Chapter Seventy-Two: The Real and the Impostor Murderer

This news was of immense importance to An Changpu and Qin Ruonan. The sudden appearance of Lu Anmei—was it the long-sought clue finally falling into their laps, or just another thorny complication?

The two hurried back to the police bureau at top speed. As soon as they entered the Major Crimes Unit, they saw Lu Anmei sitting at a desk with her head lowered. On the desk before her were an untouched loaf of bread and a carton of milk. Mo Dou sat beside her, looking rather helpless.

“You’re back!” Mo Dou quickly stood up when he saw Qin Ruonan and An Changpu enter, one after the other. In a low voice, he said, “She’s been here a while. She asked for you—at first, she asked for Ruonan by name, then for the two of you. When she arrived, she could barely walk straight—we guessed it was low blood sugar, so we bought her some bread and milk. But she won’t say a word or touch the food. Good thing you’re back soon, or I really wouldn’t know what to do.”

“Mo Dou, do me a favor.” An Changpu pulled Mo Dou to the door, took out a brick he had collected near the kiln for comparison, and handed it to him. “Take this for testing, just like the previous soil samples. Ask them to hurry, please.”

Mo Dou took the brick with a nod and left the room.

Lu Anmei had noticed Qin Ruonan and An Changpu as soon as they entered. While the three spoke, she kept glancing their way. But when Mo Dou left and Qin Ruonan turned her attention to Lu Anmei, she lowered her head again, deliberately avoiding Qin Ruonan’s gaze.

“Would you like to speak with her first?” An Changpu was concerned about Lu Anmei’s emotional state. “If we both confront her, she might resist.”

Qin Ruonan disagreed. “Don’t think of Lu Anmei as too fragile to handle this. She came here asking for us both; it’s better if you’re present. Besides, I might become too sympathetic to her plight and be unable to ask certain things outright.”

Since Qin Ruonan insisted, An Changpu made no further objection. The two walked over to Lu Anmei. Sensing their approach, she slowly stood from her chair and held out her wrists to Qin Ruonan. “I’m here today to turn myself—”

“Let’s not rush into talking. Let’s sit inside. Soon, others will return and the office will be crowded; it’s not a good place to speak.” An Changpu interrupted, gesturing for Qin Ruonan to take Lu Anmei away, while he picked up the bread and milk to follow.

Qin Ruonan supported Lu Anmei by the shoulders and gently guided her toward the small meeting room. Lu Anmei’s shoulders looked even thinner than before, her shoulder blades jutting out as if about to break free like some great butterfly from her body. Unsteady on her feet and with a sickly complexion, she was, as Mo Dou had said, the very picture of malnourishment.

Once inside, Qin Ruonan sat her on the sofa, took the bread and milk from An Changpu, and handed them to Lu Anmei. “Eat these.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

Lu Anmei met Qin Ruonan’s eyes. Unable to resist her determination, she reluctantly took the food, unwrapped the bread, and forced herself to take a small bite, chewing with a frown before swallowing with difficulty. After that single bite, she wrapped up the bread and set it aside.

“I appreciate your kindness, but I really can’t eat. I’m in no mood for food. Please, let me speak my mind as soon as possible.” She placed the bread and milk aside and spoke softly.

Qin Ruonan glanced at An Changpu, realizing there was no point in forcing her to eat. She nodded, her heart involuntarily picking up pace.

Lu Anmei licked her cracked lips, swallowing dryly. Her hands, resting on her knees, fidgeted for a moment before she finally spoke. “I’m here to turn myself in. My father—I killed him. You can arrest me.”

Qin Ruonan was momentarily stunned by her confession. An Changpu, however, showed neither surprise nor anxiety. He simply watched Lu Anmei for about a minute before offering a faint smile. “The question of who the real murderer is can’t be settled by what you or I say. You claim you’re the killer and you’re turning yourself in—where’s the evidence?”

“I said I’m the killer, so I am! I killed my father and now I’m here to confess. Isn’t finding evidence your job as police?” Lu Anmei, frustrated by An Changpu’s response, grew agitated.

