Kowloon Bay (Abby Kane FBI Thriller Book 3)

by Ty Hutchinson

  Chapter 33

  According Po Po, Mei’s parents—Gregory and Edith Chan—lived on Hong Kong Island in a neighborhood called the Peak. It was there, on Hong Kong’s highest point, that the affluent lived in hillside mansions with unobstructed views of the city’s skyline.

  The drive to Hong Kong Island would take roughly forty-five minutes via Route 1. Leslie dialed Lee on her cell phone and then switched to speakerphone.

  “Lee speaking.”

  “David, it’s Leslie.”

  “I was just thinking of calling you to see how your conversation with Abby’s mother-in-law went.”

  “She claims she has no idea why her son’s name is listed as the developer and seller of that property. Like Abby, she said Peng only had one business: Peng Yee Development.”

  “You believe her?”

  Leslie hesitated before speaking. “I think…yes. I believe her.”

  “Doesn’t sound like it.”

  “I do,” she said with a firmer tone. “He was a mama’s boy. She would know everything that went on in his life. At least, that’s what I got when Abby used to speak about him.”

  “Well, it’s entirely possible he lived a double life and kept it from her and Abby. It’s not hard to do.”

  “No, it’s not, and it might just be the reason why Abby and Po Po both had no clue that Peng somehow had or was involved with another business.”

  “Why ‘somehow’?”

  “We don’t know if his involvement was voluntary or by force. He could also have partnered up with someone, but for reasons unknown, his name alone was listed as the developer. There are a variety of scenarios. Too bad he’s not around to answer the question.”

  “So far, every promising angle on this case turns into a dead end,” Lee mused.

  “There is something that came out of the conversation, which makes me also think Peng might have been leading a double life. You’ll find this messed up. Peng’s in-laws, for his first wife Mei, disowned her. And he, Mei and Po Po all agreed to tell everyone the parents had died in a car accident to explain their absence.” She summarized what she’d learned from Abby and Po Po.

  “Wait, everyone agreed to this death story?” Lee was incredulous.

  “Yup. And that hesitation you sensed earlier…well, the fact that Po Po and Peng went along with the story, even keeping it from Abby all these years, gives me reason to pause.”

  “If they can keep that secret, what others ones might there be?”

  “Exactly. I’m on my way to pay Gregory and Edith Chan a visit to see if they have anything to say about Lotus Development. Supposedly they live in some mansion at the Peak.”

  “Wealthy. You know my feeling about money. It can drive those who have it to do anything to keep it. Maybe the real reason for the breakdown between the in-laws and Peng had to do with business. Maybe they financed him or partnered up, and the deal went sour.”

  “That could explain why they wanted to end the relationship, but it doesn’t explain the body in the building. The two might not be connected, but until we’re sure, I’m keeping them coupled.” Leslie shifted in her seat. “By the way, what’s the latest with the dental record match? Tell me you have good news.”

  “I hate to say it, but none of the records match our skeleton, and the DNA for Peter, his assistant, Roger, and Sheila wasn’t a match.”

  “Crap!” Leslie hit the steering wheel with her palm.

  “Yeah, Peter Song is looking less and less like our guy, but this new development seems promising.”

  “I agree, but honestly, I’m really hoping it’s not the case. I’d hate to tell Abby that her husband might be a part of this mess. It’s always hard when family is involved.”

  “Peng’s dead. There’s nothing we can do about it if he was responsible for the body. Best-case scenario is that he had a partner and that partner is still alive. Let’s hope that partner isn’t the body.”

  Leslie grimaced. “I don’t even want to think about it. It’ll just be one more case for the cold files.”

  “It won’t be the first, and it won’t be the last. As for the Chans, I’m not sure they qualify as family, based on what you said. It doesn’t sound like Abby or Po Po will be broken up about it if the Chans end up being the guilty party. You want me to tag along on the interview?”

  “Nah, I’ll be fine.” Leslie checked the GPS. “I’m almost there anyway. But you can help me from the office. Let’s expand the list of people we’re looking at to include Gregory and Edith Chan. Run their names. Let’s also start looking at Peng’s known business associates as possible matches for the mummy. Abby’s original investigation should still be on file with some of that information.”

  “You think Peng could also be a victim tied to the body we found? Meaning, whoever put that body in the building also axed him?”

  “That thought has crossed my mind. It has also crossed Abby’s.”

  “This must be tough for her, bringing up the past and all.”

  “It’s definitely messing with her head.”

  “Leslie, you’re not thinking of reopening that case, are you?”

  “I’m not there just yet, but I’m not saying we won’t.”

  “Wouldn’t that be something? This current case solving Peng’s murder.”

  Chapter 34

  Gregory and Edith Chan lived on Severn Road, a winding street dotted with mansions and luxury apartment complexes, arguably the priciest address on the planet. Leslie wasn’t looking forward to meeting the Chans. She would have to shake her negative opinion of them before their talk.

  Chinese families are known for looking to their elders for wisdom, and extended family is just as important as immediate family. The Chans would have been viewed this way by Mei and Peng, and even more so by Ryan and Lucy. In this case, Leslie was sure that everyone didn’t go along with the Chans’ idea because they were the wise elders. She figured it probably had more to do with the fact that they were a-holes and no one wanted anything to do with them.

