Death of a Red Heroine

toes.
    “No question about it.” Yu came to an abrupt halt. “That bastard’s the murderer.”
    “You handled him quite well,” Chen said, “Comrade Young Hunter.”
    “Thank you, chief,” Yu said, pleased with the compliment, and even more so with the invention of this nickname by his boss.
    At the end of the side street, they caught sight of a dingy snack bar.
    “Can you smell curry?” Chen sniffed the air appreciatively. “Oh, I’m hungry.”
    Yu nodded his agreement.
    So they made their way into the bar. Pushing aside the bamboo bead curtain over the entrance, they found the interior surprisingly clean. There were no more than three plastic-topped tables covered with white tablecloths. Each table exhibited a bamboo beaker of chopsticks, a stainless steel container of toothpicks, and a soy sauce dispenser. A hand-written streamer on the wall limited the menu to cold noodles, cold dumplings, and a couple of cold dishes, but the curry beef soup was steaming hot in a big pot. It was two fifteen, late for lunch customers, so they had the place to themselves. A young woman emerged from the back-room kitchen at their footsteps, wiping her flour-covered hands on a jasmine-embroidered white apron, leaving a smudge on her smiling cheek. She was probably the proprietress, but also the waitress and chef in one. Leading them to a table, she recommended the special dishes of the day. She brought them a complimentary quart of iced beer.
    After unwrapping the paper covers from their bamboo chopsticks, and placing a generous helping of curry sauce in their soup, the proprietress withdrew to the kitchen.
    “A surprising place for this area,” Chen said, chewing at the aniseed-flavored peas, as he filled Yu’s beer glass.
    Yu took a deep draught and nodded in agreement. The beer was cold enough. The smoked fish head was also tasty. The squid had a special texture.
    Shanghai was indeed a city full of wonderful surprises, whether in the prosperous thoroughfares or on small side streets. It was a city in which people from all walks of life could find something enjoyable, even at such a shabby-looking, inexpensive place.
    “What do you think?”
    “Wu killed her,” Yu repeated. “I’m positive.”
    “Perhaps, but why?”
    “It’s so obvious, the way he answered our questions.”
    “You mean the way he lied to our faces?”
    “No question about it. So many holes in his story. But it’s not just that. Wu had a prompt answer for everything, way too prompt—didn’t your notice? It echoed of research and rehearsal.
    Just a simple clandestine affair would not have been worth all that effort.”
    “You’re right.” Chen said, sipping at his beer. “But what could Wu’s motive be?”
    “Somebody else had entered the picture? Another man? And Wu got insanely jealous.”
    “That’s possible, but according to the phone records, almost all the calls Guan got in the last few months came from Wu,” Chen said. “Besides, Wu is an ambitious HCC, with a most promising career, and a number of pretty women around him— not only at work, I would say. So why should Wu have played the jealous Othello?”
    “Othello or not, I don’t know, but possibly it’s the other way around. Maybe Wu had another woman or women—all those models, naked, from his work to his bed—and Guan could not take it, and made an ugly scene about it.”
    “Even so, I still cannot see why Wu had to kill her. He could have broken off with her. After all, Guan was not his wife, not in a position to force him into doing anything.”
    “Yes, that’s something,” Yu said. “If Guan had been found to be pregnant, we might suppose she was threatening him. I’ve had a case like that. The pregnant woman wanted the man to divorce his wife for her. The man couldn’t, so he got rid of her. But Guan’s autopsy report said she was not pregnant.”
    “Yes, I’ve also checked that with Dr. Xia.”
    “So what will be our next step?”
    “To confirm Wu’s alibi.”
    “Okay, I’ll take care of Guo Qiang. But Wu will have arranged things with him, I bet.”
    “Yes, I doubt if Guo will tell us anything.”
    “What else can we do?”
    “Interview some other people.”
    “Where are they?”
    Chen produced a copy of the Flower City from his briefcase, and turned to a full page picture of a nude female reclining on her side. She showed only her back to the camera, but all her lines and curves were soft, suggestive, her round buttocks moon like. A