Death of a Red Heroine [Chief Inspector Chen Cao 01] (57 page)

But as she sat there, she realized that she was overdressed, too formal. At a table next to hers, several girls were so scantily clad that their breasts bobbed flirtatiously inside their semi-transparent blouses and low-cut T-shirts; their long legs sported threadbare jeans. One of them had a piece of cloth wrapped about her body, the way the Dai girls wrapped themselves when bathing in the river.

For Peiqin, the past and the present were being juxtaposed. Then she saw Yu coming into view, coming toward her. The entrance to the restaurant was also paved with bamboo. She imagined she detected the squeaking sound underneath Yu’s feet, the same sound she’d heard on those nights long ago. Yu was wearing a black suit, a floral-patterned tie, a pair of tan-colored glasses, and a mustache. He caught sight of her, too, smiling. She was about to greet him when she saw that he was not looking in her direction. In fact, he took a seat at the other end of the hall.

She understood. He did not want to be seen in her company in case he was recognized by somebody else. She felt closer to him than ever. For it was his integrity that had tied him to the case, and tied her to him.

The music started. Yu pushed his way through to a table by the bar. He was going to buy a drink, she thought. But instead, he was making a gesture of invitation to a girl, who rose up with an air of indifference, pressing her tall body against him on the dance floor.

Yu was not a gifted dancer. That much Peiqin could see from her seat. He had attended a dancing seminar as part of the required professional curriculum, but he had never been eager to practice. The girl was almost as tall as Yu. She wore a black shift and black slippers, and danced languidly as if she had just emerged from her bedroom. In spite of his clumsiness, she fitted her body easily against his, whispering something to him, rubbing her breasts up against him. He nodded. And she began to snap her fingers and swing her hips.

“Wanton, shameless hussy,” Peiqin cursed under her breath. She did not blame Yu, who could not afford to rouse suspicion by remaining idle, but it was nonetheless unpleasant for her to watch.

On the bamboo stage, somebody switched the cassette tape. Through concealed speakers came wild jungle music—all drums and flutes—and more people flocked to the floor.

At the short break before the next number, Peiqin went tofetch a drink at the bar for herself. Yu was leaning over the table, talking to the tall girl, who smiled at him seductively, crossing her long legs, revealing a flash of her glaring white thighs.

Peiqin stood just a few steps away, staring at them. She was being childish, she knew, but she felt uncomfortable—unreasonably so.

Unexpectedly, a young man with brownish whiskers came to her out of nowhere. Bowing, muttering something like an invitation, he grabbed at her hand before she could say anything. In a nervous flurry, she followed him to the floor, moving with him, turning mechanically in time to the beat of the music, while trying to keep a distance between them.

Her partner was in his mid-twenties, tall, muscular, tanned, wearing a Polo shirt and a pair of Lee jeans, sporting a thick gold chain bracelet. Not bad looking or tough. Why would such a young man want to dance with a middle-aged woman? Peiqin was bewildered.

She could smell beer on his breath.

“It’s the first time for me,” she said. “I’ve never danced before.”

“Come, there’s nothing to it,” he said, his hand sliding down her waist. “Just keep moving. Let your body sway with the music.”

She stepped on his feet in confusion.

“You forgot to mention what to do with my feet,” she said apologetically.

“You’re doing fine for the first time,” he said patronizingly.

As he swung her around at an increasingly quick tempo, she began to relax. In one glimpse she had over his shoulder, she saw the tall girl wrapping her bare arms around Yu’s neck, like snakes.

“You’re a dancer.” The young man flashed a broad grin at her as the music came to a stop. “Just relax. You’re doing great.” He went to fetch some more drinks. She was relieved to see a girl approach him at the counter and pull at his gold bracelet.

Peiqin picked her way through the crowd back to her table, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, though it would not prevent her from seeing Yu in the company of another woman.

It was at that moment she saw Chief Inspector Chen arriving with an American couple.

All of a sudden, she pictured herself as if she were in a movie she had seen years ago—Daojin, the young heroine, walking under the cover of night, posting revolutionary slogans for Lu Jiachuan, a Communist she loved. A silent alley, dogs barking all around, and sirens sounding in the distance. On that night Daojin did not understand what she was doing; neither did Peiqin this night. But it was enough to know that she was doing it for her husband, and she was doing the right thing.

The American couple were also moving onto the floor. In spite of their age, they started to zigzag gracefully. Chen remained sitting at the table, alone, in the flickering yellowish light of the small candle.

He was so different from her husband—almost his opposite in every aspect. But they had become friends.

She began to walk over to him. She saw the surprise on Chen’s face, but he lost no time in standing up.

“Could I dance with you?” she said.

“I’m honored.” He added in a whisper, “What has brought you here?”

“The tickets you gave Guangming. He’s here, too, but he wants me to speak to you.”

“But he should not have—” Chen paused before he spoke loudly, “You’re marvelous.”

