Death of a Red Heroine

pouring rain. I was there, too, and was touched at the sight.”
    “But you must have stolen the image from Li He’s ‘Watching a Beauty Comb Her Hair.’ The image about the green comb in her long hair.”
    “No, I didn’t, but I’ll let you in on a secret. It’s from another two classical lines— With the green skirt of yours in my mind, everywhere, / Everywhere I step over the grass ever so lightly.” Our policewoman’s uniform is green, and so, too, the spring, and the package. Looking out in the rain, I had the impression of her long hair being washed green, too.”
    “No wonder you’ve made such an improvement,” Dr. Xia said. “I’m glad you are acknowledging your debt to classical poetry.”
    “Of course I do. But so much for the poetics,” Chen said. “Actually, I was thinking of calling you, too. About the black plastic bag in the Guan case.”
    “There’s nothing to recover from the plastic bag. I made some inquiries about it. I was told that it is normally used for fallen leaves in people’s backyards.”
    “Indeed! Imagine a taxi driver worrying about the fallen leaves in his backyard!”
    “What did you say?”
    “Oh, nothing,” he said. “But thank you so much, Dr. Xia.”
    “Don’t mention it, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen, also Chinese imagist poet.”
    Out of the black plastic bag, her white bare feet, and her red polished toenails like fallen petals in the night. It could be a modernist image.
    Chen then dialed Detective Yu.
    Entering his office, Yu, too, offered his congratulations, “What a surprise, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen. A terrific breakthrough.”
    “Well, if only we could say that about our case.”
    Indeed they needed a “miracle” in their investigation.
    Detective Yu had come up empty-handed. Following his theory, Lu had made inquiry at the taxi bureau. To his dismay, he found that obtaining anything close to reliable information for the night was impossible. There was no point in checking the taxi drivers’ receipts. Most drivers—whether the taxi company was state-run or private—kept a considerable portion of their money by not giving receipts to customers, he was told, so it was possible for a driver to claim to have driven around for the night without being able to pick up one single passenger—thus avoiding taxation.
    In addition, Yu had checked all the customer lists of Shanghai travel agencies during May. Guan’s name had not been on any of them.
    And Yu’s research with respect to the last phone call Guan had made from the department store was not successful either. Many people had used the phone that evening. And Mrs. Weng’s recollection of the time was not accurate. After spending hours to rule out other calls made roughly around the same time, the one most likely made by Guan was to weather information. It made sense, for Guan had been planning her trip, but that only confirmed something they had known.
    So like Chen, Yu had not gotten anything, not even a tip worthy of a follow-up.
    And the more time that elapsed, the colder the trail became.
    They were under pressure, not just from the bureau and the city government. The case was being buzzed about among people in general, in spite of the low-profile treatment it had been given by the local media. And the longer the case remained unsolved, the more negative impact it would have on the bureau.
    “It is becoming political,” Chen said.
    “Our Party Secretary Li is always right.”
    “Let’s put something in the newspaper. A reward for information.”
    “That’s worth trying. The Wenhui Daily can run the request for help. But what shall it say? This is so sensitive, as Party Secretary Li has told us.”
    “Well, we don’t have to mention the case directly. Just ask for information about anything suspicious around the Baili Canal area on the night of May tenth.”
    “Yes, we can do that,” Chen said. “And we’ll use some of our special case group funds for the reward. We have left no stone unturned, haven’t we?”
    Detective Yu shrugged his shoulders before leaving the cubicle.
    Except one, Chief Inspector Chen thought. Guan Hongying’s mother. He had refrained from discussing this with Yu, who did not get along well with the commissar.
    The old lady had been visited by Commissar Zhang, who had gotten nothing from her. A late-stage Alzheimer’s patient, she was totally deranged, unable to provide any information. It was not the commissar’s fault. But an