Profiler (Fang Mu Eastern Crimes Series Book 1) (4 page)

"Do you stutter?"

"No. Does it sound like I have trouble speaking?"

"No."

"I can't understand it either. Why should the word
‘Here’
be so impossible for me to say? Sometimes I secretly practice by myself. I read my name and say
‘Here’
and I never have a problem. But when I get to class, I still can't say a thing." His voice fell. "Pass me a cigarette."

Fang Mu handed him one and helped him light it. Meng Fanzhe inhaled carefully.

"Four years of college. How'd you make it?" Fang Mu asked.

"…I've got my methods." Meng Fanzhe smiled thinly. "Teachers usually take attendance at the beginning of class, so I'd wait until they'd finished and come in late, pretending it was an accident. When class was over, I'd go up and give some excuse. Back then people called me the Tardy King. A lot of teachers had a bad impression of me, but luckily my grades were always pretty good."

Laughing, Fang Mu made it clear he understood.

"There was one class I had, International Economic Law. The professor was awful; he had to rely on roll call to make sure anyone showed up. Twice he took attendance four times in a single class. Four times. You know what that was like for me?" Shaking, Meng Fanzhe placed the cigarette in the side of his mouth and took a deep, vicious drag. Almost immediately he began hacking like he'd torn his lungs in half.

Fang Mu clapped him on the back, and then when his breathing returned to normal, asked, "You ever thought of seeing a psychologist?"

He hesitated for a moment. "I guess you could say I've seen one. Why? You think there's something wrong with me?"

"No, you've just got a slight disorder, that's all. Nearly everyone has something like that—it's the degree that differs. You're scared of roll call. Tons of other people are scared of heights, elevators, or sharp objects. It's not a big deal." 

"Really?" Meng Fanzhe still seemed a little skeptical. However, his expression was much more relaxed. "In that case," he said, looking at Fang Mu with curiosity, "what are you scared of?"

Fang Mu didn't respond, just finished smoking his cigarette in silence. Then he looked at his watch. "I should get to class. We can talk about this later." Saying this,, he got up and left the balcony, leaving Meng Fanzhe a little disappointed.

Fear. You don't even know the meaning of the word.

CHAPTER
4
Bloodsucker

C
arrying two grass carp, Uncle Qin walked the corridor at an even pace. He was getting on in years, and by the time he climbed to the fourth floor he was already panting.

He leaned against the banister, hoping to rest a spell before continuing to climb. Glancing around, he happened to notice that the door to
Apartment
401
was open a crack. Feeling curious, he walked over and glanced inside. At once he stumbled backwards and fell heavily to the floor.

The two grass carp, their stomachs cut open and cheeks slit, dropped to the floor. Unwilling to give up, they struggled fiercely; one even made it inside
Apartment
401
. Eyes wide and mouth hanging open, it flopped around a pool of thick, sticky, dark red liquid, totally ignorant of the silent, similarly gutted figure lying at the other end of the room.

Two policemen patrolling nearby soon hurried to the scene. The moment the first stepped through the doorway and glanced around, he told his partner to radio headquarters.

"It's the vampire. He's back."

Speeding towards the crime scene, Tai Wei abruptly changed his mind. Telling his fellow officers to continue on ahead of him, he headed to
Jiangbin
City
University
.

Even though his previous conversation with Fang Mu had offered no new leads or ideas for cracking the case, Tai Wei decided to hear him out one more time. When it came to understanding a crime, nothing could beat observing the scene in person.

At that moment, Fang Mu was in Japanese class.

Since Japanese class was an elective jointly attended by 700 of
Jiangbin
City
University
's graduate students, it was held in the school's largest, multi-level lecture theater. The class had only just begun when a tall, strapping young man burst into the classroom. It was Tai Wei, and he walked straight to the Japanese professor, withdrew a card from his pocket, waved it in the professor's face, and then whispered something in his ear. At once, the professor grabbed the microphone and said:

"Fang Mu, where is Fang Mu?"

"I'm here." From one of the corners of the theater, a bespectacled student rose to his feet.

"Our comrade from the Public Security Bureau would like a word with you."

