Death of a Red Heroine [Chief Inspector Chen Cao 01] (43 page)

“I will. And good-bye.”

At the foot of the stairs, Yu turned around and saw her still standing barefoot on the landing. But she wasn’t looking at him. She was gazing at the distant horizon behind the multi-colored roofs.

A nice woman, though her philosophy of life was beyond him. Perhaps it was the price one pays for being an artist, Detective Yu suspected. Being different.

Just like Chief Inspector Chen—who was nonetheless a capable cop.

With Wu Xiaoming, however, it was more than being different.

Yu decided to go to Ning Jing’s place immediately. It would not be a pleasant visit, nor would it be easy.

Jiang Weihe had been cooperative, but only after the combined pressure of “the hard and the soft.” The threat of revealing her identity as the nude in the magazine, and the note from Chen. But with Ning, Detective Yu had nothing to use. Nothing but the scanty information from Jiang who, despite her declaration, might well have harbored a personal grudge against Ning. So the only card he could play would be that of bluff, one of the effective tactics to bring a potential witness around, especially with the possibility of a “peach-colored scandal.” A phone call to her work unit from the Shanghai Police Bureau would be enough to start a wildfire of gossip, finger pointing, head shaking, saliva spitting on her back, and whatnot. It need not take a formal investigation to put her under suspicion.

Ning’s apartment was on Xikang Road, close to the Gate to Joy, a nightclub that had been rehabilitated and reopened.

A young woman appeared at the door where he rang the bell. “What do you want?”

Ning wore a white T-shirt several sizes too large that completely covered her shorts. It was difficult to guess her age. The way she dressed was almost like a teenager, or else it was too fashionable for him. She had wide black eyes and a straight nose; her hair was pulled back and held in place by a kerchief. Her full lips were moist, sensuous, even somewhat wanton.

“I’m Detective Yu Guangming, of the Shanghai Police Bureau. I need to ask you a few questions.”

“What have I done?”

“Not about you, but about someone you know.”

“Show me your identification,” she said. “I’m on my way out.”

“It won’t take long.” He produced his I.D. “We’d appreciate your help.”

“Okay, come in.”

It was a small, cozy apartment, but unkempt for the home of a young single woman. A creased bedspread lay over the unmade bed. On the table was an empty but unwashed ashtray. There were no framed pictures, but a number of magazine photographs of cars and movie stars were taped to the wall. On the floor were two pairs of shoes, peeping out from under the bed. There was one thing in common between Jiang and Ning. Each had an apartment to herself.

“What do you want from me?” she said after he seated himself on a rattan chair.

“A few questions about Wu Xiaoming.”

“Wu Xiaoming—why me?”

“You’re his girlfriend, right?”

“No, he’s just taken a few pictures of me. For his magazine.”

“Really?”

“Yes, that’s all.”

“Then you don’t have to worry about answering my questions. If you cooperate, everything you say will be kept off the record.”

“Now what do you mean, Comrade Detective?”

“Wu is involved in a murder case.”

“Heavens, what ...” Her black eyes grew even wider now. “How?”

“We don’t know everything yet,” he said. “That’s why your help would be appreciated.”

“But I cannot help you. I hardly know him at all.”

“You can refuse to cooperate, but then we’ll have to go to your work unit,” Yu said. “Huanpu Elementary School, right?”

“Go there if you want to. That is all I will say,” she said, standing up and making a gesture toward the door.

She was beginning to irritate him with her attitude, so damned antagonistic. And he did not like this way of conducting the interview. There was some hard object on the rattan chair beneath him, which made him feel even more uncomfortable as he sat opposite her.

“But there is more than that, I’m afraid,” Yu said. “We’re not talking about your pictures in magazines, but about the ones in his album. Surely you know them better than I.”

“What are you talking about?” She flinched involuntarily but she covered it well. “Show them to me.”

“We will show these pictures to your principal, every one of them.” He was bluffing now. “They’re by no means decent for a schoolteacher. And a number of other people will see them, too.”

“You’ve got no right.”

“Yes, we have every right. We’re here in socialist China. The Party authorities are calling on the people to fight Western bourgeois decadence. These pictures will serve as a good example.”

“How could you do that!”

“We can do whatever we want with them,” he said, “as evidence in a criminal investigation. We also have a witness who can testify to your relationship with Wu. Since you’re obstructing our inquiries, we’ve no choice.”

She sat completely straight on the edge of the sofa, her knees tightly together. She was not only red in the face now. There were small drops of perspiration along her hairline in spite of her effort to hold herself together.

