Baby Brother Blues (Sammy Dick, PI Series: Book 1)

by Trudi Baldwin

  She grew quiet a while. Sat up a little more. “I must accept that.”

  She crossed her arms across her chest, holding herself. Sat up almost straight now. A hint of the former Mai began to emerge. In a cracked but somewhat firmer voice she said, “If there is any way I can save Liang, I will. Please explain the full set of circumstances.”

  At this point, I quietly told her the entire story of my suspicions and the potential roles of Liang, Karl, and Hu in the crimes. I then explained some of the likely legal consequences for each.

  She lifted the wax arm and placed her palm across her mouth, as if silencing her lips in a gesture of profound sadness as I spoke. When my story was over, she then released her lips as if setting free a bird into the air. Perhaps allowing herself to finally tell the truth.

  “I have suspected for quite some time now that both Liang and my father may be…”

  She sucked in a shallow breath, searching for the right word. Her voice shook only a little when she finally landed on “irrecoverable.” She leaned back in her chair and turned her head in profile as she gazed toward the rugged sides of Camelback Mountain. She stared out the window, as if she thought the entire world might change once she accepted this fact. Truth be told, she was probably right.

  “May I add to your thoughts?” I asked, hoping to steer the conversation more.

  “You are bringing me pain, Sammy. So, no, I don’t want to hear what you have to say.” She paused, and I waited for her to tell me to leave.

  I was surprised when she continued speaking, but it was distant now, as though she were speaking to herself. “But maybe through this pain there will be some safety. Maybe, also, some freedom from pain on the other side.”

  I decided this was a cue, albeit an oblique one, for me to go on. “I believe there is a chance to recover Liang, as you put it. Karl Zaiid and your father probably fall into the category of what you have termed irrecoverable.”

  For the first time since I’d arrived, her voice gained momentum. “I have never cared for Zaiid. Liang suggested him for the Swann job. It was a mistake from the beginning.”

  “What about your father? Do you want to spare him?” I asked this, though I believed it was impossible at this point, unless he escaped our grasp. She might warn him, or Liang.

  “I have been trying to please my father from the day I was born, to gain his attention. I think Liang has been trying to do the opposite, to displease him from the day he was born, for the exact same reason. To gain his attention. I have concluded, however, from all these years of trying, that the man is made of stone. Neither one of us will ever gain his attention.”

  “The only attentive one has been Ushi. I don’t know if she is or is not my mother. I suspect not, or at least that’s what the rumors say. It doesn’t really matter if, biologically speaking, she isn’t my mother. In every way that counts, she is my mother. The only loving, attentive parent we have ever known.”

  “I miss her. I’m sure Liang misses her too. I’m sad that she never comes here. I don’t know if it is her fear of flying or her fear of spending too much time alone with my father. Whatever it is, she has never even seen this house. One of these days, I plan on holding her hand all through the flight and getting her here, where I can express my love to her firsthand. It is one of my dreams.”

  Apparently, living in Hong Kong was not an option for Mai.

  “But those dreams are for a later time, if ever,” Mai concluded resolutely. “Right now, we must consider the fate of Liang.” She took in a deep breath. Then swiveled her face back in my direction until her eyes met mine. “What is it you suggest, Sammy?”

  This talk of saving and recovery made me nervous. Why? Because all my psychological learnings boiled down to a single, inescapable fact: saving and recovery come from within. No matter what decisions Mai and I made here today, it wouldn’t matter one damned bit if Liang refused to muster up the internal forces to try and right himself from within. Surely, Mai knew that too? Maybe not. It never ceased to amaze me how much the enablers of an addicted loved one fail to recognize the addict’s own responsibility in overcoming the addiction.

  “Well, I have two options. Both of which I am willing to support,” I said. “One, you confront Liang and tell him the gig is over. If he doesn’t turn himself into confined rehab, where we will try to spare him, then he will go to jail along with Karl and your father when we arrest them in the act. From his confinement in rehab, he will have to reveal all of the connections with Hu and Karl. I can work with the Phoenix police to protect Liang and Swann as much as possible in the ensuing arrests.”

