As they headed toward the raised terraces of the island, Iman and Jiajia looked back at the beach. Two cormorant fishermen were readying their young birds for a first session on the water. Sensing they were being watched, the fishermen looked up. Wary nods were exchanged. The farmers and fishermen lived in a complicated truce worked out over the years but unsealed by marriages between the two groups.
On the fifth terrace level, the men passed a small graveyard. Barely twenty discreet plots. Oddly small for a place that buried its own and had done so for as long as anyone could remember.
One of the graves was freshly dug. The men looked away as they passed as if looking at the turned earth would bring Jiajia’s intended, Chu Shi, back to haunt them yet again.
After two hours of grilling Hesheng’s brothers, Captain Chen and Fong met in the warden’s office to compare notes.
“So, do you think they knew about this?” demanded Fong. The younger man hesitated. “Take a guess, Captain Chen!”
“You really want me to guess, sir?”
Fong looked at his ugly young colleague. He’d seen farm animals that were more attractive. But it was possible that Captain Chen was honest; maybe he’d been born that way. Maybe that’s why the mongoose chose him. “Yes, Captain Chen, I want you to guess.”
“Fine. I guess they both – the two of them – they both knew and didn’t know.”
Fong would have put it more elegantly, but that was his assessment too. “I agree.”
“You do?”
“I do, Captain Chen. I think they both knew that Hesheng was in danger, but neither knew how or when or even if an attack was going to take place.”
“They didn’t murder their brother, then?” There was obvious relief in the statement.
“Not by anything they did,” said Fong. “But that’s only my guess.”
Chen’s anxiety increased. “Did they know about the insecticide in the water?”
“No. I don’t think so.” Fong looked away, anxious that Chen not read his face. When he turned back, the ugly young man was staring at him.
“Why bother bringing me along if you don’t trust me?”
“Do you trust me, Captain Chen?” Before Chen could answer, Fong continued, “You remind me of a young detective in Shanghai. His name was Li Xiao.”
After a breath of silence the younger man asked, “Was he a good cop?”
“Yes, Captain Chen, he was a good cop.” Fong nodded, momentarily lost in a memory. He shook it off and said, “He was the chief investigator into my wife’s death. In fact, five years ago, his testimony was central to the case that sent me to jail. So I ask you again, Captain Chen, do you trust me, a convicted felon?”
Captain Chen was cowed by Fong’s admission. He sat and looked at his stubby fingers. When he finally opened his mouth, his usually dark voice was light – breathy – as if he were about to faint. “I don’t think the world is a simple place, sir. I’ve often thought I should hand in my shield. I see both sides of everything. I can’t begin to understand how justice works.”
Fong sensed that it was unusual for Chen to speak so openly, so personally. He took advantage of the moment to plumb for information on this strange young man. “Are you married, Captain Chen?”
“I am, sir.”
“What kind of woman is your wife?”
“She’s a sad woman, sir.”
“Sir, he called me sir,” thought Fong, “but this time, like I was his . . .” Before Fong could complete his thought, the young man spoke again.
“She can’t seem to get pregnant. She wants a child. She blames me.”
Three thoughts. Three short sentences. The end of a marriage – something that Fong knew a great deal about. Fong reached for a platitude and then rejected it. Instead he said, “I think we have two killers at work, Captain Chen. One sent the snake. The other poisoned the water.”
“Both at the same time. A little far-fetched, isn’t it?” His voice still had traces of falling in it.
“It was the first opportunity. It was the prisoners’ next scheduled shower, after my interrogation. The shower facilities only allow for two at a time. It was Hesheng’s turn to wait while the other two cleaned up.”
“How did . . .?”
Fong held out a prison schedule.
Chen took it, saying, “And anyone could get hold of these?”
“Anyone who knew someone in the prison or even knew the basic workings of the place.” Fong sat in the wooden chair and drummed his fingers on his knee.
“So there was opportunity. What about motive?”
“I may have supplied that.”
Chen’s mouth dropped open. He had bad teeth as well as everything else. “How did you . . .?”
“You saw me interrogate Hesheng the first time. I was out of practice but anxious to show everyone that I hadn’t lost my skill. Well, I hadn’t totally lost my skill and you all saw. Saw Hesheng about to break. After all he’d been through, I just nudged him over the edge. Everyone knew I’d be back for more. And when I came back he’d tell me everything. He had that much weariness in him. It was like he was holding a terribly heavy rock high over his head. His knees were shaking from the strain. He wasn’t capable of bearing the load much longer.”
Chen let Fong sit with his thoughts for a moment then said, “So both groups were set into motion at the same time.”
“That’s how I see it, Captain Chen. One responded with the snake, the other with the poison.”
“You asked me to guess, so I guess that the one who used the snake killed those men on the boat and set it up as an object lesson. The poisoners tried to burn the boat,” said Chen. His voice had returned to its lower register. “It’s just a guess, sir.”
Fong looked at the younger man and smiled. He could learn to like this ugly fellow. Silently he congratulated the mongoose on his choice. “So let’s go find out who they are.”
Chen smiled and said, “And administer a little justice?”
“No, Captain Chen, let’s leave justice out of this. Let’s just find out who did this.”
“Then what?”
“Then . . . then we’ll see what to do next.”
A chorus of shouts and wails in the corridor drew their attention. Fong opened the warden’s door and peered out. Three women and a vigorous old man were shouting at the officer. The gist was clear. They wanted Hesheng’s body for burial. The officer looked to the warden who in turn looked to Fong.
Fong nodded.
“Don’t you want Grandpa to open him up?” Chen whispered over his shoulder.
“It’s not necessary. We know how he died and why he died – all we don’t know is who killed him,” said Fong as he continued to stare at the old man.
While an officer cleared the corridor, the warden returned to his office. “Who was he?” Fong asked.
“He’s the elder out there on the Island of the Halfwits. They call him Iman.”
Fong looked away. He didn’t need the mongoose to tell him that danger was near. Iman’s coal-black eyes were enough. But it wasn’t just danger he sensed. It was something else. Something ancient. Wordless.
“Who the hell kills with snakes?” screamed Madame Wu in her Beijing office. Then she remembered her youth. Of course – farmers killed with snakes. “The fools acted on their own,” she thought. “Call the warden,” she ordered her assistant, “the body’s not to be allowed to return to the island.” “Idiots,” she thought, “they don’t know where this could lead.”
As her assistant made the call, Madame Wu looked out at the capital. How far she had come from her peasant roots. How desperately important it was that they all go back to those simpler times.