Chapter 1

It was the most perfect crime I had ever seen.

A gas explosion killed the wife in an apparent accident. When her mother came to collect her belongings, she too died—electrocuted.

Both deaths looked accidental, yet each was riddled with uncanny coincidences.

And the husband, our only suspect, had an impeccable alibi. At the time of the deaths, he was serving a sentence for drunk driving.

Even on the day of his release, he stared at the clothes-drying rack on the balcony and smiled strangely.

“Uncle Lam, that evidence you want… it never existed.”

1

Even in criminal investigation, personal ties can be hard to escape.

I watched my old friend crying and wiping his nose, unsure what to feel.

His daughter had just died.

I wanted to comfort him but didn’t know where to begin.

Without reassurance, he simply kept crying, insisting her death hadn’t been an accident and begging me to investigate.

But opening a criminal case required procedure. It wasn’t something a technical team leader like me could decide on a whim.

Besides, I had read the file.

An ordinary fatal gas explosion.

The police and firefighters who attended had examined the scene repeatedly and found nothing unusual. They had firmly ruled out murder and classified it as an accident.

Trieu refused to believe it. He sat in my office, wiping his tears and pleading.

“Lam, you watched little Huyen grow up. She calls you Uncle. How can you bear to leave her death unexplained?”

“Believe me. It wasn’t an accident. That bastard Tham Tu Luong killed her.”

I was speechless at how far he was taking this.

The “murderer” he meant was his own son-in-law.

But he was right about one thing. I had known Trieu Ngung Huyen since she was a child. Whenever we met, she called me Uncle Lam.

Naturally, I knew her husband too.

Tham Tu Luong was a refined painter of traditional Chinese landscapes, with a modest reputation in our city.

He was so quiet you could beat him and scarcely get a word out.

He offered everyone a mild smile.

An awkward, almost foolish smile. He didn’t even know how to make conversation.

Most importantly, he had recently been arrested for drunk driving.

Trieu had asked me to help then too.

But the offense was real. No one could change that, and I could do nothing.

That was why his accusation seemed so absurd.

A man who had been in custody for more than ten days couldn’t slip out and commit a crime.

Let alone murder his wife.

I sighed helplessly and patted my friend’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry. I know you can’t accept what happened to Huyen yet. But blaming Tu Luong… isn’t that a little unreasonable?”

“Remember? He was arrested last week for drunk—”

Before I finished, Trieu sprang up as though I had struck a nerve.

“That was part of his plan! He arranged it in advance!”

“He’s allergic to alcohol. He never drinks a drop. Why would he suddenly drink and drive, then just happen to get caught?”

“He must have wanted to kill Huyen already. He got himself arrested to create an alibi!”

2

“What?”

Years of investigative instinct made something tighten in my chest.

“Tham Tu Luong is allergic to alcohol?”

I found it hard to believe.

A landscape painter—an artist. Wasn’t he supposed to spend his days smoking and drinking, taking a few glasses now and then for inspiration?

If he really had an alcohol allergy, perhaps that drunk-driving incident did deserve another look.

Under my doubtful gaze, Trieu shouted angrily.

“He’s allergic! He’s never drunk alcohol. Even at their wedding, he had water in his glass!”

“And their marriage hasn’t been as good as it looked.”

“Not long ago, they were talking about divorce. They nearly went to the civil affairs office. If I hadn’t talked them out of it, they would have done it.”

“And now…”

He grew more agitated, finally insisting through clenched teeth that Tu Luong had killed his daughter.

Perfect alibi or not, he must have used some underhanded method.

“Believe me, Lam. It was him. I’ve already made a scene at the station, but they say there isn’t enough evidence to open a case. You’re the only one who can help me now.”

3

His pleading eyes put me in a terrible position.

First, there was a formal process for opening a case.

More importantly, even the two suspicious points—his alcohol allergy and the troubled marriage—weren’t sufficient evidence.

There was nothing abnormal at the scene.

And even if a case were opened, my relationship with Trieu’s family meant I would have to recuse myself.

When I explained those difficulties, he gripped my hand.

“I know it’s hard. But you’re a technical man. You’re good at this. I’m not asking you to open a case. Just look into it quietly.”

“If Huyen’s death really has anything to do with that bastard…”

He paused, his face turning vicious.

“You won’t have to do anything. I’ll hack him to death myself!”

“Trieu!” I snapped. “Don’t even think that! Right now, he isn’t a suspect. Even if he did kill her, the law must punish him. Don’t drag yourself down with him!”

He ignored that, repeatedly pressing me for a yes or no.

I was torn.

Professionally, if a death was suspicious, I should investigate.

But the rules were clear. There wasn’t enough evidence to open a case. As head of the criminal investigation brigade’s technical team, I also had plenty of work and little spare time.

Personally, Trieu and I had been friends for over twenty years. When I came from another province to work in Tan Giang, he had helped me a great deal.

Yet that same friendship was precisely why I shouldn’t intervene, whether or not Tu Luong eventually became a suspect.

Human feeling was the hardest thing to make sense of.

