by Scott Mackay
Gilbert didn’t see the point of trying to refute Sung’s flawed logic, his justification for rape, and his futile attempt to convince away his actions by explaining them as something he believed he deserved. But he was at least beginning to see why May insisted on denying Tony. Sung grew still again, looked pale in the wan light coming from the sky.
“When we reached Hong Kong,” said Sung, “we knew May was pregnant. By our second or third month in the refugee camp, she started having morning sickness. She wanted to report to the authorities what I had done to her, what I had done to her husband, but she knew she had to count on me. Who else was she going to count on? She was a refugee. She had to take what help she could get. You see? She needed me. She hated me but she needed me. That’s what power is, detective. Her main concern was Edgar. Without me, she knew Edgar would have a tough time. If she jeopardized my freedom, she would have no one to support her. I had many contacts in Hong Kong. I had contacts everywhere. She knew I could arrange early release from the refugee camp for her. So we came to an agreement.” A weak smile appeared on Sung’s face. “We sold our souls, Detective Gilbert, each to the other. We made up a story for the authorities. We told them Ying died working himself to death bailing the boat. Then I got May and Edgar released from the camp. I squirreled May away in the New Territories during the last three months of her pregnancy and put Edgar in a boarding school. When the child was born, May refused to acknowledge it. She didn’t want Edgar to know. She had a difficult labor. She was in the hospital for a whole week. When she finally came out of her confinement she insisted on a blood test to make sure of the child’s paternity.” Sung looked at Gilbert steadily. “The child, of course, turned out to be mine. The child, of course, was Tony.” He shook his head, rubbed his brow, and sighed. “May and Edgar went to Canada three years later. I stayed with Tony in Hong Kong for the next five years after that. But I finally sent Tony to Canada as well.”
Gilbert wasn’t sure what this had to do with Edgar’s reasons for pulling a gun on Tony, but he thought he’d better let Sung continue in his own way.
“May hated Tony from birth,” said Sung. “He was a child of…of rape. She never told Edgar. I’m the one who finally told Edgar. I told him last November.” He shook his head. “I wanted him to like Tony. I wanted to end all the secrecy.” Sung looked at the diamond signet ring on his right hand. “I wanted them to really feel like brothers to each other. I’ve struggled for years trying to make a family out of the four of us. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, but I’ve never succeeded. So I finally told Edgar. I never got around to telling Tony. I left Tony thinking he was an orphan. I didn’t see the point of stirring up too much trouble at first. But near the end of November I told Edgar the whole story. The same one I’m telling you now. And something changed in Edgar after that. He couldn’t stand the thought of what I had done to his mother. Or what I had done to his father. I wanted to be truthful. I was sick of all the lies. I wanted to build my family on a foundation of truth. I tried to give him the context, the war and so forth, the desperate times we were living in, his father’s poor character, how his father’s beating got out of hand…I thought he would understand…but he didn’t. He hated me more than ever. He hated Tony more than ever. He changed. He said he hated everybody from Vietnam, and everybody from Hong Kong. He said he just wanted to start over fresh somewhere.”
The end of November. The picture grew clearer. Something happened to Edgar at the end of November. A change. A darkness. Such as Rosalyn Surrey had said. Such as Tony Mok had said. Edgar just wanted to get away from it all. The Kung Lok. The 14K. Even Pearl. Just wanted to get away from it all and start a new life—with Rosalyn Surrey?—in San Francisco.
“I told him everything about Tony’s conception,” said Sung. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought if I did this, told the truth once and for all, I might finally have some luck turning the four of us into a family. I told Edgar that his mother and I were at peace with each other now. I thought he would accept that. I thought he would understand it. But telling Edgar the truth about Tony turned out to be the biggest mistake I ever made. Is it any wonder he pulled a gun on Tony? He felt he had to avenge his mother. And his father.”
