Chapter 61

Captain Zhou sat in the police car and poured a cup of warm water for both Big Baldhead and the reporter. The two men were still trembling uncontrollably, unable to get a word out, each shaking harder than the other.

They waited a full quarter of an hour, but the pair showed no signs of calming down.

Han Wei sat with his legs crossed against the car door, tapping his ballpoint pen against his notepad. With a hint of helplessness in his voice, he called out, “Hey! Which one of you brothers wants to go first? The reporter? What’s his name—Chen… Chen something…”

Han Wei lowered his head and flipped noisily through the notepad.

Captain Zhou reminded him wearily, “Chen Shengfa.”

Han Wei flashed an apologetic smile, snapped the notepad shut, and continued, “Right, Chen Shengfa. You first. Tell us what the situation was like when you first arrived. Did you see the killer? Any suspicious people? Or anything you left out on the phone? Take your time and think it over.”

Just an hour earlier, the Report Center had received an incoming call. When the staffer picked up, there was nothing but silence on the other end. A full minute later, the line went dead.

At first, no one at the police station paid it much mind—they figured it was a wrong number or a prank call.

But five minutes later, the same number rang again. Still, no one spoke, even as the staffer prepared to hang up.

Finally, Chen Shengfa’s voice came through, halting and broken.

“Dead… there’s a dead body… murder… hurry… come quick…”

“What? Sir, what did you say? Could you repeat that? Hello? Hello? Are you still there, sir…?”

Beep, beep, beep—

The line cut off again.

Fearing something serious had happened, the officer called back. It took until the third try for Chen Shengfa to stammer out an address.

“Shawan… Shawan Dock… Dock Warehouse… someone’s dead! Hurry up and come…”

The Report Center quickly alerted the Local Police Station nearby to check it out, since Chen Shengfa hadn’t been clear on the exact spot.

It took the officers half an hour of searching through dozens of warehouses at Shawan Dock before they pinpointed Chen Shengfa’s location.

When they arrived, Chen Shengfa was sprawled at the warehouse entrance, covered head to toe in blood. The police almost mistook him for the victim. Only on closer inspection did they realize he was alive. The Little Policewoman jumped in fright, half-convinced she’d seen a ghost in broad daylight.

As soon as Chen Shengfa spotted the police, he lay motionless on the ground for five whole minutes before regaining a sliver of composure. Then he scrambled over on his hands and knees, wailing nonstop.

By now, he had finally settled a bit, but he was still shaking so badly he couldn’t string together a complete sentence.

Big Baldhead, sitting beside Chen Shengfa, was apparently the owner of the warehouse. He’d heard somewhere that something had gone wrong at his property and rushed over from home.

He’d insisted on going inside to grab some things. But one glimpse of the corpse had left him as rattled as Chen Shengfa. Now he was shivering in the car, unable to stop.

Han Wei tapped his notepad, eyeing the two speechless men with genuine frustration. He frowned and glanced at Captain Zhou. “Captain Zhou, what now? Should we take them to the hospital for a couple of sedatives?”

Captain Zhou rubbed her temples, equally exasperated. “Give them a bit more time to settle. The work inside isn’t done yet, is it? Has the Technical Team found any useful clues?”

Han Wei shook his head. “Nope. Another John Doe—no name, no face we can ID. Hey, Captain Zhou, you think we’ve been cursed this year? Why do we keep getting these bizarre cases?”

Captain Zhou had no patience for chit-chat. She waved him off. “Enough of that. We’ll wait till these two pull themselves together and get their statements.”

Han Wei nodded reluctantly and leaned back against the car door to wait.

It took a good while longer before Big Baldhead finally started to recover. The shaking eased off a little.

Seizing the moment, Captain Zhou asked, “You’re the owner of this warehouse?”

Big Baldhead’s nerves were still frayed. He hesitated before replying, “Y-yes, that’s me. I’m the owner of this warehouse.”

Captain Zhou pressed on. “Is Chen Shengfa one of your employees?”

