“You should know this person, Yunqin,” Wang Bide said, stroking the sparse mustache on his lip. “It’s Xu Yishan, manager of the Langhuan Bookstore.”
He Yunqin was indeed startled: “Mr. Xu?” This man had attended his and Hongdou’s wedding just yesterday.
Wang Bide made a sound of assent: “Xu Yishan was found dead at home around ten o’clock last night. As it happens, one of the bridesmaids at the wedding, a Miss Gu, is a distant relative of his—the moment she heard the news, she called my detective agency in the middle of the night.”
“Gu Yun?” Hongdou said, mildly surprised—though thinking it over, it did sound like exactly the sort of thing Gu Yun would do.
Wang Bide nodded: “Miss Gu said Xu Yishan lived in the French Concession. After his family reported it, the French Concession police came to investigate, and their preliminary assessment was suicide. But Miss Gu remembered seeing Xu Yishan at the wedding, where he’d been in high spirits, talking and laughing, showing not the slightest sign of suicidal intent. Afraid of missing the best window to investigate, she found out my residence’s phone number and called, pleading earnestly for me to come take a look. Since it seemed to have nothing to do with Bai Haili’s crowd in the International Settlement, and Miss Gu sounded so sincere on the phone, I went over to Xu Yishan’s residence.”
Of course, the generous fee the other party offered was the real deciding factor—but there was no need to mention that in front of Yu Hongdou.
“And then?” He Yunqin, though only a nodding acquaintance of Xu Yishan’s, had after all known him, and had just seen him the day before—hearing of his death today came as something of a shock. After the brief surprise passed, his expression turned grave. “You examined the scene—did you find the same method as with Yang Yutian?”
Whenever Wang Bide got onto the subject of a case, his craving for drink flared up. He raised a hand toward his coat as if to reach for something, but caught himself in time, remembering he was still at the He mansion, and withdrew it: “Still hanging from a beam—the marks on the roof beam were even more disordered than in the Keyu Theater case. The common point between the two cases is that the range of Xu Yishan’s struggle far exceeded what would occur in a normal mechanical loss of consciousness. On this point I’ve adopted your theory from last time—the culprit first hoisted Xu Yishan up onto the beam by some other means, savored the victim’s terrified struggling for a while, then slowly tightened the rope around the victim’s neck, watching calmly as he lost consciousness. Once the victim was dead, the culprit calmly and unhurriedly packed away whatever equipment had been used to hoist him up, disguising the scene to look like a self-inflicted hanging.”
Calm? That word struck Hongdou as strange. “Why does Inspector Wang think the culprit was so calm?”
“Because at the scene I found a half-smoked cigarette butt. I asked Mrs. Xu, and she said Xu Yishan usually smoked Wuxing brand cigarettes, but this one was a cheaper Changle brand. Think about it—a culprit with enough composure to smoke a cigarette while committing murder—would you call that calm or not?”
Hongdou was stunned for a moment. “How tall and heavy was this Manager Xu?”
For any adult man of normal build, his weight wouldn’t be under 130 pounds—and hoisting such a grown man up onto a beam would obviously take considerable strength.
Wang Bide said: “Even taller and sturdier than that actor last time. Six feet, 162 pounds.”
Hongdou couldn’t sit still. She glanced at He Yunqin, who was deep in thought and hadn’t spoken, so she continued: “Such a tall, sturdy man—before being murdered, he surely would have struggled violently or cried out for help. Didn’t anyone in the Xu household hear anything at the time?”
“I suspect Xu Yishan was gagged before being killed, just like Yang Yutian, so he couldn’t cry out loudly. And as it happens, the Xu family’s steward had taken leave the day before and wasn’t home these past two days. When Xu Yishan and his wife returned from the wedding, Mrs. Xu took their daughter and the old nanny straight to her own natal family to play mahjong. After several rounds, Mrs. Xu didn’t get home until ten o’clock—so as it turns out, there really was no one else at the Xu house at the time.”
He Yunqin said: “So the culprit knew no one would be home that night, making it convenient to act. Did you ask Mrs. Xu whether she’d planned all along to go back to her natal family that night, or decided on the spur of the moment?”
Wang Bide wore a knowing, enigmatic smile: “It’s precisely because I asked Mrs. Xu that I’ve had to come bother you two today. Mrs. Xu originally hadn’t planned to visit her natal family at all—it was only because she ran into an old acquaintance from her natal family at the wedding, and after chatting a while, she decided on the spot to go play mahjong there.”
He Yunqin and Hongdou exchanged a look, both wearing expressions of surprise at once: “You mean to say, it was only after hearing Mrs. Xu’s decision that the culprit went to the Xu house that night—in other words, the culprit was quite possibly at the wedding as well?”
Wang Bide raised his eyebrows: “I really do enjoy working with you two—I never have to waste much breath explaining things. Precisely because I can’t rule out that possibility, I’ve come today to ask for yesterday’s guest list, thinking that going through the names might turn something up.”
He Yunqin fixed his gaze on him: “You know as well as I do how many people attended the wedding at the Majestic yesterday. Trying to narrow down the culprit through the guest list alone would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. When you examined the scene, did you get a look at Xu Yishan’s body at all?”
“No,” Wang Bide shrugged. “But I’ve already arranged to get hold of Xu Yishan’s autopsy report. The last time Mrs. Xu saw Xu Yishan was at six-thirty in the evening, right when the wedding banquet ended—the couple parted ways outside the Majestic, each taking their own rickshaw home, and she didn’t get home herself until ten o’clock. Subtracting the half hour it would’ve taken Xu Yishan to get back to his residence, we can roughly estimate the time of death fell somewhere between seven and ten in the evening.”