She realized that it was meant for other ears. Smiling, she took Chen’s extended hand.

Chen was not as gifted as her first partner, but it was a two-step, sensually slow, and not difficult for either of them. She put what she had just learned into practice. Immediately she found it natural to follow the beat of the music.

“Yu wants me to tell you something,” she said in a low voice, her mouth nearly pressed against his ear. “He’s found a witness who saw Wu Xiaoming in Qingpu County on the night of the murder.”

“Qingpu County?”

“Yes, Qingpu County, about five miles from the crime scene, at a local gas station. Wu stopped there for gas. The car was a white Lexus, and the witness is a gas station attendant with a good knowledge of cars. He also has a copy of the gas ration coupon the driver used to get the gas at half-price. The coupon can be matched to a car registration.”

“That is incredible.”

“And something else—”

“You are so breathtaking tonight,” Chen said with an engaging smile, “absolutely breathtaking.”

“Thank you.” She blushed despite her knowledge that the compliment was not meant for her ears. Still, it was good to be complimented. Especially by a man who had complimented her behind her back. According to Yu, Chief Inspector Chen had more than once commented on his subordinate’s luck in the choice of his marriage partner.

Then she chided herself for thinking about such things. She was merely performing a task for her husband. Period. What possessed her, she wondered. She must be incorrigible—from having read
The Dream of the Red Chamber
so many times. She lowered her chin to conceal her blush. But she admitted to herself that the evening was enjoyable, finding herself more stimulated than she would have imagined by the touch of Chief Inspector Chen’s hand on her waist. Earlier there had also been some element of excitement when she moved in that young man’s arms.

“Yu has also interviewed Jiang Weihe and Ning Ying,” she said in a hurry.

“Ning Ying—who’s she?”

“Another woman involved with Wu Xiaoming. Jiang gave Ning Ying’s name to Yu.”

“Why?”

“Jiang did not know anything about the relationship between Guan and Wu. Ning was the one who was Wu’s girlfriend after Jiang, so Jiang believed that Ning might know something about Guan.”

“And did she?” He grinned broadly at a passing pair of dancers, who almost collided with them.

“Not much. But Ning met Guan at one of those parties in Wu’s home.”

“You’re dancing so wonderfully,” he said, looking over her shoulder, alertly.

“Thank you,” she said, blushing again.

They were moving to a fast tune. The incessant changing of lights made the scene surreal. She could sense Chen’s reluctance to hold her tight.

“And something more—”

“That’s a great step.”

“Oh,” she said, not sure what he was referring to. “What’s the next step?”

“Let me think—”

Conversation was difficult. Chen would switch topics whenever there were people near them. In the ballroom, dancers bumped against one another all the time. And she was not sure if Chen could hear her whisper amidst the blaring music.

Chen then introduced her to the elderly American gentleman who had come in with Chen.

“You are beautiful,” the American said in Chinese.

“Thank you,” she said in English.

She had been learning English at a night school, off and on, for several years. It was mainly for her son’s benefit. She did not want to be ignorant of Qinqin’s homework. She was pleased with her ability to exchange some simple sentences with her American partner.

Chief Inspector Chen also danced with someone else.

She understood that all this was necessary. It was for Yu. And for herself.

When she went back to her table, her soft drink was no longer cold. She shook her head slightly in Yu’s direction. Could he see the gesture, or catch its meaning, she wondered, brushing strands of hair from her forehead with the back of her hand.

A Dai girl appeared on the stage, announcing that it was time for the sing-along, or karaoke.

Several people were moving a TV onto the stage. The big screen showed young Dai lovers frolicking in a river, singing, with a caption beneath the picture.

Peiqin was at a loss. She had no idea how she could manage to pass her remaining information to Chief Inspector Chen. She observed that a waitress was talking to him. He was listening attentively, and then he exchanged a few words with the American couple. They both nodded. To her surprise, Mr. Rosenthal came over to her table, followed by Chen, who interpreted for him.

“Would you like to sing karaoke with us in a private room?”

“What?”

“Professor Rosenthal thinks we need a partner for karaoke,” Chen said. “He also says you can speak English beautifully.”

“No, I have never been to a karaoke party, and I can only say a couple of the simplest sentences in English,” she replied.

“Don’t worry,” Chen said. “I’ll interpret for you. And we can talk among ourselves in the private room.”

“Oh, I see.”

Earlier she had noticed several bamboo huts at one side of the hall. She had thought that they were Dai-style decorations. They turned out to be “private rooms.”

The one they went into was luxuriously carpeted, with a TV and VCR system set in the wall, two microphones on a table by the leather sofas, and a basket of fruit on the table.

Outside, people could select their songs on the big TV by paying a fee, but with so many people, a long wait was to be expected. There was also a lot of background noise.

“It must be very expensive, the private room and the service,” Peiqin said. “Do you have to pay for it?”

“Yes, it’s expensive,” Chen said, “but it’s a delegation activity, a government expense.”