Chapter 050: Techniques and Tools

The direct cause of death for Lao Jiu and his companions was the coal heater used for warmth in their rented room. As I recall the details, I can almost picture the scene: Lao Jiu, dizzy and weak, unable even to move, breathing in the acrid fumes from the burning charcoal, powerless to escape. The despair they must have felt is unimaginable.

They had no strength left, so the killer didn’t even need to tie them up—simply plugging their mouths would suffice. That’s why, before their deaths, there were no marks of restraint or signs of struggle on their bodies. However, during the three days they were trapped in the village, Lao Jiu and the others still had enough strength left; they must have been tied up then.

But there are many ways to tie someone without leaving marks—for instance, wrapping the body in a quilt before binding them. Li Deshui, being a magician, often performed rope-tying tricks; he would know all about such techniques.

After keeping them captive for three days, Li Deshui brought Lao Jiu and his companions to that rented room. When a fire burns inefficiently, charcoal produces a large amount of carbon monoxide. In an enclosed space, after some time, carbon monoxide poisoning is inevitable. While the room filled with the deadly gas, Li Deshui was likely waiting outside.

The time of death was deep into the night, a time when Li Deshui could hide in the shadows and ensure he wasn’t seen. We had already reasoned about the bloody handprints at the crime scene: those prints were made over twelve hours after Lao Jiu and the others had died, after rigor mortis had fully set in. The killer pressed their hands onto the wall one by one. The purpose, we concluded, was to make the case appear more bizarre.

The blood drawn from the victims three days prior was intended for those handprints. Three days, plus the days of rapid changes to the skin after death, meant that by the time the forensic examination was carried out, more than a week had passed. This delay, combined with changes in the skin, made it impossible for the forensic examiner to detect the tiny puncture marks.

The blood was indeed that of the victims, but the bodies showed no signs of bleeding, making those dense bloody handprints seem all the more eerie. In fact, Li Deshui simply took advantage of the time gap. Such small tricks could fool the forensic examiner because Li Deshui was clever—he also created many other strange events and misleading clues, guiding the police’s attention psychologically and diverting suspicion.

Our fixed way of thinking, coupled with the lack of forensic evidence of puncture marks, meant none of us—including myself—considered that the blood had been drawn earlier and preserved in advance. Li Deshui’s misleading clues were numerous, such as the silhouette of people playing mahjong seen by the neighbors across the street and the sound of mahjong tiles clattering heard by the old lady next door.

Creating the sound of mahjong tiles is simple. Li Deshui must have chosen that particular apartment knowing who lived next door and that the walls were thin. That’s why the old lady next door heard the television blaring.

I suspect that noise was deliberately made by Li Deshui while Lao Jiu and his companions, too weak to struggle, were trapped in the carbon monoxide-filled room. Meticulous as he was, Li Deshui didn’t bind them, to avoid leaving marks, but turned up the TV volume to cover any noises they might make.

There was only one exit from the room, so Li Deshui could station himself outside, both to prevent their escape and to observe the neighbors’ movements, ready to adapt if necessary.

As for the silhouettes seen by the neighbors across the street, we tested the scene ourselves. The lighting in the apartment was insufficient to cast clear shadows onto the windows, yet the witnesses claimed to see them. This could only mean someone used a spotlight from the right angle to project the figures onto the glass.

I turned my gaze to Li Deshui. “Projecting shadows with light is child’s play for a magician of your caliber. You might fool inattentive police officers, but you can’t fool someone who’s truly observant.”

Li Deshui finally spoke, smiling. “And you consider yourself that observant person? Please, go on. I find myself suddenly interested in hearing what you have to say.”

His words gave me a vague sense of unease.

All these tricks might be minor individually, but together, they send chills down anyone’s spine. Yet the most terrifying elements are the paper money turned into spirit currency and the fresh food found in the deceased’s stomachs.

On the surveillance footage, we spotted a man with a crew cut. The image was too blurry to confirm if it was Li Deshui, but I am certain that the spirit currency and that man are connected. On three occasions, after delivering food, a crew-cut man walked closely behind the delivery boy and the shop owner as they crossed the busy street. The odds of this happening by chance are slim.

