The Interior - Страница 12

One day she combed her hair into pigtails, and the next week she came home from the factory in new clothes and with makeup all over her face. She talked about marriage, then almost in the next sentence switched to the subject of her desire to leave Da Shui and go to a big city-somewhere much larger than either Taiyuan or Datong.

As Suchee talked, Hulan wondered if these were just the naive dreams of a simple country girl. In her job at the MPS, Hulan had firsthand experience with members of this class who were illegally leaving their villages and flooding cities like Beijing and Shanghai, looking in vain for a better life, only to find bitterness. In their innocence they were often the victims of criminals and crime syndicates. Without residency permits or work units in the cities, they were also subject to harassment and arrest by the police. Was Miaoshan just another one of these dreamers?

And parts of Suchee's story didn't make sense. Where was Miaoshan getting the money for new clothes, especially if she was giving the bulk of her salary to her mother? Where did Tsai Bing fit in? And what about Suchee's comment about the men in the village? If Hulan had been in Beijing and if Suchee had been a stranger, she would have felt no compunctions about asking whatever she wanted, but she was in the countryside now and Suchee was a friend. She would need to tread softly.

"I'm wondering about Tsai Bing and Ling Miaoshan," Hulan ventured. "Was theirs a true love or an arrangement?"

Instead of answering the question, Suchee asked one of her own: "Are you asking if we were following a feudal custom? Arranged marriages are against the law."

"There are many laws in China. That doesn't mean we follow all of them."

"True." Suchee allowed herself a small smile. "It is also true that in the countryside many people still prefer arranged marriages. This way we are able to consolidate our land or resolve disputes. These days we have even more concerns. The one-child policy-"

"I know," Hulan interrupted. "Too many abortions or girl babies given up for adoption. Now not enough girls to go around. Of course families want to make sure their sons will have wives."

Suchee nodded. In the golden light of the lantern, Hulan saw Suchee's eyes mist up again. "As a neighbor, Tsai Bing was always a good match for my daughter, but you know me, Hulan. I myself married for love."

"Ling Shaoyi." As Hulan spoke Suchee's husband's name, she was cast back again over the years. Hulan had met Shaoyi on the train from Beijing. He was older, perhaps sixteen, and not so afraid to be leaving home. He was a city boy clean through. Like all of them who'd come from Beijing, he knew nothing about farm life. Suchee had been the peasant placed on their team to teach them. At that time Western ideas like "love at first sight" were considered bourgeois at best and capitalist reader at worst. For a long while the kids in the brigade decided to look the other way when they saw Shaoyi's blushing face each time he spoke with Suchee, or when they observed her bringing him home-cooked treats while the rest of them were subsisting on bowls of millet porridge. After those years of turmoil were over, Shaoyi could have gone home to Beijing. He could have resumed his studies, maybe even become a party official. Everyone was surprised when he married Suchee, stayed in Da Shui, and became a peasant.

Suchee's voice cut into Hulan's thoughts. "Do you think I could let my daughter marry for anything less than true love?"

"No, not you," Hulan answered, knowing that this still might not be the full truth. The aphorism "Only speak thirty percent of the truth" was valid even in the countryside, even between old friends.

"Is there anything else I should know about Miaoshan?" Hulan asked. "Did she keep any papers here? A diary perhaps or letters?"

Suchee stood and went to one of the beds. From underneath she pulled out an oversize manila envelope, then laid it on the table.

"Miaoshan had a special place where she kept her private things," Suchee explained, "but I am a mother and this is a small farm. I knew that she hid her treasures in the shed behind the grain bin. After she died, I went there to look for objects to put on the altar." She took a deep breath, then continued, "I know some ABC letters and words that I learned in the Peasant Woman's School, but I can't understand these papers. And there are drawings…"

Hulan opened the clasp and pulled out three sets of papers. One set was folded into quarters, which Hulan opened and smoothed out on the table. Quickly Hulan leafed through them, while Suchee held up the lantern so they might see better.

"It says Knight International," Suchee said, "but what are they?"

"They look like specifications for an assembly line, and these look like they could be the floor plan for the factory itself. Have you been there? Can you tell?"

"I have seen the outside, but I've never gone inside. Even so, I don't understand the pictures."

Hulan drew with her finger along the lines. "This must be the exterior wall. And see, this says workroom, bathroom, office… Let's see what else you have." She refolded the plans and picked up a stack of papers held together by a paper clip. It was a list of some sort with several columns. On the left were names-Sam, Uta, Nick, and the like. In the adjacent columns were account numbers and what looked like deposit amounts.

