Chapter 40: The Newcomer

"Mr. Zhou Sen, you handled yesterday’s incident very well. Mr. Kawahara asked me to convey his appreciation to you," Akiyama Nosuke said, summoning Zhou Sen into his office early in the morning.

Zhou Sen, both flattered and surprised, replied, "It was my duty. As a police officer, the safety of the people must come first—especially the expatriates of the Great Japanese Empire. Serving them is my honor."

"Yoshi, very good, Zhou Sen." Akiyama Nosuke was clearly pleased with Zhou Sen's attitude. "I heard you invited Chief Lin from the Special Affairs Department of the Police Headquarters to dinner?"

"Yes. Chief Lin is highly experienced in investigations and solving cases, and he is an old acquaintance of my adoptive father. So, I took the opportunity to consult with him," Zhou Sen explained.

"Yoshi, Zhou Sen, your eagerness to learn and improve is commendable. I have high hopes for you," Akiyama said, nodding.

"Thank you for your praise, Mr. Akiyama."

"As for verifying whether Susanna is a Soviet spy, you need to expedite that," Akiyama reminded him. Pausing briefly, he continued, "Have you found any leads on Shelkine’s murderer?"

"I revisited the morgue at Police Headquarters to examine Shelkine’s body and, based on Chief Lin’s advice, I have a new hypothesis. I believe our initial line of investigation might have been mistaken..."

"Mistaken? In what way?"

"Mr. Akiyama, under normal circumstances—say, two people standing face-to-face as we are—the wound on Shelkine’s right neck would most likely have been inflicted by a left-handed person. But Shelkine was killed in his bed while sleeping, his throat slashed. In that scenario, the killer’s height doesn’t matter, and it might not have been done with the left hand at all. It’s even possible the murderer left this clue deliberately to mislead us," Zhou Sen explained.

"Oh? Are you certain?"

"I can’t say for sure. But the killer was meticulous enough to erase all traces, even wiping fingerprints off Shelkine’s drinking glass. Aside from a trained spy or assassin, there’s one other possibility: the murderer could be a woman, as women are generally more attentive to detail."

"Nani?" Akiyama was taken aback, clearly surprised by Zhou Sen’s deduction.

"Do you have any suspects?"

"When Shelkine was killed, the door to his room was perfectly intact. At first, we noticed traces of climbing in the chimney and assumed the killer entered and escaped through the fireplace. But what if that, too, was a diversion? If so, then this could only be a crime committed by someone familiar with Shelkine. The sole suspect is his maid, Feya. My investigation shows Feya has a severely alcoholic and abusive ex-husband. Though they are divorced, they have a son named Klaus who serves in the White Russian battalion and spends a lot of money..."

"So, Feya has a motive for murder?"

"Feya may need money, but killing Shelkine doesn’t guarantee she’d get what she wants. Moreover, Shelkine was slain in his sleep, his throat cut in an instant. If Feya did it, we must find conclusive evidence—such as the murder weapon. Otherwise, if we arrest the wrong person, you know as well as I do that Commander Semyonov of the White Russians is not someone to trifle with," Zhou Sen cautioned.

"What do you propose?"

"I want to search Shelkine’s house again and collect all the knives, then compare them to the wound on his neck."

"How long will that take?"

"At least three to five days," Zhou Sen replied hesitantly. "Besides, this requires a specialist. I suggest the Fingerprint Bureau at Police Headquarters handle it."

"Very well. I’ll coordinate. Go and bring back every single knife from Shelkine’s home—don’t leave a single one behind," Akiyama ordered.

"Understood. I’ll get started right away."

...

"Good morning, sir!" As Zhou Sen descended the stairs, a young man and woman with no police insignia stopped him with a salute.

Zhou Sen nodded. "Let me guess—you’re the two trainee officers recommended by Chief Song: Hu Hao and Yao Yuling."

"Yes, sir."

"In front of outsiders, ‘sir’ is fine. When it’s just us, you can call me Brother Sen or Chief. We’re field officers—lots of hard work, not many rules. If you’ve nothing else to do, come with me," Zhou Sen instructed.

"Yes, Brother Sen," Hu Hao replied quickly, clearly adaptable and sociable. Yao Yuling, on the other hand, was shy and reserved—understandable for a newcomer. Zhou Sen remembered being even more nervous his own first day at the station.

"Have you been issued sidearms?" Zhou Sen glanced at their waists.

"No, we’re not full officers yet, so we haven’t been given guns. We only have patrol batons," Hu Hao explained, and Yao Yuling nodded.

"That’s fine. We rarely need guns on street patrols," Zhou Sen said. "You’ll understand in time. Now, follow me—we have work to do."

