Profiler (Fang Mu Eastern Crimes Series Book 1) (17 page)

Tai Wei stared at him for a long time before saying: "You're not still mad at me because of that other thing, are you?"

"No," said Fang Mu, looking up. "I just feel exhausted, and want to be a normal student like everyone else."

Tai Wei opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. The two of them sat there in awkward silence for a moment. At last, forcing a smile, Tai Wei patted Fang Mu on the shoulder. "I can understand," he said. "After all, you're still too young to be spending all your time dealing with this kind of stuff." He sighed, and then shrugged his shoulders. "It's funny, this whole time I never thought of you as a student, but as a fellow officer." He smiled and patted Fang Mu's shoulder again. "Take good care of yourself." Then he stood up and got ready to leave.

"You know…" said Fang Mu, suddenly opening his mouth.

"What?" Tai Wei immediately sat back down and focused all his attention on him.

"It's probable that the pornographic comic was put there to dishonor the victim," said Fang Mu, his head down, seemingly speaking to himself. "Especially given that she was this nice, upstanding woman. Yeah, leaving something that obscene beside the body, I'd say he wanted to humiliate her."

"So what was the motive? Why would he want to do that to her?"

"I'm not sure. But I'd say it has something to do with sex."

"Are you saying…this was a crime of passion?"

"I'm merely saying it's a possibility. As for the heroin, I have no idea why he used that to kill her. Using a murder weapon like that takes preparation, therefore I believe it has something to do with whatever special need the killer is trying to fulfill. But as for the need itself, I also have no idea."

Seemingly deep in thought, Tai Wei nodded and said, "That's it?"

"That's it," said Fang Mu, before quickly adding, "but this is just my personal opinion, so take it with a grain of salt. Also," and now his face fell, "don't go looking into my past, and don't try convincing me to become a cop. I won't do it."

Then before Tai Wei could respond, Fang Mu stood up and walked away. He didn't look back once.

The police once more investigated the victim and her husband, this time focusing on their relationships with people of the opposite sex. As for the victim, they found that she had almost no male friends whatsoever, and according to her relatives and former coworkers, she had strongly disdained any sort of immoral male-female relations. But while investigating the husband, police made a significant discovery: a number of people they interviewed said that Pang Guangcai had been involved with a 30-something cleaning lady from the
Jiangbin
City
University
maintenance department. Police then focused all their energy on this lead, but found themselves greatly disappointed. As it turned out, Pang Guangcai and the cleaning lady did indeed have illicit relations: she had only just gotten divorced at the time, and in her loneliness had seduced him. But three months prior to the murder, she had gotten remarried to the boss of a snack food wholesaler, and her home life could be considered happy once more. She had absolutely no reason to want to kill Tang Yu’e and take her place.

Once more the investigation ground to a halt.

For the first time ever, it seemed to Fang Mu, Du Yu was not eating lunch with his arm draped over Zhang Yao. Instead, he had dragged Fang Mu to the dining hall by himself and had seated them in a very conspicuous spot.

"What's going on?" asked Fang Mu, obviously surprised as he ladled winter melon sparerib soup into his bowl. "Are you and Zhang Yao fighting?"

"No, no, no." Du Yu was clearly not in any hurry to chat. Spooning food into his mouth, he craned his neck and looked all around. After a moment, he spotted Zhang Yao amid the crowd of people lined up to get their food. He waved at her. Beaming, she waved back.

Third wheel again. Irritated, Fang Mu grabbed his tray and stood up. "You guys eat together; I'll go sit over there."

"Hey, don't leave," said Du Yu, waving him back to the table. "She's not going to sit here. It'll just be you and me."

Carrying their trays, Zhang Yao and another girl walked over to a nearby table and sat down. She winked at Du Yu, and then began eating.

"The hell's going on?" muttered Fang Mu, as he hunched over the table and continued to eat.

Du Yu barely paid attention to his food. He and Zhang Yao kept looking over at one other and gesturing back and forth. After a little while, he grinned at Fang Mu and said, "Well, what do you think?"

"What do I think about what?" asked Fang Mu, confused.

"That girl, the one sitting with Zhang Yao." He nodded in her direction.

Fang Mu glanced over. "She's all right."

At that very moment the girl happened to be looking in his direction, but as soon as their eyes met she looked away.

