Chapter 047: You Are Suspected of Murder

There was a name that appeared on both lists: Li Deshui.

To me, it was a completely unfamiliar name, but when Luo Feng saw it, he was visibly surprised. One of the lists belonged to the lay disciples of Sansong Temple—figures who were fairly well-known in the harbor district, so Luo Feng recognized them.

Li Deshui was not only a lay disciple of Sansong Temple, but also a native of that very village. He had grown up there since childhood, and his parents had passed away a few years ago. He was the village’s only educated man—not as highly accomplished as Yun Gao, perhaps, but he had at least graduated without incident.

Later, Li Deshui was accepted into Sansong Temple as a lay disciple. After spending two years on the mountain, he, like all the other lay disciples, found success in his career and established some reputation in the harbor district. He no longer lived in the village, but whenever he had the chance, he would return to pay his respects to his parents.

The investigation results were consistent with our prior assumptions. Although he didn’t reside in the village, Li Deshui visited often enough that the village dogs wouldn’t bark at him—a perfectly reasonable outcome.

I asked Luo Feng to find out what plans Li Deshui had for the next day. I wanted to meet him face-to-face. Luo Feng hesitated for a moment and asked if I wasn’t worried about alerting our suspect. I shook my head; with dawn approaching, we would have only one day left.

Time was running out, and I intended to appear before Li Deshui deliberately, to let him know we were onto him. Flustered, he might reveal more flaws. Luo Feng agreed, but then asked how confident I was that this man was indeed the murderer.

I replied that I was almost certain. This man matched every clue we had uncovered so far. Luo Feng, still puzzled, asked, “Every clue?”

I nodded. “Yes, not only the overlapping names, but even his occupation fits all the characteristics we deduced about the murderer.”

Seeing my certainty, Luo Feng had no further questions. I sat on the edge of the bed, frowning in thought. Luo Feng wondered why I still seemed troubled if we’d already identified our culprit. I gave a wry smile and explained that finding the man had already cost us a great deal of time and energy.

But the hardest part of this case wasn’t identifying the suspect—it was finding the evidence to bring him to justice. In both the ghostly dinner case and Feiji’s death, the suspect had left behind no trace or proof of identity.

Luo Feng slapped his forehead, echoing my thoughts: “Exactly, what good does it do us to know the killer if we have no evidence?” He went on to complain about the cumbersome police procedures and how the suspect was so cunning—not only leaving no traces himself, but creating evidence pointing to the short-haired woman and Yun Qing.

“There’s no helping it,” I replied. “Reasoning and investigation can only reveal the culprit’s identity. To convict him, we still need evidence.” I stood up and paced the room, racking my brains for a solution, but none came to mind. Luo Feng wondered if we could use Yun Qing and the short-haired woman’s confessions to implicate Li Deshui.

Both Yun Qing and the short-haired woman might know the killer’s identity; Yun Qing, aware that the arrest would involve Yun Gao, took the blame herself, while the short-haired woman was clearly the killer’s accomplice and must also know. But the thought of how eager both women were to go to prison made Luo Feng abandon the idea.

A sleepless night passed. At dawn, Chen Fan returned the surveillance footage he had borrowed from the police. He told me that the authorities had overlooked this stretch of road during their investigation. The crowded street was quite a distance from both the residential area where the crime occurred and from Chaoyang Ji.

Since the case didn’t involve a traffic offense, the police hadn’t surveyed the entire route, focusing instead only on the immediate environs of the crime scene and Chaoyang Ji, looking for witnesses. More crucially, neither the owner nor the staff of Chaoyang Ji mentioned passing through that busy street, for they themselves found it unbelievable that someone could, unnoticed and in such a short span, open a bag, remove cash, insert ghost money, and zip it back.

Everyone’s disbelief, combined with the many peculiarities of the case itself, led to this oversight. If I hadn’t wanted to reconstruct the scene with the staff, we might have missed this clue entirely. When Chen Fan returned, he sighed and, as instructed, kept our findings from the police for the time being.

Chen Fan said that as soon as he arrived at the station, he was met with questions—and even some ridicule—about whether he’d caught the killer, which made him uncomfortable.

