Death of a Red Heroine

Often I could see light coming up through the cracks in the floor.”
    “One of her neighbors mentioned that she came back quite late many nights,” Chen said, “Could that be the reason?”
    “I’m not sure. Sometimes I heard her footsteps late at night, but I had hardly any contact with her,” Qian said, taking a sip at his cold tea. “I suggest you talk to Zuo Qing. She’s a retired cadre, but keeps herself busy taking care of the utility fees for the building. She’s also a member of the Neighborhood Security or something. She may be able to tell you more. And she also lives on Guan’s floor, just on the other side of the corridor, close to the stairs.”
    Chief Inspector Chen went downstairs again.
    An elderly woman wearing gold-rimmed glasses opened the door wide and said, “What do you want?”
    “I’m sorry to bother you, Comrade Zuo, but I’ve come about Guan Hongying.”
    “She’d dead, I’ve heard,” she said. “You’d better come in. I’ve got something on the stove.”
    “Thank you,” he said, staring at the coal stove outside the door. There was nothing being cooked on it. As he stepped into the room, she closed the door behind him. His question was almost immediately answered. Inside the door was a gas tank with a flat pan on it, smelling very pleasant.
    Zuo was wearing a black skirt and a silvery gray silk blouse with the top button open. Her high-heeled shoes were gray too. Gesturing to him to sit on a scarlet plush-covered sofa by the window, she continued her cooking.
    “It’s not easy to get a gas tank,” she said, “and dangerous to put it in the corridor along with other people’s coal stoves.”
    “I see,” he said. “Comrade Zuo, I was told that you have done a lot for the dorm building.”
    “Well, I do volunteer work for the neighborhood. Someone has to do it.”
    “So you must have had a lot of contact with Guan Hongying.”
    “No, not a lot. She’s a popular celebrity in her store, but here she was not.”
    “Why?”
    “Too busy, I would say. The only time there was any conversation between us would be the occasion,” she said, flipping the egg over in the pan, “when she paid her share of the utility bill on the first day of every month. She would hand over the cash in a white envelope, and say some polite phrase while her receipt was prepared.”
    “You never talked about anything else?”
    “Well, she once mentioned that since she did not cook much in the dorm building, her equal share of the utility bill was not fair. But she did not really argue about it. Never mentioned it again. Whatever was on her mind, she kept to herself.”
    “She seemed to be quite secretive.”
    “Look, I don’t mean to speak ill of her.”
    “I understand, Comrade Zuo,” he said. “Now on the evening of May tenth, the night she was murdered, Guan left the building around ten thirty—according to one of her neighbors. Did you notice anything around the time?”
    “As for that night,” she said, “I don’t think I saw or heard her go out. I usually go to bed at ten.”
    “Now, you’re also a member of the Neighborhood Security Committee, Comrade Zuo. Did you notice anything suspicious in the dorm or in the lane, during the last few days in Guan’s life?”
    She took off her glasses, looked at them, rubbed them on her apron, put them on again, and then shook her head. “I don’t think so, but there’s one thing,” she said. “I’m not sure whether you’d call it suspicious.”
    “What’s that?” He took out his notebook.
    “About a week ago, I was watching Office Stories. Everybody is watching it, it’s hilarious. But my TV broke down, so I was thinking of going to Xiangxiang’s place. And opening the door, I saw a stranger coming out of a room at the end of the corridor.”
    “Out of Guan’s room?”
    “I was not sure. There are only three rooms at the end of the corridor, including Guan’s. The Sus happened to be out of town that night, I know. Of course, the stranger could have been Yuan’s guest, but with only one dim light at the landing, and all the stuff stacked in disorder along the corridor, it’s not that easy for a stranger to find his way. It’s a matter of course for the host to accompany the guest to the stairs.”
    “A week ago. Then this was after Guan’s death, wasn’t it?”
    “Yes, I did not even know that she was dead.”
    “But this could be an important lead if he was coming out of Guan’s room, Comrade Zuo,”