Lethal Legacy

by Louise Hendricksen

  “Everybody in town knows.” Samphan flung out his hands. “Shit! Even his wife knew it.”

  Boyce spun around. “Who told you that?”

  “I don’t know,” Samphan’s voice raised an octave, “I can’t remember.”

  “You can’t remember?” The sheriff slammed his fist down on me table. “Was it Kim Sen?”

  “No. No. He, he isn’t a friend of mine, anyway. We don’t talk.”

  “Well, now, Victor, I don’t blame him much. I wouldn’t befriend a liar myself.” He took a turn of the room. “Matter of fact, liars make me real mad.” He crouched over the man. “What about the guy with the scar? Did he know Chea Le?”

  Samphan’s face blanched. “No! Not him,” He gulped nervously. “I d-don’t know who you’re talking about.”

  “I think you do. You responded when I mentioned that his face was scarred.”

  “Y-you said,”

  “What?” He narrowed his eyes. “Well, what have you got to say?”

  “About what?”

  The sheriff’s face turned red with anger. “Don’t get smart with me, you little shit. What the hell is Scarface’s name?”

  “I, I,” Victor glanced around, his eyes wide with terror. “I don’t know w-who you’re t-talking about.”

  Elliott Osgood languidly lifted his gaze from his steepled fingers. “You’re badgering Mr. Samphan, Fred.”

  “Knock it off. El. You can see this slant-eyed bastard is in this up to his goddamned balls. He knows what’s been going on in my town.” He scowled at Samphan. “I think I’ll lock him up for a few days, then he’ll spill,”

  “No!” Victor Samphan leaped out of his chair and clutched Osgood’s arm. “Don’t let him. I can’t be locked in here.” He gave the attorney such a jerk he nearly fell off his chair. “I can’t be. Do you hear? He’ll,”

  Sheriff Boyce grabbed him and threw him back on his chair. “Sit there, damn you, and don’t move.”

  Elliott Osgood yawned, stretched, and got to his feet. “Do you have any concrete evidence against my client, Fred?”

  The sheriff braced his fists on his hips. “You step out of the room for five minutes and I’ll have more than enough to clear this whole damned town of gooks. You got my word on that.”

  Osgood wagged his head. An expression of distaste flitted over his face as his gaze came to rest on Victor. “Not that I wouldn’t like to see you do just that, you understand. Unfortunately, Mr. Fenwick’s paying me to protect this man.” He looked up at Boyce once again. “He doesn’t want the club to get any bad publicity.”

  Sheriff Boyce focused his steely-eyed gaze on Victor. “I’m letting you go … for now.”

  Samphan stood up, flung an insolent look at the sheriff, and swaggered toward the door.

  Sheriff Boyce waited with a half smile tugging at his lips until Samphan’s fingers touched the knob. “And I’ll be sure to tell Scarface you told me where to find him.”

  32

  B.J. growled and got up from the conference table. During the past three days, he and Amy had gone over every scrap of evidence they had gathered, searching for something they may have overlooked.

  “This case is driving me nuts.” He smacked the table. “Piles of evidence, yet we still don’t have any suspects.” He stuck the folders in the file cabinet and slammed the drawer. “I have to be in court at one. I should be back in a couple of hours.”

  Amy levered herself out of her chair. “I think I’ll clean house. I didn’t get to do much organizing before Mary moved in.”

  “You sure having a stranger in your apartment is a good idea?”

  She squared her shoulders. “She’s not a stranger, and you’ll like her once you get to know her.”

  “Aren’t you overdoing this ethnic thing a trifle?”

  “No,” Amy said firmly, shoving the chairs into place around the conference table. “End of discussion.” She marched out to the office and began clearing off her desk.

  After B.J. left, Amy squatted on her heels behind the desk, filing papers in a bottom drawer. When she heard the door open and close, she didn’t even look up. “Did you forget something?” she said, thinking B.J. had returned.

  “Yes,” Jed said. “The rules.”

  Amy sighed, straightened up, and sank onto her chair. “How have you been?”

  Jed picked up a brass paperweight and tossed it from one hand to the other. “Ashamed.”

