Chapter Six: The First Signs of Suspicion

Early the next morning, Lu Hehuan arrived at the Frost and Joy Detective Agency. He looked up at the shop sign, smiled, and walked inside.

Upon entering, he saw Liu Rushuang sitting upright and serious, her eyes fixed on a case file, while Bai Yulou stood behind her, holding a teacup with an eager expression.

“Miss Liu, I apologize for the unannounced visit and for disturbing you.”

Lu Hehuan knocked on the partially open door. Liu Rushuang looked up, both surprised and delighted. “Lu Hehuan? What brings you here? Did Brother Joy send you to see me?”

“It wasn’t Detective Ying; I have a matter of my own to ask. Miss Liu, could you help me find out whom Jin Lu encountered on her way home the night she was killed?”

Once he stated his purpose, Liu Rushuang’s warmth faded instantly and she waved her hands repeatedly. “No, no, I can’t help you. You’re the one hindering Brother Joy from closing the case; if I help you, it’ll be like going against him.”

“I’m not trying to stop Detective Ying from closing the case. I only wish to prevent a miscarriage of justice. Miss Liu, I know you’re the most well-informed person in Old Zha. If you help me, I can also help Detective Ying close the case sooner.” Lu Hehuan was persistent.

“No way. You know what Brother Joy’s temper is like. I have no reason to offend him for your sake.” Liu Rushuang remained unmoved, shaking her head in refusal.

“Sister Frost, I actually think Madame Hao and her son are rather pitiful. Why don’t you help Lu Hehuan out?” Bai Yulou tried to persuade her.

“No, no. If Brother Joy finds out I helped you and ignores me from now on, I’d be more pitiful than Madame Hao and her son,” Liu Rushuang replied, seeming set in her decision. Lu Hehuan realized she was only reluctant because she didn’t want to upset Ying Xi. Recalling the way Liu Rushuang acted around him, he understood.

“You like Detective Ying, don’t you?” he probed.

“Why should I tell you?” Liu Rushuang put on a stern face.

“I heard you tell Detective Ying ‘I love you’ last time.”

“Oh, I forgot you came back from Britain,” Liu Rushuang said, blushing slightly as her feelings for Ying Xi had been discovered.

“How about this: you help me investigate Jin Lu, and I’ll try to set you up with Detective Ying?”

Lu Hehuan tested her again, and to his surprise, Liu Rushuang immediately clapped her hands in excitement.

“Really? It’s a deal—you can’t go back on your word,” she said, extending her pinky.

“What’s this mean?” Lu Hehuan was puzzled.

“A pinky swear! How else can I trust you without proof? Come on!”

Lu Hehuan chuckled and hooked pinkies with her.

“It’s a promise.”

“Leave it to me, but you must never let Brother Joy know I helped you,” Liu Rushuang instructed repeatedly, and Lu Hehuan nodded in agreement.

“Don’t worry.”

Seeing that Lu Hehuan was going to play matchmaker for Liu Rushuang and Ying Xi, Bai Yulou’s face flushed with anger, her brows furrowed in frustration, regretting that she’d spoken up for Lu Hehuan earlier.

Liu Rushuang’s efficiency could rival Ying Xi’s. She cast a wide net, summoning her many informants; soon peddlers, fortune tellers, cobblers, and all manner of people crowded into the Frost and Joy Detective Agency.

After issuing her orders and seeing everyone nod obediently, she waved them off, and they scattered. Within a day, they returned just as swiftly. Liu Rushuang, excited, questioned them all, but everyone shook their heads. Both she and Bai Yulou looked disappointed.

As she rubbed her temples, uncertain what to do, a fortune teller came in with his divination flag in tow. He raised his hand and whispered to Liu Rushuang, who listened and nodded with a smile.

The Bright Cinema was the largest in Old Zha. Posters of the film star Hu Yiman were plastered on its outer wall, and every passerby would stop to admire them.

Disguised as a man, with a newsboy cap and sunglasses, Liu Rushuang lingered like a thief outside the cinema entrance, prompting moviegoers to clutch their purses and pockets, wary of the “pickpocket.”

