Shanghai Redemption (33 page)

“There was a body covered by a white sheet lying on the floor. According to Fei, there weren't any obvious signs of a break-in or a struggle in the hotel room.

“One of the Internal Security officers turned to me and said, ‘As we've just explained to Fei, we're taking over from here. You two may leave now, but let me repeat what we just told Fei: Not a word to anyone else about any of this.'

“So we left. I was in the hotel room for only ten minutes or so, without even a close look at the dead body. I've got nothing to say even if I wanted to. Which isn't the case with Fei, of course.

“On the way back, Fei didn't say anything for a long time, except to pose a question, ‘Why Internal Security?'

“That's my question as well. And that's about all I can tell you about that day.”

At the end of Jiang's narration, Chen started shuffling the mahjong pieces, as if that helped him think.

“Did he say anything to Internal Security while you were there?”

“No, not I can recall.”

“Now, did you ask him any questions afterward?”

“Nothing specific. Back at the station, I asked him what he'd seen in the hotel, but he was evasive. He only said that he hadn't contacted Internal Security.”

“Let me establish a timeline here,” Chen said. “Fei sent you the first message around nine thirty in the morning, and by the time you got to the hotel, it was two in the afternoon. You said that it sounded to you as if Internal Security got there shortly before you. That means Fei would have been alone with the dead body in the hotel room for at least four, maybe five hours. What would he have done during that period of time?”

“Normally, he'd take pictures of the scene, and then, if it was a natural death, he'd leave everything else to either the hospital or the mortuary. But if anything was amiss, he might have waited for the forensic team, or called the city bureau. According to Fei, he called the district police bureau and the Foreign Liaison Office. He mentioned that to me the following day…”

“Hold on. Fei must have had a reason for making these calls.”

“I agree, but Internal Security warned us not to speak about the case, and they might have told him earlier that that meant even me. He had something on his mind, that much I could see. But it's possible that he was just upset with Internal Security for taking over the case like that. We had dealt with cases concerning foreigners before, and there was no need for Internal Security to be dispatched to Sheshan this time.”

“Anything else?”

“The next day or the day after, we learned that the American's body had already been cremated. Fei looked very confused, though he didn't say why to me. However, I happened to overhear him talking to somebody about it on the phone.”

“Yes. What did he say? If possible, tell me his words verbatim.”

“I'll try, but I wasn't paying that much attention at first. What I heard was mostly fragments. I might not be able to give you the exact words, but the basic meaning should be close. One thing he said was something about cremation without autopsy. ‘A suspicious death like that should have had an autopsy done.' And another sentence, ‘He didn't drink. How could he die of alcohol poisoning?'”

“So that's what you were told about the American's cause of death?”

“No one told us anything, but Fei made inquiries on his own. By the way, the American's name is Daniel Martin. He was a businessman. At one point, Fei might have tried to contact his wife or something like that, I'm not sure. Fei did tell me that she's Chinese and she has two daughters.”

“A different question. What kind of hotel was it?”

“Wugong is not exactly a fancy hotel. It was built at the early stage of Sheshan's development. Later, in accordance with new regulations, Sheshan was designated as an area for high-end villas with natural scenery. After that, no more construction of commercial hotels was permitted. Because of its premium location, it's expensive, and modern facilities were installed and then reinstalled into the hotel.”

“So it's a hotel for tourists?”

“Well, there are tourists who come here for the National Park and for Sheshan Notre Dame Basilica, but most people chose not to stay in the hotels here. There are lots of fancier hotels in the city, and they're less expensive. It's only a fifteen-minute drive away on the toll road.”

“So why did the American choose to stay there?”

“Why? I've no idea.”

“Did Fei say anything about why he chose to stay at the hotel?”

“Fei could have said something, but I don't remember. Oh, the American had an apartment in the city, so why stay at the hotel at all? If he was planning a rendezvous, then why not a fancier hotel at a more convenient location? Unless the rendezvous was with someone who lived nearby, I suppose.”