"Look at that dirty smile on your face," said Fang Mu, shaking his head at Du Yu. "You're crazy trying to check out some girl with Zhang Yao sitting right there. Don't come crying to me after she catches you."

"Man, what are you talking about? I was asking what
you
thought of her."

"Me?" Suddenly Fang Mu understood. When Zhang Yao said she was going to find Fang Mu a girlfriend, she had apparently been very serious.

Zhang Yao motioned for them to come over and join them. Clearly able to take a hint, Du Yu stood up at once. "Come on," he said, "let's all eat together."

"Stop making trouble," said Fang Mu, his face red.

The girl in question, however, looked totally at ease. She moved her tray out of the way so Du Yu and Fang Mu would have room to eat with them.

Seeing that Fang Mu still hadn't moved, Du Yu tried to provoke him, whispering, "Come on, man, you don't even have the nerve to do this?"

After hesitating for a moment, Fang Mu steeled himself, and then walked over with Du Yu and sat down.

"Fang Mu," said Du Yu, motioning at the girl, "this is Deng Linyue, Zhang Yao's classmate. Deng Linyue, this is my roommate, Fang Mu."

"Hello, master sleuth," said Deng Linyue, smiling at Fang Mu. Her voice was a little husky, sensuous.

Hearing the words "master sleuth", Fang Mu felt even more at a loss. Without looking up from his meal, he mumbled a brief "Hi" and then nearly buried his face in his food and continued to eat.

The table immediately fell silent. After a few seconds, Fang Mu felt Du Yu step roughly on his foot beneath the table.

"What are you doing?" said Fang Mu sharply, but when he looked up he saw Deng Linyue's outstretched hand hanging in the air over the table. The look on her face was extremely awkward.

Fang Mu hurriedly reached out and shook her hand, forgetting that he was still holding his spoon. In the process he smeared her whole hand with soup. 

"Sorry," he said, obviously flustered. He dug through all his pockets, searching wildly for a pack of tissues, but by the time he finally found some, Deng Linyue had already wiped her hand clean with a pack from her bag.

Now it was Fang Mu's turn to feel awkward. After sitting stiffly for several seconds, he decided that he might as well not say anything else, so he grabbed his tray and began eating as fast as he could.

For the rest of lunch, Du Yu and Zhang Yao tried to enliven the atmosphere by keeping up a constant, cheerful chatter, while the two individuals whom the lunch was actually about remained silent, focused on their food.

Fang Mu was first to finish. Although he wanted to get out of there immediately, he now realized this wouldn't be particularly polite, so he took out a cigarette and began to slowly puff away. As soon as the smoke drifted across the table, Deng Linyue, who up until then had been eating and drinking with gentle refinement, frowned slightly and batted it away.

Rather than put out his cigarette, Fang Mu used this opportunity to check her out while she was looking down to avoid the smoke.

She was about 5'5", her long hair tied in a loose bun, and several dyed-blonde strands hung across her oval-shaped face. Her skin was quite fair, her eyebrows painstakingly plucked, and the mascara and lipstick she wore were obviously not cheap. In her ears she wore diamond studs that matched her necklace perfectly, and she had on a light yellow spaghetti-strap top that revealed a swimsuit tan on her shoulders. However, her skin looked soft and smooth, not like that of someone who lived by the ocean; she had probably just vacationed there over summer break. Her legs were long and slender and she was wearing a short, white skirt and colorful sandals. Lavender polish glistened on her toenails.

This petite young woman was clearly quite well-off, and from her bearing it was clear that if her parents weren't high-ranking intellectuals, then they had to be government officials.

Seeming to realize that Fang Mu was observing her, Deng Linyue blushed slightly. When she finished eating, she lightly dabbed the corners of her mouth with a tissue, stood up, and bid a polite goodbye.

"I've got some things to take care of," she said. "See you guys soon." Then she nodded at everyone, picked up her tray, and walked gracefully away.

Once she was gone, Zhang Yao muttered in disappointment, "What the heck were you doing, Fang Mu?"

Cigarette hanging from his mouth, Fang Mu stared at the ceiling and ignored her.

"You colossal fool!" said Du Yu once they were back in the dorm. He was still upset over what had happened at lunch.