“Yes.”

Captain Zhou glanced at Chen Shengfa, who was still trembling beside him, then fixed her gaze back on Big Baldhead. “What was he doing at the warehouse today? Did you know?”

Big Baldhead nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes. I sent him to pick up some goods.”

“What goods? Be specific.”

Big Baldhead scratched his head and looked at Zhou Hui. “Actually, there’s nothing much to it—just some fishing gear, a barbecue rack, skewers, that sort of thing. With all the recent rain, we couldn’t set up the barbecue stalls at the dock, right? The guys were cooped up in the dorms all day, bored out of their minds with nothing to do. So I figured I’d have Chen Shengfa take the barbecue rack back and grill some fish for the brothers that night.”

Zhou Hui jerked her chin toward the warehouse. “What about the guy who died inside? Do you know him?”

“I only caught a glimpse from way over there. How could I possibly recognize him?” Big Baldhead forced out a couple of laughs. “Besides, the poor bastard was hacked to pieces like that. Even if I knew him, I wouldn’t be able to tell.”

Zhou Hui held up the crime scene photo she’d just taken, right in front of his face. Her tone left no room for argument. “Take another good look. Do you recognize this man or not?”

“Aiyo! Officer, you’re scaring me!” Big Baldhead caught sight of the blood-smeared corpse again and recoiled backward. He patted his chest and said, “You could make me stare at it a hundred times, and I still wouldn’t know the guy. Though… he does look kind of familiar, but not really.”

In the end, Big Baldhead confirmed once more, quite emphatically. “I’ve really never seen him before. No idea who he is.”

“Good.” Zhou Hui pocketed the photo and glanced toward the warehouse a few more times. The rusty corrugated iron door, the peeling colored steel panels—every dock warehouse at Shawan Dock looked just like this. Not to mention the unreliable power lines that flickered on and off. Without much hope, she asked, “Does this warehouse have surveillance cameras?”

As expected, Big Baldhead waved it off with a dismissive “Pfft.” “Who’d bother installing cameras in a dump like this? There’s nothing valuable inside anyway. And this whole dock warehouse area? Power goes out every other day—either a tripped breaker or a fried circuit. No point in cameras. Officer, you should get the government out here to fix it! I’ve reported it a bunch of times, saying there’s a wiring issue, and they always promise to send someone. But it drags on for years, and not a single official ever shows up.”

Zhou Hui replied, “Wiring problems aren’t under the public security bureau’s jurisdiction. You need to report it to the street office or the local government.”

Big Baldhead nodded as if suddenly enlightened. “Oh, oh! Yeah, I’ll have to bring it up with the street office tomorrow. Can’t have the lines crapping out all the time, right?”

Zhou Hui didn’t pursue the topic further. Instead, she pressed on. “What about the warehouse door lock? Does that break often too?”

They’d noticed during the site inspection that the door lock was busted, but it didn’t look like foul play. The keyhole was heavily rusted, corroded by rainwater—clearly just natural wear and tear.

Big Baldhead shrugged nonchalantly. “That piece of junk should’ve been replaced ages ago. During the rainy season, it pours every few days. Aiyo! Last time, my key nearly snapped off inside. What’s wrong, is the lock a problem too? Can the government come fix that?”

Zhou Hui said nothing.

“When was the last time you entered the warehouse?”

“Huh?” Big Baldhead blinked, then caught on a beat late. “That was three days ago! We could still set up stalls back then. I had to head out at night for business, you know? Then this damn downpour hits—ruins my livelihood and sends the brothers running to my warehouse. Sigh, talk about bad luck. Why’d it have to happen to me?”

Big Baldhead was gesturing wildly as he spoke, saliva flying. In his excitement, he slapped his thigh and leaped to his feet. His bald head “clang”ed against the van’s roof. Clutching it, he howled in pain as he dropped back down. “Ouch! That hurt like hell!”