Lu Hehuan, having received word from Bai Yulou, arranged to meet Liu Rushuang at the cinema. He searched for a long time but didn’t see her. Just as he was about to give up, someone slapped him hard on the shoulder, startling him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lu Hehuan demanded. The other person removed her sunglasses—it was Liu Rushuang.

“It’s me.”

“Liu—”

Startled, Lu Hehuan started to speak, but Liu Rushuang quickly put her finger to her lips to shush him.

“Why are you dressed like that?”

“I can’t let Brother Joy see me helping you, or he’ll be mad at me,” she whispered.

“This is a bit much, isn’t it?” Lu Hehuan thought her affections seemed a touch self-effacing.

“It’s not! My interest in Brother Joy is as dogged as your pursuit of the truth—one word: relentless,” she replied matter-of-factly.

Lu Hehuan laughed. “You sound quite a bit like Detective Ying there.”

“Really?” Liu Rushuang took this as a compliment, delighted.

“Let’s get to the point,” Lu Hehuan pressed, eager to solve the case.

Leaning in, Liu Rushuang lowered her voice. “I sent all my contacts to investigate. They found out that on the night in question, someone saw Jin Lu leave the dance hall in a rickshaw.”

“That’s it?”

Liu Rushuang nodded.

“Thank you.”

“Did you get it?” She threw him a meaningful look, and Lu Hehuan was momentarily confused.

“Get what?”

She said solemnly, “On the way Jin Lu was killed, the rickshaw driver is a prime suspect.”

Lu Hehuan nodded. “Makes sense.”

“This is Jin Lu’s address,” she said with a sweet smile, handing him a slip of paper. Lu Hehuan was about to head to Jin Lu’s home, and was delighted to find she’d prepared it for him.

“Thank you, Liu—”

She glared, glancing around, and Lu Hehuan swallowed the rest of his words.

“Don’t forget what you promised,” she reminded him, turning away shyly, her large eyes curved like crescent moons, her cheeks flushed.

Lu Hehuan pondered a moment, realizing her meaning. “Alright, I remember.”

Pulling her cap low, Liu Rushuang hurried away.

Ying Xi strolled into the police station in his usual nonchalant manner. Spotting Bao Kang, he quickly snapped to attention and saluted.

“Good day, Chief Bao.” Ying Xi’s voice was so crisp and pleasant one might suspect he practiced singing just to greet the boss.

Bao Kang nodded approvingly. Ying Xi, remembering something, pulled a small box from his pocket and handed it to Bao Kang ingratiatingly.

“Chief Bao, yesterday I caught some bugs for Miss Ahua.”

Bao Kang accepted the box with satisfaction. “Hmm, thoughtful of you. Ahua will certainly like them.”

“I’ll get to work, Chief.”

“Good.” Bao Kang suddenly remembered, “Oh, by the way, get a move on with the Jin Lu case. Because of that scoundrel Lu Hehuan, the Chief Inspector has some misunderstandings about us. We need to work hard to restore the station’s reputation.”

“Yes, sir,” Ying Xi promised, patting his chest.

Bao Kang declared with conviction, “You must solve the case within five days!”

“What?” Ying Xi instantly panicked, realizing he may have promised too much.

“Is it too difficult?”

“No!” Ying Xi replied with forced confidence.

Outside the Paramount Dance Hall, three or four rickshaw pullers waited for fares. One stretched his neck to sneak a look at the bustling scene inside, but a glare from the doorman made him shrink back.

Lu Hehuan walked over and handed a photo of Jin Lu to one of the drivers.

“Brother, have you seen this woman?”

“Sure, she danced at the hall, I’ve seen her plenty,” the rickshaw puller replied, nodding at the photo.

“When did you last see her?” Lu Hehuan pressed.

The man scratched his head, thinking. “About seven last night. She usually doesn’t leave so early; the hall was still lively then.”

“Who drove her home?”

The man thought for a moment. “Dagen.”

“Dagen? Do you know where he lives?”

He hesitated, then nodded.

