 page)

It was her first day in the US when she landed at Logan Airport. She thought her head would split if the journey lasted any longer. The continuous pain that cut through her inner ears was so severe that she could hardly withstand it any longer. She was sitting upright, very still, breathing slowly through her open mouth as the pain attacked her mercilessly, whereupon the Boeing 747 descended rapidly toward its final destination, plunging several hundred feet a
minute.

“I wonder if this is a sign of a difficult start.” She frowned, desperately clapping her hands against her ears, trying in vain to cease the
pain.

A professor of physics at Beijing University, Shao Mei was invited as a visiting scholar through a fellowship at Boston University, a month after the Tiananmen Square massacre. Within two months, she had secured a passport, a J-1 visa, and a seat on a flight that had been fully booked. To her great dismay, however, everything fell short of her expectations. The contract she signed with the school didn’t guarantee a job, the J-1 visa was good only for a year, and the seat she got on the airplane was in the smoking section, and she hated smoke like a cat hating a
dog.

If I can find a job while at BU
, she thought wistfully under the assault of increasing ear pain,
I should be able to bring John over within a year
. John was her only son whom she had left behind.
Living in a foreign country shouldn’t be as painful as going through the Cultural Revolution
though.

A flight attendant started announcing the flight schedules for those who had connections. Peeking through the window over the shoulder of the passenger in the window seat, Shao Mei caught herself uncharacteristically taken aback by the sight of the landscape underneath. It was spread out like a giant map, the highways zigzagging between toy-sized houses and trees while the blue ocean stretched eternally without a boundary.
Boston, the poster city of higher education, will it be kind to me?
Shao Mei wondered while gazing through the window at the city.
Will it allow me, a woman in my early fifties, to start a new
career?

The landing was perfect; there was hardly a bump when the wheels touched the ground. Remaining seated, Shao Mei watched intensely as the passengers around her got up and left one after another. Nobody she knew would greet her at the airport, certainly not her cousin two times removed who lived in Seattle. As a matter of fact, she didn’t even know where she would be spending the night. She would hate to spend money on a hotel room because she had hoped the $400 she brought with her would last as long as the time it would take her to find a
job.

Where should I go?
Shao Mei wondered.
I wish I had a clue
, she thought bitterly as she got off the plane. Then she saw the
poster.

Ah, Boston University
. Shao Mei almost choked with joy when she saw the sign.
It’s my school!
Before realizing how improper it must be, she ran toward it with both arms outstretched and
waving.

“Welcome to Boston!” the girl standing next to the poster greeted her with a beautiful smile. Such an agreeable girl, Shao Mei mused, looking at her approvingly. Her long jet-black hair was nicely groomed, and her dark eyes were large and
expressive.

“My name is Yi-yun,” the girl said as sweetly as a songbird. “This is my friend Fang Chen.” She introduced Shao Mei to the young man holding the large homemade poster next to
her.

“Welcome to Boston,” he said with an awkward smile. He was so quiet and homely that he had been totally overshadowed by his glamorous friend. Shao Mei felt terrible that she didn’t acknowledge him
sooner.

“So nice to meet you, thank you,” she said apologetically to Fang Chen. His thick glasses and stiff manner reminded her warmly of some of her dearest colleagues at Beijing University, and suddenly, she felt a special connection to this young man. “I’m Shao Mei, a professor at Beijing
University.”

She saw the instant spark of respect in his eyes as he extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Professor
Shao.”

“Same here,” she said with a nod and shook his hand.
A respectful and nice young man
, she thought to herself. “I never expected to be met here by people from BU. I thought I would be alone in a strange country!” What a relief, really. She had felt sick to her stomach only a few minutes
ago.
Yi-yun smiled at her understandingly. “We’re members of the Asian Club at BU,” she explained. “We were notified that you were coming
today.”

“What a great organization, the Asian Club,” Shao Mei said. She sensed it was a student organization, but she wondered if she could get some help from it as well. “Does it provide housing to visitors? I suppose I should go to the school
first.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Yi-yun said. “But you can stay with me tonight and go to school tomorrow. The International Office closes at five every
day.”

“Oh, thank you,” Shao Mei cried while looking at her watch. It was ten minutes past five. “I thought I was going to spend a night at a hotel,” Shao Mei said. “The government only allowed me to bring $400 out of China, as you know.” Shao Mei hated announcing to strangers that she was dirt-poor, but for her own good, she had to. She needed this beautiful girl and her man to help her out until she could stand on her own two
feet.

“I know,” Yi-yun said gently. “I was so scared when I landed in Boston a year ago that I couldn’t even stand up when it was time to leave the plane. It was so pathetic.” She shot a meaningful smile at her companion who hadn’t let his eyes wander away from her even once during the whole exchange. He smiled back with adoration written all over his
face.

How can the stupid police even think he could kill the girl he loved more than anything in this world
? Shao Mei thought. “He was a loving
husband!”

“Ex-husband,” Paul Winderman corrected her, looking at his notebook. “I thought they were divorced. In fact, he tried to get the immigration office to deport
her.”

“Well, that’s because she got snatched up by that beggar who has no morals,” Shao Mei snapped back. “That guy ran after her when she was still married to Fang! I told her not to leave her husband. I knew something bad would happen to her. Just look at that man—long hair, trash clothes—sitting at home day and night, playing the piano while his girlfriend worked like a slave. What kind of man is this, you tell
me!”