  She thought about that for a moment. “What is the other option?”

  “The other option is we arrest him now and then by exposing all of the details and distributor connections of your father and Zaiid, Liang plea bargains down his own sentence.”

  “How likely is it that he would escape jail time in that option?”

  “Not likely.” I didn’t add that it was unlikely in either scenario. Essentially, these three men had become big-time international drug dealers, with some kind of additional, and most certainly criminal, activity involving diamonds. Though I wasn’t exactly sure what.

  The chances of Liang walking away from this with just a slap on the hand and only a few months in rehab were slim to none, but my job was to protect Swann, not Liang. At the rate Liang and Zaiid were going, Swann would fall sooner or later, either through a tarnished reputation, siphoned profits, or much worse, through conviction of criminal activity directly related to Swann brought on by Karl and Liang. Right now, the criminal activity seemed fairly independent of Swann, but an addict will take whenever, whatever, wherever. Swann would be no exception. The fall of Swann would hurt Mai, Michael, Sylvester, Tomas and all the employees of Swann. If I had to choose between all of them and Liang, I’d choose to protect Swann.

  Mai turned her profile away from me again and gazed off toward Camelback Mountain. The random play of water flowing down the twenty-foot high glass wall was the only sound. Slightly soothing under the circumstances. I’d bide my time.

  Mai swiveled the distressed leather chair back to face me. “To be honest, I have been researching rehabilitation centers off and on for quite some time now. I must have known this time would come. When you love someone, of course you always pray they will right themselves of their own choice. I truly thought Liang had become cocaine-free. From what you are telling me, though, he’s just shifted his coke habit to a gambling habit, financed through drugs and possibly diamonds. Our own diamonds!” Her voice trembled and broke again on the last sentence, as if Liang were hurting her personally. He was.

  “One of these rehab centers is local and offers voluntary confinement. I’ll be meeting Liang tonight for dinner. I will do my best to convince him to enter the center tomorrow. After that, we will let the chips fall where they may.”

  She paused. Swallowed noticeably. Her hands were folded in her lap. The tissues discarded. Her index finger tapped the top of her other hand. I counted three taps. Then Mai continued, “I am a little afraid of personal retribution from my father. If you arrest him. Please make sure it sticks.”

  Wow. Imagine being afraid of personal retribution from your own father on a scale that Hu was capable of? I swallowed noticeably, too.

  “Mai, I’m going to ask you to do something that may help protect your brother. We have no idea what choice Liang might make or what hold your father has over him, or the full extent of the trouble he is in. I have a small listening device that I would like you to plant on Liang’s briefcase. My suspicion is that Liang either has diamonds and/or gambling-related material in his briefcase because he keeps it so close. He seems to carry it wherever he goes. Just slip it under the handle attachment in a place where he can’t see or feel it, and then if he gets in trouble, we will know.”

  Mai looked shocked. “Surely, you wouldn’t have me listen in on the private conversations of my own brother!”

  “
Mai, you just told me yourself that you’re afraid of possible retribution from your father. Liang’s in a lot deeper than you are. If you’re worried about retribution, imagine Liang’s potential for danger? Not only from Hu, but from himself. Who knows what kinds of creditors may be after him? How about Zaiid? It’s easy to imagine Zaiid doing harm to Liang, too. Besides, I’ll be the one listening in on his conversations, not you. It’s part of my job.”

  New tears seeped from the sides of her dark eyes. She folded back into the chair, pulled her feet off the floor into a fetal position, and silently sobbed some more. I figured I’d lost the momentum entirely, and we’d have to start all over again.

  But after a few moments of this, she surprised me and stood up, walking toward me with an open palm. I extracted the tiny listening device from my bag and placed it on her palm. I put my other hand beneath hers, clasping it together to give her strength.

  “Promise me one thing,” she said. “Please don’t listen in on him unless I give you the okay. Let’s give him a private, free chance to do the right thing.”

  “I give you my word of honor, Mai. He deserves to have that chance.”

  I prayed that Liang wouldn’t discover this second listening device, but my guess was that he’d never suspect his own sister, so he wouldn’t be looking for it.