  “Forget it I had to put my ex-husband to bed lots of times,”

  “Well, it’s never happened to me before and it won’t happen again.”

  “Oh…?” Amy said, raising an eyebrow. “It will if you keep drinking as heavily as you have been lately.”

  Jed set the paperweight on the desk. “I’ve stopped feeling sorry for myself.”

  “Keep busy, Jed. Play golf, play tennis, start a hobby. It helps fill up the slack time.”

  “Will you,” he squared the paperweight with the edge of a blotter without meeting her eyes, “let me see you again?”

  She smiled. “Of course, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

  He came around the desk, kissed her on the forehead, and smiled softly at her. “You’re a special woman, Amy.” He brushed her cheek with his fingers. “Don’t ever change.” When she smiled at him, he did an about-face, blew her a kiss, and sauntered out, whistling.

  Amy closed the office, took the elevator upstairs to her apartment, and began to dust the furniture in the living room.

  As she worked, Mary came out of her room. “Can I help?”

  “No, I need the exercise. So, how’s it going? Do you have enough space for your things?”

  “Space? There’s so much of it I feel like a bug in a bam,” Mary said. “For most of my life, I’ve shared a room with my sisters.”

  “Just wait, Mary.” Amy sat down on the rug and rested her back against the couch. “When the twins are born, this apartment will seem a lot smaller.”

  A smile lit Mary’s eyes. “That’ll be nice.” She regarded Amy from beneath lowered lids. “We need some noise around here.”

  “Oh yeah.” Amy laughed. “I’ll remind you of that when we’re both walking the floor with a crying baby in our arms.”

  Mary smiled, picked up her book pack, and left for the university. Amy was preparing to dust the bookcase when the phone rang. She didn’t know how to feel when she heard Nathan’s voice come over the line.

  “Sorry I didn’t call sooner,” he said.

  “Well, I’m still here. I guess that’s a good sign.” The words came out flat and cold.

  Nathan remained silent for a full beat. “You’re still in danger, Amy. My contact in Cambodia reports that Taun Keo, Mai Nguyen’s father, was an assistant conservator at the Silver Temple in Angkor.”

  His voice sounded weary, and she wished she hadn’t been so abrupt “I see,” she said in a much softer tone.

  “When the Khmer Rouge started their killing spree in Cambodia, Keo’s superior planned to use the temple’s jewels to insure his and his family’s safety. Taun Keo found out about the head conservator’s plans, took the Jewels, and disappeared with his infant daughter.”

  “Mai?”

  “Yes. The Khmer Rouge shot the head conservator, sent his wife to a work camp, and conscripted his two young sons into the army. My contact thinks the sons may now be in the States.”

  “To get revenge for what Mai’s father did?”

  “Yes, and to recover the jewels.”

  “Others have been murdered, Nathan.”

  “Who?”

  Amy gave him a quick report on what had happened in the investigation since she had last spoke to him and finished with, “And now we’re at an impasse.”

  “Tell me about this Victor Samphan.”

  “He works nights at the athletic club and runs the Hanuman Janitorial Service during the day.”

  “Did you say Hanuman?”

  “Yes.”

  “Spell it”

  Amy reci
ted the letters of the word slowly.

  “That’s odd,” he said, half to himself. “Who are their customers?”

  “Mostly Asian businesses, I think. Although I heard the athletic club uses them, so maybe some of the other Caucasian-run firms employ them too. Why?”

  “The yavana are making the Asian merchants pay protection money, right?”

  “Yes, they threaten to bum their shops if they don’t.”

  “Amy, everywhere I went in that town I met fearful people.”

  “If somebody threatened to bum down my business, I’d be scared too.”

  “Every old-country Cambodian knows that a hanuman is a venomous snake. It lives in the trees, is swift as lightning, and has a nasty habit of dropping on its victims when they least expect it.”

  “Strange to name a cleaning service after a poisonous snake,” Amy said. “Do you think it’s possible that the two men that had the vendetta against Mai’s father are behind the extortion scheme too?”