Moreover, on the last day, the crew-cut man wiped his brow as he left—a gesture we previously analyzed. Whether due to heat or relaxation, the gesture is suspicious, especially when combined with other clues.

Each time, the man walked beside them for only about five seconds. Paper bills don’t turn into spirit currency by themselves. With the shop staff cleared of suspicion, the only opportunity for the swap was during the return journey on that crowded street, since elsewhere they were riding bicycles.

We have always wondered: who could possibly unzip a pouch, remove a bill, slip in a piece of spirit money, and zip it up again—all within five seconds—without being noticed? The surveillance footage doesn’t show what happened during those five seconds.

But if the crew-cut man was Li Deshui, he could certainly pull it off.

A magician’s illusions rely on two things: sleight of hand and props. This is common knowledge. Li Deshui, a famed magician in the harbor district, had astonishingly quick hands—almost supernatural in their dexterity. It’s no surprise that no one noticed what he did.

Some pickpockets also manage to steal without detection, but even the best pickpocket can’t compare to a magician who practices these skills every day. Both Luo Feng and I have seen Li Deshui perform, especially with playing cards—his dexterity is astonishing.

His fingers are extremely nimble, as any magician’s must be. Five seconds is more than enough for Li Deshui, especially in a crowded street that offers plenty of cover for his actions. Both the delivery boy and the shop owner carried waist pouches.

A food delivery person would never keep large bills in their pouch—just some small change. This means neither of them would be particularly vigilant about the pouch. They were also pushing their bicycles, and likely just tugged their pouches forward as they squeezed through the crowd.

Pickpockets usually target specific people, and both the owner and staff had the name “Chaoyang Delicacies” printed on their uniforms. They never imagined anyone would target a delivery person’s pouch, let alone do so in such a short time.

After crossing the street, the pouch seemed untouched, so they paid it no mind. They didn’t even mention the street crossing to the police later.

As for the extra piece of spirit money found in Fei Ji’s pocket, Li Deshui merely had to slip it in—a much simpler task than unzipping a pouch. I tried this myself and Fei Ji noticed, but just because I failed doesn’t mean a skilled magician couldn’t succeed.

Why did the spirit money from Chaoyang Delicacies and the one in Fei Ji’s pocket bear the fingerprints of the deceased and of Yun Qing? That too is related to a magician’s sleight of hand. The food was ordered after Lao Jiu and the others had died, so the person receiving the delivery and handing over the bills could only have been the killer hiding inside.

That person was Li Deshui.

He only needed to palm the spirit money the way a magician palms playing cards, using the right hand position and angle to fool the delivery boy and owner. During the exchange, he could let the spirit money briefly brush against their fingers, thus collecting their fingerprints.

Li Deshui’s palms were likely covered in a thin, flexible film that didn’t impede his dexterity, so no prints of his own were left on the spirit money. For all other actions, he certainly wore gloves, leaving no traces behind.

I am also sure Li Deshui met Yun Qing before, which is why the country house, the blue car, and the spirit money linked to Fei Ji all carry Yun Qing’s characteristics. I suspect Yun Qing knew that Li Deshui was the killer, and, afraid that arresting him would expose a great secret of San Song Temple and implicate Yun Gao, she confessed wholeheartedly to protect them.

At this point in my explanation, Li Deshui suddenly began to clap and nodded repeatedly. Luo Feng shook the knife in his hand again, asking Li Deshui if he had anything to say. Only then did Li Deshui respond, “You’re very smart, but all of this is just your speculation. I admit I’m capable of everything you’ve described, but I’m not the only one in the world with such skills. Why do you suspect me?”

I lowered my voice. “You’d better keep quiet. I don’t like being interrupted. You think your work is flawless? You think no one knows what happened with the food in the victims’ stomachs? A magician’s sleight of hand makes you a possible suspect, but a magician’s props make you the inevitable one.”