The Poisoned Pen: A Guardian Story

Chapter Twenty-One: The Cold Shoulder

As Zhao Yunlan sat in the staff dining room chewing on a ham sandwich he barely tasted, his mind flashed back to his discussion with Chu and Guo a couple of hours earlier.

Frustratingly, he had been able to add little to Shen Wei's observations about his attacker.  However, the three men had been able to talk in detail about the clues the author's memory had yielded.

First, the height.  It was clear now that they were looking for someone in excess of six feet tall, and in good health.  They could add that to the profile of the suspect they had released to the public.  It wouldn't narrow things down a lot, but it was progress.

Second, the cologne.  Shen Wei had said that it smelled expensive.  If the writer's nose was to be trusted, and there was no reason not to, that meant they were likely looking for someone of middle class or above in society.  Pricey aftershave would not be at the top of the list for anyone who was struggling to get by in life.  They could possibly also add that to the profile, but it was a bit more of a stretch.  After all, it was not completely implausible that someone of limited means would choose to spend their modest funds on a nice bottle of Hugo Boss or whatever.

Third, and most importantly, the watch.  Most people wore their watches on their left wrist unless they were left-handed or simply preferred the other wrist out of some quirk.  That narrowed the field significantly, but they were not about to divulge this information to the public.  All it would take was for their man to simply swap his watch over to the other arm and they would be back to square one.

Zhao Yunlan thought back to the cologne.  Something Shen Wei had said was troubling him.  Why would someone heading out into the night to pull off a kidnapping put on expensive aftershave?  The writer was right.  It made no sense.  Unless it was just through force of habit.  But that didn't seem correct.  This person had been meticulous to date, leaving no evidence behind at the crime scenes.  There had to be some particular reason why the stalker had been wearing it.  Perhaps there was someone at home who would have noticed if he'd failed to put it on before he went out.  Or perhaps he had come from, or was going to, some other event.

The detective shook his head.  It was too much to speculate on at the moment.  He needed a distraction.

As if on cue, the landline in the hallway started to ring.

"Mr Zhao?  It's Zhu Hong.  I've been trying to reach Shen Wei."

"He's in the garden," the detective explained.

"Ah, I see.  That makes sense.  It's probably better if you and I talk instead anyway."

"I'm listening."

"The police asked me to keep an eye out for anything...unusual."

"And?" Zhao Yunlan's spidey senses instantly started tingling.

"I've been getting letters and calls from the president of a newly established Ye Zun fan club.  Whoever he is, he's very persistent."

"In what way?"

"He keeps asking for personal details about Ye Zun.  His family situation, his past history.  He keeps pestering me for an in-person fan meeting as well.  All of the other fan clubs are pretty good about respecting Mr Shen's privacy, so this one stood out."

"I understand.  You still have Detective Chu's number from the last time you spoke to him, yes?"

"Yes.  I know what you're going to say.  I'll give him a call now."

"Thank you, Ms Zhu."

As Zhao Yunlan replaced the receiver, he pondered this new turn of events.  It sounded promising, but he wasn't convinced.  This stalker already knew everything there was to know about Shen Wei, and had his own disturbing ways of getting access to the man.  A public fan meet would do nothing to get him closer to his target.  Still, they had to look into it.

"Who was that?"  The voice of the only other person in the house drew him from his thoughts.

"Zhu Hong.  Apparently, you have a new fan club, and its president is pushing quite heavily for information about you."

"I see."

Shen Wei's tone sounded disinterested, but Zhao Yunlan knew that it was more a case of resignation.  At this stage, whatever would happen, would happen.

"I'd like to meet your business partner."

"Sorry?"  It was strange to the detective that even though he felt that he knew the author like he knew himself, the man never failed to surprise him.

"He is also working on my case, yes?  I should meet him properly.  Can he come to the house this afternoon?"

"I...I suppose so.  I'll call him and ask."

"Thank you.  I will be in my study."

With that, the writer was gone before Zhao Yunlan had a chance to stop him.  Reaching up, he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.  Shen Wei had been cold.  Business-like.  Each word had been like a stab to his heart, and he had no idea at all how to fix it.  Perhaps Da Qing would have some ideas, because his own emotions were pretty much at breaking point.

Back in the reassuringly safe environment of his study, Shen Wei took a few minutes to compose himself.  He had not intended for his voice to sound that harsh, but he was struggling to figure out how to act around his assistant now that he knew the truth.

Part of him wanted to forgive the man immediately and simply accept the new circumstances of their relationship, whatever sort of relationship it was.  But another part of him was reluctant to open up any further, and make himself even more vulnerable to deceit and betrayal, when he had already been lied to with such ease.  One thing was clear.  There was no easy answer.

***

Zhu Hong stared at the image frozen on her computer.  She had taken a screenshot during her latest video call with this suspicious fan club president.  It was a handsome face, but for some reason she found it untrustworthy.  Still, she supposed, it wasn't her place to judge.  She would simply leave it in the hands of the police and trust that they would investigate appropriately.

Switching screens, she opened up the latest email from the author.  It contained a brief synopsis of the idea for his latest book, and a few paragraphs describing his protagonist.  As she read through the text, her eyebrows started to rise.  Whilst it was true that she had only met Shen Wei's latest assistant a few times, either on video calls or when he had dropped things off at the agency, the main character in the writer's new novel sounded remarkably similar to the attractive and slightly unkempt man she had come into contact with.  A coincidence?  She thought not.

Still, it was an interesting concept, and she was intrigued to see where her client would go with it.  The truth was, for a while now she had felt that Shen Wei was dissatisfied with his writing, and wanted to try something different to the successful, but now slightly formulaic, murder mysteries that had made him famous.  And unlike most literary agents in the city, Zhu Hong was not opposed to the man branching out and letting his creative juices flow.  She had enough faith in the quality of his writing to believe that whatever he eventually produced would be of an excellent standard, and she would have no issue with publishing it.  Provided of course that nothing bad happened to him in the meantime.  She suppressed a shudder.  Thoughts like that needed to immediately be dismissed.

Going back to the image of the fan club president, she right clicked and selected the print option.  No doubt the police would want a copy of the picture.

***

In the comfort of his own home, the anonymous killer came to a decision.  It was time to step things up.  He had decided he was willing to wait a little longer before he made his final move, but that didn't mean he was satisfied with letting the current situation simply tick along.  Like a cat toying with a mouse, he wanted more, and even though he was patient, outside factors beyond his control were coming into play.  The police were stepping up their involvement, and that pesky personal assistant had almost got hold of him the other night.  He'd had no choice but to retreat immediately.  He couldn't risk picking up any suspicious injuries that would raise difficult questions from the people around him.

Reaching out, he ran a finger over the picture of Shen Wei he always kept on his person.  It would not be long before he was able to touch real skin.  The clock was ticking down.