One voice message, from Fang. “Ni hao, Jian-heng. I ask around and got some small info but not tell over phone. Meet me in line at Salumi at eleven thirty if you want what I got.” Court listened to the message a couple of times. Usually, she spoke to him only in Chinese. Maybe she’d switched to English because someone could hear her.
It was almost eleven. Walker and Nolan were due any moment. It would take ten minutes of walking at a fast clip for Court to get to the restaurant. Ivy and Ashena could take the Walker interview. Ashena would know what technical questions to ask better than he would anyway.
He ran upstairs to check in with Brody in the gang unit. He’d been none too happy Court had approached Fang at the restaurant, and Court had promised a heads-up on any further contact. Brody coaxed him into bringing him back a sandwich in return for not insisting Court drag someone from Gangs with him to the meeting. Court put on his still-wet coat and made his way outside, hoping like hell the rain was keeping the line at the restaurant short.
49
A casual observer would be hard-pressed to see why people would stand in a long line for a place looking like it had seen better years. A simple orange fabric banner bearing only the word Salumi and a silhouette of pig hung above the mustard-colored painted brick of the building. The storefront window bore the same word without further explanation. The restaurant was a downtown jewel and no longer a secret to anyone with a web browser. Every bite of the in-house cured meats was worth the wait.
Court was relieved to see Fang already in line ahead of another forty or so people. He could see ten more in line ahead of them before it disappeared into the shop. It would move quickly, but the rain meant that he’d take his sandwich back to the office. Seating inside was extremely limited.
They spoke quietly so people wouldn’t hear them even though they spoke in Mandarin.
“So, here’s the deal. The Sanhehui were bringing in North Korean crystal hidden in down shipments delivered to Colchuck Down. Drummond found out about this, and he was livid. The word is Drummond gave Wu a chance to make it right. If Wu made it right, if he ended the shipments, Wu could stay at his job.”
“And, what was Wu going to do, do you know?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. The thing you need to know is that Mr. Drummond was killed by someone else. The Triad had absolutely nothing to do with it.”
“Of course the Sanhehui wouldn’t claim killing him.”
She grabbed at his arm, pinching him roughly. “No. Listen to me. The guy I talked to would brag if he’d killed Drummond.”
He didn’t think there was a Triad member alive who would brag about this killing. “You believed him? Why would he brag about it?”
The expression on her face darkened. “He always brags. You know.” She turned away, her voice dropping to a whisper. “When he kills someone.”
It took him a couple of seconds to get the full impact of her statement. When he kills someone. She said it as if it were a routine occurrence. Something she was used to talking about. They moved up a few places in the line. “And you think he knows what everyone in the Triad is doing? How would he know if someone else was given the Drummond hit?”
Fang shook her head. “Look, you’re not getting it. This guy, he is the guy.”
“And you know him personally?” Court realized she was shaking. “Are you in danger, Fang? I can help get you somewhere else if you are.”
“I am not in danger unless you keep asking questions. Please, believe me. This death has nothing do with the Sanhehui.”
“Do you know if they ever use white people?”
She shook her head. “Sanhehui is all Chinese. They might hire white people for little things, like courier work. Maybe. But they only trust other Chinese for the heavy work.”
It wasn’t until they were parting outside, wrapped orders to go in hand, that he thought of something. “Hey, Fang, one more thing.” He walked over to the nearby tree to shield them from the drizzle and pulled out a folded copy of the sketch and photos from his jacket. “Do you recognize any of these guys?”
Fang took the papers and studied them one by one. “No, Jian-Heng. But, you know, you white people all look the same to me.”
Whoever Fang was hanging out with was deep in the Triad. Which meant she was, at least peripherally, related in a way he hadn’t known about. She had given him tidbits over the years, but never anything this close to the top. No wonder Brody had been all over Stensland.
But he believed her.
He ran up the stairs and gave Brody the promised sandwich and peace offering, filling him in on what he’d gotten from Fang.
“Drummond was taking a huge chance facing that kind of shit on his own,” Brody said. “Sounds like a perfect motive to me.”
“Is Fang under surveillance? Is that how you knew we met with her? Wanna fill me in?”
Brody considered Court for a while before spinning around and clicking a few keys on his computer. A photo of a Chinese man popped up. Good-looking guy with tattoo sleeves on both arms and a dragon circling his neck. “This is Ma Longwei. He’s supposed to be the Triad’s local top enforcer. Your friend Fang lives with him. So far, we haven’t caught him doing diddly, but we’ve only been watching him for three months.”
Court had never seen Longwei before. He hadn’t been a player in the Sino-Trans case. Maybe he was new in town, maybe he was newly risen in the ranks. If Fang was living with this guy, she was in a whole different league than Court would’ve guessed. “So, if she asked him about Drummond…”
“She’s too smart to ask outright. But, yeah, her boyfriend has a weird sense of honor and pride in his work. Her information is probably accurate.”
Court felt like an idiot. He should have come to Gangs first to see what they had before putting her at risk. For whatever reason, it hadn’t even occurred to him. “Shit. Come clean, Brody, what did you have on Colchuck before we got it?”