The rain outside came down harder. Through the tall dark buildings Gilbert caught a glimpse of the gray lake. Here were the reasons behind Edgar’s actions, behind his decision to pull a gun on Mok, triggering Pearl’s subsequent decision, prompting her to murder—a chain of circumstances that stretched all the way back to that boat in the South China Sea, to Sung’s futile attempts to make May love him, and ultimately, to the Vietnam War. A love that had finally turned him into a brute. Just as Bing Wu’s love for Pearl had turned Bing Wu into a brute. True, Sung was a man who had helped many escape from Vietnam. He was a man who had assisted dozens of orphans to make their way to the more prosperous shores of the Western democratic nations. But in the end, his love for May had defeated him. Love was so often blind and dumb and hurtful.
Gilbert still wanted to save what he could from all this.
“If you testify,” said Gilbert, “if you tell the jury you believe Edgar pulled a gun on Tony…because of all this…because of what you told me…” Gilbert looked away. “And that Pearl shot Edgar to save Tony’s life…well…she’ll get a few years. And I think that’s fair. She’s a perpetrator, after all. But she’s also a victim. She’s suffered a lot at the hands of Bing Wu, but she also shot Edgar, and I think she should do some time for that. But I don’t think it’s right we should put a coffin lid on the rest of her life. If we can convince a jury that she fired in Tony’s defense…well, they might show mercy.”
Sung looked up, his face hardening. “Mercy?” he said. He shook his head, a deep woe coming to his face. “No. Forget mercy. I can only testify to what I saw.” He took a deep breath and stared at Gilbert with clear steady eyes. “Pearl Wu standing there with a gun in her hand and Edgar lying on the floor bleeding to death. How you decide to proceed with those facts is entirely up to you, detective. Bing Wu killed Tony Mok. Tony Mok was my son. I loved Tony Mok, even if May didn’t. I’m sorry if my testimony puts Bing Wu’s wife in prison for much of the remainder of her life. But I think Bing Wu will learn a valuable lesson from that. He will now know what it feels like to have his loved ones taken away from him. He will now know that pain. He will now know that grief. Just as I do.”
Twenty-Six
A twenty-one-year-old police volunteer named John Lotze found locker 43 in the Glengrove Shopping Mall, a mall of Chinese shops, restaurants, and boutiques in the suburban municipality of Agincourt. Inside the locker, constables of 42 Division discovered a briefcase—fake alligator leather, brass snaps with combination locks, and a New Asian Solutions travel tag tied to the handle. They delivered the briefcase to Toronto Police Headquarters, where it was X-rayed and examined by the Bomb Squad, then pried open by a remote-control robot. No bang. No explosion. Just three audiocassettes and a videotape.
The duty clerk brought the video and cassette tapes up to the Homicide office prior to their release to the Special Investigations Unit so Gilbert and Lombardo could review them for possible evidence in the Edgar Lau murder case. Gilbert requisitioned a TV and VCR from the Audio-Visual Department, but before the equipment could arrive, Lombardo, fulfilling his duties as the week’s primary-detective-on-rotation, was called away to investigate a suspicious death near Grenadier Pond in High Park. Gilbert watched the videotape by himself. He played it again once Lombardo got back.
“Watch this part here,” said Gilbert. “This has good footage of Donald Kennedy.”
The videotape showed Constable Donald Kennedy accepting payments from Leslie Lee, a Kung Lok member—an odd-angled shot in a hotel room taken from a concealed-briefcase camcorder.
“And this next part here has Paul Szoldra in it,” said Gilbert.
The tape showed Paul Szoldra out of uniform beating up an elderly Chinese fruit-store owner, presumably in an act of extorti
on, in a back alley just off Chestnut Street in Chinatown.
“Then there’s these other guys,” said Gilbert. “Nothing we can use in the Edgar Lau case, but certainly enough for the SIU to make some decent arrests down at 52.”
The last part of the tape showed three 52 Division constables out of uniform accepting payoffs from Sid Yuen Pan and Leslie Lee.
“What about the audiocassettes?” asked Lombardo.
