“MR. KINCAID. MAY I have a few words with you?” Ben and Mike gazed up at the rugged Asian face, the deep-set eyes, the gray-flecked temples. “Of course. This is my friend Lieutenant Mike Morelli. You’re Colonel Nguyen, aren’t you?”
“Colonel Khue Van Nguyen.” He bowed slightly. “You have a good memory.”
“I’ve seen you in the courtroom. You’ve been watching the trial.”
“Yes. Yes I have.”
Nguyen was being strangely hesitant, as if he had something important on his mind, but couldn’t make himself say it. “Any particular reason?”
“Curiosity. The jury has not yet returned?”
“No. They’re taking their own sweet time about it. Looks like it’s going to spill over into tomorrow. At least.”
“That is unfortunate.” Nguyen wrung his hands anxiously.
“Colonel Nguyen, forgive me for being blunt, but I have the distinct feeling there’s something you want to tell me.”
“There is.” Nguyen folded his hands together. “Donald Vick did not kill Tommy Vuong.”
“What?” Ben rose out of his chair. “How do you know?”
“Because I was there.”
“You mean you killed him?”
“No. But I saw it.”
“You were with him when he was killed?”
“I arrived less than a minute afterward. The cross was still burning. I heard his last words. I saw the fire consume his body”
Ben reached across the desk and took Nguyen’s arm. “Who killed Vuong?”
“That I do not know. I saw the silhouette of a figure moving away from me as I arrived. I could not see it clearly.”
“But it wasn’t Vick?”
“No. I am certain. The killer was thinner, not as tall. It was someone else.”
Ben glanced at Mike. “You’re my witness.”
“Understood.”
“Colonel Nguyen, why didn’t you tell me this before the trial was over?”
Nguyen lowered his head. “I was concerned about the possibility of … repercussions. Not for myself. But my wife, my children. I could not allow them to come to harm.” Nguyen’s eyes were filled with shame. “I do not offer that as an excuse. It is simply … an explanation.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Have you heard what happened at Coi Than Tien tonight?”
“Not another fire?”
“No. An armed attack. Men in a black pickup with automatic weapons.”
“ASP?”
“Presumably. But we have no proof. Just like every other time.”
Ben nodded grimly. “Was anyone hurt?”
Nguyen’s face tightened. “There was one fatality. A white woman.”
“At Coi Than Tien? Again?” Ben’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who was she?”
“I do not know.”
Mike interrupted. “Is someone investigating this crime?”
“Sheriff Collier is there now,” Nguyen answered. “But I suspect he has no idea how to proceed.”
“Ben,” Mike said, “if you don’t have any objection, I’m going out there to see if I can help.”
“No. Do it. I can wait for the jury by myself.”
“Thanks.” Mike grabbed his overcoat and bolted out of the office.
“Mike is a homicide detective in Tulsa,” Ben explained. “He’ll know how to handle the situation.”
“That is good.”
“Colonel Nguyen, what else can you tell me about Vuong’s death?”
Nguyen reached inside his jacket and withdrew a stack of papers about two inches thick. “I found these in the forest less than twenty feet from where Tommy was killed.”
Ben took the papers and examined them. It was all hate literature. Pamphlets and comic book tracts. The Whole White World, one was called. Keep Your Neighborhood Pure, another demanded. All of them bore the imprint of ASP; the stamps on the back indicated that they had been printed at the Birmingham ASP camp.
“Is is possible that these were dropped before the murder occurred?”
“So close to Coi Than Tien? I do not think so.”
“And you didn’t show these to the sheriff?”
“No. I was concerned … since they indicate that the killer is connected to ASP.”
“That’s what they’re supposed to do, anyway,” Ben murmured. “But I wonder.” He placed the papers inside the desk. “Thank you for your help, Colonel Nguyen. Is there anything I can do for you?”
Nguyen shook his head sadly. “There is nothing anyone can do for me. When Pham learns what I have done, he will surely demand that I leave Coi Than Tien. And when my wife learns …” He clasped his head with his hands. “I fear I will be leaving Coi Than Tien—alone.”
Loving suddenly burst through the front door. Ben had never seen the heavy-built man move so quickly.
And if that wasn’t surprise enough, just as the door closed behind him, Christina pushed it back open.
“Skipper!” Loving shouted. “We gotta talk!”
Ben looked right past him. “Christina!”
“Skipper!” Loving said insistently. “We gotta talk—”
“Just a minute. Christina, it’s—it’s good to see you. I didn’t expect—”
“I came to see Loving,” she said abruptly. She tossed her strawberry-blond locks behind her shoulders. “I was getting a snack at Bo-Bo’s when I saw him run in here. I thought he might be able to give me a lift.”
“Oh. Then it wasn’t—”
“Skipper, listen up! This is an emergency!”
Ben sadly turned his eyes away from Christina. “What’s wrong? What’s the big emergency?”
“It’s ASP. They’re planning something major league. And it’s going down tonight!”
“How do you know?”
“Some of the regulars at the Bluebell spilled it. I’ve been pallin’ around with them for days. They think I’m one of them. Hell, they’ve practically drafted me.”
“Are you sure the big event hasn’t already happened? They made a raid on Coi Than Tien earlier this evening.”
“This is somethin’ else. Starts at midnight. A special meeting.”
“At their camp?”
“No. Some super-secret meeting place. I don’t know where.”
“Well, groups like ASP probably hold secret meetings all the time. Why are you so excited about this one?”
“Because the ASP clowns ain’t callin’ it a meeting.”
“Yeah?”
“They’re callin’ it a trial.”