Chapter 25

Afternoon and evening passed in a blur of activity. The girls swam and ate before Fausto and Jason’s soldiers rounded them up for a trip to the local equestrian center, where they arranged riding lessons. Elizabeth and Coleta, meanwhile, put their heads together to sort out how to provide meals for everyone. The four bodyguards demonstrated awe-inspiring appetites. Their party now numbered eleven. They’d have an even dozen to feed when Lee arrived.

Pleading work, Jason returned to the city. He took the limousine with him. Bai spent the afternoon sleeping. Providing an encore to the huge lunch, dinner turned out to be a blend of Chinese and California cuisines: barbecued salmon steaks and fried rice.

Exhausted after their all-night slumber party and an active day, the girls fell into bed without being prodded. Elizabeth followed them soon afterward, leaving Bai free to do as she pleased. She took a shower and dressed for work in basic black before donning her Kevlar coat to sneak out of the house quietly. Her date, Inspector Kelly, waited at the Sand Dab.

She didn’t make it past Bo and Song. Both men wore night-vision goggles. They caught her trying to sneak into her car.

“Seems like cheating,” she said as they intercepted her.

“Jason told us to expect you,” Bo said with a resigned air.

“What else did Jason tell you?”

“To be more afraid of him than of you,” Song replied. “So far that doesn’t seem to be a problem.”

After a bit of negotiating, they resolved that Song would follow her into the city and provide backup. Bo would stay with Jason’s other two men in Healdsburg to guard the children. And Jason would be kept apprised of her activities.

Traffic remained light as she approached the Golden Gate Bridge. Fog enveloped the orange girders to form a hazy obscurity as the dense mist softened the edges of certainty. Headlight beams refracted off tiny beads of moisture in a lustrous glare that slowed traffic to a crawl. Cars groped their way across the metal span like moles.

On the other side of the bridge, fog held the city in a moist embrace. She drove slowly through hazy streets where drivers edged along at a snail’s pace.

A solitary bulb suspended from an arced metal tube cast a muddled glow over the entry to the Sand Dab. Barely legible letters spelled out the name in faded blue-on-white over the door. Plate glass, painted black, fronted the street to shield those inside from curious stares and the depredations of light.

Bai stood on the sidewalk outside to check her weapons. She lifted her butterfly knives to ensure they moved freely then reached around to the small of her back to check the grip on her pistol. She didn’t know what to expect. Her faith in Kelly, the little she’d had to begin with, had disappeared along with the tan man. Nonetheless, Kelly had information she wanted. She was determined to make him talk, one way or another.

Song stood at her back. She turned to him. “I want to talk to the inspector privately.”

“I go where you go.”

She smiled tightly. “Like I was saying, why don’t you join me? Just stay out of the way.”

He nodded. “Not a problem.”

She stepped inside and waited to allow her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Song followed her and took a position just inside the door.

Acrid smoke hazed the silent room. Sconces along the walls emitted barely sufficient light by which to navigate. Empty, high-backed booths lined the right side of the room while the left wall remained bare. The smell of cheap cigars and damp mold permeated the air. In the back of the room curved a long wooden horseshoe bar with stools, half of them occupied.

She approached the bar and saw the broad back of Kelly’s stained trench. He sat with his shoulders hunched and his head down. She needn’t have worried about sneaking up on him. He wouldn’t have noticed an elephant slipping onto the stool next to him unless the pachyderm had tried to steal his peanuts. She took the stool next to him as men, or what was left of them after a lifetime of drinking, turned to eye her blearily. A skinny fellow with pockmarked skin and long, limp hair stood behind the bar polishing a glass while scrutinizing her.

“What?” Bai asked. “You’ve never seen a woman?”

“Not recently,” he replied with a gap-toothed grin. “You’re a little high-tone for this place. Are you with him?” he asked, nodding at Kelly.

Kelly raised his head and slowly turned to look at her. He managed to make the effort appear exhausting. When he recognized her, he scowled and went back to studying the drink sitting on the bar in front of him.