In an instant the theater went silent. All eyes left the PSB agent, swept the room with an audible
whoosh
, and fell on Fang Mu.

Fang Mu stood in place, seeming to ignore all the curious, astonished, suspicious looks shot in his direction. He just stared at Tai Wei, eyebrows knitted together.

Tai Wei waved at him, as if to say "
Let's go
"

Fang Mu put his belongings into his backpack, and then in front of all the gazing eyes, descended the steps one at a time and followed Tai Wei out of the room.

Tai Wei said nothing as they drove to the crime scene. Fang Mu remained silent as well.

Sure enough, they were seeing each other again because another life had been lost. This made it very difficult for Tai Wei to think of something appropriate to say. And strangest of all was the kid sitting beside him. Tai Wei expected "What happened? Where are we going?", but Fang Wu didn't ask these or any other questions, for that matter. He just stared out the window, not saying a word.

Suddenly, the strange kid opened his mouth. "Isn't this the Brilliant
Pearl
Residential Area?"

Tai Wei looked around. "Yeah, you're right." All of a sudden he realized that this was where the first murder had taken place.

A few minutes later, he parked his jeep outside
Bright
Gardens
, the worker dorms for the Jiangbin City Machine Plant.

Bright
Gardens
was built during the eighties. At the time, the Jiangbin City Machine Plant was a large-scale, nationally famous, state-owned company with excellent pay and benefits for its workers. During the days of government-allotted housing, the apartments of
Bright
Gardens
were some of the few seven-story buildings around. But circumstances change with the passage of time. All across the city, huge, modern buildings were springing up one after another, each taller than the last, and today these towering, 20-year-old apartment blocks looked terribly rundown.

The crime had taken place in Unit 3 of Building 2,
Apartment
401
. The scene was already sealed off when Tai Wei and Fang Mu arrived. After stepping over the police cordon, they hurried up to the fourth floor. All around them police rushed upstairs and down; many shot puzzled looks at the backpack-wearing, bespectacled kid accompanying Tai Wei.

Tai Wei walked inside 401. It was an old-fashioned, one-bedroom apartment, roughly 120-square feet. Several medical examiners and technical personnel were busy inspecting the body, snapping pictures and scouring the crime scene. The place was crowded to capacity. A policeman who had arrived earlier told Tai Wei that the victim, a single woman, had only just rented the apartment. The owner was hurrying to the scene.

The dead woman didn't appear older than 35. She was lying on her back, naked from the waist up, her head pointing south and her feet north. She had been torn open from throat to abdomen with a sharp object. Her ribs and organs were visible.

"How's it looking?" Tai Wei asked, patting one of the medical examiners on the shoulder.

"Cause of death was mechanical asphyxiation. The murder weapon was a nylon cord; some of the investigators already located it. Time of death was no more than two hours ago."

Tai Wei looked at his watch. "In other words, she probably died sometime between two and two-thirty?"

"Correct."

Killing someone in broad daylight—this guy was too savage. Muttering to himself, Tai Wei looked around for Fang Mu, only to discover that he was still standing in the doorway, ashen-faced and staring at the corpse.

"Over here," Tai Wei called out to him.

Fang Mu was trembling like he'd had some terrible fright. He nodded, but still didn't move.

"You scared?" Tai Wei frowned.

Fang Mu looked at Tai Wei, and then he took a deep breath and walked inside.

The medical examiners were closely inspecting the victim's abdominal wound, carefully lifting open her sliced skin and muscle tissue. Fang Mu stared at the wound for a moment and then swept his eyes across the congealed pool of blood on the floor. Suddenly he turned and fled back to the hallway, nearly knocking over a policeman carrying a bag of material evidence. The man angrily swore at him as Fang Mu passed.

Tai Wei hurried after him. He found him in a corner of the hallway, bent over, one arm on the wall for support. He was retching.

Useless
, thought Tai Wei, swearing beneath his breath. He told a nearby officer to fetch Fang Mu some water. Then he returned to the crime scene and got back to work.