“About Fei, you said he's not in Shanghai now, right?”

“Right. He's in Wuxi, helping the local police with a case.”

“What kind of a case?” Chen said. “Fei's just a local cop, isn't he?”

“I don't know the details. The criminal is apparently from this area, and Fei knows a thing or two about him. So Fei left for Wuxi four days ago.”

“Have you talked to him since he left?”

“I've called him a couple of times, but his phone was turned off.” Jiang added belatedly, “He must be really busy. I really don't know.”

With Internal Security lurking in the background, was there something Jiang wasn't saying? In some delicate situations, the less said, the better. He would have done the same, but Chen decided to try and push a little.

“Have you heard of Liang's case?” Chen started, lighting a cigarette.

“No, I've never heard anything about it.”

“It came to our squad as a missing person case. At first, nobody could get hold of him: his phone was turned off, and he wasn't returning messages. Then his body was found in Fengxian, buried in a construction site. Detective Yu was told not talk to anybody about it.” He added, “Not because Liang's that important, but because the people behind him are.”

“So you mean—”

“Did you find anything strange or unusual about his trip to Wuxi?”

“Now that you mention it, there is something strange about it. With only two of us in the office, we touch base with each other a lot. Nowadays it's easy with cell phones and e-mail,” Jiang said, trying to pull himself together. “But maybe he's lost his phone, or something like that.”

“Tell me something about his contact in Wuxi.”

“He did call Gong, a local cop in Wuxi. I happen to know Gong too. If I didn't hear it wrong, Gong promised to pick him up at the station. They've known each other for many years.”

“Do you have his contact information?”

“No, but I know he's with the Wuxi Police Bureau. And not just a local cop. That's about all I know,” Jiang said.

“Oh, he got a phone call the day before he left for Wuxi. It was possible that it was from someone unknown to him, because he asked for the caller's name a couple of times. It was a long conversation. It sounded like the caller was asking him questions about events in the hotel the other day. Possibly it was about the surveillance camera there, but I can't be certain. All I heard was some fragmented words out of context. Afterward, Fei looked shaken, but he didn't tell me who called.”

“With some political troubles, the less said, the better,” Chen said. “Perhaps he didn't want to drag you into it.”

“I'm worried.”

That was all Jiang could say at that moment.

Chen glanced at his watch, rose, and pushed the wall of mahjong pieces down to the table with a bang, “I have an appointment at noon back in the city. Give me your cell number, and I'll call you if I learn anything about Fei. Of course, don't tell anyone about our conversation in the mahjong room.”

 

TWENTY-FIVE

CHEN DIDN'T HAVE AN
appointment in the city at noon, as he'd told Jiang, but he did take a taxi back to the railway station. This time, he had a train to catch.

On the train to Wuxi, he called Huang of the Wuxi Police Department. Not too long ago, Chen had helped with one of Huang's cases in Wuxi. Huang was a young and energetic cop, a fan of Sherlock Holmes, and consequently of Chen. The “legendary chief inspector,” however, was a construct of his imagination.

As Chen expected, Huang was more than willing to help.

“No problem, Chief Inspector. I know Gong quite well. I'll have him waiting for you at the restaurant in Turtle Head Park. It'll be my treat. I'll also reserve a hotel room for you under my name.”

Huang took it for granted that Chen was on a secret mission. In a way, Chen was. Unlike the others, Huang thought Chen's new position was just a cover for some highly sensitive investigation. Exuberant despite Chen's protests, he remembered well the details of Chen's last trip to Wuxi.

“If there's anything else you want me to do, I'm at your service. I've read that long poem of yours several times. It's so romantic. I know—”

Chen stopped him, knowing what the young cop wanted to say next. It wasn't the time for him to think about his poetry's being romantic.

