Chapter 303: The Chemistry Lab Hidden in the Rental Apartment

2022-05-20

“A rental apartment?” My eyes lit up and I quickly asked, “Do you know where it is? And how long she’s been living there?”

Pei Dongqiang simply shook his head and replied, “I just know the location, not how long she stayed. But I think it was just temporary—she was probably planning to move in with her new boyfriend soon. Deng Xuemei’s already in her thirties, so it’s about time for her to get married, don’t you think?”

“Give me the address,” I pressed. “You’ve been there, right?”

“Yeah,” Pei Dongqiang nodded and gave me the address.

I exchanged a glance with Zhao Mingkun and said, “In that case, let’s go see what we can find in this rental apartment. But it’s already been two months… who knows if anything useful will turn up.”

“Do we have any other leads?” Zhao Mingkun shrugged.

I let out a long sigh. “None. Let’s go.”

Standing up, I thanked Pei Dongqiang and then left with Zhao Mingkun.

All the way there, I kept trying to piece together what kind of person Deng Xuemei really was. Everyone who saw her seemed to describe a different woman, and yet I felt there was something off—some detail I couldn’t quite place.

Still, with no other leads, our only option was to investigate the apartment. On the way, Zhao Mingkun stayed cautious as ever, steering toward alleys and avoiding main roads, always taking the quieter path. After more than an hour, we finally reached the place.

I’d expected the place to be pretty run-down, but to my surprise, the rental apartment Pei Dongqiang mentioned was in a luxury complex. I couldn’t help but feel glad Team Leader Shao had sent me a special ID in advance—otherwise, we’d never have gotten inside.

As usual, we began by asking Building Management about the room number and the owner. The owner was out of town and not coming back anytime soon, but he was pretty well-off and, once he heard it was for an investigation, told us we could go right in.

From the phone call, we learned the place had indeed been rented to someone named Deng Xuemei—and she’d paid for six months up front. Generally, renters pay one month’s deposit and three months rent, but Deng Xuemei went straight for half a year, suggesting she meant to stick around.

I frowned. Judging by the timeline, Deng Xuemei wasn’t planning for this to be a brief stay. And from what Pei Dongqiang said, he’d only visited once and never returned. So either he got it wrong, or Deng Xuemei lied to him.

We soon arrived outside Deng Xuemei’s apartment. The door was locked, and no one answered even after we rang the bell for ages. The owner had given us Deng Xuemei’s new phone number, but there was no answer when we called.

“Open the door,” I said. “If there are any consequences, I’ll handle them.”

The administrator nodded.

The apartment was about 120 square meters, with two bedrooms, a living room, and a small study. Spacious, full of light—not a bad place at all. I glanced around; it was spotless, like someone was regularly cleaning.

The furniture was all there too—a forty-two-inch TV in the living room, its remote tossed on the sofa. Some apples and oranges sat on the coffee table, but their skins were all wrinkled and soft. I picked up an apple and gave it a squeeze—it felt dry, like it’d been left out for days.

Peering around the room, I noticed all the windows were shut tight.

There’s a rule in criminal investigation: if you’re searching a home, the kitchen and the bathroom are crucial. People eat, drink, and use the restroom every day—no one’s exempt—so these routines always leave traces. That’s basic forensics: the law of material exchange.

I headed straight for the kitchen. Judging from the plates and chopsticks in the cabinets—there were no water droplets, and when I touched them, they were bone dry. Clearly, no one had eaten here for a while. But the trash bin caught my eye.

I crouched down to examine the trash. It was mostly napkins, fruit peels, and scraps of leftovers. The sour smell hit me as soon as I squatted. Grimacing, I grabbed a plastic bag from the top of the fridge and started picking through the garbage, hoping for clues buried inside.

There was nothing useful—just odds and ends from cooking, some bones, nothing important. And judging by how little was in the bin, someone had emptied it recently.

I stood and opened the fridge. Inside, a few dishes of leftovers sat waiting. There was a decent amount of food left—enough for more than one person by my guess. I picked up a plate of braised eggplant and sniffed it. No sour smell; it was still fresh.

With dishes like that, even refrigerated, they’d spoil in a few days. But this meant Deng Xuemei must have been here not long ago. At most, she’d been gone two days—probably no longer than that.

Leaving the kitchen, I walked straight to the bathroom.

It was pretty spacious, with a bathtub and a shower. The sink was crowded with all sorts of women’s bath products, each promising different results. I counted at least three kinds of shampoo, not to mention all the creams and lotions.

I shrugged. “This is what a woman’s bathroom looks like.”

The administrator chuckled, “My wife’s the same way—a mountain of cosmetics. She can’t get out the door in less than an hour.”

I crouched again to check the wastebasket next to the toilet.

“That’s disgusting,” the administrator blurted when he saw what I was doing.

I glanced at him. “Trust me, I’d rather not, but it comes with the job.”

Ignoring him, I started rooting through the wastebasket. No need to spell out what was in there—let’s just say I fought through the revulsion. Finally, I found something: a supermarket receipt, still with a lingering smell.

Studying the receipt, I saw that two days ago, Deng Xuemei had bought loads of groceries and household goods—chips, sausages, toilet paper, and so on. It looked like she’d taken advantage of a sale and stocked up on things she probably wouldn’t even use.

Shopping is truly a woman’s natural talent.

Stroking my chin, I guessed from the receipt that Deng Xuemei had returned here two days earlier.

I placed the receipt gently on the sink and said, “Let’s check the other rooms.”

Heading into a bedroom, I saw pajamas tossed on the unmade bed, the blanket a mess and a pillow dropped carelessly on the floor. The scene told a simple story: Deng Xuemei must have changed her clothes and rushed out, leaving everything in disarray.

Just then I heard Zhao Mingkun calling from another room, “Wu Meng! Wu Meng!”

“What’s up?” I turned my head. “Did you find something?”

“Come have a look,” Zhao Mingkun called back.

“Alright,” I replied, getting to my feet.

His voice was coming from the study. I went in and saw him standing at a cabinet. As I took a few steps closer, my eyes widened—I immediately understood why he sounded so urgent.

Inside the cabinet were no books, but rows of small bottles, each carefully labeled with scientific formulas. One look, and it was obvious: these were chemical reagents, filled with compounds and substances.

Zhao Mingkun and I stood gaping at the array of reagents, beakers, condensers, and other lab equipment.

The administrator peeked over, clearly puzzled by our reaction. “What’s the big deal? They’re just bottles, right?”

I shook my head. “With this much stuff, you could make all kinds of dangerous things—mercurous chloride, for instance. I think we’ve finally figured out who the killer is.”

“Killer?” the administrator repeated. “What killer?”

Zhao Mingkun answered, “That’s right—Deng Xuemei studied biology. For her, mixing up a poison would be a piece of cake. And now, it looks like she’s cut herself off from the outside world. I bet she’s already done what she planned and is long gone by now.”

I frowned. “But there are still three people she didn’t kill. Doesn’t that strike you as odd? After murdering over a dozen already, what’s stopping her from finishing the job? Could she really have lacked the time or opportunity?”

Staring at all those chemical compounds, I couldn’t help but fall deep into thought.