Paul looked her with amusement. She had bearish black eyes, a small nose, and a square chin.
A very opinionated woman
, he thought,
with a strong opinion on everyone and everything for sure
. “We can’t charge him as the killer unless we have solid
evidence.”

In his opinion, Tom Meyers seemed too selfish to commit such a hideous crime. Killing someone close needed true passion, and Tom Meyers wasn’t a passionate man. Maybe he was, in a self-satisfying manner as Paul Winderman remembered what Ms. White had told him about the passionate lovemaking between the man and the
victim.

“I think you already have enough evidence,” Shao Mei said defiantly. “The bullet that killed Yi-yun is from the same type of gun he owned, you found his pillow which he must’ve used to muffle the sound of the gunshot and she was five months pregnant, which is a huge motive if you ask
me!”

“Damn the media,” Paul Winderman swore under his breath. He hated it when people in the force leaked detailed information on ongoing investigations. To be honest, finding the pillow only added to his doubt. It was just too convenient. If Tom Meyers had got rid of the gun, why hadn’t he ditched the pillow as well? Yes, it was rather difficult to dispose of because it was bulky and unsinkable, but he could’ve definitely thrown it away in some remote area or buried it in the woods where it wouldn’t be found easily. As it was, the pillow had been casually bagged in a plastic trash bag and thrown into an open trash bin near the building where the victim lived. But as his colleagues pointed out, the suspect had to throw it away on his way to the airport because he was running out of time. Their thinking was that he had hidden the pillow in his suitcase so that he could dispose of it, and he had intentionally left the body on the floor and closed all the windows hoping that when the body was discovered, it would be too decomposed to tell the time of the murder. When he was safely out of town for so long, nobody would suspect
him.

Shao Mei continued with her speculations. “If she wanted to get married and he didn’t, what could he do other than removed of her conveniently? It is the biggest motive out there, I have to
say.”

He shook his head wearily. “As I said, we need solid evidence, and we need eyewitnesses. If you think of anything else that can help us, please give me
call.”

“I will. I will see to it that Yi-yun’s killer gets punished!” she said fiercely. “Such a nice girl whose life was cut short by the monster,” she said, choked with
anger.

Chapter 8

As soon as Tom left for Prague, Yi-yun began having anxiety attacks, as if Tom had headed to war, not just an international piano competition. It was the most dreadful feeling she had ever experienced, worse than the time when her great-aunt informed her at the San Francisco International Airport that she would have to support herself because there wouldn’t be any money coming from her relatives. Having assumed all along that she would be partly provided for by her great-aunt who had promised her father to do so over the phone before she left China, Yi-yun had been so stunned that she didn’t know what to say. Needless to say, the flight from San Francisco to Boston was the most depressed and wretched ordeal in her young
life.

Growing up as an only child in a loving family, Yi-yun had been pampered for as long as she could remember; never once had she needed to worry about anything until three years ago when she had to face poverty alone in addition to school and work. She realized now how ungrateful she must have seemed in the past, never making an effort to return her doting parents’ love and not even answer their letters. It must have been very hard for them to let her go, she comprehended presently; they must have worried sick about her as much as she was worrying about Tom. “I’ll have to write them soon,” she said to herself. Hopefully, they would
understand.

After the Newport trip, she began to consider leaving her husband; but she hadn’t actually done so only because she couldn’t afford to live alone. Tom’s studio was too small, and neither of them could afford the rent for a bigger apartment. Although it was unforgivably selfish, continuously cheating on Fang Chen, she didn’t feel like she had a chance, she simply didn’t have the money to be
independent.

Two days after Tom left, Yi-yun got a message when she checked his answering machine. Tom had set it up so she could have the access to his machine when he needed to contact her because he wouldn’t be able to call her at home for obvious reasons. “I arrived last night and got some practice in this morning,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll call you
tomorrow.”

Too eager to wait, Yi-yun dialed his hotel room and got him on the
phone.

“It’s me,” she said breathlessly when she heard his voice. “How do you feel?” She felt the moisture in her eyes rising
rapidly.

“I was fine until you woke me up,” he
grumbled.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said with a jolt in her heart. “I didn’t know you were already in
bed.”

He sighed. “I told you before. I’m six hours ahead of
you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said guiltily. “Should I call you
tomorrow?”

“No, I won’t have time tomorrow,” he said hastily. “I have to get up really early and
practice.”

“I miss you, Tom,” she was
tearful.

“I miss you too,” he
murmured.

Suddenly, he started whining like a child. “Oh, Yi-yun, I’m terrified. What if I’m not as good as the others? What if the judges judge me unfairly? It could
happen!”

“Don’t be silly,” Yi-yun interrupted him. “You are the best pianist I’ve ever heard,” she said forcefully. “As long as you are doing your best, you’ll be fine.” She suddenly sounded like her mother who had used these exact words when Yi-yun headed for her TOFEL test, the one that would determine her fate. Of course, she ended up scoring well and subsequently got accepted at Boston University.
Oh dear, how much I miss her
, Yi-yun thought to herself after hanging up the
phone.

The next day, she became more and more agitated as the day dragged on. “When will he call me? When will I know?” She couldn’t help thinking anxiously.
Did he play well? Did he have a stage fright? What if the judges were unfair or
prejudicial?

It turned out that Tom was resting in his room when she finally placed a call using public phone on the street because she was so physically and mentally exhausted from waiting. The first round went well, he told her, and he was one of the
finalists.