“That’s not how it works,” Qin Ruonan corrected her. “We don’t gather evidence just because someone confesses. Only when the evidence is conclusive can we identify the murderer.” She couldn’t tell how suspicious An Changpu actually found Lu Anmei, but to her, the confession seemed odd. “Since you insist you’re the killer, tell us—what was your motive?”

“Motive?” Lu Anmei seemed unfamiliar with the term.

“Yes. Why did you kill your father, Lu Min?”

“Because I hated him!”

“Be specific.”

“All these years, he never did anything at home, never took responsibility as a husband or a father! All he cared about was himself, while blaming my mother and me, saying we were a burden, that if not for us, he’d be free and wouldn’t have to suffer with this family! He’s an old man, yet he went out dressing as a woman and made us the laughingstock of the neighborhood! People treated our home like a zoo. I couldn’t hold my head up anywhere—how could I not hate him?” As she spoke of Lu Min, Lu Anmei’s anger flared uncontrollably.

“So you killed him? How did you do it?”

She turned her head away. “Anyway, I did it. You’ve found the body, haven’t you? Why ask me how?”

Qin Ruonan watched her, recalling what she’d heard from Xie Lemin’s neighbors earlier that day. After a moment, she asked suddenly, “Why did you steal Xie Lemin’s tricycle?”

An Changpu glanced at her in surprise, not expecting the question.

Lu Anmei was even more startled. She froze, but then exhaled as if relieved. “I wanted to pin it on him.”

“Why?”

“He made our family a disgrace! My father dressed as a woman to have an affair with him. He came to our house, causing a scene. All our neighbors came to watch, and afterward, everyone laughed at us, calling us freaks and swindlers! They even gossiped that my father and that Xie fellow must have been up to something. So I hated him! I saw he came on that tricycle—many people noticed—so I went out of my way to steal it.”

“How did you steal it?”

“I found out where he lived and noticed he never locked his gate. I waited nearby until dark, then slipped into his yard and rode off with the tricycle.”

“If you meant to frame Xie Lemin, why turn yourself in now?” Qin Ruonan pressed.

Lu Anmei’s face was stiff. “My conscience couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t eat or sleep, so I decided to end it and confess. Is that a problem?”

An Changpu tapped his fingers on the sofa armrest, drawing Lu Anmei’s attention.

“Let’s get back to the crucial question. How did you kill your father, Lu Min?” He steered the conversation back to the key point.

Lu Anmei fell silent, twisting her hands until the backs were red and pale in patches.

Qin Ruonan wanted to prod her, but An Changpu quietly gestured for her not to rush.

Lu Anmei occasionally glanced at the two of them, growing increasingly uncomfortable under their steady gazes.

“Let me remind you—our examination found rat poison in your father’s body,” An Changpu said.

“I poisoned him!” Lu Anmei immediately lifted her head. “I bought rat poison on the street, and while my mother was cooking, I slipped it into the food. That’s how I killed my father.”

“Did your mother know you poisoned him?”

“She didn’t.”

“Your mother cooked, and the three of you ate together, didn’t you? Why did only he die, and not you or your mother?”

“He always ate alone. Never with us. We always made a separate portion for him.”

“If you poisoned him, why did we find a fatal knife wound on your father’s body?” An Changpu continued.

“I— I was afraid the poison wouldn’t work, so I stabbed him too!” Lu Anmei’s words stumbled.

“Where did you stab him?”

“In— in the chest, the left side—no, no, that’s not right!” Lu Anmei watched An Changpu’s expression as she spoke. Seeing his skeptical look, she quickly changed her story. “It was the back! The back! Now I remember!”

“Lu Anmei! Your father, Lu Min, had no fatal stab wounds, and the amount of rat poison in his stomach was nowhere near lethal! You’re not the true murderer—why are you lying?” Qin Ruonan suddenly demanded in a loud voice after hearing her faltering answers.

Lu Anmei’s whole body trembled. She was instantly petrified, as if turned to stone.