Death of a Red Heroine

Jiao immediately recognized her, having seen Guan’s picture so many times in newspapers and on TV. Guan walked very fast, never looking around.”
    “Did she see anybody else with Guan?”
    “No, except the one who drove the car.”
    “Did she see him?”
    “Not clearly. He stayed in the car.”
    “What kind of a car?”
    “A fancy one. White. Perhaps imported. She could not tell what make. But not a taxi. There was no taxi sign on top.”
    “Could there have been someone else in the car besides the driver?”
    “No, she does not think so. In fact, she’s quite positive there was only one person in the car.”
    “How can she be so positive?”
    “She observed something Guan did. Every time, before heading for the dorm, Guan would lean into the window on the driver’s side.”
    “What could that mean?”
    “Guan leaned into the window for a long, passionate kiss.”
    “Oh, I see.” It started to sound like a scene from a romantic movie, but the peddler could be right.
    “She’s certainly imaginative,” Old Hunter chuckled. “A devilish woman.”
    “Excuse me, Uncle Yu. I’m just curious,” Chen said. “How did she come to tell you all this?”
    “Well,” Old Hunter took a deliberately slow sip at his tea before reaching the climax of his story. “I’ll let you in on a secret, but don’t tell Guangming or anybody. And you can take the credit for discovering the witness.”
    “I won’t tell anybody, but the credit remains yours.”
    “It’s another long story. After my retirement, I made up my mind not to be a bore. I have seen too many retired policemen dogging their grandchildren’s footsteps. I just wanted to walk around by myself, visiting various parts of the city I hadn’t seen for years. Shanghai has changed such a lot. Slums have turned into parking lots, parks into factories, and a few streets have disappeared completely. But soon I had seen them all. To keep myself from being idle, I started working for the neighborhood security committee as a sort of watchdog. One of the areas I have patrolled is the food market on Fuzhou Road.”
    Chen knew that part of the story well. Detective Yu had told him all about it. At first, the patrolling job seemed to work out well for the old man. With the free market still regarded as politically “black”—an undesirable threat to the state market system— the work consisted of taking private peddlers’ bamboo baskets and stamping on them vigorously. The job paid little, but the market patroller derived a good deal of pleasure from it, wearing a red armband, imagining himself a staunch pillar of justice whenever he drove a weeping country wench out of the market. But when times changed and the free market became a necessary complement to the socialist state market, the old man suddenly lost his purpose there.
    “Are you still working there?”
    “Yes. Things change so fast nowadays. Guangming and the other kids all wanted me to quit, but I’m still doing it. Not for money—just for something to do. Besides, a number of the peddlers are still up to no good, selling bad stuff and overcharging customers. And my job is to catch those guys in the act. It’s not too much to do, but it’s better than nothing at all. There should be somebody to keep an eye on them.”
    “I see,” Chen said, “and I think you’re right. So you patrol the market on Fuzhou Road.”
    “I can position myself anywhere close to the market, or the area related to it. These days peddlers no longer have to confine themselves to a market. So of late, I positioned myself close to Qinghe Lane, and I happened to catch Jiao, the peddler, in the act of stuffing her dumplings with ground pork that wasn’t fresh. For something like that, she could have her license taken away. I told her that I used to be a cop, and that my son works in the bureau. That scared her out of her wits. I guessed she must have heard of Guan’s death, since she does business in the neighborhood. I beat about the bush a bit, asking her to give me some information about the case. And sure enough, she did offer something in return for my not dragging her to the police station.”
    “You’re not retired, Uncle Yu. And you’re so experienced and resourceful.”
    “I’m glad that the information could be of some use to you. If necessary, she’ll testify in court. I will see to it.”
    “Thank you so much. I don’t know what else to say.”
    “You don’t have to. Guess why I wanted to