“I don’t think Jiao liked the role of Shang, but he must have insisted on it as the condition of their Mao deal.”

“Beauty has a thin fate indeed. What a curse to three generations! A curse to her grandmother, to her mother, and to her too. But what’s the damned point for him?”

“There’s not a point in the world – its not like in a Suzhou opera. There isn’t always a transcendental point visible in life, so people have to have their own point, or to make one, at least, in their own imagination,” Chen said, his dismal smile getting lost in thought. “Anyway, Hua got increasingly uneasy about Jiao’s visits to Xie’s place, and about her mixing with other people. For instance, Yang kept trying to drag Jiao to other parties -”

Chen’s cell phone rang, cutting short his speech.

“Oh, it’s Liu,” he said to Old Hunter, pressing a button.

“Comrade Chief Inspector Chen, I’ve got the information you requested. Among the people Song interviewed during your vacation, there’s one named Hua. He owns several large companies, including the one for which Jiao once worked. It was just routine. Nothing suspicious on the record -”

“Nothing suspicious on the record,” Chen repeated in irrepressible sarcasm. “Then listen to this, Comrade Liu. Less than an hour ago, Hua killed Jiao in her apartment. He’s in my custody. Hurry over here with your people.”

“What?” Liu said, too astonished to absorb what Chen had said. “But you didn’t say anything about it this morning, or this afternoon.”

“You were so bent on your tough measures, expecting to get the warrant tomorrow. Did you really want to listen?” Chen added after a pause, “Hua also killed Yang, who he saw as a potential threat that could drag Jiao away from him.”

“He killed Yang! But – why should he have bothered to leave Yang’s body in Xie’s garden?”

Old Hunter, too, found it hard to believe. How could Chen have discovered it while on vacation thousands of miles away?

“In Hua’s imagination, Xie had became another threat because Jiao was nice to him.”

“How could an old pathetic fellow have been a threat?”

“Hua’s paranoid, and all he saw was that Jiao was nice to Xie. So by getting rid of Yang and planting her body there, Hua tried to kill two birds with one stone.”

“You – you have done an amazing job. We’re on the way. Stay there, Chief Inspector Chen.”

“Yes, I’ll stay here,” Chen said, snapping the phone closed in disgust. “An amazing job indeed, Old Hunter. Jiao was murdered in this very room, not even a stone’s throw away from the closet I was in.”

“But you did your job,” Old Hunter said in earnest, aware of the agony in Chen’s voice. A cop could close many cases successfully, but a single screwup could haunt him forever. “You were in the closet, unable to see or hear clearly. Nobody could have done any better under the circumstances. But for you, the criminal would have got away. What a case -”

Old Hunter lost his words in angst. What a Mao case – so many years ago for him, and now for Chen…

“Shang -”

THIRTY-ONE

“SHANG -” HUA WAS COMING round, his features convulsed with bewildered astonishment. “What the hell happened?”

“That is exactly what happened,” Chen said, thinking of the superstitious interpretation of Old Hunter’s. “You strangled Shang’s granddaughter, Mao knocked you out – at least, Mao’s portrait did.”

“But how did you get in here?” During their fleeting encounter in the dark, Hua must not have seen Chen break out of the closet – probably hadn’t realized that Chen had been hiding in there at all.

“You devil, you deserve a thousands cuts!” Old Hunter interrupted. “You won’t get away with it. This is murder in the first degree.”

Hua appeared very different, his eyes lusterless, his left cheek twitching uncontrollably, his mouth dropping. There was no trace left of the imperial Mao persona. Nor even of a successful businessman. He was totally crushed.

It was a moment for Chen to seize upon. To shake something more out of the fallen. There were still unanswered questions.

But his cell phone shrilled out again, breaking the spell of the moment. It was Minister Huang from Beijing, and Chen had to take the call.

“Liu’s just called me, Chief Inspector Chen.”

“Oh, Minister Huang, I was going to call you too,” Chen said, not surprised by Liu’s fast move. Jiao was killed in her apartment by someone named Hua. A nut who tries to imitate Mao. He is in my custody.”

“A nut who tries to imitate Mao! That’s unbelievable. But how did you get in there? Internal Security is complaining about your singular methods.” The minister added quickly, “It’s sour grapes, of course. I understand. You beat them again.”

“They were so anxious to use their tough measures, but it wasn’t a good idea, not on such a politically sensitive case. As you have said, it wasn’t in the best interest of the Party. So I decided that I had to act on my own.”

“It was very decisive action, I have to say. Now, did you find anything there?”

“Yes, there was something left behind by Shang.”

“Really, Chief Inspector Chen!”

“A scroll of a poem in Mao’s brush handwriting with a dedication to Phoenix – which was her nickname, you know. It was ‘Ode to the Plum Blossom.’ And the scroll was certified as authentic. Shall I turn it over to Internal Security?”

“Oh, that – no. Turn the scroll over to me. You don’t have to say anything about it to Internal Security. You’re working directly under the Central Party Committee. Is there anything else?”

“Not at this moment,” he said. Apparently the minister didn’t think that the scroll mattered a great deal to the image of Mao. Chen decided not to mention the broom. He still had to verify what was inside first. Besides, Old Hunter and Hua were listening. “I’m going to search thoroughly. whatever I find, I’ll report to you, Minister Huang.”

Old Hunter looked confused. So did Hua, though he had been tipped about Chen’s high connections. Little did he imagine that the “would-be writer” was actually a chief inspector who was talking to a government minister in Beijing.

“Don’t reveal anything to the media,” Minister Huang said. “It’s in the Party’s interest.”

“Yes, I understand. It’s in the Party’s interest.”

“You solved the case under a lot of pressure. I’d like to suggest that you take a vacation. How about one in Beijing?”

“Thank you so much, Minister Huang,” Chen said, wondering whether the minister was aware of his recent trip to Beijing. “I’ll think about it.”

“As I said, you’re an exceptional police officer. The Party authorities can always depend on you. Greater responsibilities are awaiting you.”

The minister didn’t forget his promise of promotion to Chen probably as the successor to Party Secretary Li in the Shanghai Police Bureau.

Following the conclusion of the phone call, a wave of silence overwhelmed the room.

Hua looked up from the floor, his smoldering glare shifting and settling on Chen.

“What a bastard you are! You’ve created all this trouble for me, haven’t you? But you’re so stupid. Surrounded and surrounded by the enemy, / I stand firm and invincible.”

Hua was quoting again. Those were lines composed by Mao while fighting the guerrilla war against the nationalists in the days of the Jinggang Mountains. However, it was ridiculous for Hua to attempt the Hunan accent. It sounded hollow, empty, without any conviction.

“What an idiot!” Old Hunter commented. “Still lost in the days of the Jinggang Mountains. That son of a bitch doesn’t even know what day it is today.”

But what did Hua know about the Mao material? Chen had to find out. Judging by the renewed defiance of “Mao,” it would be impossible to make him talk before Internal Security arrived.

“Today? Look at what the so-called reforms have done to China today. A total restoration of capitalism. New Three Mountains are weighing down on the working class, who are suffering once again in the fire, in the water. Indeed, all this I foresaw long, long ago. Contemplating over the immensity, / I ask the boundless earth: / Who is the master controlling the rise and fall of it.”