the suspected murders. You’d better have a look at the suicide, just in case. Then debrief the other two and let me know what you think.’
*
Several hundred curious onlookers had gathered by the lakeside among the willows. Word had swept like wildfire through the nearby market streets, and rumours of death in the park held the promise of drama; a kind of street theatre, something to break the monotonous repetition of their daily lives. Nearly sixty uniformed officers had been assigned to crowd control. Several plainclothes policemen moved among the spectators, listening to gossip and speculation in the hope of picking up even the smallest piece of information that might prove useful. From across the water, where people were packed in under the shade of the pavilion, from above the babble of voices, came the mournful wail of a single-stringed violin, like a dirge for the dead. The rest of the park was deserted.
Li inched his way through the crowd in a dark blue Jeep, red light flashing on the roof, horn sounding. People were reluctant to get out of the way. Curious faces stared in at him as he squeezed past, but he was oblivious. Confidence had returned. He was back on home territory, doing what he was good at. Finally, at the north side of the lake, he drew into an area that had been cleared and taped off by the uniformed police. Several other vehicles, including an ambulance and a forensics van, were already there. As he got out of the Jeep, a uniformed officer pointed up a dusty slope to the trees beyond.
At the top of the rise, Li stepped over the line of powdered chalk that ringed the potential crime scene and caught his first scent of burnt human flesh. It would linger in his nostrils for hours to come. He curled his upper lip and clenched his teeth firmly to prevent his stomach from heaving. The dead man, or woman, was still squatting in the centre of the clearing, a stiff, blackened figure in the shape of a human. And yet there was something strangely unhuman about the corpse, as if it might have been the abstract creation of a sculptor chiselling roughly in ebony. The charred debris of the victim’s clothes was scattered around it. The leaves of nearby trees had been scorched by the intensity of the heat. Lights had been erected, and the corpse was being photographed from various angles. Two forensics officers wearing white gloves were combing the area for anything that might throw some illumination on the events of little over an hour before. A doctor from the pathology department at the Centre of Criminal Technological Determination in Pao Jü Hutong, Dr Wang Xing, also in white gloves, stood talking to Detective Qian on the far side of the clearing. Qian saw Li arrive, detached himself from the doctor, and made his way carefully around the perimeter of the clearing. He shook Li’s hand. ‘Congratulations on the promotion, boss.’
Li acknowledged with the faintest nod. ‘What’s the verdict?’
Qian shrugged. ‘Well, all the doc can tell us at this stage is that it’s a male. If he was carrying ID then it’s been destroyed.’
‘Cause of death?’
‘Burning’s the obvious choice, but until they get him on the slab they won’t know for sure. Doc says an autopsy on a body in this state’s a bit specialised. They’ll probably have to send it up to the pathology lab at the university. Identification could be a problem. All we’ve found so far are the remains of a Zippo cigarette lighter, a charred signet ring and a belt buckle. Nothing particularly distinguishing about any of them.’
‘The gasoline can?’
‘Just an ordinary can. They’re dusting it for prints. No sign of a struggle, but then it would be hard to tell. The ground’s baked hard here. It hasn’t rained in weeks. Oh, and we found this …’ He removed a clear plastic evidence bag from his pocket and held it up to let Li see the cigarette end inside. ‘Looks like he had a last cigarette before pouring gasoline all over
*
Several hundred curious onlookers had gathered by the lakeside among the willows. Word had swept like wildfire through the nearby market streets, and rumours of death in the park held the promise of drama; a kind of street theatre, something to break the monotonous repetition of their daily lives. Nearly sixty uniformed officers had been assigned to crowd control. Several plainclothes policemen moved among the spectators, listening to gossip and speculation in the hope of picking up even the smallest piece of information that might prove useful. From across the water, where people were packed in under the shade of the pavilion, from above the babble of voices, came the mournful wail of a single-stringed violin, like a dirge for the dead. The rest of the park was deserted.
Li inched his way through the crowd in a dark blue Jeep, red light flashing on the roof, horn sounding. People were reluctant to get out of the way. Curious faces stared in at him as he squeezed past, but he was oblivious. Confidence had returned. He was back on home territory, doing what he was good at. Finally, at the north side of the lake, he drew into an area that had been cleared and taped off by the uniformed police. Several other vehicles, including an ambulance and a forensics van, were already there. As he got out of the Jeep, a uniformed officer pointed up a dusty slope to the trees beyond.
At the top of the rise, Li stepped over the line of powdered chalk that ringed the potential crime scene and caught his first scent of burnt human flesh. It would linger in his nostrils for hours to come. He curled his upper lip and clenched his teeth firmly to prevent his stomach from heaving. The dead man, or woman, was still squatting in the centre of the clearing, a stiff, blackened figure in the shape of a human. And yet there was something strangely unhuman about the corpse, as if it might have been the abstract creation of a sculptor chiselling roughly in ebony. The charred debris of the victim’s clothes was scattered around it. The leaves of nearby trees had been scorched by the intensity of the heat. Lights had been erected, and the corpse was being photographed from various angles. Two forensics officers wearing white gloves were combing the area for anything that might throw some illumination on the events of little over an hour before. A doctor from the pathology department at the Centre of Criminal Technological Determination in Pao Jü Hutong, Dr Wang Xing, also in white gloves, stood talking to Detective Qian on the far side of the clearing. Qian saw Li arrive, detached himself from the doctor, and made his way carefully around the perimeter of the clearing. He shook Li’s hand. ‘Congratulations on the promotion, boss.’
Li acknowledged with the faintest nod. ‘What’s the verdict?’
Qian shrugged. ‘Well, all the doc can tell us at this stage is that it’s a male. If he was carrying ID then it’s been destroyed.’
‘Cause of death?’
‘Burning’s the obvious choice, but until they get him on the slab they won’t know for sure. Doc says an autopsy on a body in this state’s a bit specialised. They’ll probably have to send it up to the pathology lab at the university. Identification could be a problem. All we’ve found so far are the remains of a Zippo cigarette lighter, a charred signet ring and a belt buckle. Nothing particularly distinguishing about any of them.’
‘The gasoline can?’
‘Just an ordinary can. They’re dusting it for prints. No sign of a struggle, but then it would be hard to tell. The ground’s baked hard here. It hasn’t rained in weeks. Oh, and we found this …’ He removed a clear plastic evidence bag from his pocket and held it up to let Li see the cigarette end inside. ‘Looks like he had a last cigarette before pouring gasoline all over
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