“And he bought a wig!” I said.

  The detective laughed. “With this many clues, shame on us if we can’t find the guy!”

  Maybe because I’d slept too much in the afternoon, I couldn’t fall asleep all night.

  I remembered in college when my forensic science professor taught us how to use each of our fingers during an autopsy. Which fingers to hold a knife with, which to hold a hemostat with, which fingers to probe the chambers of the heart with, to tie a suture knot with.

  The professor had said, “When we forensic scientists do an autopsy, the finger we use the most is the eleventh finger—the scalpel.”

  And now we were all mixed up over an eleventh finger case.

  Did the killer leave that extra finger as some kind of clue? I would definitely catch him, no doubt about it.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about that disemboweled, dismembered corpse and that black, curved finger.

  Somehow dawn crept up and I woke Lin Tao. “You sure can sleep, friend. Guess you’re still young.”

  “Somewhere around one hundred forty-two people knew about Tao Zi’s heart condition,” the detective said, holding up a list. “We were up all night checking them out and found four that fit the criteria. Oh, but we couldn’t verify the buying-a-wig part. Two of the four weren’t in town, so that leaves us with two suspects.”

  He cleared his throat and continued. “Zheng Xiaofeng, forty years old, Commissioner Tao’s classmate, a pediatrician at People’s Hospital. He made the original referral to the cardiologist who confirmed Tao Zi’s condition. Zheng Xiaofeng is five eight, one hundred thirty-seven pounds, and lives in a new development near Lost Lanes. The only thing is, there’s no evidence for motive or the kind of warped personality we’d expect. Zheng Xiaofeng is a kind, cheerful pediatrician, likes to joke.”

  I gently shook my head.

  “Then there’s He Hong, forty-six years old, used to be Commissioner Tao’s neighbor, and was very close with him. He’s five nine, one hundred twenty-eight pounds, introverted, runs a hotel.”

  “Runs a hotel?” I said, interrupting. “That’s key. Someone who could be affected by Commissioner Tao’s political decisions is definitely suspicious. And his height is well within the margin of error.”

  Big Bao barged through the door, holding something.

  “One thing doesn’t fit,” the detective objected. “He Hong lives on the west side of the city, far from Lost Lanes. He probably doesn’t know the neighborhood well at all.”

  “So that’d rule him out,” Director Qiang said. “The White Shadow knew Lost Lanes inside out.”

  Catching his breath, Big Bao held up a picture he’d printed. “Is this He Hong?”

  Big Bao had been going over surveillance footage to look for someone out of place, someone who didn’t live in Lost Lanes but who was scouting the location.

  The man in the picture was definitely He Hong.

  “This person appeared in the surveillance footage only once,” Big Bao said, “but he was holding a box. A bald officer down the hall recognized it as being from a wig store.”

  “Shall we make the arrest?” I smiled at the look of shock on Qiang’s face.

  15

  He Hong and Commissioner Tao had been friends since they were little, and lived next to each other for over thirty years. Around the same time that He Hong’s hotel began to rely on tax evasion to stay in business, Tao was named commissioner of inland revenue.

  He Hong was thrilled to take advantage of this relationship to turn things around. What he didn’t expect was for his old friend to use the tax evasion evidence as blackmail and constantly demand more money. Tao had always been dependable. Why had he turned on his old friend as soon as he became commissioner? Tao swore he didn’t have a choice and that the money was to take care of his child, but He Hong thought that was bullshit—Tao must be playing him for a fool.

  But the truth was, Tao Zi’s medical bills really did exceed Tao’s annual salary. And because Tao’s wife didn’t have a job, the family had no way to scrape together enough money for the surgery that would fix her heart once and for all.

  He Hong wouldn’t dare get a gun and shoot someone, but he decided to try something more subtle. Scaring Tao Zi enough to land her in the hospital, he figured, would be pretty good revenge on her ever-protective father.