With only twenty-four hours left to solve the case, Luo Feng had already learned of Li Deshui’s schedule for the day. He told me that Li Deshui had a performance at the New Territories Theater and had managed to procure a few tickets for us. Chen Fan was still unaware that we had identified a suspect and was startled, asking, “The killer is a performer?”

I smiled slightly. “Let’s go then. We’ll join him for a show.”

With the little ghost in tow, the four of us set off for the New Territories Theater. The performance was scheduled to begin at two in the afternoon, and by noon, the theater’s entrance was already packed. We queued for a long time before finally making our way inside. While we waited, I told Luo Feng to send someone to check where Li Deshui had been the last time we visited the crime scene—I wanted to confirm if it had been Li Deshui secretly observing us.

The New Territories Theater was large, nearly filled to capacity, yet the atmosphere inside remained chilly. As the show began, Luo Feng received a phone call. After he hung up, he informed me that on the day we visited the village and the crime scene, Li Deshui had been performing during the day, and his act had suffered a major mishap.

After work, Li Deshui had hurriedly left without telling his troupe where he was going. On questioning, it emerged that he had seemed distracted all day.

I smiled and said Li Deshui must have heard that we’d visited his village, which had left him so rattled that he made a major mistake during the performance. When he left in a hurry after work, it was likely because he’d heard we were heading to the crime scene and wanted to see what we had discovered.

Li Deshui had been performing for the public that day, so he couldn’t have followed us during daylight. Whether it was his distracted demeanor or his public visibility, everything matched our prior deductions perfectly.

While we whispered among ourselves, the theater curtains opened. Luo Feng pointed to a sharply dressed man on stage and told me that was Li Deshui. We were seated far from the stage, so I could barely make out his features, but I could see he had close-cropped hair—just like the man we’d seen on the surveillance footage.

The performance began, and Chen Fan finally realized that Li Deshui was a magician.

The theater wasn’t only used for dramatic performances; throughout the New Territories, this was the only venue suitable for large-scale shows, so Li Deshui had chosen to perform here. Before he left Sansong Temple, no one knew he had a talent for magic, but within just a year or two, he had rapidly gained fame, becoming a pillar of the magic community in the harbor district.

Li Deshui’s performance on stage went off without a hitch. His illusions left the audience dazzled—from sleight-of-hand to card tricks, even the classic walking-through-walls illusion, he executed them all brilliantly. Though the magic industry was not particularly prominent on the mainland, in the harbor district, it had become a major part of the entertainment scene.

Perhaps only insiders understood how Li Deshui managed those astonishing feats. I noticed the little ghost was transfixed by his performance. At first, I thought the child was simply mesmerized by the inexplicable tricks, but soon he tugged my sleeve and whispered, “Brother Fang Han, I’ve heard this man’s voice before.”

I immediately asked where. After thinking for a moment, the child replied that he’d heard it at Sansong Temple.

The little ghost’s only memories of Sansong Temple were of the wilderness outside and the room beyond the forbidden door. Suddenly, I wondered: had the so-called lay disciples also entered the forbidden area?

The show ran for several dozen minutes. I had little interest in magic, knowing it all came down to props and sleight-of-hand. Nonetheless, I forced myself to watch the entire act. During the intermission, the theater grew noisy again, with everyone praising Li Deshui’s brilliance.

Taking advantage of the break, we stood and headed for the backstage area.

We were quickly stopped, but Chen Fan produced his credentials, identified himself as a police officer, and insisted on seeing Li Deshui.

Things did not proceed smoothly. They first sent someone to notify Li Deshui, and only then allowed us in. I asked Luo Feng and Chen Fan to keep an eye on the little ghost while I pushed open the dressing room door.

Li Deshui was seated on the sofa, already changed into a new outfit. My gaze immediately fell on his leather shoes. As he stood up to greet me with a handshake, I waved him off. “Mr. Li, you managed to run so quickly in leather shoes that day—did you perhaps learn some Daoist immortality arts at Sansong Temple?”

At my taunt, Li Deshui showed no sign of agitation. He simply nodded at me. “Officer, I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re saying. May I ask what brings you here?”

As soon as he finished speaking, I grabbed him by the collar. “Mr. Li, you are under suspicion of murder!”