Around five thirty, Chen walked into the restaurant in the park. The last time he'd been in Wuxi, he'd gone to the park many times, but never to the restaurant, which was a tourist trap.

Huang and a middle-aged man, presumably Gong, were waiting at a table. Gong was a stout man with a reddish complexion and gray-streaked hair. He made quite a contrast to the dapper, energetic Huang.

“After your last trip, I doubt you're interested in the lake specials, so I've chosen some simple dishes. It's a great honor to have you with us, Chief Inspector.”

As a local cop, Huang knew only too well about the polluted lake.

“It's getting a little better, or at least the lake looks a little better, but I won't risk eating anything that came out of it,” Gong said.

It wasn't the night for a leisurely dinner, but having skipped breakfast, and then lunch, Chen hadn't had eaten anything except an almond biscuit on the train. Chen chopsticked up a piece of Wuxi barbequed rib with a sigh of contentment.

Before they touched the other cold dishes on the table, though, Huang stood up abruptly, saying, “Sorry, I have to make a phone call.”

It could be true. But more likely, it was just an excuse to give Chen and Gong the opportunity to talk in private.

“Huang has read too many mysteries,” Gong said. He took a gulp of beer, then came directly to the point. “You have some questions for me, Chief Inspector Chen?”

“Yes, about Fei.”

“Fei—that's something that puzzles me, too. Fei is an old friend of mine. Many years ago, we were both educated youths in Jiangxi, and since then we've remained in close contact. We both thought this assignment would be an opportunity for us to catch up. I picked him up at the station, then drove him to the hotel. He didn't say much about the job. It could have been highly sensitive, and I understood. We were eating in the hotel cafeteria when he got a phone call. He stepped out to take it, and when he came back, he obviously had something on his mind. About twenty minutes later, a jeep came and took him away. He said that it was for the job, and insisted that I not come out with him because I looked too flushed from the beer. He promised he would call me soon, but he didn't call that night. He didn't call the second day, possibly because he was too busy, so I called him that evening. His phone was turned off. I tried again on the third day, but still no luck. Then I called his hotel, and to my surprise, I was told he'd already checked out. The checkout was done over the phone. Of course, that's possible. As I recall, he only had a backpack with him, when we were in the cafeteria. But if he was leaving, he should have let me know.”

“Yes, he should have called you.”

“I assumed that, instead of contacting me, he'd hurried back to Shanghai. This afternoon, I called his office, and his partner, Jiang, was no less puzzled. Fei hadn't come back, nor had he contacted him.”

“This morning, I talked with Jiang too,” Chen said, “and he told me that he's worried. He mentioned that Fei has a daughter in Beijing, but he doesn't have her number.”

“I have it at home. She did a summer internship here two years ago. I'll give her a call tonight.” Gong added reflectively, “But it's all really strange.”

“Anything specific that struck you as strange?”

Gong shook his head in dismay.

“I'm just so worried, Chief—”

He was interrupted by Huang returning to the table, his phone in hand. Huang slumped into his seat, took a large gulp at the beer, and mentioned that he'd made several phone calls. Then he turned to Chen.

“By the way, I've just double-checked, Chief Inspector. Your friend is still here, still alone, still in the same old dorm building. Here's the new number,” Huang said, writing down the number on a paper napkin and pushing it across the table.

Chen thought he knew what number Huang was talking about, and he put the napkin in his pants pocket, nodding his appreciation.

“I'll call his daughter,” Gong repeated, “and some other people he may have contacted.”

“And you have my number, Gong,” Chen said. “Call me if you learn anything about Fei. I usually stay up late. I'm taking the train back to Shanghai in the morning.”

Chen had decided to come on the spur of the moment, and while he hadn't expected miracles, the trip to Wuxi had been a disappointment.

After dinner, Huang drove him to the hotel.

“Call me if there's anything you want me to do,” Huang repeated as he started the car. “I know you can always pull off a masterstroke.”

How there could be anything like a masterstroke from him? Chen wondered.