Although Fang Mu had always known that, sooner or later, he'd be brought to one of the bloodsucker's crime scenes, he never expected to embarrass himself like this. Normally he could look at revolting crime scene photographs while eating lunch and not bat an eye, but walking through this building—with its dark and dirty hallways, stone-faced policemen rushing past, bright yellow security tape, medical examiners with their ice cold tools, the corpse lying in its dark red pool, and the thin scent of blood that filled the air—he couldn't help but tremble with fear. After all, pictures were just pictures. They could never communicate, through sight, touch, and smell, the message: A life has just been lost here. Thinking about this made him shiver, as if some deep part of his memory, which he dared not touch, had just been struck open.

Get a hold of yourself
, he thought between retches.
Don't let it affect your judgment
.

"You all right?" Tai Wei's voice sounded impatiently in his ear.

Fang Mu gasped for breath, one arm braced weakly against the wall. Lifting the half-full water bottle that the officer had just given him, he emptied it in one gulp. Then he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and, with difficulty, managed to say: "There's probably someone else."

"What?" Tai Wei's eyes went wide in surprise.

Ignoring him, Fang Mu walked unsteadily over to
Apartment
402
and knelt beside the door. On the floor was a tiny button printed with the image of Mickey Mouse's face. Just now, when Fang Mu had run out into the hallway to throw up, he happened to spot it. He picked up the button and handed it to Tai Wei. Then he walked into 401, bypassed the corpse, and entered the bedroom. 

The furnishings were very simple. There was only a bed, a chair, a desk, and an old-fashioned wooden armoire in the corner against the wall. A pile of clothes lay messily on the floor, and on the bed, four large duffel bags—in red, blue, green, and orange checkered, respectively—were filled to bursting. One of them was already open; several blouses were folded neatly beside it. Fang Mu looked at the mess of clothes on the floor, then at the bags on the bed. He turned to face a policeman who was photographing the scene.

"You finished?" Fang Mu asked.

When the man responded that he was, Fang Mu immediately opened the other three bags. Camera dangling from his neck, the policeman hurriedly tried to stop him, but Tai Wei held him back. After quickly rifling through the clothing folded inside the bag, Fang Mu stood up and sped into the kitchen. 

In the kitchen, the wooden knife rack beside the gas stove held a fruit knife, a large kitchen knife, and a boning knife—however one space was empty. From the look of things, the missing knife was probably around six inches long, with a fine blade and wooden handle. A
midsized
kitchen knife. Nearby, a policeman was busy collecting fingerprints from the kitchen.

"Have you found the knife yet?" Fang Mu asked him.

The policeman was momentarily taken aback. He looked Fang Mu over.

"Have you found it or not?" Fang Mu asked impatiently.

The policeman hesitated. "Not yet," he said.

At this point Tai Wei rushed in. He was holding the button. "You said there was someone else. What was that supposed to mean?"

Fang Mu didn't answer, just continued questioning the policeman.

"Have you found a cup or some other container filled with a mixture of blood and another liquid?"

The policeman looked at Tai Wei. "No."

Fang Mu shut his eyes tight and swore beneath his breath. Then he turned to Tai Wei. "There's another victim, probably a child."

"There's someone else, and it's a child?" Tai Wei frowned. "What are you basing this off?"

But by then Fang Mu was already headed for the hallway. "You want me to explain it to you now? This kid's probably still alive! Tell your men to follow me!"

Tai Wei, Fang Mu, and several policemen had already jumped into Tai Wei's jeep and sped to the edge of the residential area when Tai Wei slammed on the brakes.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Taking this area as our center," said Fang Mu, "we make wider and wider circles, looking for a fairly thin, dull-eyed man between twenty-five and thirty, about five-foot seven-inches, with long, greasy hair and holding a large checkered duffel bag." He paused for a moment. "He'll probably also be wearing rather heavy clothing."

The policemen stared at each other in disbelief.

Tai Wei considered this for a moment. Then he turned to the men in the back. "You hear that? Keep your eyes peeled for this guy!"

After twice circling
Bright
Gardens
, Tai Wei found himself approaching a crossroad that extended in all directions. Slowing down, he turned to Fang Mu.

"Which way?" he asked.

Fang Mu stared at one of the cross-streets for several seconds before decisively pointing in a direction. "There!"