Death of a Red Heroine

free samples.”
    “What else?”
    “She made a phone call.”
    “When?”
    “It would be about six thirty, I think.”
    “Did she have to wait long before she started talking?”
    “No. She started talking immediately.”
    “Anything you happened to overhear?”
    “No. It was short,” she said. “It was her business, not mine.”
    Mrs. Weng talked more than the first two, however, offering opinions even without being asked. And she went on speculating about some information which she believed might be of interest. Several weeks earlier, Mrs. Weng had gone with a Hong Kong friend to the Dynasty KTV Club. In the semi-dark corridor, she saw a woman emerging from a private room with a tall man, practi- cally leaning on his shoulder—the woman’s clothes in disarray, several buttons undone, her face flushed, and her steps reeling. A shameless karaoke girl, Mrs. Weng thought. A private karaoke room was an open secret, almost a synonym for indecent practices. But then it occurred to Mrs. Wen that the karaoke girl looked like someone she knew. As the image of the drunken slut was at such odds with the one flashing through her mind, recognition did not come until a few seconds later—Guan Hongying! Mrs. Weng could scarcely believe it, but she thought it was her.
    “Did you take a closer look at her?”
    “When recognition came to me, she had already walked past me. It wouldn’t do for me to chase someone there.”
    “So you’re not positive.”
    “No. But it was my impression.”
    Next on the list was Gu Chaoxi. Gu, though older than Guan by more than fifteen years, had been trained by Guan at the department store.
    “Do you remember anything unusual about Guan before her death?” Detective Yu went directly to the point.
    “Unusual—what do you mean?”
    “Coming in late for work, for instance. Or leaving too early for home. Or any particular change you noticed about her.”
    “No, not that I’m aware of,” Gu said, “but everything has been changing so fast. Our cosmetics section used to have only two counters. Now we have eight, with so many different products, and a lot of them made in the U.S.A. Of course, people are changing, too. Guan’s no exception.”
    “Can you give me an example?”
    “The first day I came to work here—that’s seven years ago—she gave all of us a lecture I still remember, on the importance of adhering to the Party’s hard-working and plain-living tradition. In fact, she had made a point of using no perfume and wearing no jewelry. But a few months ago, I saw her wearing a diamond necklace.”
    “Really,” he said. “Do you think it was genuine?”
    “I’m not sure,” she said. “I’m not saying there was anything wrong with her wearing a necklace. It’s just in the nineties people are changing. Another example, she went on a vacation half a year ago, last October, I think. And then in less than six months, she took a second one.”
    “Yes, that’s something,” he said. “Do you know where she went last October?”
    “The Yellow Mountains. She showed me pictures from there.”
    “Did she travel alone?”
    “I think she was alone. Nobody else was in the pictures.”
    “And this time?”
    “I knew she was going on vacation, but she did not tell me where, or with whom,” she said, looking at the door. “That’s all I know, I’m afraid, Comrade Detective.”
    Despite the central air conditioning in the room, Detective Yu sweated profusely, watching Gu walk out. He recognized the familiar malaise that preceded a headache, but he had to proceed. There were five more names on the list. The next two hours, however, yielded even less information. He put all the notes together.
    On May tenth, Guan had come to work as usual, around 8 A.M She was amiable as always, a true national model worker, toward her customers as well as her colleagues. She dined at the canteen at twelve o’clock, and she had a routine meeting with other Party members at the store late in the afternoon. She did not mention to her colleagues where she was going, though she said something about a vacation. At five, she could have left for home, but as usual, she stayed late. Around six thirty, she made a phone call, a short one, but no one knew to whom. After the phone call, she left the store, apparently for home. The last time she was seen by anyone there was around seven ten.
    It was not much, and Detective Yu had a feeling that the people had been rather guarded talking about