Chapter 3

I found a tin box beneath Chu Viện’s bed.

It had been taped tightly to the underside of the bed boards with clear tape.

No wonder we had missed it during the first search.

I opened it.

The first thing I saw was a thick stack of cash.

About a hundred thousand yuan.

Underneath lay a slip of paper with an address.

I followed it to an urban village, a warren of old houses in grimy, chaotic surroundings.

Eventually, in a shack that scarcely deserved to be called a home, I found the person named on the paper.

She was a middle-aged woman whom life had almost completely crushed.

Her face looked far older than her years.

Her husband lay bedridden inside.

She showed no surprise at seeing us.

“You’ve come.”

“I knew this day would arrive sooner or later.”

…

Her name was Trần Cúc.

She had once worked as a cleaner at the Hoàng Đình Club.

Eight years earlier, she had been fired.

Afterward, no one would hire her wherever she applied.

In the end, she could survive only on odd jobs.

She knew perfectly well why she had been dismissed.

But she dared not make a fuss.

She had accepted a large sum of hush money.

Enough to put her son through university.

Remembering the money at Chu Viện’s home, I asked:

“What hush money?”

Her lips parted.

Her gaze trembled as she looked into the distance.

“Blood…”

“So much blood…”

“On the table, the floor, the sofa…”

“Everywhere.”

“They called me in to clean it.”

“The manager said someone had been fighting.”

“He told me not to ask questions.”

“But…”

“But…”

Terror appeared in her eyes.

Her hands shook harder.

I leaned forward.

“But what?”

“There were scraps of torn cloth in the room.”

“Women’s clothes.”

“And…”

“There was that smell.”

“I cleaned the private rooms all the time.”

“I knew what it smelled like after people did that.”

“And after that day, a new girl suddenly disappeared.”

“The manager said she’d quit.”

“But I knew she hadn’t.”

I clenched my fists.

“What was her name?”

Cúc looked up.

“Phạm Hiểu Nguyệt.”

After I left the urban village, anger lodged inside me with nowhere to go.

At last, everything could be pieced together.

Eight years earlier, Hiểu Nguyệt had come to work at the club.

There, she had encountered Đại Quyền’s group and been sexually assaulted to death.

Afterward, they concealed what had happened, disposed of her body, silenced everyone who knew, and dismissed them one after another.

Seven years later, after learning the truth about her daughter’s death, Mai began planning revenge.

But how had she learned?

Had Chu Viện told her?

If so, why not tell her at the time? Why wait seven years?

I had asked Cúc similar questions.

“Officer, who could I tell? The police? I had no evidence. I hadn’t seen it myself…”

“And even if I had evidence and reported it, then what? Could I stand up to men like Đại Quyền?”

“With one lift of a finger, they could make life impossible for my whole family.”

Before I left, Cúc told me Chu Viện had come to see her.

She had not asked her to accuse anyone.

She had only hoped that, if the police came one day, she would tell them what she knew.

I went back to ask Mai why she had not reported the truth to the police immediately.

She stared at me blankly for a long time.

Then she burst out laughing.

She laughed until tears ran down her face.

Only a violent coughing fit stopped her.

“Report it?”

“Do you think I never did?”

“But the police said my daughter was only missing.”

“There was no evidence, so they couldn’t open a criminal case.”

“I searched for her for so long… so long…”

Tears spilled from her eyes.

She stared ahead in anguish.

“Nguyệt Nguyệt was only eighteen.”

“She’d just taken her university entrance exams.”

“She was a good child.”

“Her father died when she was little. We only had each other.”

“To ease my burden, she said she wanted to work over the summer and earn her tuition.”

“I should never have agreed.”

“If only I hadn’t…”

“I was a useless mother…”

“Then her acceptance letter came.”

“It was the university she’d always dreamed of.”

“But she…”

“She never got to set foot in a lecture hall.”

“Seven years.”

“I looked for her for seven whole years.”

“Traveled almost the entire country.”

“Every day, I lived in fear.”

“Afraid she had no food or clothes.”

“Afraid she’d been abducted and sold to some remote mountain village she couldn’t escape.”

“Afraid something had happened that kept her from coming home.”

“But what frightened me most…”

“Was that she was no longer alive.”

“If that were true…”

“Where could I go to find my daughter?”

“Cough… cough…”

She was so overcome that she could barely breathe between her sobbing and coughing.

I hurriedly called someone in to calm her.

Before I left, she looked up at me.

Her hands gripped the arms of the chair.

She shouted hoarsely:

“Officer!”

“Help me find her!”

“Find my daughter!”

I proposed bringing Đại Quyền’s entire group in for questioning.

Lý refused.

“On what grounds would you arrest them?”

Anger choked me.

“Isn’t suspicion of murder enough?”

He calmly shook his head.

“No.”

“Where’s the evidence?”

“All we have now are witness statements.”

“Too much time has passed.”

“The club was renovated long ago.”

“There’s no evidence left at the scene.”

I couldn’t accept it.

My fists tightened.

“Are we just supposed to let them get away with it?”

“You feel a great deal of sympathy for Mai and her daughter?”

I pressed my lips together and said nothing.

He patted my shoulder.

“Mạnh Minh.”

“Remember who you are.”

“As a person, you can feel compassion.”

“But once you put on that uniform, you cannot let your personal feelings govern you.”

“Police solve cases with evidence.”

“You’re representing more than yourself.”

At the time, I did not truly understand.

Later, as I encountered more cases and witnessed even crueler tragedies, I gradually came to understand my mentor’s words.

Justice exists in everyone’s heart.

But justice must also be something that can be demonstrated.

Without physical evidence, we could only begin with the men themselves.

It was then that I realized Chu Viện had spent the past year doing more than half our work for us.

She knew everything about the seven men.

Who kept a mistress.

Who embezzled company money.

We subsequently detained one of them for misappropriating public funds.

Chu Viện also had a recording.

In it, she threatened to expose another man’s affair unless he revealed what had happened at Hoàng Đình.

He described it in detail.

That year, the seven of them had forcibly dragged Hiểu Nguyệt into a private room.

They took turns raping and beating her.

In the end, they killed her.

After hearing the recording, everyone remained silent for a long time.

I asked Chu Viện:

“If you had this recording, why didn’t you produce it sooner?”

She answered with two questions.

“Does this count as evidence?”

“What if he changes his story later?”

I had no answer.

I even thought that perhaps we should trade places.

She might make a better detective than I did.

When I said so, she froze for a moment.

Then she covered her mouth and laughed.

She had smiled and laughed before.

Only this time did it truly come from the heart.

“Officer Mạnh.”

“Do you know?”

“When I was little, my dream was to become a police officer.”

…

Chu Viện had done most of the investigating and evidence gathering.

It saved us a great deal of time.

Once the police formally took action, the men could not withstand the pressure.

One after another, they confessed.

Đại Quyền had been the ringleader.

The others were accomplices.

Đại Quyền and Thông had disposed of the body afterward.

That was why, after Thông’s family fortunes declined, he repeatedly asked Đại Quyền for help.

When refused, he used the old crime to blackmail him.

At the club, we located the manager from that time.

He had not merely known about the crime.

He had seen the body.