“Three days ago?” Zhou Hui frowned slightly, ignoring his yowling. She fixed him with a steady stare. “Where were you last night between eleven p.m. and midnight?”

The man froze for a second, then realized why she was asking. Panic set in, and he started babbling incoherently. “Officer! Officers! That dead guy inside has nothing to do with me! Last night at that time, I was dreaming and wrestling with Duke Zhou! Right there in my bed at home—my wife can vouch for me! I didn’t kill anyone! We’ve got a happy family, wife and kids, warm bed—what would I gain from murder? Officer! I swear I have no clue how that body ended up in my warehouse. I…”

Zhou Hui and Han Wei’s heads were ringing from his torrent of words. Zhou Hui stopped him with a slight headache brewing. “Alright, alright. We’ve got the picture. We’ll verify the details with your wife. Once we finish taking your statement, you can go home—if everything checks out. Until the case is closed, don’t leave Pingling City. Keep your phone on; we’ll contact you if needed.”

Big Baldhead finally exhaled in relief, but he couldn’t resist grumbling. “Sigh, I should’ve checked the almanac before heading out today. Officer, look—the scare from that guy earlier made me smash my phone screen. And now I’ve got a huge lump on my head.”

Han Wei patted his shoulder and sighed despite himself. “Yeah, you’re having a run of real bad luck, huh?”

“Ain’t that right.” The big bald man was still clutching his shiny pate, his mouth twisting into a grimace as he said, “I’ve had the worst luck imaginable—eight lifetimes’ worth of it. Running into crap like this… Officers, when are you finally going to wrap this case up? I’m dying to get my stuff back here, or I can’t run my business.”

Captain Zhou snapped the transcript shut and said gravely, “Go home and wait for our call. Once the case is closed, we’ll notify you to come retrieve your belongings.”

With the transcript complete, they asked Chen Shengfa a few more simple questions, and the on-site investigation came to an end.

Captain Zhou slid into the driver’s seat. “That’s a wrap. Back to the City Bureau.”

The victim’s corpse had been savagely mutilated, classifying the case as a vicious homicide. City hall was treating it with the utmost urgency.

Zhang Yunan had even sworn a military oath to the higher-ups, vowing to crack it within the deadline.

The orders had filtered down to Captain Zhou, piling immense pressure on her shoulders. She’d only just closed the River Channel Murder Case a little over a month ago, and now the Dock Dismemberment Case had landed in her lap.

They had no leads on the killer, and they couldn’t even identify the victim.

The next afternoon, Captain Zhou was in the evidence room, sifting through the exhibits in hopes of finding some breakthrough.

Han Wei burst through the door without knocking, doubling over against the frame and gasping for breath. He’d clearly sprinted the whole way. Wheezing, he jabbed a finger toward the office. “Captain Zhou! Get back to the office—Forensic Doctor Meng’s found a lead on the case!”

Captain Zhou’s heart lurched. She bolted to the door in a single bound, grabbing Han Wei’s arm and hauling him toward the office. “Then let’s move!”

In the office, Meng Liansu held the autopsy report, flipping through the pages as she spoke. “The victim had morphine in their system. We all know morphine is typically used medically as an anesthetic and analgesic—mainly for postoperative or traumatic pain, or for cancer patients. Dosages are strictly controlled.”

She paused, her gaze shifting toward Captain Zhou with a subtle hardening of her eyes. “But the concentration in the victim’s body was way beyond any legitimate medical use.”

Captain Zhou’s eyelid twitched. “The victim was doing drugs?”

Meng Liansu gave her a shrug, glancing back at the report. “Highly likely. The morphine profile matches heroin—you know heroin’s primary ingredient is morphine. It looks just like heroin, but to verify if it matches the street product circulating in Pingling, you’ll need to run it by the Narcotics Squad.”

As she spoke, a familiar figure drifted past the window. Han Wei’s sharp eyes spotted her first. “Little Princess? What’s she doing at the City Bureau?”

“Zhao Min?”