  Mai now glanced up the stairs. My cue to leave. I followed her up the three landings. She held herself differently now. Still rapier-like, but softer. More sensitive. She’d been humbled by her new awareness and her chosen responsibility to act. I admired her. I’d always admired her, but now my admiration had grown deeper, expanding in the light of her human predicament and her response to it.

  When I reached the top, I paused, looking to the left over my shoulder down the darkened long hall, open on one side toward the vast living room. At the end of the ornate upstairs hall was a lighted aquarium. I’d been too nervous to notice it on my way in. A huge glass tank. Absolutely stunning. Shimmering in the light, I could see numerous iridescent blue and red humpheads gliding and slinking back and forth through the waving grass and multicolored corals. Probably Hu’s living trophy case. Daily reminders of how he lived above the law.

  Mai reached beside me to key in a security code. I stepped out onto the cobbled portico. She nodded her head in a silent good-bye and closed the door.

  All alone now, I finally turned to look at the view. It stretched for miles to the east, but the air was too hazy to penetrate with any clarity today. The purple bougainvillea overhead dangled around me. A few bees hummed among the vines, nosing the blossoms. I stepped out of the scant shade.

  A blast of Phoenix heat assaulted my skin. Hotter than ever. I was glad for it. I’d gotten too cold in the frigid air conditioning. Maybe it was both hotter and colder up here, high on Mummy Mountain?

  I wouldn’t know. I lived down below, and for once in my short life, I was glad of it, I thought, as I stepped carefully down through the three landings to my sweet Mazda3 glimmering in the heat.

  Chapter 38

  I was so cold, I didn’t even turn on the air conditioning until I reached the gates. They swung open slowly and I zoomed through. Glad to escape the confines and rarified lives of the very, very rich.

  By now it was nearing noon. I had a problem. My case was solving very quickly and I’d left my primary clients, Sylvester and Michael, in the dust. Last Friday, I’d had nearly zilch to report to Michael at the Compass Room bar. Now I had so much to report, even the lengthy document I’d put together yesterday was out-of-date because of my meeting with Mai.

  From here, all paths forward involved potential negative exposure for Swann. I’d do my very best to keep Swann out of it and keep their reputation clean, but I’d warned Sylvester when I’d begun that if I uncovered activity that was clearly illegal, I’d have to adhere to the law.

  We were now at that point. To complicate things even more, my other case, the Obsidian Towers Project, might tangentially or directly involve a member of Sylvester’s family: little brother Sonny. What to do?

  As I wound along Las Brisas, I found Slvester’s name on my phone Contact List and pressed call. He answered on the first ring.

  He must have had my name programmed into his phone, but he was smart enough to use my undercover name. “Tina? Everything okay?”

  “Hi Sylvester. Everything’s okay. Actually more than okay. I know I didn’t have much to report to Michael last week, but I’ve made what you might call rapid-fire discoveries in the last few days. Our investigation is moving so quickly that I’d better report into you ASAP. Today, actually, if possible, as actions are being set in motion that may have consequences for Swann and even your family,” I blurted out.

  Sylvester was not one to match others’ level of drama. Where my voice had been urgent and dramatic, his flowed like a cool, slow river. A true leader, already calculating, assessing options. “Have you had lunch?”

  “Not unless you count a grande espresso with whipped cream and cinnamon.”

  “Doesn’t count. Please join me for lunch at my home.” He proceeded to give me the directions to his Scottsdale estate, about fifteen minutes away. “Do you like fish?” he added at the end.

  “Everything but tuna, for reasons I’ll explain when we meet. See you in fifteen,” I said, shut my phone, and headed east toward Scottsdale Road for another session with the very, very rich. I was certainly getting my fill today.

  Chapter 39

  I guided the Mazda3 to the bottom of Mummy Mountain, and turned right on Tatum this time, away from downtown. Headed north to Shea. The road kind of undulates here like waves, with older estates lining both sides. The further east I drove, the further apart the homes became. By the time I finally made a short jag north to 98th, the homes were acres apart. Low slung, ranch-style homes with mature trees, expansive, perfectly manicured lawns, elegant palm trees, saguaros, and leafy trees mixed in stately array. Several equestrian estates.