The bartender smirked and continued to polish the same glass, the rag in his hand stained an unhealthy shade of brown. “What can I get ya?”

She looked at the rag, then at the man. “A tetanus shot.”

“You want that over ice?”

She ignored the question. “Is your back door unlocked?”

The man scoffed. “I’d be outta business in a week if it was. Do I look stupid?”

“That’s a loaded question,” she replied. “What time did Kelly come in today?”

“Around one,” he answered then seemed to catch himself. “Kelly who?”

“No. But I do look a little like her, don’t you think?”

The bartender stared at her vacantly.

She smiled. “Apparently not.”

His expression remained blank.

She threw a thumb over her shoulder toward the men’s room. “I feel a sudden urge.” Pulling Kelly up by the collar of his coat, her firm grasp steadied him as he stumbled to his feet to stare at her blearily.

She addressed the bar. “If anyone feels compelled to follow me, I won’t be pleased.”

The bartender didn’t look happy but nodded. “Knock yourself out.”

She didn’t get any reaction from the dissolute patrons at the bar, who were probably too immersed in their own despair to take notice. Pushing Kelly toward the men’s room, she followed him inside where they could talk in private.

The men’s room held a single stall and a stained urinal shoved up against the wall next to an equally brown sink. Grime-gray tiles covered the floor. Fragrant eau d’sewer discouraged loitering.

She shoved Kelly up against the wall. “You can’t hide forever, Kelly,” she said in exasperation. “Talk to me. Tell me what you know about the tan man.”

“You might be surprised what I can and can’t do,” he mumbled sullenly. “If I was you, I’d be gettin’ the hell outta’ here before I lose patience.”

“If you were me, I’d kill myself. That not being the case, tell me what you know while I’m still asking nicely.”

He sneered at her, his voice full of contempt. “What’s a sweet little piece of ass like you gonna do?”

Without thinking, she punched Kelly in the gut. Her hand sank into soft belly flesh nearly to her elbow. The big cop folded like tissue as she stepped back. He gasped for breath and slowly sank to the floor with his legs splayed out in front of him.

“Jeezus!” he swore while taking short breaths. “I didn’t know girls could hit so hard. Are you sure you’re a woman?”

She dropped on her haunches to talk to him. “You really bring out the worst in me, Kelly. I don’t know what kind of hold the tan man has on you, but we can work this out. Like you said in my office, you weren’t always a drunk. You were a good cop once. Tell me what you know. Let’s quit tearing each other apart and start working together.”

His gaze met hers, and the bravado seeped away, his shoulders slumping and his features becoming haggard. “It’s too late for that. The truth is . . . I’m not really sure who your tan man is.” His head tilted back and he took a deep breath. “He’s connected. That much I know. I was told by brass to help him and not ask any questions. He wanted to find Chen on the QT. I thought you could find him for me. I don’t know why Lee got shot. Shit happens.”

“Shit happens, all right,” she acknowledged. “It usually happens to me. Are you sure you don’t know anything more about the tan man?”

“I know he’s a prick, and a scary one.” Kelly shook his head slowly and sighed. “I really don’t know how I ended up like this. I was human once.” He stared at the dirty tiles between his splayed legs.

She looked at him and couldn’t help feeling sorry for him, already regretting the impulsive punch. “I’m sorry for hitting you, Kelly. Come out, and I’ll buy you a drink. Not here, of course. I’m not that brave. Let’s go someplace and talk where it doesn’t smell like shit.”

He waved a hand listlessly. “Save the apology. I had it comin’.” He remained quiet for a long time. “I need a little privacy to take care of business. Wait for me outside. This won’t take but a minute. Then we’ll have that drink.”

She looked at him and hesitated.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I just need to take a piss and pull myself together.”

She stood reluctantly. “Don’t take all night. This place gives me the creeps.”

He nodded his head and waved her away. She turned to walk out the door and toward the bar. As she rounded the corner, she heard the gunshot. The bartender met her gaze with a scowl.

