Don’t Cry, Tai Lake

pills from Liu’s desk. He burned the document, splintered the cup and threw the pieces away, but he didn’t get rid of the statuette. Apparently, he didn’t think anyone would notice it in his place, or if they did, would suspect it was the murder weapon. After all, the statuette was now rightfully his, since he was going to be the new head of the company.”
    “What cruel karma!”
    “What do you mean, Chief?”
    “The award for the chemical company’s success under Liu turned out to be the weapon that killed him. Now, with the company falling into Fu’s hands, the statuette became the irrefutable evidence that will convict him. All from an award for increasing production and profit at the expense of the environment. Bad karma indeed.”
    “You always see things from a different angle, Chief.”
    “What about Mi?”
    “Once she leaned that Fu had made a full confession, she also spilled everything. However, she insisted that she knew nothing about Fu’s real plan, and that she didn’t give Liu a lethal dose—just a large enough dose of sleeping pills so he would sleep heavily. She also confessed to arranging those threatening calls to Shanshan. That was Liu’s idea—to use the hint of triad enforcers to silence her at the critical juncture before the IPO. He asked Mi to make the arrangements, so she paid a thug to call Shanshan from a public phone booth. When Liu died, there was no need to continue.”
    “No wonder Shanshan stopped receiving those phone calls,” he said. “Though that’s pretty much what I guessed.”
    “But you must have realized it was an important clue. I should have followed it all the way back.”
    It would be useless for Chen to explain. He’d asked Huang to check on the calls simply because of his interest in Shanshan. But to the young cop, the chief inspector must be like Sherlock Holmes, with his every move full of insight.
    “Oh, I am calling from my car,” Huang continued. “I’m very close to the bureau now. I’ll be taking Jiang to prison from there, you know. I have to end this call, but I’ll keep you updated one way or another.”
    “Thanks, Huang. If there’s anything new, let me know.”
    Setting his cell phone down on the table, and then taking another sip at the tea, Chen remembered the special delivery letter he had stuffed in his jacket pocket back at the center. Wondering who could have sent it, he tapped the cigarette ash slowly into a black shell-shaped ashtray.
    He took the envelope out, opened it, and upon reading it, sat up in spite of himself.
    Dear Chen:
    I’m writing this letter because I don’t think I can bring myself to say good-bye to you. It is an ending that you and I both should have known was inevitable.
    Now looking back, I think it was during the night at your place I began to make up my mind—subconsciously, as you might say. Even at our first meeting at Uncle Wang’s eatery, I was aware of something different in you—that you were a man of resources and connections, but at the same time, of integrity and idealistic passion. No, I’m not saying so just for the sake of this letter. What you have done for me, especially after learning that there was something between Jiang and me, speaks volumes for you.
    You’ve never asked any questions about it. With so many things happening around us, and so quickly, I didn’t even have an opportunity to tell you more about myself. Yes, I have known Jiang for a long while. We shared a lot of common interests, as you know, and our relationship developed. You must have read the files on him—a man obsessed with his vocation as an environmentalist, to such an extent that he landed me in a mess. I was so upset, I broke up with him. That was before I met you.
    Then he got into serious trouble—more serious than he bargained for. It was beyond me to do anything to help. Not for one moment, however, have I suspected him of committing the crimes he was accused of.
    For the last few days, I’ve also been thinking a lot about him. Perhaps I was wrong about him. He must have been aware of the risks, but having made his choice, he has accepted the consequences for what he believes in. That, too, happens to be what I believe in. If I left him in the lurch, I would never be able to have any peace of mind.
    Besides, he’s not strong, not like you. He needs me—more than ever.
    I hope you understand why I’m making this decision. Believe me, it’s not an easy one. Can you do me the favor of