"She's beautiful, from a good family, and her dad is the director of the local Bureau of Industry and Commerce. You know how many guys are after her? It took a whole lot of work on Zhang Yao's part before she'd even agree to chat with you."

"Why don't you go for her if you like her so much?" said Fang Mu. He was shirtless and wearing only a pair of shorts, and he climbed into bed and pulled the top sheet over him. "Tell Zhang Yao that while I'm very grateful, she shouldn't waste so much energy on me in the future."

"Jeez, let no good deed go unpunished," said Du Yu, also getting ready for an afternoon nap. After undressing, he stared off into space for a moment. Then he smiled.

"She really does have some long legs, though." He laughed and smacked his lips in delight.

"Manwhore!" yelled Fang Mu, although he couldn't help but smile.

While the sound of Du Yu's snoring soon filled the room, Fang Mu tossed and turned, but couldn't get to sleep.

A girlfriend?Do I really need a girlfriend?

Even though Fang Mu had long remained aloof on campus, rarely socializing with anyone else, he had noticed at various points that a few girls seemed to regard him with interest. But because he was so accustomed to avoiding other people, those girls had gradually shifted their attentions to more open, enthusiastic boys.

Chen Xi.

The name alone caused Fang Mu's spirits to plummet. Rolling over, he buried his face in the cool side of the bed.

Never mind a kiss, never mind the feel of her hand in his, Fang Mu had never even spoken those three simple words to Chen Xi before it was too late. With some things, make one mistake and you can never take it back. With some people, make one and they never come back.

In the movie
A Chinese Odyssey II
, when a sword was held to Glorious Bao's throat, he spoke a heartfelt lie: "If God were to give me another chance, I would tell her I love her. And if He said that one day our love must end, I would wish for ten thousand years."

If God gave me another chance, I would wish that none of this ever happened, that I had never even met Chen Xi.

Don't think about it anymore, he told himself, blinking his already moist eyes. Since he was choosing to say goodbye to the past, that meant choosing to forget every part of it.

Half asleep, Fang Mu was surprised to find himself thinking about Deng Linyue. Although that afternoon he had scrutinized her from head to toe, he now couldn't remember what she looked like at all.

All he remembered was that she used
Soulmate
brand tissues, the pack printed with drawings from the Jimmy Liao graphic novel
Turn Left, Turn Right
.

CHAPTER
13
Instinct

B
efore getting off work, Tai Wei ran into Zhao Yonggui, deputy chief of the State Enterprise and Nonprofit Institution Investigative Division. Old Zhao was leaning against the hallway window, smoking sullenly. A number of butts already littered the floor around his feet. When Tai Wei walked over and said hello, Old Zhao glanced up at him with cavernous, bloodshot eyes.

"How's your case going?" asked Tai Wei, offering him a cigarette.

Old Zhao tossed the spent cigarette in his hand to the ground and accepted the one from Tai Wei. He lit it and took a deep drag.

"No progress whatsoever," he said, digging his fingers into his temples. "We've interviewed nearly six hundred people and still haven't learned a thing. How about yours?"

"The same," said Tai Wei, his voice sounding a little disheartened.

The two men smiled bitterly at each other, and then smoked together in silence.

At some point it began to rain, blurring the view from the window. As Tai Wei watched the drops run endlessly down the glass, he suddenly remembered how he and Fang Mu had searched through a storm for Tong Hui. Unable to help himself, he smiled.  

That pale, quiet, somewhat nervous kid had actually seemed a lot better the last time they'd met. His complexion had improved, and there was a more youthful look in his eyes.

It was true; making a kid his age confront blood-drenched murder scenes day after day was a little cruel. He should get to be like his fellow students, happy and carefree, idling his time away. And then later: graduating, getting a job, marrying, having children—enjoying the common pleasures of an ordinary life.

Ding Shucheng had said Fang Mu had a gift for understanding crime. But as Tai Wei saw it, this gift didn't seem to give him any pleasure at all. When Tai Wei tried to ask him why he was so interested in this stuff, he had said he didn't know. But that was obviously not the truth. Instead, it seemed to Tai Wei that the kid was constantly struggling with some memory he was powerless to shake. What terrifying experience was haunting him from the past?