“What do you want me to do?” she finally said with a note of panic in her quivering voice.

“Tell us everything about your relationship with Wu,” he added, “including all the details, like a paperback romance.”

There was a bit of sarcasm he could detect in his own voice. No point, he told himself, to putting her through too much of an ordeal.

“Where shall I begin?”

“At the very beginning.”

“It was about a year ago, I think. Wu came to me as a photographer from the
Red Star.
He asked if he could photograph me, claiming that I had a typical high-school teacher’s face, and that he was working up a proposal for
People.”

“A typical highschool teacher’s face,” he repeated.

“It’s not very flattering, but he had his ways of pursuing people.”

“So the pictures were published?”

“Yes, but actually he had little interest in the publication, as he told me later. He just wanted to meet me.”

“The same old dirty trick,” he said. “And everybody fell for it.”

“But he had talent and kept his word. These pictures in
People
helped my position at school. So we came to know more of each other.”

“And it began to develop into an affair?”

“Yes, we started dating.”

“You did not know that he was married?”

“I did not know at first, but he did not try to cover it up. On our third or fourth date, he told me about his marriage, saying he was not happy with it. I could understand why—with his sick, neurotic wife. What mattered most, he said, was the time we shared. So I believed we might work something out eventually.”

“Did he take the initial step in the sexual relationship between you?

“Do I have to answer that question?’’ she said, twisting her fingers.

“Yes. If you answer now, it will save you a great deal of unpleasantness later.”

“Well, he invited me to a party at his place, and afterward he asked me to stay on for a while. I agreed. I was a bit drunk.”

“Then he took advantage of you while you were drunk.”

“No, he did not force me.” She hung her head low, wringing her hands in a helpless gesture. “I was willing, hoping that sooner or later he would change his mind.”

“Change his mind?”

“Yes, I hoped he would choose to marry me and divorce his wife.”

“How long were you together?”

“A couple of months.”

“Were you happy . . . with him?”

“At first, when things went smoothly.”

“How often were you together?”

“Two or three times a week.”

“What kind of man was he?” Yu asked. “Sexually, I mean.”

The question came as a shock to her. She pulled at the hem of her T-shirt as she said in a whisper, “Normal.”

“Weren’t you afraid of becoming pregnant?”

“Yes, but I was always careful.”

“Then why did you end it?”

“He chose not to divorce his wife.”

“Did you discuss the issue with him?”

“Yes, but to no avail.”

“You could have sued him, or approached his work unit.”

“What’s the point?” she said with a tear trickling down her cheek. “With his family background, who would have listened to me? Besides, I was a ‘third party’ to begin with.”

“So you just let him get away with it?”

“I argued with him, and he did the most horrible thing. Those pictures—you have seen them, haven’t you? If I continued to harass him, he threatened to show them to other people.”

“That HCC bastard!” He stood up. looking over her head toward a dismal, gray sky out the window, taking a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting it, before he seated himself again on the hard rattan chair. “But how could you have let him take those photos?”

“I had posed for him on a professional level,” she said sobbing. “Later on, I allowed him to take more intimate .... He had his own darkroom and equipment, so I was not worried. But those horrible nude photos, those were taken while I was sleeping. And he posed on top of me without my knowledge.”

“Oh, I see.” So those pictures were not just of Ning herself, but of her and Wu together. Yu needed some time to think about this new information. Apparently Wu had taken and kept the pictures for a purpose: to get rid of somebody when he no longer desired her.

“So that was the end of your affair?” Yu asked.

“Yes. He never contacted me again.”

“Just one more question: Was Wu Xiaoming seeing somebody else when you parted with him?”

“I was not sure, but there were other girls at those parties.”

“Did you know someone named Guan Hongying among them?”

“No. Guan Hongying—isn’t she the national model worker? Heavens.”

Yu took a picture of Guan out of his pocket. “Do you recognize her?”

“Yes, I think so. I saw her only once at Wu’s place. I remember her because she clung to him all the evening, but I did not know her name at the time. Wu did not introduce her to anybody.”

“Wu certainly would not have done that,” he said. “Do you know anything else about her?”

“No, that’s all.” She fumbled in her bag and found a handkerchief.

“Contact me if you can think of anything, Comrade Ning.”

“I will.” She then added, “You won’t tell other people?”

“I’ll try my best,” he said.

She accompanied him to the door, her face streaked with tears, her head hung low, no longer the hostile antagonist of an hour ago, her hands nervously pulling again at the lower edge of her oversized T-shirt.