Hongdou fell silent. By that account, the possibility that the culprit had been at the wedding truly couldn’t be ruled out.
Wang Bide continued: “After that I examined the scene further, and found several things in common with the Yang Yutian case. First, no valuables were missing from either home, so the culprit clearly wasn’t after money. Second, the range and pattern of struggle marks were unusually extensive in both cases. Third, in neither case did any neighbor hear cries for help, and in both cases there happened to be no witnesses.”
He Yunqin raised his eyebrows: “But Yang Yutian was a martial actor in an opera troupe, and Xu Yishan was a bookstore manager—two men from entirely different social backgrounds. Why would the culprit target both of them? And murder aside, why go to the trouble of such an elaborate method…”
He paused, then continued: “Hoisting two large, sturdy grown men up onto a beam would require advance planning as well as considerable manpower—it would be difficult for one person alone. I still lean toward there being an accomplice involved. And given the culprit’s composure, and the deliberate prolonging of the victims’ death throes, I wouldn’t rule out that he—or they—harbored an intense hatred toward the victims. In your investigation into Yang Yutian’s background this past month, did you find he’d made any enemies before?”
Wang Bide gave a peculiar smile: “This fellow was quite striking in appearance, thirty-five this year, sold into the opera troupe as a young child, and had performed martial roles at the Keyu Theater ever since. Though he wasn’t as famous as Bai Fengfei or Xiao Jinnan from the same troupe, over the years he’d built up a modest following of devoted fans. In this month’s investigation, I didn’t turn up anything else, but I did learn that Yang Yutian had a secret, intimate relationship with Bai Fengfei—though even as they carried on secretly, Bai Fengfei refused to marry him, put off by how poor he was. Bai Fengfei, for her part, is nearing thirty herself, but heaven blessed her with a gift—there’s no one else in all of Shanghai whose singing can match hers. She’s kept her fame undimmed all these years, with no shortage of suitors. If she married an opera performer, first she’d lose her standing, and second, wouldn’t that cut off her own livelihood? No wonder she wouldn’t marry him.”
“Besides that,” he went on, “last night when I asked about Xu Yishan’s usual habits, Mrs. Xu told me he had no other particular hobbies, but as a devoted fan of Bai Fengfei’s, he often went to the Keyu Theater to watch her perform. But the night Yang Yutian was murdered happened to be the night of your esteemed mother’s birthday banquet, and Bai Fengfei, having received an invitation from the He family, was performing at the He mansion at the time. And last night, when Xu Yishan was murdered, Bai Fengfei was again performing on stage at the Keyu Theater. So even though Bai Fengfei counts as a common point between the two victims, it may well be nothing more than coincidence.”
He Yunqin thought it over, then pulled open the door and went out, instructing a servant to fetch the guest list from yesterday’s banquet.
Before long the list arrived, and the three of them gathered around a small round table to study it. The list alone recorded several thousand names from every walk of life, not to mention all the attendant staff at the Majestic Hotel that day.
“So this really isn’t much of a method to go on,” Hongdou said with a wry laugh.
He Yunqin still handed the list over to Wang Bide: “Even if we can’t deduce much from this list alone, if there are further discoveries down the road, at least we can cross-reference the list for common points, and narrow down the search for the culprit.”
Wang Bide put the list away, and seeing his purpose accomplished, didn’t linger: “It’s your second day of marriage—by rights I shouldn’t have come at all. I’m glad you two weren’t put off by my intrusion. I’ll take my leave now—if there’s anything new, we’ll discuss it again.”
After seeing Wang Bide off, the telephone rang in the parlor. A servant answered it, and hearing it was for the Eldest Young Mistress, hurried upstairs.
He Yunqin stood downstairs for a moment. Now that something had happened to Xu Yishan, by rights he ought to go pay respects, but with the case still unresolved, and no idea yet when the Xu family planned to hold the funeral, there was nothing pressing to attend to for now. And today being the second day of his marriage, with Hongdou so mindful of that fact, it truly wasn’t appropriate to go examine the crime scene. He said to Hongdou: “Shall we go back to the room and rest?”
Hearing that case just now had inadvertently stirred up an old family matter for Hongdou, and she’d been meaning to have a proper talk with He Yunqin about it. She nodded, letting him lead her back to their room.
Just as the two of them were about to go in, someone called softly from behind: “Second Young Master.”
Hongdou turned—it was one of Duan Mingyi’s servants.
The servant approached unhurriedly, first greeting Hongdou properly, then said to He Yunqin: “Something happened to Manager Xu of the Langhuan Bookstore last night. Mrs. Xu just called to say she’d asked Inspector Wang Bide to investigate, and eager to know how it was going, she called Inspector Wang’s residence this morning, only to be told he’d come to the He mansion. So she called again, this time to the Eldest Young Mistress. The Eldest Young Mistress said Second Young Master had also studied forensics, and wondered whether you and Inspector Wang had turned up anything just now—if so, the Eldest Young Mistress would like to pass it along to Mrs. Xu, so she needn’t worry so much.”
He Yunqin’s expression instantly turned cool.
Hongdou had only ever known He Yunqin held a doctorate in engineering; she hadn’t known he’d also formally studied forensics—and judging by how people usually talked about He Yunqin outside, he himself had never once mentioned this in front of others.
So Duan Mingyi knew.
A deep discomfort settled over her. Without even looking at He Yunqin, she turned on her heel and pushed open the door, pouting: “I’ll go in first.”
Author’s note: The author is very busy today, no second update.