Faced with an old friend begging after losing his only child in middle age, I finally clenched my teeth and said, “I can only promise to do my best. Don’t put all your hopes on me. After all—”

That was enough. He broke down in grateful tears.

“I know how difficult this is for you. I just have no other way…”

Through his sobs, he told me about the three days since his daughter died.

He was so desperate he wanted to die too. She was his only child.

If he hadn’t felt her death remained unexplained, he wouldn’t have wanted to go on.

He had pointed out the suspect, yet everyone from the local station to the bureau said the evidence was insufficient.

I put an arm around him, sighing, consoling him, and urging him to hold on.

I also promised to visit Tu Luong in detention and see whether anything seemed wrong.

There was no basis to open a case. Tu Luong had been in custody for more than ten days after his drunk-driving arrest, with a complete alibi and no apparent opportunity to offend.

So after seeing Trieu out, I went to the detention center alone.

I said I had come as a family visitor to pass on news from home. After speaking to the officers, I was allowed to see him.

We hadn’t met in two years.

The sight of him startled me.

He had changed enormously.

The last time I saw him was at his wedding. His long hair flowed, and he had the refined air of a scholar despite his awkward speech.

Now he was serving six months for dangerous driving, his head shaved.

More than that, he seemed utterly defeated.

As though life had worn him down, stripped away every trace of distinction, and left an ordinary man who could disappear into a crowd.

I couldn’t help thinking marriage really could change a person more than anything else.

While I was still staring, he spoke.

“Uncle Lam, what brings you here?”

“You remember me?”

He smiled gently.

“How could I forget? We haven’t met often, but you’re my father-in-law’s sworn brother, and the only official among his friends. He mentions you all the time.”

“That old man…”

I shook my head, then looked straight at him.

“Have you heard what happened at home?”

“Hm?”

He paused, then gave a bitter smile.

“Of course something’s happened. I’ve been locked up here for days. There’s no one to look after Huyen. How could things be all right? Has she gone crying to her parents and asked you to help?”

He sighed repeatedly.

“It was my own stupidity. Why did I go drinking with friends? And after drinking, why did I risk driving?”

“Caught red-handed. Six months inside. It scares me just thinking about it.”

“She’s an only child, spoiled since she was little. She can’t cook or do housework. How will she manage for six months?”

He seemed completely unaware, still worrying about home.

I was bewildered.

Had no one told him?

Impossible.

Even a prisoner convicted of dangerous driving should be notified of major family events, births or deaths.

Huyen had been dead for three days.

Why hadn’t he been told?

I raised a hand to stop him and spoke slowly.

“Something happened to Huyen. A gas explosion. She died three days ago.”

I watched his face closely, looking for a crack.

There was no evidence connecting him to her death, but I put more faith in a bereaved father’s instinct.

Love didn’t spring from nowhere.

Neither did hatred.

Trieu was enduring the worst grief of his life. Of everyone he might have suspected, he singled out his son-in-law.

There had to be some secret between them I didn’t know.

I wanted to know whether her death had anything to do with Tu Luong.

Coming here was almost a wager on my reputation after twenty years in uniform.

I believed experience had taught me that a guilty man’s expression before police couldn’t lie.

I was disappointed.

I expected unbearable grief if he was innocent, or frantic excuses if he was involved.

Instead, he seemed relieved.

First he sat silent and dazed for a long time.

Then he smiled with weary sadness.

“She’s gone… Perhaps that’s for the best.”

“In a failed marriage, perhaps being separated by death is better than tormenting each other.”

He looked at me sorrowfully, pointed to his heart, and spoke with an indescribable emptiness.

“Even if the love was gone, we were husband and wife. Now she’s dead, it still hurts here.”

“But if I had died… would she have felt even a little remorse?”

His eyes gave me gooseflesh.

They held the weariness of someone who had seen through life, and a sharpness that seemed to see straight through me.

Neither happy nor sad, they still sent a chill down my spine.

Instinctively, I picked up my phone as though checking the time, really just avoiding his gaze.

“Tu Luong, I hear you’re allergic to alcohol. Why did you suddenly decide to drink?”

I tried to sound casual.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he stood and addressed the officer beside us.

“Officer Vuong, I’d like to end the visit.”

“Tu Luong! What are you doing?”

I stood quickly to stop him.

He merely walked quietly toward the cell door.

I was here on a private visit. He had every right to end it.

Vuong Viet knew me, but couldn’t force him to stay. With an apologetic smile, he took Tu Luong back.

About ten minutes later, Viet hurried out and found me at the main gate.

“Don’t worry, Lam. We all know each other. I’ll make sure he’s looked after…”

Right.

He thought I had come to back Tu Luong and ask for special consideration.

I hadn’t.

But with the situation unclear, I could hardly explain. I exchanged a few polite words, then asked, “There’s something I don’t understand. He’s here for dangerous driving, not some serious crime. Why didn’t anyone tell him about his wife? She’s been dead three days. Without my visit, he still wouldn’t know. What are you people doing?”

Viet slapped his thigh in protest.

“You’ve got it wrong! Of course we notify prisoners when an immediate family member dies. It’s basic humanitarian practice.”

“Then why did he…”