  “You said Mai’s father was killed about six months ago. This protection racket has been going on for at least that long. The Pham brothers would need money. I know they’re not registered as aliens, I checked. They’re probably using fake I-D.‘s and aliases, but that gets risky when it comes to owning a vehicle or getting a job.”

  “So they get a high-stakes gambler like Victor Samphan in debt to them and use him as a front.”

  “They will do whatever it takes. These men have been trained to infiltrate, to intimidate, to torture, to kill. Eliminating a human being means no more to them than squashing a worm.”

  Amy shivered. “Apparently, they thought Mai’s father still had the jewels.”

  “And that’s the reason they tortured his daughter.”

  “Poor Mai. Why didn’t she just give them what they wanted?”

  “She probably figured they would still rape and murder her whether she told them or not.”

  Amy let out her breath, but it didn’t relieve the heaviness in her chest. “Hue Quoy told me Mai’s father helped all of the Asians in one way or another. Even Victor Samphan said Mr. Pran loaned money to those who needed it. Do you suppose he sold the jewels to help out his fellow countrymen?”

  “That wouldn’t be easy. Some of the finest rubies and sapphires in the world come from Cambodia. Mai’s father would have to have had illicit connections in the gem community in order to sell the large stones he took. According to the CIA, a ten-karat top quality ruby can sell for more than two hundred thousand dollars a karat To add to his problems, the sale of a large, perfect gem would cause a noticeable ripple in the gem market.”

  “So it’s likely the gems are still hidden somewhere?”

  “From what I saw at the Nguyen house, the Pham brothers think so.”

  Amy massaged tense muscles in her neck. The news put a different slant on the case, but still didn’t tell them who the guilty parties were. “Thank you for calling, Nathan. You’ve been very helpful.”

  “Be careful, Amy, these men are dangerous.”

  “I will.” She moistened her throat. “How … is Angela?” she asked.

  He drew in a breath and exhaled noisily. “Sick. Very sick. She has cirrhosis of the liver.”

  Amy sat up straighter in her chair. “But how,”

  Nathan sighed. “The doctor says she’s been drinking since she was in her early teens. She kept it under control, she was never noticeably drunk. I didn’t even know she had a problem until she got sick.”

  He let out another sigh. “I went through the apartment. There were bottles of vodka under the dirty laundry, behind the canned goods in the kitchen, in her dresser drawers, and who knows where else.”

  Amy felt a stab of pain in her chest. “Perhaps that’s why she didn’t want to start a family.”

  “I will probably never know, Mihewi.”

  “Is she,” Amy wet her lips, “at home now?”

  “The doctor says she must stop drinking or she will die. She’ll remain at a treatment center until they feel she can function without alcohol.” He paused for a moment. When he spoke again, he sounded bone-weary. “The doctor could not tell me how long that will take.”

  “I’m sorry, Nathan.”

  “Don’t waste your sympathy on me,” he said in a harsh voice. “I don’t deserve it” They hung up shortly after that.

  Although her conversation with Nathan had drained her, Amy doggedly attacked the bookcase, trying to get her mind off the concern she felt for him. She dusted and rearranged as she proceeded from one shelf to the next, upsetting a photo album in the process. As she started to transfer the album to a closed cupboard, a number of pictures spilled out onto the floor.

  Swearing under her breath, Amy got down on her hands and knees. The first picture she picked up was one she’d taken at Mai and Cam’s wedding.

  She studied the smiling couple. They stood in Mai’s garden, their hands linked, their eyes shining. Behind them, silhouetted against the sky, was the topiary castle and dragon Mai’s father had created for his beloved daughter.

  The dragon! Mai’s father might have suggested the ceremony take place in the topiary garden so Mai would always have her wedding pictures to remind her.

  Amy ran to the closet, took Mai’s storybook from her coat pocket, and sat down to read part of the tale again:

  “You must cut open my stomach,” the dragon said in a faint voice. “No, no,” Mai cried, but her friend persisted until she did as he asked. “Draw out my emerald green eyes,” he said. “My ruby red heart and the white, hot heat of my breath.”

  Amy stopped and stared at the photo again. Could Mai’s father have had a twofold purpose in writing the story?

