Chapter 9: The Mystery of the Suicide on Campus (2/2)

“You know,” he said, “I’ve always been an honorable man whose heart is not easily moved, but this policewoman is giving me an urge to commit a crime…”

“Yeah, go ahead,” I said. “I bet she could break your ribs with a single punch.”

Dali completely ignored me and kept his eyes glued to the policewoman. I decided it’s time to go find another spot to get a clearer view of the dead body. Perhaps I was wired up wrongly, psychologically speaking, but I’d much rather stare at a corpse than at a pretty woman.

After threading through the crowd again for a few minutes, I finally found just the right spot near the police line where I could clearly see the deceased’s face.

From what I could observe, the deceased was about twenty years old and his appearance was run-of-the-mill. He was wearing a sweater; his eyes were bulging out like that of a goldfish; there was a clear mark on his neck, and the skin above this mark was deathly pale, while the skin below it was dark purplish red. A stiff red tongue stuck out of his mouth and hung limply over his chin.

According to the Collected Cases of Injustices Rectified, the tongue wouldn’t necessarily stick out just because someone died of asphyxiation. If the rope that killed the person constricted the area above the larynx, then the tongue would not stick out; if the constricted area was below the larynx, then it would.

Because only a small part of the tongue was actually inside the mouth, while most of it was in the throat, the strong gravitational force that acted upon the neck would crush the neck bones and force the tongue to stick out of the mouth. The ghosts of hanged men depicted with long protruding tongues in horror movies weren’t entirely artistic invention, after all.

But although the dead body had a very scary look, not only was I not scared at all, there was even a hint of excitement rising up in me.

Apart from the appearance of the tongue, there was the unmistakable stench coming from the deceased’s pants. Obviously, he lost control of his bowel movements right after his death. Based on these two points, the cause of death was clear!

Still, I felt strongly that there was something wrong. I tried to take a better look at the body and the scene and inadvertently almost stepped over the police line, but a police officer quickly shoved me back.

“Stand outside the line!” he shouted.

“What do you think, Dr. Qin?” I heard the policewoman asked the coroner, “Is it murder or suicide?”

The coroner was a man of about fifty or sixty with greying hair. He looked as if he had a lot of experience. He took off his rubber glove before answering the policewoman’s question.

“The cause of death is suffocation,” I heard him say, “and there are no signs of struggle or marks from being bound, so I say it is suicide.”

The policewoman sighed in relief.

“Okay, let’s pack up and get the body ready for autopsy!” she ordered.

“There’s no need for that,” the coroner proclaimed. “I’ve examined countless bodies and I’ve never made a single mistake in my entire career. If I say it is suicide, then suicide it is. An autopsy would just be a waste of time.”

“Ah, what an impressive pair of honkers! I wish I could go up there and ask her name.”

The familiar voice that floated into my ears belonged to Dali, of course. In my concentration, I had completely missed him being right next to me, leering and ogling at the policewoman.

“When did you get here?” I grumbled.

“Damn, were you so caught up in ogling that hot policewoman that you didn’t even notice me right beside you?” asked Dali. “That’s pretty surprising, coming from you. Your face always get as red as a tomato whenever there are girls around!”

“I was only trying to look at the dead body!” I protested.

“Sure, whatever you say, dude,” said Dali. “You go ahead and admire the corpse then. I, on the other hand, would prefer the hot policewoman any day. I wouldn’t mind it at all if she put her handcuffs on me, and spank me, and–”

I was in no mood for Dali’s debauched fantasies, because at that moment a couple of police officers were preparing to wrap the dead body up and take it away.

It was not my plans at all to get involved with the case, but I couldn’t just let the coroner blunder without doing anything about it. I had no idea where I got the courage from in that moment, but I pulled up the police tape, and marched right into the police line.

“Holy shit, dude!” shouted Dali. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t just barge in there and ask for her number!”

“You there!” bellowed a policeman when he saw me crossing the police line. “Turn around now! You’re not allowed in here!”

I took no heed of the warning. Everything in my surrounding just melted into a blur and I just kept heading straight towards the policewoman. I had but one thought in mind – I must tell her they’re making a grave mistake!

“He’s got it all wrong!” I said, pointing at the coroner. “That student didn’t commit suicide; he was murdered!”

“What did you say?” asked the policewoman. Her eyes rounded as she stared straight at me with a mixture of astonishment and confusion.

1. A from the seventh century AD who was a high-ranking official in the Tang and Zhou dynasties. He was often depicted in crime novels as a great detective, which is why he is now widely regarded as the Sherlock Holmes of ancient China.

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