Book Read Free

Shadow Girl

Page 15

by Gerry Schmitt


  “That’s right,” Afton said. “We’re trying to get a handle on a certain Bangkok company. You heard about the helicopter crash over at the university?”

  Sami nodded.

  “There have been several more developments since then,” Afton said. She took a few minutes to update Sami on the events thus far.

  “Oh,” Sami said, looking surprised. “It’s like a manhunt.”

  “It is a manhunt,” Max said.

  “Anyway,” Afton continued, “we’ve surmised that the people involved in that crash, and who were staying at the Hotel Itasca, have ties to a particular Bangkok company.”

  “Which company would that be?” Sami asked.

  “Kantana Industrial Group,” Afton said.

  Sami’s eyes widened slightly. “You know this for a fact?”

  “Pretty much,” Max said. “Problem is, we’re two thousand miles away from Bangkok, so it’s hard to gather any sort of decent intelligence.”

  “I have heard of Kantana Industrial,” Sami said.

  “Seriously?” Afton said. “Then are you familiar with the names Michael Piwat and Victoria Achara?”

  Sami shook her head. “No. I’m afraid not.”

  “But Kantana Industrial. Do you know what they . . . ?”

  “Kantana Industrial is a ship-building company. But they are also rumored to be a front for a criminal organization.”

  “What!” Afton said.

  “Criminal how?” Max asked.

  Sami looked serious. “Guns, drugs, and the sex trade.”

  “Holy shit,” Max said. “These are bad guys.”

  “You have no idea,” Sami said.

  “Would it be, um, feasible to talk to your brother about this company?” Afton asked. “To maybe get a little local information?”

  Sami considered the request for a few moments. Then she said, “Perhaps it would not be in his best interest. Some members of the Royal Thai Police have, shall we say . . . connections to various entities. It’s not always easy to determine who is an ally and who cannot be trusted.”

  “I see,” Afton said.

  “I’m very sorry,” Sami said. “But my brother could be in danger if . . .”

  “It’s okay,” Afton said to Sami. “I think we picked up some valuable information just talking to you.”

  • • •

  WHAT does this all sound like?” Max asked. It was four in the afternoon and they were walking down Marquette Avenue, shouldering their way through a bunch of early commuters.

  “Just off the top of my head, it sounds like Diamond Shopping Network might have been involved in something really nasty and illegal,” Afton said. “I think I read somewhere that DSN imports, like, ninety percent of the goods that are sold on the air.”

  “Imports them from Thailand?”

  “Probably from all over China, Southeast Asia, and India,” Afton said.

  “So they’re a shopping network and also a front for something else?”

  “I don’t know. That sounds awfully far-fetched.”

  “Hold on a minute,” Max said. He broke away from Afton and walked over to a red-and-yellow food truck that was parked at the curb. “Two tacos, please,” he said to the clerk at the window counter. He glanced back at Afton. “You want a taco, don’t you?”

  “Why not?”

  “Two pulled-pork tacos,” Max said. “With chilies and cheese sauce.”

  They munched tacos in little tinfoil wrappers as they strolled along.

  “Now we know there’s a Bangkok connection,” Max said. “The case isn’t exactly coming together, but we know a little bit more than we did before.”

  “Except who those two people really are. And where Jay Barber disappeared to.”

  “I didn’t say we cracked the case,” Max said. “Far from it.”

  “What if the people from the hotel, Piwat and Achara, have another set of IDs and they’re already on a plane that’s halfway across the Pacific by now?”

  “Then we’re not going to catch them. Then we’re shit out of luck.”

  “So we follow the Jay Barber connection,” Afton said slowly.

  “We follow up with Sunny, that lawyer Steckel, and the folks at Diamond Shopping Network.”

  “What do you think we should do first?” Afton asked.

  “None of the above,” Max said. “It’s quittin’ time. For you, anyway. I’m going to work the phones for a little while and give this a last-ditch effort, see if there’s anybody we can plug into internationally.”

  “I don’t want to go home. We’ve done some really good work. We’re on a hot streak.”