“They contain conversations of Donald Kennedy talking to Danny Leung,” said Gilbert.
“Danny Leung?” said Lombardo, surprised. “You mean the pai-gow parlor owner I talked to over in Chinatown East about Tony Mok?”
“That’s the one. The tape has Kennedy selling stolen cars to Danny Leung. Edgar Lau is there acting as a go-between. The Auto Squad confirmed that Danny Leung is under investigation for the exportation of stolen vehicles to Zimbabwe, Kenya, and Uganda. The evidence is all on tape—a list of business fronts, drop boxes, and contacts not only in Toronto but in Vancouver and New York as well—everything the Auto Squad needs to write viable warrants on Danny Leung, Donald Kennedy, and all the rest of those guys. Donald Kennedy’s going down. And he’s going down hard. I’m glad. After what he did to Regina, I’m really glad.”
One of the first people Gilbert told about Donald Kennedy’s arrest was Rosalyn Surrey.
“That’s wonderful news,” she said. But she sounded flat, uninterested, as if she really didn’t care one way or the other. “I’m glad you got him,” she said. “Edgar would have been…happy.”
“And we’ve all but concluded our murder investigation,” he said. He looked at her more closely. She seemed at loose ends, sat there in her chair as if she had nothing to do, appeared immobilized by everything that had happened to her in the last six weeks. “We may have to ask your husband to testify,” he said. She looked fragile. He had to tread softly here. “How’s Garth doing, anyway?”
She took a moment to answer. “Garth and I are getting a divorce,” she said. “I tried.” She smiled wistfully. “I really tried. But as far as our marriage is concerned…well…the grass just won’t grow there anymore.”
The next person he told about the Donald Kennedy arrest was Constable Jeremy Austin. Austin was jubilant.
“If you want me to testify, I’ll be there,” he said. “And thank you. My family’s going to be able to sleep for the first time in a year.”
“We want you to write a first-degree murder warrant on Pearl Wu,” said Frank Hukowich. Hukowich was smiling, barely able to suppress his glee. “You did good work, Barry.” Gilbert glanced at Ross Paulsen. Paulsen’s gray hair had been freshly barbered, shaved close, looked more than ever like the nap of a tennis ball. “We’re really happy with what you did for us,” said Hukowich.
Gilbert looked at Tim Nowak. His staff inspector wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Tim, this isn’t first-degree,” said Gilbert. “Why would we want to ruin a young woman’s life like this? I’ll go with manslaughter or second-degree—she should do some time—but I don’t think she planned to murder Edgar. There’s no premeditation here. She just lost her head and winged a cap at him. You know the circumstances. You know what he did to her. The way he broke her heart.”
Gilbert saw his words meant nothing to Nowak.
“Barry,” said Paulsen, “we really have to insist on murder-one. It’s the only way we’re going to get any leverage out of her.”
“Leverage?” said Gilbert.
“If you write a manslaughter or a second-degree, she’s going to walk,” said Paulsen. “Her lawyers will tell the jury she shot Edgar to save Tony’s life, and that’ll be it. They’ll play the tape from your night out on the boat. Damn, I wish you hadn’t mentioned the self-defense angle to Tony. The judge will throw it out as justifiable homicide. And then how will we ever use it as leverage against Bing Wu? We don’t care if Pearl shot Edgar in defense of Tony. We just want her convicted. And that means murder-one.”
“But that’s not the way it happened,” said Gilbert, hunkering down for Pearl’s sake. “It wasn’t murder-one.”
“That might be true,” said Paulsen, “but our lawyers are going to make it murder-one by going with the robbery theory. The slashed futons, the books pulled from the bookcase, and so forth. That way, we get a conviction no matter what.”
So. They were going to use the robbery strategy after all. He had to fight it.
“I already told you, Donald Kennedy did that,” he said. “Take a look at the time lines in my report.”
“Pearl slashed the futons,” said Paulsen, brooking no argument. “Pearl took the books down from the shelves. She committed robbery, and shot Edgar in the act of a felony. That’s murder-one.”
