“Now, regarding the circumstances of Zhou’s death at the hoteclass="underline" there are puzzling aspects about it. Oh, I almost forgot-I managed to talk to the hotel attendant without letting Jiang know. Here’s the record of that interview. The attendant’s name is Jun.”
Wei pulled a mini recorder out of his pocket, set it down, and pushed a button. He raised his coffee cup without taking another sip.
WEI: Please try to remember in detail what you did, saw, and heard that night, Jun. It could be very important to our work.
JUN: I’m a just a hotel attendant. I’ve already told everything I know to your people.
WEI: Well, let’s go over it one more time.
JUN: I was on the night shift, from six p.m. to six a.m. Usually, it’s not busy after midnight, so I can take a nap, and occasionally I can nap up until morning. All last week, there were only three guests staying on the third floor, so there wasn’t much for me to do.
WEI: In other words, of the six rooms, only three were occupied.
JUN: Yes. That was due to a special arrangement with the hotel. We didn’t ask questions. Among other things, we were told that the guest in room 302 was to have every meal delivered. The other two were just like other guests. They might eat in the dining hall in building A, but they could also order room service.
WEI: Now tell me what happened Monday night.
JUN: Well, around six fifteen I delivered dinner to room 302. It was fried Yangzhou rice and the soup of the day.
WEI: Did you go into the room?
JUN: No, not exactly. I knocked on the door; he opened it and took the tray from me.
WEI: Did you notice anything unusual about him?
JUN: No, I wasn’t aware of anything. After that, I went to the other two rooms to turn down the beds. Both of them were in, and both of them told me not to bother. So I returned to my room.
WEI: Then?
JUN: Around ten twenty that evening, I was told to bring a bowl of cross-bridge noodles and a bottle of Budweiser to the guest in room 302.
WEI: Hold on, did you know that it was Zhou who was in room 302?
JUN: No, at the time I had no idea who he was. But guests at the hotel aren’t ordinary people, and we know better than to ask around.
WEI: At the time, had you heard anything about Zhou?
JUN: No. Nothing before that night.
WEI: When you delivered the noodles, did you notice anything unusual about him?
JUN: He looked all right to me. He was smiling, and he didn’t forget to give me a five-yuan tip. According to the hotel regulations, we’re not allowed to accept tips, but if a customer insists, we don’t refuse.
WEI: Did you take the noodles into the room or just to the door?
JUN: I went into the room because it was a bowl of special cross-bridge noodles. We usually spread out all the tiny dishes and sauces on the table and then tell the guest how to add the toppings, though it may not be necessary if the guest has had cross-bridge noodles before.
WEI: So was he alone in the room?
JUN: Yes, I’m positive.
WEI: Did you say anything to him?
JUN: I asked whether he wanted me to open the beer for him, and he nodded.
WEI: Nothing else?
JUN: Nothing-oh, he did pick up a slice of Jinhua ham as soon as I placed the dishes on the table. He said that it was his favorite, and that he would like some more in the next day or two. It’s genuine Jinhua ham that the hotel gets through a special supply channel. A lot of our guests really like it.
WEI: A different question, Jun. You went from picking up the noodles from the kitchen directly to his room?
JUN: Yes, directly to his room. The soup had to be served hot.
WEI: Anything else? Anything that struck you as unusual?
JUN: Nothing I can recall. Once he started to put the toppings into the soup, I left the room. Sorry, but that’s about all I can tell you.
“Not much,” Wei said and pressed the stop button. “Jiang must have talked to the hotel people earlier, but he doesn’t want me to approach any of them without his prior approval. As a result, I had to talk to Jun in a small teahouse on a side street not far from the hotel. At the same time, Jiang keeps asking me to update him on our progress.”
“It’s a game two can play, Wei.” Chen said, “From now on, you don’t have to tell Jiang anything unless he is cooperative. Jiang and Liu were in charge of shuanggui, and we are in charge of the investigation into Zhou’s death. So it’s up to them to tell us what they know about Zhou.”
“Liu has hardly been to the hotel in the last two days. But Jiang is the representative of the city government.”
“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.