Chapter 12: A Piece of Water Pipe
Chen Fan also told us that he believed Yunqing was truly responsible for this case; otherwise, Yunqing would not have disappeared at such a critical moment. Chen Fan informed us that the police went to Yunqing’s new residence and forcibly broke in, but she was not at home. They called her phone, but no one answered.
I asked Chen Fan whether Yunqing had taken her Hong Kong ID card and money with her. He said she had not. The police found her ID card at her home and uncovered a large sum of cash in her safe. That money was likely the proceeds from Yunqing’s rituals these past days, and the police had already classified it as illicit gains.
Quickly, I deduced that Yunqing was probably not trying to flee. If she were, she would not have left behind her ID card. Even if she intended to sneak out of the country, it would be impossible without money. After pondering for a moment, I instructed Chen Fan to continue liaising with the police. No matter where Yunqing went, she had to be found.
Chen Fan acted at once. While the police were searching for Yunqing’s whereabouts, Chen Fan led us back to the scene of the crime—this time, with legitimate authority. The elderly woman mentioned that during those days, there was one night when she heard the television blaring loudly. As soon as I entered, I turned on the black-and-white TV and set the volume to maximum.
This old building, just a few days ago, had only the elderly woman, Old Nine, and a few others living on the seventh floor; the other rental units were empty. The black-and-white TV was indeed noisy and chaotic, enough to unsettle anyone. I asked Chen Fan to listen from the elderly woman’s rental unit next door to verify if she was telling the truth.
Chen Fan glanced at the bloody handprint on the wall, shook his head, and said he didn’t dare go alone. As expected, this earned him a round of scolding from Luo Feng, who wasted no time and volunteered to go himself. Luo Feng had barely stepped out before a loud crash rang out—he had kicked open the locked door of the elderly woman’s unit.
Soon, Luo Feng returned and confirmed that the soundproofing between the rental units was indeed poor; the wall barely made a difference. I reflected on this—unfortunately, the elderly woman wasn’t certain about the timing of the TV noise. Otherwise, we might have uncovered a crucial clue. The loud television could have been a tactic by the murderer to mask the sounds of their crime; the time the elderly woman heard the TV could well coincide with the perpetrator’s actions.
The elderly woman heard three distinct sounds: the clacking of mahjong tiles, the noisy television, and something being moved. Given the poor soundproofing and her sharp hearing, it wasn’t surprising she heard the mahjong tiles in the quiet of night. What piqued my curiosity was the last sound she heard.
I began searching the rental unit, which, though humble, was furnished with various tables and chairs. Any movement could have produced a sound, but the elderly woman couldn’t recall any distinctive features of it. Determining exactly what object was moved based on her memory would be difficult.
Chen Fan suggested the most foolish approach: testing each item one by one. I immediately dismissed this idea; it would waste precious time and risk damaging the crime scene. Until all critical clues were uncovered, the scene had to be preserved as much as possible.
Chen Fan asked what we should do instead. After thinking, I told them to wait for me there. I went to the elderly woman’s rental unit next door. The layout of each unit in this old building was nearly identical, but her room was somewhat messy. With her limited mobility, she probably didn’t maintain it regularly.
The sound of mahjong tiles, recurring over several days and lasting long each day, had irritated her, so it was no wonder she remembered it. The noisy TV was similarly memorable, and with my guidance, she recalled it easily. Elderly people value peace and quiet, and I relied on this trait to probe her memory step by step.
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The elderly woman recalled that the sound of something being moved lasted only a short time and was not especially loud, yet, with my guidance, she managed to remember it. According to psychology, the more one cares about something, the deeper the impression—even if forgotten, it can be recalled with proper prompting.
Since the sound was neither loud nor prolonged, but still memorable, it must have disturbed her significantly at the time. In her ears, it was noise. Yet, under normal circumstances, moving an object briefly wouldn’t be remarkable or considered noisy.