  He followed the girl to the karaoke bar and waited downstairs, then ran into her as if by coincidence and offered his neighbor a ride home. Saying he had to relieve himself, he parked near Lost Lanes and slipped away to get his wig and sheet. When he appeared as a ghost at the car window, Tao Zi ran. Luckily, she wasn’t familiar with Lost Lanes, so he was able to corner her. Watching a fresh young life fade away before his eyes terrified He Hong, and he was even more terrified of getting caught. The plan to scare her into unconsciousness and leave hadn’t worked out. He carried the corpse away from Lost Lanes as fast as he could.

  He considered cremation, dismemberment, acid, lots of things, but didn’t know how to go about any of them, so he crammed Tao Zi’s body into a suitcase and threw it over the bridge and into Liqiao River.

  Survey staff found traces of Tao Zi’s blood in He Hong’s bathroom. He had no way of denying his crime.

  A disciplinary commission stepped in and investigated Commissioner Tao’s blackmail.

  The two old neighbors were admitted to the detention center together.

  16

  “Qin”—Big Bao ran into the room, panting—“I completely forgot, today’s the anniversary of my grandma’s death. I have to go back home to Qingxiang for the funeral.”

  I was sitting at the computer, looking through autopsy photos from solved murder cases. I planned to pick out a few for a lecture I was giving at the police academy. But my mind kept drifting to the Eleventh Finger case. Over the last couple weeks, detectives had looked closely into the victim’s social circle. They’d also checked the places Zuo Fangjiang stayed, ate, and worked while he was in Dragon City, but they hadn’t turned up a single clue. Meanwhile, our database had been looking for matches on the DNA of the eleventh finger, but still nothing. We had neither the identity of the finger’s owner nor the body.

  Because Zuo Fangjiang had been killed on June 3, six three, some people were calling it the “six-three case,” a common way of naming important dates in China. The special task force was still in operation, but a lot of the men had become discouraged and resigned. They seemed to be waiting for a breakthrough before applying themselves.

  I was just a forensic scientist, so my work on the case was already done. The investigation division didn’t need my advice, but I couldn’t help wondering, shouldn’t we have some clues by now? Were we missing something?

  Big Bao, seeing the glazed look in my eyes, tapped on the table. “Examiner Qin, did you hear me? The anniversary of my grandma’s death, I have to go back for the burial.”

  I woke up as if from a dream. “Huh? Oh! Sorry, go mourn.”

  “Nah, no mourning, been mourning for a year, and don’t forensic scientists see beyond life and death?”

  “A year?” I asked, shaking off my trance. “Your grandma died a year ago, and you’re only burying her now?”

  “Yeah, so?” Big Bao said, confused. “Our custom there is to wait a year after the cremation to go to the cemetery and bury the urn.”

  “Oh.” I nodded. “Where I’m from, when an old person dies, we bury their ashes right after cremation. I’ll run you over to the bus station. Then I can check in and see if the task force has any leads in the Eleventh Finger case.”

  “Uh . . . that’s okay, really,” Big Bao said. “They’re so strict about using the cars now. I’ll take a cab.”

  I smiled and held up my moped keys. “Private car, private use.”

  As soon as the two of us climbed on the motorbike, there was a banging sound as the tire burst. I got off and squatted next to the deflated tire, holding my stomach.

  Big Bao stood next to me, cracking up. I glared at him. “Your grandma’s being buried today and you’re laughing? Bad grandson.”

  A police car suddenly pulled up next to us, and Lin Tao waved from the passenger seat. “Hey, guys, what are you doing out here? Something came up—we’ve gotta go right now.”

  “A new case?” I struggled to drag the moped to a covered bike rack. “Why the rush? Can’t I even stop home and pack some clean underwear?”

  “Qingxiang City, two girls dead, just discovered,” Lin Tao said. “We received orders to hurry.”

  “Qingxiang?” Big Bao’s eyes lit up. “Looks like I can keep my bus fare.”

  “‘Provincial Public Security Bureau Evidence Identification Management Office: The bodies of two female workers were found in a bathroom at a suburban coal mine this morning. Preliminary evidence suggests homicide. With two deaths and a destroyed crime scene, the case poses great challenges, and we ask for national experts to come offer guidance and help solve the case.’”

