eurekapd Chapter 912: Clues are pitifully few
Chapter 912: Clues are pitifully few
In Liu Wei's home, Zhou Guilan trembled as she opened the dresser and took out a rusty iron box. Inside were her son's sentence reduction ruling, several yellowed letters, and a set of keys—a faded amulet hanging from the keychain, made of clay by her son when he went to prison. Wang Fang put on gloves and looked through the letters, finding a receipt for living expenses sent by his ex-wife several years ago, after which there was no further contact.
“He always said he would go see his grandson once he had saved enough money.” Zhou Guilan wiped away her tears and pointed to the piggy bank on the windowsill. “It contains the change he earned from selling goods every day, which he said he would use to treat his child’s leukemia.” Xiao Zhang shook the piggy bank, and the clinking of coins sounded particularly hollow—there was less than two hundred yuan inside.
The stall owners at the market had a vague memory of Liu Weiguo, only remembering that he would come at five o'clock every morning to buy socks and gloves, and always ask for extra plastic bags when paying. "He said it was for setting up his stall, but who knows?" Sister Li, who sells socks, curled her lip. "Once I saw him staring blankly at the seafood stall, and I thought he wanted to switch to selling fish."
Li Ming stared at Liu Weiguo's figure in front of the seafood stall in the surveillance screenshot and suddenly remembered the "cow knot" binding method in the forensic report. He pulled up Liu Weiguo's consumption records and found a transfer record in his mobile payment on December 25, 2024, at "Hongyun Seafood Wholesale Department", the amount of which was exactly the market price of 50 catties of frozen fish.
Inside Hongyun Wholesale Department, Zhao Yongqiang was tying fish boxes with nylon rope, his knots tied with practiced skill and precision. When Li Ming placed the transfer record in front of him, the former inmate's eyelids twitched violently: "He said he wanted to sell frozen fish part-time, so I sold it to him at the wholesale price."
"Selling frozen fish requires getting up at 3 a.m., how can a street vendor get up like that?" Li Ming stepped closer, "Tell me the truth, what did you two talk about?"
Zhao Yongqiang was silent for a moment, then took out a crumpled piece of paper from deep inside the drawer: "He asked me if I had any connections to get cheap children's clothing, saying that selling clothes at a street stall could earn a lot of money." It was a map of the children's clothing wholesale market, with folds along the edges, clearly having been studied repeatedly.
Back at the police station, the technical team discovered that Liu Weiguo's phone contained chat logs from dozens of children's clothing wholesale groups, but he had never spoken. His browser search history was stuck on "childhood leukemia treatment costs" and "what sells at a street stall for high profit," with his most recent search being "how to apply for a major illness relief fund."
“He’s planning something.” Li Ming posted the roadmap on the whiteboard. “Someone who isn’t even very familiar with mobile payments is suddenly researching children’s clothing wholesale and critical illness relief, which means he urgently needs a sum of money but doesn’t want to rely on his old connections.”
“But so far, we haven’t found any evidence that he has any enemies.” Wang Fang flipped through the interview records. “Everyone who came into contact with him described him as ‘honest and simple,’ even paying back his debts at the vegetable market on time.”
The investigation continued until investigators retrieved a waterproof plastic bag from Liu Wei's country sewer. Inside were blood-stained samples of children's clothing, purchase invoices, and a diagnosis certificate: "Liu Yang, acute lymphoblastic leukemia, estimated treatment cost 500,000 yuan." The boy in the photo looked exactly like the child in the family photo, and the diagnosis date was December 1, 2024.
"He wanted to raise money by selling children's clothing, but he was murdered after purchasing the goods." Li Ming looked at the signature on the diagnosis certificate.
Based on the current investigation results, Liu Weiguo's interpersonal relationships were relatively simple after his release from prison, and the clues shown in the entire investigation are not very indicative.
Therefore, Li Ming consulted with Qin Chuan and focused the investigation on the man who had previously clashed and shoved Liu Weiguo at the meeting.
On the surveillance screen of the Dongfeng Road flower and bird market, the image of the man in gray was magnified to fill the entire frame. He wore a black baseball cap, his right shoulder was slightly slumped, and the way he dragged his right leg as he walked created a unique movement trajectory in the surveillance footage. Criminal Investigation Detachment Captain Li Ming stared at the timestamp in the lower right corner of the screen—January 2, 16:17, which highly overlapped with the time window of Liu Weiguo's death.
"Screen out all images of men wearing gray coats and with a slight limp in their right leg from the past three months," Li Ming said to Xiao Wang in the technical team. "Focus on comparing gait characteristics, especially the angle of ankle swing." Three hours later, the system displayed the matching results: Zhang Fakui, 32 years old, lives in the Textile Factory Community of Dongchuan City. He had been mediated by the police station a week ago due to a minor collision involving an electric vehicle, and there was a gait monitoring record.
The next morning, Li Ming, accompanied by investigator Wang Fang, knocked on Zhang Fakui's security door. A middle-aged woman with a sallow complexion opened the door, holding a crying toddler in her arms. A strong smell of Chinese medicine wafted from the house. "He's gone to work," the woman said, glancing warily at the police badge. "It's nothing serious, why are you chasing after him like this?"
Inside the textile factory workshop, the deafening roar of the machines filled the air. Zhang Fakui was installing pencil clips on the assembly line, a band-aid wrapped around his right index finger. Hearing someone call his name behind him, he whirled around, a deformed plastic toy car falling out of his work pocket. "Officer, is it all over such a trivial matter?" He wiped the sweat from his brow and led Li Ming to a corner of the workshop. "It's just a disagreement about a return, is it? Would I kill him?"
Li Ming noticed that Zhang Fakui's right trouser leg was rolled up, revealing a burn scar on his ankle—this was the reason for his abnormal gait in the surveillance footage. "Tell me in detail what happened that day." He opened his notebook, pen nib hovering over the paper.
Zhang Fakui scratched his head, his metal watch chain scraping against the assembly line counter: "My son kept asking for stationery, so I bought a pencil sharpener from his stall. When I got home and used it, the lead got stuck. I went back to return it, but he insisted my son had broken it. We argued for a bit, and everyone around was watching!"
"How badly did the argument get? Did they even fight?" Wang Fang interjected, her gaze sweeping over the band-aid on Zhang Fakui's hand.
“How could I dare lay a hand on him!” Zhang Fakui raised his hands. “I just pushed his shoulder, and he almost fell. Later, the lady selling shoe insoles nearby intervened and I left.” He pulled out a shopping receipt from his pocket. “Look, it was just ten yuan worth of stuff. Was it worth killing him?”
Li Ming took the receipt and noticed the date was December 30, 2024, three days before Liu Weiguo's death. Suddenly, the workshop's loudspeaker blared, urging workers to work overtime. A flicker of anxiety crossed Zhang Fakui's eyes: "My wife is waiting for me to buy medicine, and the child has a fever..."
"What happened to your ankle injury?" Li Ming suddenly asked.
“I got burned by battery fluid while repairing an electric bike two years ago,” Zhang Fakui said, lifting up his trouser leg to reveal a dark red scar that stretched from his ankle to his calf. “I can’t walk properly, so I didn’t go far when we were arguing that day. You should be able to see it when you check the security footage.”
In the afternoon, Li Ming took Wang Fang to visit the eyewitness to the argument – Sister Chen, who sells shoe insoles.