The Mao Case

interpretation of Old Hunter’s. “You strangled Shang’s
     granddaughter, Mao knocked you out — at least, Mao’s portrait did.”
    “But how did you get in here?” During their fleeting encounter in the dark, Hua must not have seen Chen break out of the closet —
     probably hadn’t realized that Chen had been hiding in there at all.
    “You devil, you deserve a thousands cuts!” Old Hunter interrupted. “You won’t get away with it. This is murder in the first
     degree.”
    Hua appeared very different, his eyes lusterless, his left cheek twitching uncontrollably, his mouth dropping. There was no
     trace left of the imperial Mao persona. Nor even of a successful businessman. He was totally crushed.
    It was a moment for Chen to seize upon. To shake something more out of the fallen. There were still unanswered questions.
    But his cell phone shrilled out again, breaking the spell of the
moment. It was Minister Huang from Beijing, and Chen had to take the call.
    “Liu’s just called me, Chief Inspector Chen.”
    “Oh, Minister Huang, I was going to call you too,” Chen said, not surprised by Liu’s fast move. Jiao was killed in her apartment
     by someone named Hua. A nut who tries to imitate Mao. He is in my custody.”
    “A nut who tries to imitate Mao! That’s unbelievable. But how did you get in there? Internal Security is complaining about
     your singular methods.” The minister added quickly, “It’s sour grapes, of course. I understand. You beat them again.”
    “They were so anxious to use their tough measures, but it wasn’t a good idea, not on such a politically sensitive case. As
     you have said, it wasn’t in the best interest of the Party. So I decided that I had to act on my own.”
    “It was very decisive action, I have to say. Now, did you find anything there?”
    “Yes, there was something left behind by Shang.”
    “Really, Chief Inspector Chen!”
    “A scroll of a poem in Mao’s brush handwriting with a dedication to Phoenix — which was her nickname, you know. It was ‘Ode
     to the Plum Blossom.’ And the scroll was certified as authentic. Shall I turn it over to Internal Security?”
    “Oh, that — no. Turn the scroll over to me. You don’t have to say anything about it to Internal Security. You’re working directly
     under the Central Party Committee. Is there anything else?”
    “Not at this moment,” he said. Apparently the minister didn’t think that the scroll mattered a great deal to the image of
     Mao. Chen decided not to mention the broom. He still had to verify what was inside first. Besides, Old Hunter and Hua were
     listening. “I’m going to search thoroughly. whatever I find, I’ll report to you, Minister Huang.”
    Old Hunter looked confused. So did Hua, though he had been tipped about Chen’s high connections. Little did he imagine that
     the “would-be writer” was actually a chief inspector who was talking to a government minister in Beijing.

    “Don’t reveal anything to the media,” Minister Huang said. “It’s in the Party’s interest.”
    “Yes, I understand. It’s in the Party’s interest.”
    “You solved the case under a lot of pressure. I’d like to suggest that you take a vacation. How about one in Beijing?”
    “Thank you so much, Minister Huang,” Chen said, wondering whether the minister was aware of his recent trip to Beijing. “I’ll
     think about it.”
    “As I said, you’re an exceptional police officer. The Party authorities can always depend on you. Greater responsibilities
     are awaiting you.”
    The minister didn’t forget his promise of promotion to Chen probably as the successor to Party Secretary Li in the Shanghai
     Police Bureau.
    Following the conclusion of the phone call, a wave of silence overwhelmed the room.
    Hua looked up from the floor, his smoldering glare shifting and settling on Chen.
    “What a bastard you are! You’ve created all this trouble for me, haven’t you? But you’re so stupid.
Surrounded and surrounded by the enemy, / I stand firm and invincible.”
    Hua was quoting again. Those were lines composed by Mao while fighting the guerrilla war against the nationalists in the days
     of the Jinggang Mountains. However, it was ridiculous for Hua to attempt the Hunan accent. It sounded hollow, empty, without
     any conviction.
    “What an idiot!” Old Hunter commented. “Still lost in the days of the Jinggang Mountains. That son of a bitch doesn’t even
     know what day it is