Silently Hulan put the papers back in the envelope, then took her friend's hand. "I'll tell you the truth. When I came here, it was because you were my friend and I thought I could offer help in your time of mourning, but now I don't know. So many things you've told me don't make sense. What you said about the men in the town and the fact that Miaoshan was pregnant, well, these are common occurrences in our country. But these papers make me look at things differently. What are they? Why did Miaoshan have them? Even more important, why did she hide them?"

"Are these ABC papers why she was killed?"

"I don't know, but I want you to put them back in Miaoshan's hiding place. Don't mention them to anyone. Can you promise me that?"

Suchee nodded, then asked, "What will you do now?"

"If Miaoshan was murdered, then the best way for me to find her killer is to understand who Miaoshan was. As I begin to know her, I will begin to know her killer. Once I know her, I will know her killer." Hulan paused, then added, "But, Suchee, remember this. There may not even be a murderer. Your daughter may have simply killed herself. Either way, are you prepared for whatever I find?"

"I have lost my only child," Suchee answered. "I'm an end-of-the-liner now. With no family to take care of me, I will end up in the government old people's courtyard in the village. So am I prepared? No. Ready? No. But if I'm going to spend the rest of my life alone, then I need to know."

4

HULAN WOKE BEFORE DAWN THINKING ABOUT MIAOSHAN. Last night she'd been distracted by her friendship with Suchee and hadn't used the investigative tools she usually employed when conducting an inquiry into a crime or interviewing a witness. Ordinarily she would have thought about motive. She would have tried to categorize the murder. Was it a contract killing? Was it murder motivated by an argument, personal or financial profit, sex, revenge, politics, or religion? Or was this simply a suicide? She would have focused her attentions much more clearly on Miaoshan herself. As Hulan had said last night, to catch a murderer, an investigator needed to understand the victim.

Hulan quietly dressed and went outside. Coming from Beijing, with its cars and trucks and millions of people, Hulan was accustomed to noise. Here there was noise of another sort. She heard birds enthralled in their morning song and the whirring of cicadas. Although it was Sunday, she heard the low reverberations from a piece of farm equipment somewhere in the distance. Beyond these sounds and hiding just below the surface quiet was the hum of the earth itself. As a girl she had thought of it as the roar of plants pushing up through the soil.

She slowly walked to the shed where Miaoshan had been found. If she'd been here on the day of the discovery of Miaoshan's body, Hulan would have kept everyone away from this area so that she could examine the fine dust that covered the hard-packed earth. But if there had been footprints, they were long gone now, so Hulan pushed opened the door and entered. Immediately her senses were assaulted with the sights and smells of long ago. In this small, enclosed, dark room, the aromas of burlap, dirt, insecticide, kerosene, and seed mingled into a muskiness at once intoxicating and repugnant, heady and earthy. She closed the door behind her. As she waited for her eyes to adjust, she forced herself to put away her girlhood memories and preconceptions.

She tried to visualize Miaoshan hanging from the beam, the ladder below her. She called to her mind the suicides she'd seen before: the young mother in Beijing who'd killed herself by drinking carbolic acid; the old woman from Hulan's own neighborhood who-for reasons that never became clear-had slipped some rocks into her pockets and walked into Shisha Lake; the man who'd taken his village's savings, invested it in the stock market, lost it all, then had leaped from his hotel window rather than go home and face the people of his village. Then she remembered her own father, seeing him put the muzzle of a gun to his head and pull the trigger.

Hulan let her body slip down into a sitting position with her back against the wall of the shed, and thought. Typically vanity-even at this most desperate moment-kept women from using guns to kill themselves. They preferred to take pills, swim out to sea, or even slit their wrists-options that would not alter the face and also allowed the possibility of a rescue. Death by hanging was also primarily a male act, involving as it did a certain level of mechanical expertise: securing a rope to a beam, tying a knot that would have the ability to slip, then hold, positioning an object on which to stand but could easily be knocked out of the way when the time came. Of course, a farm girl would have these abilities, but death by hanging did not result in a beautiful corpse. From everything Suchee had said about her daughter-that she was in the midst of transforming herself into a Western ideal of beauty-a broken neck, swollen tongue, and purple face didn't fit the pattern for this particular victim.