She ran back and slammed the bathroom door open. Kelly sat where she’d left him. His gun lay in his hand at his side. Blood and gore dripped from the ceiling. The smell of cordite overpowered the bathroom stench.

She leaned back against the bathroom door and sighed. “Kelly, what have you done?”

She didn’t wait for the police. Despite having a concealed carry permit, the butterfly knives would be a problem. Too, she didn’t want to have to explain why she’d been looking for Kelly. The story didn’t even make sense to her; she’d have been hard-pressed to explain it to someone else.

She walked out of the bar and into the fog to find her car. Song followed her to her car and waited patiently in the black SUV behind her. She started the ignition, uncertain of her destination, and found herself heading straight for Chinatown and home. Her mind seemed as cloudy as the mist, while the windshield wipers slapped back and forth like forced applause.

When she arrived at her building, she got out of the car to explain to Song she’d be spending the night at home, then ran up the steps of her building. Pressing the elevator sensor, she stepped into the lift.

“‘If you were me, I’d kill myself,’” she repeated as tears welled. She brushed at the errant drops with her hand. “‘If you were me, I’d kill myself?’ When are you going to learn to muzzle your fucking mouth? What kind of crazy bitch says shit like that?!”

She cried and couldn’t stop. She dropped to the floor of the elevator as sobs racked her body. When she ran out of tears, she lay curled on the floor, too emotionally spent to get up.

Eventually forcing herself upright, she pushed the button on the lift to take her back to the lobby. There was no sign of Song as she got into her car. She headed west toward the hospital. She needed to get a sanity check. She needed to lean against the rock that was Lee. She needed her friend.

The elevator ride to Lee’s floor garnered a number of stares. She could only imagine what she looked like: a tall Asian woman with short hair and mascara tracks running down her face, wearing a crimson-red scarf and a long black coat like an anime character. A smirk formed on her lips at the thought.

Automatic pistols swung up to greet her as she walked into Lee’s room. She froze. Recognition slowly dawned on the faces of the two bodyguards as the pistols slowly dropped to be holstered again.

“Sorry,” one of the men said. “You surprised us. It’s a little late for visitors.”

“I know,” she replied. “I need to see my friend. Can we have a few minutes alone?”

The two guards exchanged looks then opened the door. “We’ll be right outside if you need us,” the speaker for the pair said. “Take your time.”

The door closed, and she turned toward Lee’s bed. Awake, he studied her warily. She walked over and sat on the edge of the mattress. His drains had been removed. His color looked better.

His eyebrows lifted in a question. “What’s wrong?”

“I just needed to see you.”

“This is me, remember? What’s wrong?”

“Kelly ate his gun.”

Her statement surprised him. He seemed to think about the idea. “I’d be lying if I said I’ll miss him.”

“I was with him, Lee. I told him if I were him I’d kill myself. Then he pulled out a gun and blew his brains all over the ceiling.”

She started to cry again.

Lee’s face contorted with anger. “It’s a good thing he’s dead, or I’d kill him myself, the useless shit.”

Pulling her forward so she could lay her head against his shoulder and cry, he patted her like a child. She rested against him and snuffled.

“It’s not your fault,” he assured her. “Kelly didn’t die because of you. He killed himself because he got tired of being a useless drunk. You were just the last witness to a selfish existence. He died the way he lived—without a thought for anyone but himself.”

“He said the tan man was looking for Daniel Chen. Kelly was just his gopher. He came to us so we could do his job for him. Maybe you got shot because the tan man thought you were Chen.”

“Do I look like Chen?”

She wiped her eyes, looked at him, and shook her head. “We all look alike to a gwailo. I think you look a little like Cary Grant.”

He smiled. “You’re an idiot, but I love you.”

She put her head back on his shoulder. “Just a little longer, then I’ll be all right.”

He put his arm around her. “Take all the time you want. If you’re a good girl, I’ll share my Jell-O with you.”