Brody leaned to the side. “Shut the door.”
Court closed the door, leaning against it with arms crossed.
“We had nothing. Colchuck wasn’t on our radar at all until you showed up for Dim Sum.”
The other man didn’t have to fess up, but Court was relieved to know they’d not compromised an ongoing investigation. “Thanks. I’ll be happy to drop the Triad from our list. You can have fun figuring out the Colchuck Down thing with Narc.”
He tossed a lukewarm sandwich at Ivy and unwrapped his own. He had tucked them inside his jacket so they’d stay warm, but the chat with Brody had taken a few minutes. The gamey smell of lamb and red pepper had him drooling before his first bite.
Ivy opened hers, sniffing at it warily. “You like some seriously weird food, Pearson.”
“Lamb is not weird.”
“Put Hunter in a room five minutes ago. We need to eat and get in there.”
“Never hurts to let them sit for a bit. Get them a little on the anxious side.”
“So, what happened with Fang?”
Court told her. The fact that Fang had become so close to the Triad’s local hit man had loomed larger than the implications of what she had told him about the Drummond case.
Ivy sat back in her chair. “Man, I can’t tell you how relieved I am the Triad isn’t involved in Drummond’s death.”
“You and me both. Doesn’t make our job any easier. Now fill me in on what you got from Walker.”
“Not much. There are a few ways to make keys without direct access to Hunter’s system. You need specialized knowledge and some other technical mumbo-jumbo I don’t understand. However, putting Ashena in there with me was pure genius. She ended up doing most of the interview. Turns out, anyone with access to the right Haubek equipment, like a customer with the same system, or an employee, would be able to make a key.”
“Basically, you’re saying everyone we had on the table is still on the table.”
50
Karen Hunter appeared to be anything but anxious. She was
seated with her legs and arms crossed, back against the chair, and eyes fixed on the one-way glass across from her as they entered the room. She didn’t return Court’s smile.
“Why am I here?”
Ivy was several inches shorter than Hunter was when standing, but Ivy’s chair was set four inches higher to give her the height advantage. She sat and read Hunter her rights.
“I waive my right to an attorney,” Hunter said. “I have nothing to hide. Besides, I thought I was cleared. So what is going on?”
Ivy said, “Let’s start with this.” She put a DMV photo in front of her. “What do you know about this man?”
Hunter studied the photo. “He looks sort of familiar. He reminds me a little of a young John Lithgow, but I don’t think I know him.”
Ivy replaced the photo with another. “How about this guy?”
Hunter studied it, made a face. “He looks like the Unabomber. He seems familiar, but I don’t know where from.” She turned it in the light, reconsidered. “Oh, wait. He was with the other guy, wasn’t he? Let me see the other photo again.”
Ivy put them side by side.
Hunter held them up together, nodding. “Oh, now I remember. They’re the two men who came from Haubek to reset my system after the burglary. Why are you asking me about them?”
Ivy didn’t answer. She slid the photo of Duffy onto the table. “What about this man?”
“This is a client of mine. Giovanni Duffy.” Her forehead wrinkled. “He doesn’t have anything to do with Berkeley, does he? I’m pretty sure they didn’t know each other.”
It was subtle, but Court got the sense she was trying to tell him something. The hint she’d given the other day about a connection between clients had to do with the client who used burner phones. Maybe her confusion over seeing Duffy’s photo would prompt her to elaborate. It nagged at him that Stensland had shut down that avenue. What if Stensland had missed something important while covering for whoever it was he was covering for?
“Tell us what you know about him,” Ivy said.
“There’s not much. He’s a client. I can’t imagine any possible scenario in which Giovanni has anything to do with Berkeley’s death. The only connection between them I know of is me.” She paused, her eyes widening. “He’s okay, isn’t he?
“He’s fine,” Ivy said, pushing the photo of Schorr across. “What about this guy?”
Hunter looked up quickly. “So, you figured out a connection between two of my clients. I told you some men talk to their friends. Why show me their pictures in particular?”
Ivy didn’t answer, but pulled out the sketch of the man in the leather suit Audrey Drummond saw leaving Hunter’s building. “Tell me about this man.”
Hunter grabbed the drawing and held it so the light from the wall behind her illuminated it. She focused on it for quite a while before slowly shaking her head. “Are you serious? The only thing I can tell from this picture is he’s a white guy. A balding white guy.”
“Look closely,” Ivy said.
Karen studied the drawing again, shaking her head the whole time. “So, it looks like the collar around his neck could be the collar of my missing suit—the way it closes is the same anyway.” She paused, her eyes widening. “Does this mean someone saw a man wearing my suit leave the building?”
Court was impressed with her leap of logic.
“We believe he’s the man who killed Berkeley Drummond,” Ivy said.
Hunter jerked a little and scanned the image with a new intensity. “He could be anyone.”
Ivy retrieved the sketch and laid it flat on the table between them. “We have a theory about what happened. We need you to fill in the gaps.”
Hunter looked at the drawing, her mouth dropping open as it was snatched from her. “Gaps? What are you talking about?”