In the Old Zha police station, the officers’ office rang with laughter and mischief—some playing cards, others napping.

“Do you know this is work hours?” Ying Xi stormed in, furious at their lack of discipline.

“Is the case solved? You taking holidays on your own?”

The officers scrambled—cards disappeared, sleepers sat up.

“How’s the Jin Lu case going? Has Dabao confessed?” Ying Xi glared fiercely.

Mumbling, the officers looked at each other, all shaking their heads.

Fuming, Ying Xi realized he’d boasted in front of Bao Kang and couldn’t back down now. He rapped their heads hard.

“Useless bunch! Let me warn you, Chief Bao has asked about this case. Get moving! If Dabao doesn’t confess within five days, one of you will be confessing instead!”

The threat put everyone on high alert, and they got to work.

Dagen’s home was in a shantytown by the Suzhou River, a cluster of low, scattered dwellings.

Lu Hehuan knocked. Dagen’s wife, limping, answered. She looked to be in her thirties, gentle and honest, her coarse clothes washed to a faded white.

“And you are?” she asked, wary but curious.

“I’m...” Lu Hehuan hesitated, remembering he’d been dismissed from the force. “Oh, I’m Lu Hehuan, detective with Old Zha Police.”

She paused, and Dagen’s voice came from inside, “Who is it?”

“Police from Old Zha,” she called back.

“Let the officer in.”

Lu Hehuan entered. The furnishings were sparse. Dagen’s wife wiped off a stool for him, embarrassed.

“Please, have a seat.” Dagen approached, bowing slightly in welcome.

“Am I disturbing your meal?” Lu Hehuan glanced at the table.

Dagen grinned. “No, not at all. Would you like to join us?”

Lu Hehuan smiled. “No, thank you.”

Dagen’s wife cleared the dishes and hobbled into the kitchen.

“Are you here for something?” Dagen asked before Lu Hehuan could speak.

Lu Hehuan collected himself and produced a photograph. “Have you seen this woman?”

Dagen glanced at it. Lu Hehuan watched him closely, trying to read his expression, but Dagen remained calm.

“Yes, a hostess at the Paramount. I took her home the night before last.”

“Her name is Jin Lu. She was found murdered, the time of death was that same night. The killer hasn’t been caught.”

Dagen looked again at the photo, incredulous. “She... she’s dead?”

Lu Hehuan scrutinized him, making Dagen uneasy.

“Officer, you’re not suspecting me, are you?”

“Don’t be nervous. Everyone who interacted with Jin Lu that night is a suspect. This is just routine.”

“I took her home and called it a night,” Dagen replied, relieved.

“Do you remember what time you dropped her off?”

He thought. “A little after eight.”

Lu Hehuan’s mind raced. Bao Rong had told him Jin Lu had died around nine. If Dagen wasn’t lying, he should be in the clear.

“Can anyone confirm this?”

After a moment, Dagen replied, “Oh, yes. When I dropped her off, her neighbor saw us. You can ask them.”

With that, Lu Hehuan hurried off to Jin Lu’s home.

Following Liu Rushuang’s directions, he found Jin Lu’s house in Jin Family Lane, beside the Sophora Alley. She lived in a small Western-style house—though foreign in design, it was rundown, rumored to be a gift from a former lover.

The front door was sealed. Lu Hehuan turned to knock on the neighbor’s door.

A middle-aged woman opened it. Lu Hehuan nodded politely.

“Hello, I’m Lu Hehuan, detective from Old Zha. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“It’s about Jin Lu, isn’t it? I heard she was murdered. Serves her right for seducing other women’s husbands,” the neighbor said, her words filled with schadenfreude.

Lu Hehuan felt awkward and pressed on. “The night before last, did you see a rickshaw driver bring Jin Lu home?”

She thought, then nodded. “Yes, a little after eight. I heard a knock, but when I opened the door, no one was there—just saw Jin Lu getting out of a rickshaw next door.”

“Are you sure it was a knock?”

“Not certain. Could have been the wind.”

“Did the rickshaw driver act suspiciously after dropping her off?”