Suddenly, I realized why: she was probably about to sleep, or lightly asleep, when the sound woke her. This explained everything.
Her bedroom was on the west side of the rental unit, directly adjacent to the east side of the crime scene, which was a bathroom. If the murderer created the sound of mahjong tiles to tie the case to supernatural elements, and the TV noise to mask the crime, then moving an object was likely an attempt to conceal some clue.
She described the sound as faint, indicating the murderer was careful—not intentionally making noise. The mahjong tiles and whatever was moved differed greatly in weight and size, but the mahjong sound was sharp and clear, so it made sense she heard it distinctly.
If the murderer wanted the elderly woman to hear the moving sound, he wouldn’t have made it so faint and brief—he’d have produced something as distinct as the mahjong clacking. This convinced me further: it was an accidental noise, impossible to avoid completely. The murderer must have moved the object carefully, but it was still close enough for her to hear.
The most likely location was the bathroom, separated from her bedroom by just one wall.
With this analysis, I returned to the crime scene. Luo Feng and Chen Fan were growing impatient and asked if I had observed anything new. I nodded and entered the bathroom. The only movable item there was an old washing machine.
Everyone had donned gloves. I instructed them to carefully move the washing machine aside. Chen Fan and Luo Feng did so, and once the washing machine was shifted, I closely examined its rear. The back, originally flush against the wall, was a blind spot.
I’d already checked the front, sides, and inside of the washing machine during my first visit and found nothing suspicious. The machine looked unused for ages, its back covered in green grime and emitting a foul odor.
“Did you find anything?” Luo Feng asked. I frowned, about to reply, when my gaze fell upon a corner of the floor. The bathroom’s plastic water pipes were exposed above ground, typical in old houses; I’d noticed this on my first visit but thought nothing of it then.
Now, however, I spotted something odd. The plastic pipe, installed along the base of the wall and about two to three centimeters in diameter, had two sections wrapped in black tape, hidden behind the washing machine. The pipe had clearly been damaged and patched up afterward, wrapped so water wouldn’t leak out.
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The tape appeared somewhat aged. I turned and opened the faucet, the sound of water coursing through the pipes filled the room. Watching closely, I saw no leaks at the wrapped sections. After shutting off the water, I told Luo Feng and Chen Fan that the tape had only been applied recently.
Though it looked old, if it had been there long, repeated water flow would have weakened its adhesion and made it less waterproof—ordinary tape cannot remain perfectly leak-proof forever. Its apparent age was simply the result of superficial treatment.
This section of pipe, concealed behind the washing machine, led me to suspect the murderer had moved the machine to access the pipe, then wrapped it up afterward and replaced the machine to cover it. Chen Fan shook his head, “But what’s the point? Eventually, the tape will leak.”
“That’s far in the future. The murderer couldn’t guarantee the police wouldn’t turn on the faucet during their investigation. If water leaked, they might dig deeper and discover the secret hidden behind the washing machine.” After explaining, I began carefully removing the tape.
Chen Fan was ready with a forensic evidence bag. I placed the tape inside, and when I detached the pipe, water spilled out. This section was about fifteen centimeters long, and I was certain it had not broken naturally. Crime scenes yield all sorts of tools, and I was well-versed in identifying their marks.
A pipe that breaks naturally will not have clean edges—it will be jagged. Yet this pipe was cut smoothly at both ends, clearly severed by a sharp instrument. I put it in the evidence bag as well. Chen Fan stored it carefully, and with no other unusual clues found, we left the foul-smelling bathroom.
“Hank, do you think this is the murder weapon? How could someone kill with a piece of water pipe?” Chen Fan asked, shaking his head in confusion.
I replied, “Not necessarily. All signs point to this pipe being highly suspicious. Let’s have it analyzed first.”
Luo Feng was perplexed too. “If the murderer used a pipe to kill, such a small section would be easy to carry. There’d be no need to take it from the crime scene.”
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