  It was a Sunday afternoon, so Leslie figured there was a good chance that the Chans were home, marinating in their own self-importance. She parked her SUV alongside the curb in front of what would be considered a modest mansion—unlike its neighbors, it lacked a manned guard shack at the front gates.

  Leslie walked along the paved driveway lined with small tangerine trees. It was quiet save for the singing of a few birds and the distant whirring of a lawnmower. The lawn was lush, immaculately groomed, with large animal topiaries dotting the landscape. Beauty before the beasts.

  At the head of the driveway, Leslie stood in the roundabout and gave the house a once-over. From a size standpoint, the modern two-story structure wasn’t that impressive when compared to the other homes on the street, but still, it screamed luxury with its Gehry-esque architecture.

  Leslie readied her identification and rang the doorbell. A few moments passed before an elderly woman with short, black hair answered the door. She was pleasantly dressed in white slacks, heels, and a navy blue button-down with the collar popped up. Gold and jade bracelets circled both wrists, and a variety of rings crusted with precious gems graced her fingers. Po Po had mentioned that the Chans were in their seventies, but this woman certainly didn’t carry herself that way, and it appeared as if she had some work done to her face. The most surprising thing about her was her height at roughly five-feet eight inches. Her heels gave her an inch, but still she had four inches on Leslie.

  “Hello. I’m Inspector Leslie Choi,” she said, holding her identification out. “Are you Edith Chan?”

  “I am. What’s this about?”

  “Would you mind if I come inside and ask you and your husband a few questions?”

  “Answer my question first and I’ll consider answering yours.”

  Leslie wasn’t expecting attitude, and her biased opinion that she had managed to set aside had returned. “I’d like to talk to you about your daughter, Mei, and her husband, Peng.” She use
d her arm to move Mrs. Chan off to the side so she could step through the doorway.

  “You can’t barge inside my home. This is private—”

  “Fetch your husband, Mrs. Chan. The sooner you answer my questions, the sooner I’ll leave. But if you want, I have all day.”

  Mrs. Chan pursed her red lips and furrowed her penciled-in eyebrows. “Wait there,” she hissed, pointing to a small sitting room just to the left of the foyer.

  Leslie took a seat in one of the two white armchairs. Opposite her was a loveseat of the same color. An antique, carved teak coffee table separated the two pieces of furniture. Landscape paintings of China’s countryside hung on the walls. A shelving unit against one of the walls displayed porcelain vases and intricate teakwood carvings laden with mother-of-pearl and jade. The tile floor looked to be marble. A small window with sheer curtains behind her warmed the room with sunlight.

  A few minutes later, Mrs. Chan returned with a man of similar age. Gregory Chan’s hair was silver and his face clean shaven, though he did nothing to tame the black, bushy caterpillars resting above his eyes. It also looked like he had work done to his face and neck. He wore pressed khakis and a crisp, white button-down.

  Leslie stood and offered a hand. “Thank you for taking a moment to speak with me. This won’t take long.”

  He gave her hand a quick shake before they both sat down on the loveseat.

  “No small talk. Get to the point,” he said as he leaned forward and pressed the fingertips of both hands together.

  “I take it you’ve heard about the Missing Mummy case? It’s been all over the news.”

  “Yes, and…?” Mr. Chan made no attempt to hide his annoyance.

  “Well, it turns out a company named Lotus Development was responsible for that building. Does that name mean anything to you?”

  “Should it?”

  “Peng Yee, your son-in-law, is listed as the owner of that company. Were you aware that he owned such a business?”

  “I have no such knowledge,” Mr. Chan said with a shrug. “Why are you talking to us? You should be questioning his family. And why are we talking about Peng? He’s dead. What does it matter?

  “He married your daughter. Technically, you’re family too. And it matters because I say it matters.”

  Mrs. Chan shook her head and looked away, her face showing something that looked a whole lot like disgust. Leslie imagined shelves of little black notebooks filled with Mrs. Chan’s cramped handwriting and titled, People I Want to Punch in the Back of the Head.

  “We’ve had no contact with Peng,” Mr. Chan said. “That marriage wasn’t something we wanted.”

  More like the offspring of that marriage was something you didn’t want. Leslie wanted badly to throw that little tidbit in his face, but thought better of it. It would only make speaking to them more difficult.

  “So you’re saying you knew nothing of Lotus Development or Peng’s involvement with that company?”

  “That’s correct,” he said.

  “Did you ever do business with Peng, maybe partner up or finance something?”

  “Of course not.” His brow crinkled and remained that way. “As I said earlier, we had no relationship with him. Why on earth would I want to do business with that man?”

  Clearly Po Po had softened her words regarding the Chans. The bad blood between the families ran thick; they didn’t just dislike Peng—they despised him.

  While talking to the couple, Leslie saw no pictures of their daughter, Mei. However, there were plenty of professional photographs of the Chans. Even in the hallway leading out from the foyer, pictures of their daughter was absent amid a collage of small framed pictures showing the couple on holiday or attending social events.