She shook her head. “No. He left right away, nothing strange.”

“Did Jin Lu go out again after returning home?”

She shook her head again. “No idea.”

Lu Hehuan finally found a suspect, only to realize Dagen had no opportunity to commit the crime. He frowned.

“Thank you for your time.”

He left, disheartened.

In the police morgue, Jin Lu’s body lay on the slab. Bao Rong was performing the autopsy. The air was thick with the mingled scents of blood and Jin Lu's lingering perfume.

Ying Xi burst in, as anxious as an ant on a hot pan, bringing a rare bit of life to the chilly room.

“Xiao Rong, have you found any evidence that Madame Hao or Dabao did it? Hair, buttons, nail marks, anything?”

“No. All I can confirm is that the head wound was caused by a heavy blow with a stone.”

“Got it.” Ying Xi, frustrated, decided to find another way to pin the crime on Madame Hao and Dabao.

Unwilling to give up, Lu Hehuan returned to Dagen’s house and knocked. Dagen’s wife answered again.

“Sorry to trouble you again.”

“It’s fine, come in.”

“That’s all right—I just have a few questions.”

She didn’t insist, simply nodded.

“What time did Dagen get home the night before last?”

She thought. “Around nine.”

“Did he go out again after coming home?”

“No. I twisted my ankle a few days ago,” she said, lowering her head, embarrassed. “To be honest, I couldn’t even get to the bathroom by myself. Dagen came straight home to take care of me. My ankle’s only just getting better now.”

Lu Hehuan glanced at her foot—he’d noticed it on his first visit. “How did you hurt it?”

“Wasn’t looking where I was going and fell.”

She gave an honest, open smile, so sincere that Lu Hehuan couldn’t bear to question her further.

“Take care of yourself. I’ll be going.”

He turned away.

As he reached the neighbor’s door, he spotted a child of seven or eight squatting, playing with crickets. Lu Hehuan crouched down and smiled.

“You have a strong cricket there.”

Pleased with the compliment, especially for his plaything, the boy smiled shyly.

“Little brother, may I ask you a question?” Noting the boy wasn’t shy, Lu Hehuan seized the chance.

The boy looked at him and nodded.

“Do you know what time Uncle Dagen came home the night before last?” Lu Hehuan pointed to Dagen’s house.

The boy thought, then his eyes brightened. “Nine o’clock.”

“How can you remember so clearly?” Lu Hehuan was curious.

“I was playing with my cricket by my door. I heard their door and Auntie Dagen said, ‘It’s already nine, why are you only just getting home?’”

Lu Hehuan nodded, asking, “Did Uncle Dagen go out again afterward?”

“No. Their lights went out, and I went inside to bed.”

Lu Hehuan frowned—Dagen had no opportunity to commit the murder.

“Thank you, little brother.”

He walked away, his legs feeling as heavy as lead, each step toward the station weighed down with fatigue.

The afternoon sun poured warmly into the room as Bao Kang lounged in his chair, feet on his desk, utterly content.

Suddenly, the phone rang, shattering the peace. Annoyed, Bao Kang picked up.

“Who is it?” he barked.

“It’s me, Gordon.”

Bao Kang instantly sobered, sitting bolt upright. Though Gordon couldn't see him, he still pasted on a fawning smile, his voice turning gentle.

“Ah, Chief Inspector, to what do I owe the pleasure? Is it about my promotion…?”

Before he could finish, Gordon roared down the line.

“The Jin Lu case is high profile. If you solve it in two days, I promise you won’t be demoted. Understand?”

Gordon’s booming voice crackled through the receiver, making Bao Kang pull the phone away from his ear.

“Two days?” Bao Kang faltered.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t you say Old Zha had solved a string of major cases? Surely a single murder is nothing—two days is plenty.” Gordon’s anger continued to surge through the line.

“But…” Before Bao Kang could finish, Gordon hung up. Bao Kang stood there, phone in hand as if holding a hot potato, scratching his head in helpless frustration. Like Ying Xi, boasting had landed him in trouble.