Enigma of China(20)

“If Jiang makes things difficult for you, you may say I told you to report only to me. Tell him it was my special instruction.”

“Thank you, Chief,” Wei said, looking him in the eye. “When you were first promoted, some of us believed that it was because of your educational background, that it was simply a lucky break coinciding with the Party’s new cadre promotion policy. Some also said it was because of that article in Wenhui Daily written by your journalist friend—”

Chen gestured to stop Wei from going on. It was true that he had been promoted for a number of reasons not relevant to police work, such as his education and the image he presented to the public, both of which happened to serve the propaganda needs of the Party.

“Lots of things could have been said about me, and some of them were true. For instance, my degree in English had nothing to do with my job with the police bureau. Even today, I still can’t help wondering if I should have pursued a different career. I know it might not be fair for others in the bureau.”

“All I want to say is that I’m glad to work under you, Chief. I’ll consult you about every move I make.”

“Remember,” Chen said, “you’re in charge of the investigation, not I. Whatever move you decide to make, you don’t have to consult me first. You know that proverb; ‘A general fighting at the borders doesn’t have to listen to the emperor sitting far, far away in the capital.’”

“So you mean—”

“You have a free hand. If anything happens, I’ll take responsibility—”

Chen was interrupted by his ringing cell phone.

“Hi, Chief Inspector Chen. It’s Lianping, the journalist from Wenhui Daily. Do you remember me? I’ve just read something about you.”

“Of course I remember you. What’s the news, Lianping?”

“Let me read it to you. ‘According to Chief Inspector Chen, so far there’s no evidence whatsoever to suggest that Zhou’s death could be anything other than suicide.’”

“That’s absurd,” he said. “Who gave that irresponsible statement to Wenhui Daily?”

“Jiang, of the city government.”

“The investigation hasn’t been concluded. That’s all I can say to you today.”

“Jiang’s statement is vague about that, but it reads as if you have already concluded your investigation.”

“That’s wrong, but thank you so much for calling me, Lianping. We’re still following possible leads. I’ll let you know as soon as we do conclude our investigation.”

“Thank you so much, Chief Inspector Chen. Please don’t forget the poems you promised me for our newspaper. I’m a huge fan of your work.”

The statement released by Jiang wasn’t exactly a surprise to Chen. On the contrary, it was more or less what he had anticipated.

Next to him, Detective Wei was standing up, a grin on his face. “I have to go back to work, Chief Inspector Chen,” Wei said.

Chen was known among his colleagues as a romantic poet and for having had an affair with a Wenhui journalist. Wei might have overheard that the caller was from Wenhui and guessed it was that female journalist calling.

But Chen had said what he wanted to say to the journalist. He began thinking about their conversation at the Writers’ Association, and what lines she reminded him of that day, as she came tripping over from the garden path, a blue jay’s wing flashing in the light.





EIGHT


AFTER WEI LEFT, CHEN stayed at the café. The chief inspector had to sort through all the bits and pieces of information he had just learned.

He ordered another cup of coffee, which tasted better than expected. The soft sofa seat was comfortable, its tall back providing a sense of privacy, and the window commanded an ever-changing view of the pedestrians out on the street.

Chen sat and stirred the coffee with a small spoon.

Something in the interview of the hotel attendant fluttered across his mind, but the hunch was an elusive one. It was gone like a rice paddy eel before he could grasp it. He knew that Detective Wei might not have told him everything—not directly, at least. If so, it was understandable. High-ranking officials could be involved, lurking in the background, and that would be too much for an ordinary cop like Wei. Especially since he didn’t have any solid evidence or leads at present. But Chen thought he understood what Wei was driving at.

Chen took a small, measured sip of the coffee and mentally reviewed some of the details Wei had mentioned. For one, if a man talked about eating Jinhua ham again in a couple of days, it was hard to conceive of his committing suicide an hour or two later.