  In the rattling car, Lin Tao read every word of the fax. “‘Forensic pathology and trace laboratory staff, please hurry to the scene. Signed, Director Zhang Xiaoxi, June twenty-ninth.’ That’s why I came to find you guys. Lucky you hadn’t gotten far.”

  “Bathroom? Female workers?” Big Bao said, squinting at the roof of the car. “Last I heard news like this, two girls were arguing about who had nicer boobs and got in a fight. Think it’s something like that? Murder-suicide?”

  I didn’t bother dignifying Big Bao’s conjecture, determined to use the time in the car to get some shut-eye. Every time there was a difficult case, it affected my sleep. That may have been why I’d aged more than ten years in just seven on the job.

  In my dream, I felt the car getting off the highway and pried open my reluctant eyes. As we were waiting to pay our toll, Qingxiang’s Captain Nie suddenly hopped into our car and patted me on the shoulder. Young, handsome, and charming, Nie was one of our province’s brightest young captains.

  It’s no exaggeration to say that Qingxiang City was built on coal. Ninety percent of its revenue comes from coal, and its landmarks are “Mine 1,” “Mine 2,” and “Mine 3.” We made our way through a downtown bustling with people who had been making their living from coal for generations.

  “I didn’t know until this case,” Captain Nie said, his face full of mystery, “just how many industries are connected to coal here. The murders actually took place at a property management company.”

  This news seemed to disappoint Big Bao. “Uh . . . what does it have to do with coal, then? Aren’t there property management companies everywhere?”

  Captain Nie gave a knowing smile. “But coal property management companies are clever.”

  We were shocked to learn that the coal mine’s property management company was actually a front for a dog-meat-selling operation. Their official responsibility was to work between the time when one coal pile was taken away and another was made to remove the mud and waste mixture underneath. “Waste” needs quotation marks, though.

  The “waste” in coal industry jargon is called “coal slurry.” When this management company removed the coal slurry, they’d mix it with actual coal. Even though the fifty-fifty mixture was much less effective than pure coal, it was hard for a buyer to identify. That way, they increased the amount of coal by fifty percent and shared the profit with coal resale middlemen.

  As you can imagine, the underground coal-slurry business grew quickly.

  The property management’s annual fee for clearing away “waste” funded the entire company, which freed up the director to start his illegal side business.

  “Guess how much the company nets annually,” Captain Nie said.

  “A million?” I guessed.

  “Five million?” Lin Tao ventured.

  Captain Nie shook his head. “Twenty.”

  “T-t-twenty million?” Big Bao stammered. “That’s a lot of dirty money!”

  “The property management company usually stores the slurry in a remote location,” Captain Nie said. “Local villagers know they can make money working for them, so they do whatever they can to get in with these guys. If the company needs manual labor, they get the strongest man; if they want an accountant, they get the best; if they need marketing, they use the most beautiful girls.”

  “God, how many rich people are crooks?” I groaned.

  “There are rich people in China who aren’t?” Lin Tao said.

  “Hey, that’s going too far.”

  “So . . . ,” Big Bao said, pausing slightly, “no one’s paying attention to these corrupt property companies?”

  “They will after this case,” Captain Nie said. “If all that weren’t enough, they also use child labor. The victims are under sixteen.”

  “Under sixteen?” Lin Tao said. “Shouldn’t they be in school?”

  “What can a girl that young do with coal?” Big Bao asked. “Only big guys can do that kind of work.”

  “PR,” Captain Nie said. “You know PR? That kind of PR.”

  The confused looks on Big Bao’s and Lin Tao’s faces made me sigh, wishing I could be that innocent again. I headed off Nie’s awful explanation. “You still haven’t given us the basics of the murders.”

  “Oh right,” Nie said, giving himself a smack on the head. “Here’s what happened.”