  “Ah, you’re just dehydrated.”

  “Max . . .”

  “I mean it,” Max said. “You’re still recovering from last night. You should go home, put on a pair of fuzzy slippers, and watch Wheel of Fortune. Eat something bad.”

  “I’m already wolfing down a street taco. I’m probably going to get heartburn.”

  “I meant eat something really bad. Like Chunky Chip cookies or Nutty Monkey Ice Cream.”

  “I’ll tell you what we should do,” Afton said. “We should go out to Diamond Shopping Network and put the screws to Fan Ling.”

  “You don’t like her, do you?”

  “I don’t know her enough to dislike her. But, right now, I don’t trust anybody out there.”

  Max stared at her. “You really want to do that?”

  “More than anything.”

  25

  BECAUSE Max had called ahead, Angus Wagner, the general manager, met them at the front door.

  “Is this about Mr. Odin or Mr. Barber?” Wagner asked. He looked somber, as if he’d been breaking bad news to people all day long. Which he probably had.

  “Why?” Afton asked. “Don’t tell me Barber finally showed up?”

  Wagner shook his head. “Afraid not. Nobody’s seen him or even heard from him. We’re all extremely worried.”

  “I think you should be,” Max said. “One of his running shoes was found near Lake Harriet around eleven o’clock this morning.”

  Wagner looked astonished. “That’s it? Just his shoe?” He touched a hand to his forehead. “What does that mean?”

  “We’re not entirely sure,” Afton said. “But if he was blown clear out of his sneakers, it might mean that somebody snatched him.”

  “He was kidnapped?” Wagner’s face crumpled with worry. “Holy smokes. What’s going on? First Mr. Odin is murdered in his sleep, now Mr. Barber is missing.” He looked miserable. “Does someone have it in for our company? Are they trying to destroy us?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Max said.

  “Well, figure harder if you can.”

  “Mr. Wagner,” Afton said, “are you familiar with a company by the name of Kantana Industrial Group that’s located in Bangkok, Thailand?”

  Wagner shook his head. “No, I’m not.”

  “You don’t think your company might do business with them? Or has in the past?”

  “We really need to nail down a possible connection,” Max said.

  “Are they the people who killed Mr. Odin?” Wagner asked.

  “We don’t know that. We’re following up on several leads,” Max said.

  “I suppose we could go talk to the buyers,” Wagner said. Then he frowned, shook his head, and said, “No, I’m not thinking straight today. Too much bad news. If anything, it would be better if we went and talked to Janine.”

  “Who’s Janine?” Afton asked.

  “She’s our controller,” Wagner said. “Every contract, purchase order, or invoice that has to do with our vendors passes directly through her hands.”

  “Then let’s go talk to Janine,” Max said.

  • • •

  JANINE Worley was a plump fifty-year-old woman who looked like she should stay home and bake cookies and banana bread. But to everyone at DSN she was a tough corporate autocrat who you took care never to cross. From her spacious priv
ate office, she reigned over a dozen bookkeepers, accountants, and administrative assistants who sat in a bullpen just outside her door. When Angus explained to Janine what Afton and Max were looking for, she pursed her fleshy lips and the corners of her mouth turned downward. “Does this have something to do with Mr. Odin getting killed?” she asked.

  Afton noticed that Worley didn’t bother to get up. She made no motion to shake hands. She just sat behind her desk like the Queen of Sheba.

  “We’re following up on several leads,” Max said, knowing he was beginning to sound like a broken record.

  “What was that name again?”

  “Kantana Industrial Group.”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell,” Janine said. She swiveled her desk chair around and faced one of two computer screens. “But let me check.” As her manicured fingers flew over the keys, searching her database of vendors, her upper arms jiggled. “No,” she said after a minute or so. “I don’t see any company with that name.”

  “Could Kantana Industrial be listed under a different identifier?” Afton asked.

  Janine turned heavy-lidded eyes toward Afton. “Such as?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Janine gazed at Wagner. “Do you know when Mr. Odin’s funeral is going to be held?”

  “Friday,” Wagner said. “That’s what I’m hearing.”