If a person like Fang Mu wanted to choose an ordinary life, Tai Wei didn't know whether he should be happy for him or disappointed that he was wasting his talents. Take the case he was currently working on: if Fang Mu were there, Tai Wei was certain he'd never feel so stuck. But the way that Fang Mu had acted last time made him feel a little apprehensive about asking for his help. So although his advice about looking for a sexual dimension to the crime hadn't panned out, Tai Wei did not plan on consulting him again.

"If we see each other again, it means someone else has died."

Tai Wei just shook his head. That kid was a real piece of work. He truly hoped that one day the two of them could meet up for drinks when there was nothing else to worry about, and then get dead drunk together.

"Tai Wei," said Old Zhao suddenly.

"Huh?" grunted Tai Wei, quickly coming back to reality.

"You guys did a good job on that Ma Kai case," said Old Zhao, roughly smoothing his hair. "From the start, I've felt that our killer from the seven-one case is also abnormal, with some kind of mental disorder most likely, but I've been unable to figure a thing out on my own. Will you help me out with the psychological analysis?"

"Me?" asked Tai Wei, pointing at himself. "Stop kidding around. Since when have I had those kinds of skills?"

Still, Old Zhao's words made Tai Wei's heart skip a beat, because he was absolutely right. Constructing a criminal profile of Ma Kai had been hugely beneficial in cracking his case, so why not use a tactic like that again? The 7/1 double murder and the hospital heroin killing were both unusual crimes with seemingly unexplainable aspects. If psychological profiles could be made of their perpetrators, Tai Wei was confident this would greatly help to push both cases along.

"We should find an expert on psychology to help us out," said Tai Wei.

For an instant Old Zhao hesitated, clearly ill at ease. Then he tossed his half-smoked cigarette on the ground and crushed it roughly with his foot. "We'll see," he said. He glanced at his watch. "Shit, look how late it is. I'm not working overtime today. I need to head home and get some rest." He nodded to Tai Wei. Then turned and left.

Tai Wei watched Old Zhao's slightly hunched form disappear into the darkness at the end of the hallway. The guy was over 50 and had only just been promoted to deputy division chief. During this mess, the pressure had to be unimaginable.

At that moment, Fang Mu was sitting in class and spacing out, watching the same raindrops patter against the windowpane.

Rain always caused people to daydream—or at the very least, seemed to make it impossible to pay attention to what was going on in front of them.

It was Professor Song's class again. Because the professor worked as a lawyer during the day, he had no choice but to teach his graduate lessons outside of normal class hours. Dinnertime had already passed, but the professor showed no sign of finishing. Instead he just told everyone to take a short break.

Grumbling, some students braved the rain and sprinted to a nearby market to buy bread and other snacks to stave off hunger. The gutsier ones, on the other hand, covertly packed up their belongings and slipped out. After drinking some tea and smoking a cigarette in his office, Professor Song returned to class in great spirits, but when he saw how many students had left, his face went red and he pulled the attendance sheet from his briefcase.

The sound of students responding "Here" from every corner of the classroom brought Fang Mu back to reality, and he involuntarily glanced over at Meng Fanzhe. This was the first time the professor had taken attendance in a long time, and it had also been a long time since Fang Mu and Meng Fanzhe had sat next to each other. Meng Fanzhe was now too far away to help, and Fang Mu felt both worried for him and unwilling to watch another of those incredibly awkward scenes.

It was clear Meng Fanzhe was nervous himself. He sat stiffly, his back straight and his eyes focused unblinkingly on the attendance sheet in Professor Song's hands.

"Wang Degang."

"Here."

"Chen Liang."

"Here."

"
Chu
Xiaoxu."

"Here."

Unable to do anything, Fang Mu forced himself to look away.

It was good breeding not to knock over one's tableware at dinner. But when someone else knocked over their tableware, it was even better breeding to pretend not to see.

Next time, man. Right now there's nothing I can do.

"Meng Fanzhe."

Meng Fanzhe hesitated for about a second. Then he stood halfway up and spoke very clearly: "Here."

Astounded, Fang Mu looked back over, only to meet Meng Fanzhe's eyes. Meng Fanzhe smiled brightly at him, and gave a cheerful, victorious wink.

Before going to bed, Fang Mu ran into Meng Fanzhe in the bathroom. Meng Fanzhe was carrying two large kettles that he had just filled with boiling water.

