Death of a Red Heroine

left quite early yesterday,” Yu said. “Did something come up at the office?”
    “Oh, I’ve just received some information—about the case.”
    “Peiqin, can you excuse us for a minute?”
    “That’s all right. I’m going out with Qinqin. He needs to buy a pencil sharpener.”
    “No, I’m sorry, Mrs. Yu,” Chen said. “Yu and I can take a walk outside. It may not be a bad idea—after a full meal.”
    “How can you think of it, Chief Inspector? You’re our guest for the first time. Have a few more cups of wine, and talk with Yu here. I’ll be back in about an hour—to serve you our home-made dessert.”
    She put on a blue denim vest, and walked out with Qinqin.
    “So what’s up?” Yu said after he heard the door close after Peiqin.
    “You talked to Wu Xiaoming,” Chen said, “didn’t you?”
    “Wu Xiaoming—yes, I remember, the photographer of the Red Star. Just one of the people who had known Guan. A routine checkup at the time.” Yu took out a notebook, thumbing through a few pages. “I made two phone calls to him. He said he had taken a few pictures of Guan. The pictures appeared in the People’s Daily . A political assignment. Anything suspicious about him?”
    “Quite a lot,” Chen sipped at his tea, while summing up the new development in his investigation.
    “That’s really something!” Yu said. “Wu lied to me. Let’s get hold of him.”
    “Do you know anything about Wu’s family background?”
    “Family background?”
    “His father is Wu Bing.”
    “What are you saying?”
    “Yes, no other than Wu Bing, the Shanghai Minister of Propaganda. Wu Xiaoming is his only son. Also the son-in-law of Liang Guoren, former governor of Jiangsu Province. That’s why I want to talk to you here.”
    “That bastard of an HCC!” Yu burst out, his fist banging on the table.
    “What?” Chen seemed surprised at his reaction.
    “These HCC.” Yu was making an effort to calm himself down. “They think they can get away with anything. Not this time. Let’s issue a warrant.”
    “At present, we only know there was a close relationship between Guan and Wu. That isn’t enough.”
    “No, I don’t agree. So many things fit. Let’s see,” Yu said, draining his tea, “Wu had a car, his father’s car. So he was capable of dumping her body in the canal. The plastic bag makes sense, too. Not to mention the caviar. And as a married man, Wu had to keep their affair a secret, and for the same reason, so did Guan. That’s why Guan made such a point of concealing her personal life.”
    “But all this is not legally sufficient proof that Wu Xiaoming committed the murder. What we have so far is just circumstantial evidence.”
    “But Wu has been withholding information. That’s enough for us to interrogate him.”
    “That’s exactly what I’m worried about. A lot of politics will be involved if we are going to confront Wu Bing’s son.”
    “Have you discussed it with Party Secretary Li?”
    “No, not yet,” Chen said. “Li’s still in Beijing.”
    “Then we can go ahead without having to report to him.”
    “Yes, we can, but we have to move carefully.”
    “Is there anything else you know about Wu?”
    “Just these official files.” Chen produced a folder out of his brief case. “Not much, general background information. If you want, you can read it tomorrow.”
    “I would like to read a few pages now if you don’t mind,” Yu said, lighting a cigarette for Chen and then one for himself.
    So Yu began to read the documents enclosed in the folder. The most comprehensive one was an official dossier Chen had obtained from the Shanghai Archives Bureau. The dossier did not offer much of immediate interest, but it was more thoroughly compiled than what Yu had been used to seeing in ordinary bureau files. Wu Xiaoming was born in 1949. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth. His father Wu Bing was a high cadre in charge of the Party’s ideological work, living in one of the most luxurious mansions in Shanghai. Wu Xiaoming grew to be a “three good” student in his elementary school. A proud Young Pioneer with the streaming red scarf and then a Communist Youth League member with a golden badge shining in the sunlight of the early sixties. The Cultural Revolution changed everything. Wu Bing’s political rival, Zhang Chunqiao, a Party politburo member, was merciless toward his opponents. Wu Xiaoming saw his parents dragged out of the mansion, handcuffed, and thrown into prison,