  From June 25 to 28, Green Property Management took a four-day break, and all the employees caught shuttle buses to their hometowns. Only Huang Rong and Xie Linmiao, the two young teens, stayed behind to use the company’s free Internet. The security guard on-site saw that they could take care of themselves, so he decided to go home too.

  At dawn on the first day after the break, the security guard, Liu Jie, was the first to arrive.

  After parking his motorcycle, he was eating breakfast in the security office when he heard rushing water coming from the showers.

  Aside from the relatively nice main office building, the dormitories, bathrooms, toilets, and warehouses were very run-down. The women’s bathroom was located in a corner of the compound in a redbrick bungalow with frosted glass windows. A group of men in the company loved to sneak up close to spy on the women showering.

  Liu Jie looked at the clock on the wall. It was just a little past six—still two hours until the rest of the workers arrived. He had time to get a good look.

  As he approached, Liu Jie saw lights on inside but no sexy girls’ silhouettes. Then he felt water at his feet.

  “Huh? Water from the bathroom flooded out?” Big Bao asked anxiously.

  Captain Nie nodded. “Yes.”

  “Was the door closed all the way?” I asked. “Did the victims die in the bathroom?”

  “It was closed all the way. The old-fashioned locks needed a key to be opened from the outside, but they could be opened from inside without one,” Captain Nie said. “But that lock was already broken, probably kicked in. The security guard said the door was closed and he didn’t touch it, so he didn’t know it wasn’t locked.”

  “Makes me think it was someone from the company,” Big Bao said. “Peeping that led to a rape-murder.”

  “The compound doesn’t have a gate?” I asked.

  Captain Nie shook his head. “The compound’s never closed because there’s a security system in the main building and nothing outside of value.”

  “Hold on, hold on,” Lin Tao said. “Isn’t anyone else wondering how the security guard knew without opening the door that the girls were dead?”

  “The security guard said he looked down at his wet feet and saw the white socks in his sandals turning red. He realized it wasn’t water and called the police.”

  17

  “Can we do an experiment to see how long the shower has to run for the water to spill out?” Big Bao asked.

  As I opened the door, the smell of blood rushed into my nostrils. To prevent water from further damaging the scene, police had shut off the water to the whole compound. But the weather was hot, and the bathroom had been airtight for days with a steady stream of warm water flowing, so even though the tap was off, it was still several degrees warmer inside. The warm, humid environment sped up the bodies’ decomposition, so when we opened the door, the smell of blood and rotting flesh was heavy.

  “In this environment, determining the time of death based on decomposition is impossible, right?” Lin Tao asked.

  Several drains in the floor were sucking water out, but there was still some on the ground. We carefully set up a platform over the water and walked along it toward the bodies.

  The two naked bodies were far apart. A blond girl was prone, six feet from the bathroom door, while a black-haired girl was huddled in the corner, lying on her side. Their faces and hair were bloated and stained with blood, so it was hard to make out their appearance.

  “Yeah, the relationship between the level of decay and the environment is too great to get a precise time of death.” I opened one of the victim’s eyelids and pressed the skin on her back and sighed. “The lower abdomen is already turning green, and it’s spreading toward the upper abdomen, which shows the initial stages of intestinal decay. This time of year, that would normally take at least three days. But the corneas are cloudy, semitranslucent, and you can see the pupil, which would indicate death occurred within the last forty-eight hours.”

  “So what do we do?” Lin Tao said.

  “In this environment, corneal opacity and livor mortis will get us closer to the real time of death. It’s normal for organs to decay faster in a warm, humid environment,” I said.

  Lin Tao looked up at the flickering lights. “Lights were on . . . If they died more than twenty-four hours ago but less than forty-eight, that would be the night before last.”

  “Good catch.”

  “If only bodies could talk,” Big Bao said, “we wouldn’t have to waste water testing how long it takes to flood the bathroom.”

  “When we came in, those two taps were submerged,” a detective said with a tight frown, pointing at two faucets. He looked like he was going to pass out from the stench. “The water was so high, it covered about two-thirds of the bodies.”