Zhou Sen took Hu Hao and Yao Yuling straight to Shelkine’s house on Gogol Street. He had Feya, the maid, bring out every knife in the house. Not fully trusting her, he searched the house himself, inside and out.

Each knife was cataloged by size and use, then packed into a basket and taken back to the station.

He did not arrest Feya.

Without finding a weapon matching Shelkine’s neck wound, there was no direct evidence to detain her. Not that it was impossible—the Puppet Manchukuo police rarely needed actual evidence. If they wanted to arrest you, they would, often extracting confessions by force. Whether the accused’s family had connections determined their fate: those with influence might survive; those without simply vanished. Wrongful arrests and false convictions were rampant.

Chinese lives were as cheap as grass, and the White Russians fared no better.

The original Zhou Sen had long grown numb to it all.

...

"San’er, how are you doing?" Back at the warehouse on Haicheng Street, Zhou Sen found Ye San’er, who had just returned from patrol with Wu En.

"Much better, brother—just some scrapes." The wounds on Ye San’er’s face had scabbed over. They looked unsightly but wouldn’t leave lasting scars.

"Let me introduce you," Zhou Sen said, pulling Hu Hao forward. "This is Hu Hao, a top student from Harbin Police Academy, graduating next spring and interning with us at Nangang Station."

"And this is Yao Yuling, also a trainee like Hu Hao. She’ll be with our team. You’re a veteran—show them the ropes, but no hazing the newbies, understood?"

"I’m Ye San’er. Welcome, both of you!" Ye San’er introduced himself with a grin.

"Hello, Brother Ye," Hu Hao greeted.

"Just call me San’er. Everyone does. We’re about the same age—I’ve just been a full officer a few years longer," Ye San’er said modestly.

"Wu En, take Hu Hao and Yao Yuling. Show them our duties and the rules. From today, they’ll be patrolling with us," Zhou Sen instructed.

"Yes, brother." Wu En, not one for words, always obeyed Zhou Sen without question.

"Brother, since we have new recruits, shouldn’t we celebrate at lunch?" Ye San’er asked with a grin.

"Sure—how do you want to celebrate?" Zhou Sen laughed, sipping hot water.

"At least a proper meal at a restaurant, no?"

"But not at lunch. I’m meeting the two eldest of the Qing family then. You’ll have to make do for lunch—we’ll celebrate tonight," Zhou Sen replied.

"Brother, can I come with you to meet the Qing brothers?" Ye San’er asked, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"No," Zhou Sen shot him a look. "You stay here. If you cause any more trouble, I’ll leave you to fend for yourself. I’ve got enough people now anyway."

Ye San’er shrank back, grinning sheepishly, sensing a strong warning. Hu Hao and Yao Yuling watched the exchange with curiosity, but dared not ask questions.

"Hu Hao, Yao Yuling, you two will patrol with me," Wu En called, now in uniform and equipped. "If you have questions, ask. But remember: no action without orders."

Wu En’s strict demeanor gave him the air of an older brother. After what happened yesterday, he was even more reticent. Perhaps this was his turning point—maturity always comes at a price.

"What about me, brother?" Ye San’er asked.

"You go buy groceries and cook, or what will you eat for lunch?" Zhou Sen retorted.

...

Old Gu returned to find Ye San’er fussing with a fish. He glared at him, evidently still annoyed over Ye San’er’s gambling at the Taiping Bridge casino.

Ye San’er didn’t dare provoke him, so he offered a sheepish grin as a greeting.

"You’re back, Old Six. Sit and have some water," Zhou Sen said, pouring him a cup and sliding it over.

"Thank you, chief." Old Gu took the cup, set it down, and lowered his voice. "Chief, you were right—Feya is acting suspiciously. Guess who she went to see after you left Shelkine’s house?"

"Susanna," Zhou Sen replied, barely lifting his eyelids.

"Chief, Susanna really is suspicious. She approached Feya herself. If she’s a Soviet spy, what’s her aim?" Old Gu was the only one who knew Susanna was suspected to be a Soviet agent.

Of course, all this was based on Akiyama Nosuke’s word. Zhou Sen himself was still uncertain. If Susanna truly were a spy, she was bold indeed—embedding herself beside the police. What was she after?

"Should we arrest them?" Old Gu asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Will Feya run?" Zhou Sen asked.

"I don’t think so," Old Gu replied after a moment’s thought.

"Then it’s not time yet. Where are we meeting the Qing brothers?" Zhou Sen checked his watch. "There’s no need to worry about Feya—she won’t run, and she wouldn’t dare."

"The old Tao family restaurant up the street. Their stews are excellent," Old Gu said.

"Let’s go, then."