"What are you doing with those?" Fang Mu asked, pointing at the kettles as he scrubbed his face at a sink.

"I'm giving Tom a bath," said Meng Fanzhe with a smile.

"Then you really don't need that much. It's a waste."

"You don't understand. Tom is so naughty. He always gets himself filthy from head to toe." Hearing Meng Fanzhe cheerfully complain about Tom, Fang Mu remembered how Liu Jianjun had called Meng Fanzhe
Jerry
, and he couldn't help but smile. Looking to either side, he made sure no one else was in the bathroom. 

He turned to Meng Fanzhe and said quietly, "It seems like you're no longer afraid of roll call."

"Yep!" Meng Fanzhe nodded vigorously. "That seems to be the case." He placed the kettles on the floor and reached out to shake Fang Mu's hand, a serious look on his face. "Fang Mu, I want to thank you so much for the help you gave me."

Fang Mu smiled and shook his hand. "Don't mention it."

"When you're free, you'll have to come visit me in my room," said Meng Fanzhe. Then he waved goodbye, picked up his kettles and left.

Seeing Meng Fanzhe so relaxed made Fang Mu deeply happy. As he looked in the mirror, a slight smile gradually climbed his face.

That's right,
he thought.
Nothing is impossible.

It rained for two days straight, and as September began there was an unexpected chill in the air.

Umbrella overhead, Fang Mu carefully climbed the rain-slick library steps. He glanced at a piece of paper on the wall. It looked like a missing person notice. Momentarily distracted, he nearly slipped on some fallen leaves. He looked up. It seemed like only yesterday that the big tree had been covered in green. Now the leaves were all golden yellow, and as another gust of wind blew, several more floated down.

Five minutes earlier, he had received a call from Professor Qiao telling him to meet in the Psychological Consultation Room. He had not said what was going on, only that Fang Mu should hurry.

The Psychological Consultation Room was on the second floor of the library. It was the first of its kind to be located in any of the city's universities, and Professor Qiao was the man in charge. In 2000, the members of the Provincial Education Commission had held a meeting concerning university students' mental health, at which they called for all schools of higher education to establish mental health services for the benefit of their students.
Jiangbin
City
University
administrators had then tapped several professors from the schools of law and education to form the staff of a psychological consultation room located at the university. Being the eldest staff member, Professor Qiao Yunping had been chosen to be the project's director. But in the two years since its founding, very few people had come in for a consultation. Of course, this did not in the least mean that no one at
Jiangbin
City
University
had psychological issues; just that most would rather not confront them head-on. And since Professor Qiao usually had many things to attend to, he began showing up at the center less and less, until he was rarely there. So Fang Mu found it very puzzling that this was where the professor wanted to meet that day.

After Fang Mu knocked on the door, he heard Professor Qiao's distinctly calm voice. "Come in."

Fang Mu opened the door and walked inside, only to find that Professor Qiao was not alone.

On the sofa against the wall sat two visitors wearing police uniforms. One of them wore the stripes of a top-ranked officer. Both men turned to look at Fang Mu as he entered, obviously sizing him up.

Professor Qiao sat behind his desk. Several thick folders were stacked in front of him. He held one open in his hands. Glancing at Fang Mu from over the top of his presbyopic glasses, he motioned for him to sit in a nearby chair, and then handed him one of the folders.

The two policemen glanced at one another.

Without looking up, Professor Qiao said, "My student."

This didn't seem to ease their doubts in the least.

Feeling a little awkward, Fang Mu had no choice but to take a seat and open the folder.

Once he saw the first page, he knew exactly what they were: the files from the Qu Weiqiang and Wang Qian murder case.

Preliminary case notes. Autopsy reports. Crime scene investigation details and photographs. Interview transcriptions. Almost casually, Fang Mu flipped through it all.

Qu Weiqiang face down on the turf, arms extended, severed bones sticking out of either wrist.

His hands beside the goalposts, pale white and bloodless, like they had been chopped off a plastic mannequin.

Beneath his caved-in skull, his face wore a serene expression.

In a flash, Fang Mu’s mind returned to that night he had stood alone in front of the goal. Everything around him became quiet. The overflowing bookshelves, Professor Qiao and the two policemen sitting up straight on the sofa, the large oil painting of Sigmund Freud on the wall—all of it now seemed very far away.