  She flipped back to the first page and read again, For Mai to keep always. She leafed through the book again until another sentence caught her eye. Return these cherished objects to my father in the East when peace is restored to our land .

  He’d said something similar in the sealed letter Jed had taken from Chantou’s safety deposit box. Hurrying to the office, Amy opened the case file, took out their copy of the letter, and reread the part that seemed inconsistent with the general purpose of his message.

  When Kampuchea is free of the nightmare and Buddha can once again look upon beauty. Then I beseech you to remember your favorite childhood game and restore the Enlightened One’s sight.

  She heard the foyer door bang shut and B.J. walked into the office. “Still at it?” he said. “I thought you were going to clean house.”

  She regarded him with a triumphant smile. “We have to go to Wheeler. I know what those men are looking for. Dad.” Her smile broadened. “And I know where to find it.”

  33

  “Look.” Sheriff Boyce leaned across his desk and pointed his finger at B.J. and Amy. “I hauled in Victor Samphan because you two got a wild hair and what did it get me? Now you come in here talking about fairy stories.”

  Amy reined in her growing impatience. “Central Intelligence suspects that,” She halted, thinking she heard a noise in the corridor and glanced down the hallway. When the sound wasn’t repeated, she continued. “The CIA thinks the Pham brothers have come to the United States to find the temple jewels, the loss of which got their father killed.”

  “Temple jewels!” Sheriff Boyce flung up his hands. “Good God, what next?” He thrust out his beefy jaw. “So where do you suggest I find these jewel hunters?”

  Amy ignored his heavy sarcasm. “They’re probably using assumed names, so I don’t, . Yes, I do, actually. Remember the apartment house where Dr. Nguyen and Chea Le were supposed to have gone? The manager’s name is Pham! He’s probably a relative. That would explain why he helped frame Cam.”

  Boyce folded his arms across his chest “I don’t happen to think he was framed. Missy.”

  “Sheriff, Amy thinks she knows where the jewels are hidden,” B.J. said in a conciliatory tone. “We’d like you to come along.”

  Amy scooted forward on her chair. “Then you c
an see for yourself how all the pieces fit together.”

  “No way am I going to be a part of this screw-loose scheme. I’d be the laughingstock of the town.”

  Amy stood up. “Okay, if that’s the way you feel. I’m still going over to the Nguyens’ to,” She paused abruptly upon hearing the clank of a bucket in the hallway. Suddenly, from out of her subconscious rose a face she’d seen the first time she’d visited Cam. “Good Lord! He’s here!”

  Amy rushed to the office door and looked down the corridor. At the far end, a man in gray striped coveralls jerked open a door, and darted through it. She whirled around. “Stop that man!”

  “What man? Who the hell are you talking about?” Boyce exclaimed.

  “The man with the scarred face, dammit. The one you were trying to get Victor Samphan to name. He’s your janitor.”

  “That scrawny little gook? You gotta be kidding.”

  “Look outside,” Amy rushed to the window and pointed to a dilapidated gray van as it made a tire-squealing turn onto Main Street and disappeared in the fog. “He works for the Hanuman Janitorial Service.”

  “I know that. So what?”

  She repeated Nathan’s assertion about the extortion scheme.

  Sheriff Boyce laughed. “Jesus Christ, girl, nobody’s putting’ the squeeze play on anybody. If they were, I’d know about it.”

  Her patience snapped. “If you got off your rear end and talked to some of the Asians you’d,”

  “Now just a goddamned minute,” Sheriff Boyce rose out of his chair so fast it rolled backwards and crashed into the wall, “No smart-mouthed woman is going to tell me how to run my department.”

  “Now, Sheriff.” B.J. stood up and moved between them. “My daughter is just a little upset This case has all of us on edge.”

  “Don’t try to sweet-talk me, Prescott. I’ve had it with the both of you. Now get the hell out of here and let me get some work done.”

  “You shouldn’t let your temper blur your better judgement, Amy,” B.J. said as soon as they stepped outside.

  “Look who’s talking.” Amy hauled herself into the passenger seat of his van and slammed the door. “I just can’t believe it. The man we’re looking for has been right under our noses all this time. Why didn’t I realize it sooner?”