“But that’s not the way it happened,” insisted Gilbert.
“We’ve got a big budget for this, Barry,” said Paulsen. “There’s no point in fighting us.”
“Barry,” said Nowak, as unflappable as ever, “Ross and Frank have spoken to their respective legal departments. Donald Kennedy will have no place in this prosecution. Your twenty-four-hour report describing the condition of the apartment will. The two will never intersect. That’s the way it’s got to be.”
“But that’s not the way it happened,” Gilbert said again.
Frank Hukowich frowned. “Why don’t you let a jury decide how it happened?”
“If you have the Crown argue first-degree murder, she’ll go to jail for twenty-five years,” said Gilbert. “And that’s not fair, not after seven years with Bing Wu. Hasn’t she suffered enough?”
Paulsen smiled a grim little smile. “She can deal her way down,” he said. “What better way to make Bing Wu suffer? We can use Pearl to chisel away at the old man.” Paulsen took a deep breath, his smile intensifying. “You did good work, detective. We’re all proud of you. You’re a real hero.”
“So you’re going to throw Pearl’s life away just so you can hurt Bing Wu?”
“We’ve got her, we’re going to use her,” said Paulsen. “We’re going to squeeze every drop we can out of her. We want to inflict as much psychological damage on Wu as we can.”
“I’ll go for manslaughter,” said Gilbert. “But murder-one’s cruel and unusual as far as I’m concerned.”
“Barry,” said Nowak. “There’s more at stake here. Really there is. I’ve reviewed the facts of the case with our own Trials Preparation section. They agree with Frank and Ross. On a manslaughter or second-degree charge, she walks, with the charges argued down to justifiable homicide because of Tony Mok. With a murder-one, backed by the slashed futons and the unshelved books, she’s convicted. And if she’s convicted, she becomes useful to Frank and Ross. Which is the whole point of this. Look at the facts, Barry. Pearl Wu in a ransacked apartment standing over a dead Edgar Lau with a smoking gun in her hand. We can go somewhere with that. Ross and Frank can finally make some headway against the old man.”
“So you’re going to ruin her life,” said Gilbert.
“Criminals ruin their own lives,” said Hukowich.
“I’m going to have to ask you to cooperate with us, Barry,” said Nowak. “Without funding from Ross and Frank, you never would have gotten as far as you did.” Nowak paused. “We want you to write a murder-one warrant on Pearl. There’s no other way.”
Gilbert gazed at Nowak. Then at Hukowich and Paulsen. He thought of the scar on Pearl’s face. He thought of her weird clothes and her crazy addiction to candy. He thought of her harrowing and strange journey through the Chinese gang underworld, of her tragic bond to Wu, of San Francisco, her destroyed escape plan, and her love for Edgar. He thought of the way these three men were commandeering his evidence and turning it upside down. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t do this.
“I’m sorry, Tim,” he said. “I can’t write your warrant.”
Gilbert lifted his chin, squared his shoulders, and looked past Nowak at the rain outside.
“Then I’m sorry, Barry,” said Nowak; “you’re off the ca
se.” Nowak glanced at Paulsen and Hukowich, then back at Gilbert. “Have Carol gather it up for me. I’ll be handling it from here on in. I’m sorry you can’t see it our way. But Frank and Ross have to hurt Bing Wu any way they can.”
“Even if they have to ruin Pearl’s life?” said Gilbert.
“We do what we have to, Barry,” said Paulsen. “We do what we have to.”
Gilbert went to Donald Kennedy’s arraignment. Though he had no absolute proof, he still believed Kennedy was the one who had beaten Regina. He kept on thinking of the nine stitches in Regina’s head. Of her swollen left eye. And of the angry bruise on her cheek. He wanted to see Kennedy go down. He wasn’t a vengeful man, but when it came to his wife…well…he wasn’t that different from Bing Wu—those who would hurt his wife had to be punished.