  “Has Mr. Barber been located yet?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Wagner said.

  “Do you think he’s dead, too?” Janine asked. She scanned Wagner’s face and then moved on to Afton and Max.

  Nobody said anything.

  Janine finally cracked. She slid open a desk drawer, pulled out a Kleenex tissue, and dabbed at her eyes. Then she stared directly at Max. “You people have to find this killer,” she said. “Before he rips our company to shreds.”

  “Believe me, we’re trying,” Max said. “We’re doing everything we can.”

  “Janine’s been with us since the very beginning,” Wagner said. “She’s very loyal.”

  Janine looked back at her computer and sniffled. “I wish I could help you in some way.”

  “DSN imports merchandise from Thailand, am I right?” Afton asked.

  “We probably import from fifty different countries,” Janine said. “But the bulk of our merchandise is purchased through wholesalers, so we don’t always know the exact company or country of origin.”

  “Isn’t everything clearly marked?” Afton asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Janine said. “But when you go into a big, fancy department store and the dress label says MADE IN PARIS, I can tell you unequivocally that’s not always the case. So you can imagine what we deal with here.” She raised her penciled brows as if to say, What can you do?

  “Caveat emptor,” Afton said.

  “Excuse me?” Janine said.

  Wagner knew what the phrase meant and gave a sad smile. “Let the buyer beware.”

  • • •

  FAN Ling was at the top of their list to be jacked up, but it turned out she was in a particularly uncooperative mood. Correction: She was in a horrible mood.

  Fan Ling sat in her private dressing room wearing a pink silk robe and curled up in a yellow tub chair, her feet tucked daintily beneath her. Her hair was clipped into a high, loose ponytail and copious tears streamed down her soft cheeks.

  “Why are you questioning me?” she sobbed. “Why can’t you just leave me alone!”

  “Fan Ling,” Max said in a fairly gentle tone, “we need to know why you were at the university hospital last night? Less than an hour before Leland Odin was murdered.”

  She turned wild eyes on Max, Afton, and Wagner. “You think I murdered Mr. Odin? My special benefactor?” This brought on a fresh onslaught of tears accompanied by loud hiccups.

  “We’re not accusing you of anything,” Max said. “We just need answers to a few simple questions.”

  Fan Ling threw up an arm as if to ward off a serious blow. “No questions,” she shouted. “I know my rights. I don’t have to answer any questions.” Her tears had caused her eye makeup to smear horribly, and now she looked like a sad raccoon.

  Max turned an imploring look on Afton. A look that said, Maybe you can talk some sense into Fan Ling?

  Oh dear, Afton thought. She crept closer to Fan Ling and went down on one knee directly in front of her. “Ms. Ling? We’re trying to catch Mr. Odin’s killer. Do you understand that?”

  Fan Ling shook her head vigorously. “You will not catch him by questioning me!”

  “Look,” Afton said, “all we want to know is: Why did you visit Mr. Odin at the hospital last night?”

  Fan Ling reached up and unclipped her hair. It spread like a dark curtain around her shoulders. “Because Mr. Odin was very special to me.”

  “Because he discovered you?” Afton asked. “Because he was the one who gave you a job in this company?”

  Fan Ling turned away from Afton and stared at the wall. “So insensitive,” she muttered. “Mr. Odin would never let you treat me this way.”

  “I certainly don’t mean to treat you with any disrespect,” Afton said. “Or accuse you of any crime or wrongdoing. The thing is, you were close to Mr. Odin, so you might know something. It’s possible that a small—maybe even incidental—bit of information could point us in the right direction, could help us apprehend Mr. Odin’s killer.”

  “This is crazy. You’re making me crazy,” Fan Ling said. “I must go on live television in forty minutes.” She pronounced it four-tee.

  “I realize that,” Afton said. “And we certainly don’t mean to upset you. But you realize that Mr. Barber is also missing?”

  Fan Ling curled a lip. “You think I took him?”

  “No, no, of course not,” Afton said. “But I’m sure you can understand that a lot of people are being hurt. And that this company—your company—is in trouble.”