  I pulled up to the Charter Oak Drive address Sylvester had given me. The gate was wrought iron, entwined in intricate swirls of leaves and vines. I’d seen a lot of rich people’s gates in the last few days.

  As I was looking around for a squawk box, the gate opened automatically. I spotted the security cameras mounted on each of the stone pillars. A hedge of oleander higher than the highest point of the gate surrounded the property. The security cameras were partially hidden among the oleander leaves.

  Sylvester, or his on-site security, must have been watching for my arrival. When the gates had swung fully open, I scooted the Mazda3 through and scrunched along the winding, sandy drive. Here too, as in Hu’s home, the house was not visible from the street or gate. I guided the Mazda around another high hedge of oleander, and lo and behold, one of the loveliest homes I’d ever seen rolled into view. The drive led to a rear view of the home first. Sylvester’s home was a rambling ranch, Spanish-tiled estate. I couldn’t tell how far the property extended, but I guessed about seven to ten acres of land. Perhaps he’d purchased adjoining lots. I could see what looked like an equestrian barn on the south end, surrounded by desert pine.

  Some of the newer, more contemporary homes in Phoenix are impressive, but my favorites were these older, well-loved and well-cared for Scottsdale homes. The mature landscaping, the elegant understatement, as opposed to the in-your-face overstatement of some of the newer homes, invited and attracted me. I could hardly wait to see the inside. I opened the door of the Mazda3, swiveled on the seat to get out, grabbed my handbag, and tried to straighten out my orange shift, looking around to get my bearings as I did so.

  One bit of overstatement had greeted me upon my arrival: the eight-car garage. I’d parked in the large carport nearest the home, with the eight garage doors to my right. I now stood under the carport in the sweltering heat, looking for the front door. Maybe I was supposed to enter from the rear? Just then Sylvester walked up behind me, greeted me warmly as Sammy, not Tina, and invited me to walk to the back of the home. Apparent
ly, since he called me Sammy, I could speak openly and freely here. We crossed the expansive flagstone patio to the center set of French doors on the bottom floor. Sylvester opened them and allowed me to enter first.

  It was a beautiful home, but I barely had time to look at it as Sylvester led me toward the east wing where a long table greeted us adorned with two place settings on one end with lunch already awaiting us.

  Sylvester pulled out a chair for me, allowing me to have a wondrous view of the lawn and pool. He then pulled his own chair out and sat down.

  Just then I heard a flap, flap, flapping sound, which must have been a doggy door, because three large greyhounds raced in and greeted Sylvester by nudging his arms with their noses. Then they turned shyly to greet me. The dogs were graceful and large. Sylvester introduced each with obvious fondness. He explained that he’d rescued them after a stint on the racetrack, their owners no longer wanting the upkeep of ‘failures,’ as they had put it.

  “Lie down,” Sylvester commanded almost in a whisper. Without hesitation, all three dogs hustled to three separate doggy beds by the window and lay down. All I could think was, I hope Sylvester never meets Snack.

  Sylvester rose from his chair and gestured for me to wait one moment. He walked a brief way up the hall, flipped a switch, and some kind of Celtic tune swelled through recessed speakers. He returned. “Now we may begin.”

  I tried my hardest not to plow through the salad like an industrial-grade lawn mower. I speared a forkful of greens, grapes and some salmon, sort of a multipronged shish-kabob approach, and stuffed the entire forkful into my mouth. Right then, Sylvester asked me a question. I looked up at him apologetically, giving him a close-mouthed grin like a happy chipmunk with its cheeks chockfull of nuts. Wisely, he chose to wait a few bites before expecting an answer.

  Though it was going to be challenging to update Sylvester and satisfy my appetite all at the same time, for some reason, the sweet rise and fall of the ethereal music, the dogs, the pleasantness of the home, the way Sylvester was treating me for lunch, all of it combined to put me at ease. I figured I could rise to the occasion.