Court wondered how Ivy was going to continue. If Hunter had been working with Nolan, Payne or Duffy to kill Drummond, she would have blinked. Hesitated. Had some sort of tell. She was obviously frustrated that the sketch was devoid of anything recognizable.
She didn’t have anything to do with Drummond’s death. Court let Ivy continue, though. He wanted her to play her full hand so she could see it for herself.
“Let me lay it out for you,” Ivy said. “Here’s what happened. At some point after the burglary and reboot of your system, you issued a second card in your name and gave it to an accomplice. He spent the last six weeks working with you on the best time to pull off the murder. He let himself in—coming and going multiple times—mostly after Berkeley Drummond’s Wednesday-night visits. They correlate almost one hundred percent. You taught him how to turn down the lights, gave him a suit that would make him look as much like you as possible. You planned and waited until the time presented itself. Last week, your son’s emergency gave you the perfect alibi. You contacted your accomplice before rushing off to your son. What you didn’t know was he was going to have a little extra fun while he was there.”
Ivy pulled out the photograph showing the blue-light photo of semen on Drummond’s face. Hunter recoiled.
“He left us some nice, uncomplicated DNA. So, we’ll be able to prove whoever did this when we get our DNA results. This would be the perfect time for you to tell us who the other man was. If we have to wait until for DNA results, the district attorney will be a lot harder to deal with.”
Court admired Ivy’s bluff. They would still need a suspect’s DNA sample to prove the connection.
Hunter sat back in her chair, mouth dropping open, head moving slowly from side to side, her eyes blinking rapidly as she took it all in.
Ivy kept pushing. “We’ll make a deal with you.” She tapped the sketch. “If you tell us who this guy is, we’ll make sure the DA goes easy on you. Why’d you have him do it, Ms. Hunter? That’s what we’d like to know.”
Usually at this point, Court would see a flicker of resignation in a guilty person’s face. Confronted by murder allegations, most people crumble under the weight and guilt of it. Hunter was full of confusion bursting into outrage.
“Oh. My. Fucking. God.” Hunter’s voice bounced off the walls. She leaned forward in her chair, getting her face up in Ivy’s. “This is unbelievable. I don’t have any idea who killed Berkeley. I had no reason to kill him. None at all. Zero. Zip. Nada. And, I sure as hell didn’t help anyone do it. This is insane.” She swiped at the pile of images, sending them off the table.
Hunter had been so calm and reserved, in control up to now, it was a relief to see her lose it. The fact she had blown up was a classic sign of innocence.
Ivy leaned in closer so they were almost nose-to-nose. “Not even compassion?”
Court was impressed at Ivy’s nerve. She had gumption, even if she was dead wrong.
Hunter leveled her gaze right back at Ivy, fingers whitening as they clenched the arms of her chair “Compassion? What was compassionate about the way he died?”
Ivy patted the file on the table. Her voice became a whisper, a confidence-inspiring lull. Her head moved in a slow nod as she spoke, a gesture to induce tacit agreement. “You had a motherly attitude toward him. You couldn’t stand to see him in pain. When he told you he wanted to kill himself, you worked together to cook up this plan. But you couldn’t go through with it yourself, so you hired someone to do it for you.”
Court hated he was following Ivy’s twisted logic. It made sense in a tangled way even if it was utter crap. The way she was working this was pretty damn good work, too.
Hunter twisted her upper body in Court’s direction. “This is bullshit and you know it. What the fuck is going on here?”
Apparently, Court was now playing the good cop to Ivy’s bad cop. He maintained his casual stance against the wall. “Look, Karen. You don’t mind if I call you Karen, do you?”
She nodded as she took a deep breath, obviously trying calm herself down. “I don’t know what she’s talking about. I had nothing to do with Berkeley’s death.” She spoke in a slow and calm voice, emphasizi
ng each word with clear diction.
Hunter hadn’t slipped, had no tells, got angry when accused. Time to move on, tie up some loose ends. He met Ivy’s gaze; she shook her head and looked away, defeated.
Hunter's eyes filled with tears. “I found him. He was already dead, and I called the police. Who are, as usual, treating me with suspicion solely for what I do.”
Ivy broke in again. “Oh, not exactly. He was found dead in your office. Tied to your ceiling. With your ropes. It’s not like we chased you down for being some random dominatrix.”
51
Court guided Karen out of the building. “I’m sorry about all that. At least you are officially cleared, now. I can stop reading you your rights every time I see you.”
“How comforting,” she said.
“I can get someone to drive you back or hail you a cab.”
“I’ll take the cab. Having the police show up once in my neighborhood is enough. I’m sure the busybody across the street is already wagging her tongue.”
Court fished out some money and handed it to her. It wasn’t the way they were supposed to do things, but he was happy to eat a few bucks.
She strode off with confidence without looking back. While he was focusing on the dignified swaying of her hips, his skin broke out in goosebumps. He spun around, certain someone was watching him, but he couldn’t make anyone. Did Brody have someone tailing him? He massaged his neck with both hands before going back inside.
Ivy sat in her chair, flipping through the file, her elbow on her desk and her chin cradled in her hand. She only moved her eyes to look at him, and her voice was slow and monotone. “What? You look like you got something.”
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