  Fan Ling just shook her head.

  Afton stared at her, wondering if Fan Ling gave everybody this much grief or if she was just a poor, young girl who was scared to death. Whatever the reason, they weren’t making any forward progress.

  “Fan Ling,” Wagner said, speaking up for the first time, “if you think of anything that might be of help, we’d really appreciate it.”

  But Fan Ling just crossed her arms and refused to talk.

  Afton sighed. So much for exploring that avenue.

  “I don’t think she’ll be able to go on air today,” Wagner murmured, half to himself.

  Fan Ling’s eyes blazed. “I will go on.”

  26

  IT was a little past six o’clock when Afton finally arrived home. Bonaparte met her at the front door, eyes liquid and bright, toenails clicking against the parquet floor in the entryway.

  “Bonaparte.” Afton knelt down and gave the dog a gentle hug. Bonaparte pressed himself up against her, his tail working overtime. “That’s my boy.” It felt good to embrace a sweet living thing after the day she’d had. After the week she’d had.

  “Mommy?” a squeaky voice called out.

  Afton got to her feet, shrugged off her jacket, and headed into the kitchen. Poppy and Tess were sitting at the table finishing up their homework. The table was already set with her mom’s old Fiestaware, and Lish was just pulling a pan of lasagna from the oven.

  “If it isn’t our own 007,” Lish said. “And such perfect timing, too.”

  “Hey, guys,” Afton said. She kissed each girl on the top of her head and flashed an enthusiastic smile at Lish. “That lasagna looks fantastic. Smells good, too.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Lish said. She set the pan on top of the stove and pulled off her oven mitts. “It’s from a recipe I clipped out of the Taste section. You use Roma tomatoes, ricotta cheese, and pecorino cheese.”

  “Sounds like it’s almost made from scratch.”

  Lish smiled. “Almost.”

  Tess squirmed around in her chair to look at Afton. “Mommy, what happens if you put a marshmallow in the micr
owave?”

  “I don’t know,” Afton said, squeezing the girl’s shoulders. “But maybe we shouldn’t find out.”

  “You got a call about your car today,” Lish said.

  “Oh, yeah?” Afton said. She’d gotten a Jaguar XK-E and a Lincoln Navigator as part of her recent divorce settlement from Mickey Craig, ex-husband number two. Now she was trying to sell the Jag.

  “It was a dealer from Rochester,” Lish said. “And he sounded very interested.”

  “Excellent,” Afton said. “Because I’m more than interested.”

  “Why do we have to sell the Jag?” Tess asked. She was old enough to know it was a cool ride.

  Afton smiled at her. “Because our family only needs one car, and we can invest the proceeds of the sale to help pay for your college education.”

  “I got an A on my spelling quiz today,” Poppy said.

  “That’s fantastic,” Afton said. “Sounds like you’re already on the way to acing your SATs. Maybe you can even get a scholarship.” She gathered up the kids’ books and papers and placed everything on a side table. “Are we ready to eat?”

  Lish nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  “I’m probably going to be a famous author someday,” Poppy said as Lish placed a square of lasagna on everyone’s plate, followed by a scoop of mixed green salad. “Like Henningway.”

  “Hemingway,” Tess corrected. Then she added, “He’s dead.”

  “When did that happen?” Poppy asked innocently. Which made everybody laugh.

  • • •

  AFTER dinner, Lish went upstairs to give herself a pedicure while Afton, Poppy, and Tess cleaned up in the kitchen. The girls stacked the dirty dishes in the dishwasher while Afton wiped down the counters, stove, and refrigerator—it was amazing how far red sauce could spatter.

  She paused in front of the refrigerator. Along with a bunch of drawings and restaurant coupons held on with magnets, there was a photo of a cute little blond toddler. It was Elizabeth Ann Darden, a child she’d helped rescue from kidnappers a few months ago. According to the girl’s mother, Susan, Elizabeth Ann was now thriving and things were getting back to normal. Except, of course, for Susan’s divorce from her cheating husband, Richard.

 

‹ Prev