  Mr. Chan shifted in his seat. “If you must know, but I’m sure your detective skills have already revealed this, we haven’t spoken to any of those people since the marriage. We disowned Mei years ago when she decided to marry that piece of trash. We wanted nothing to do with her after that. There’s nothing illegal with what we did. It was best her child knew nothing about us.”

  “Why force something to work when you know it won’t?” Mrs. Chan added.

  “Don’t you want to know them? There are two: Ryan and Lucy. Did you know that?”

  “Look, I know you didn’t come here to talk about that,” Mr. Chan said. “We don’t know anything about the skeleton you found in the building. We don’t know anything about Peng’s business deals, though it doesn’t surprised us that he’s mixed up in this mess.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “He grew up in that housing project. What good ever came out of there? And his mother?” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

  “You seem very angry with him. Enough to kill him?”

  “I knew this is what you were angling at,” he sneered. “We had no relationship with the man. You can ask his mother, Ethel. We wanted nothing to do with Peng or our daughter. We made no contact. They stayed in Kowloon, and we stayed on Hong Kong Island. Why would I want to kill him?”

  “Because you’re angry. Because he ruined your daughter’s life.”

  “Look, if this is what this conversation is all about, trying to pin Peng’s death on us, well then you can speak to our lawyer from this point forward.” They both stood and Mr. Chan walked to the front door. “Leave. Now.”

  I handed Mr. Chan my card. “If you think of anything that might have escaped your mind during our conversation today, you can reach me at that number.”

  Without looking at the card, he held my gaze, crumpled the card in his hand and then let it drop to the floor.

  Chapter 35

  Po Po exited the Mass Transit Railway at the Sham Shui Po stop and made her way down Cheng Sha Wan Road. Her destination was a densely populated area near Po On and Wai Wai Road. She knew the area well from having lived there for four years with Peng. That, and her best friend had lived there her whole life.

  Sham Shui Po was largely a working-class neighborhood teetering on the lower end, with serious urban decay—so much that the Hong Kong Housing Society deemed it their first project in the city’s renewal. Its street market on Apliu Street was popular with both tourists and locals, as was the nearby red-light district.

  Po Po jockeyed for position on the narrow footpath cluttered with vendors, parked delivery trucks, and motorbikes. An uneven sidewalk caused her roller bag to bounce around more than she would have liked as she navigated around mounds of trash piled up against the buildings or near telephone poles. Large rats scurried back and forth from the piles to holes in the buildings. An old man on crutches spit green phlegm onto the sidewalk near her. None of it deterred her. She was used to it.

  After fifteen minutes of dodging, sidestepping, and skirting, Po Po took a right into a narrow lane that led to a quiet courtyard anchored by three small, two-story apartment buildings. She made her way to a ground-floor apartment in the building the farthest away. Her knock made the thin wooden door rattle in its frame. A moment or so later the doorknob turned and the door opened inward. A small woman appeared in the doorway.

  “Ethel. Come inside,” Liu said in Cantonese.

  Inside, the two women hugged each other. “Liu, it’s been so long,” Po Po said.

  “It has. Leave your bag here. I’ve already prepared tea for us,” she said, directing Po Po to a small table in the kitchen. The apartment wasn’t very large; it consisted of a small sitting room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom.

  Po Po watched her friend pour green tea into two teacups.

  “Did you have trouble finding the place? Ask for directions, did you?” Liu asked with a playful expression as she took a seat.

  Po Po smiled. “Of course not, I’ll never forget Hong Kong.”

  Po Po was nineteen and Liu eighteen when they were both hired as cocktail servers at the Cherry Blossom cabaret club. A mishap with a tray of drinks spilling over a customer bonded the two, and they’d been inseparable after tha
t. That is until Po Po moved to the States.

  The two women spent the next hour or so catching up. Po Po talked about life in the US and how thankful they were to live in San Francisco next to a large Chinatown. “Oh, I think I would go crazy if we lived elsewhere. Chinatown makes me feel comfortable.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever move back to Hong Kong?”

  She shook her head. “The children love it there.”

  Liu nodded and then took a sip of her tea. “They’ll have more opportunity in America.”

  After a few quiet moments of the two sipping their tea, Po Po cleared her throat. “Abby knows about Mei’s parents.”

  “What? How?”

  “We took the children to Shek Kip Mei, so they could see where their father lived as a little boy. We passed by the park that Mei had spent time at. Well, you know Abby. She started asking questions, and she never let’s anything go until she’s knows everything.”

  “I’m well aware of her persistence.”

  “Ryan and Lucy don’t know. Abby agreed that it was best they weren’t told.”

  Liu let out a breath of relief. “All these years of keeping that secret, part of me is glad she knows. It’s one less person I have to keep lying to.”

  Po Po chuckled. “I have to live with her. She won’t let it go. Eventually she’ll bring it up again and use her police-questioning ways on me to talk about it further.”

  “What’s to hide now? It’s out in the open.” Liu leaned back in her chair and rested her clasped hands in her lap.

  Po Po averted her gaze and chewed on her lower lip.