The day of our flight home, a pair of unidentified males, wearing matching black drawstring hoodies with THRIVE OR DIE decaled in gold sequins on the back, approached the rear entrance of the Monte Carlo restaurant. Carrying automatic pistols, they forced the busboy, on his smoke break, to let them inside. They swept through the kitchen and rear offices, herding employees into the walk-in freezer. The gunmen singled out Anthony Qiu and his wife, Susan Leung Qiu, ordered them to seal the freezer with the majority of the kitchen staff inside, then walked them toward Qiu’s private office.
A nineteen-year-old serving girl from Szechuan province intercepted them en route from the restaurant floor. Her scream was met by two .45 ACP slugs to the chest that killed her instantly. The young men and the married couple proceeded into the office.
One of the staff members who had hidden in the prep area heard Mrs. Qiu’s screams, and a strangely accented voice say, “Which one of you bitches wants to die first.” As he told the story on the news, the prep cook said there were five gunshots. He made the sounds. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Right after each other, he added. Then the sounds of the two men leaving.
Lying in Sonia’s bed in the late morning, I told her it felt like something was ending.
“Qiu was a threat but he was reasonable. You could talk to him, sometimes, at least. I tried that with the Hayes brothers and it went south fast.” I looked up at the dust-caked blades of her ceiling fan. “Question is, if they take Qiu’s place, do they become more like him? Or does the world just get uglier and slightly more stupid?”
“You don’t like change,” Sonia said.
“A decade knowing me and you’re just finding out?”
She was first out of bed and to the shower, which meant the coffee and tea making duties fell to me.
When she emerged from the bathroom she was wearing pajama bottoms and a tank top, and her hair clung to her forehead in wet tendrils. I felt a clenching of the chest but didn’t mention it as I handed her a mug.
“The flipside of that,” I began.
“Of what?”
“Things changing,” I said. “The flipside is I don’t feel as anxious as I should. I’m pretty okay with being out of the PI business.”
She knocked her hip against my crotch as she passed to the living room. “You can’t bum around here forever. Are you really thinking of changing jobs?”
I shrugged. “I might not have a choice.”
“Have you thought about what you’d do? What exactly are you qualified for?” She sipped her coffee. “Certainly not being a barista.”
“Rent boy, maybe.”
“Yeah? You think I’d let you do that?”
“I’d give you a discount.”
“You’d better.”
I sat down next to her, looking at the papers I’d left spread out on the coffee table. Copies of the documents written in Essex’s hand. Next to them the newspaper, open to the story about Qiu. His photo, an old corporate headshot, looked at me with bemusement.
“I don’t know what I’ll end up doing,” I said, stroking her knee. “And I don’t much care right now.”
Smiling behind her mug, she said, “Know what I think? I don’t think you could live without being a PI.”
“I thought that way about being a cop.”
“Maybe every ten years you need to burn your career down, start over.”
“And arise from the ashes,” I said.
“David Wakeland, professional phoenix.”
She dressed in the bedroom without closing the door, discarding her pajamas and slipping on underwear, jeans. None of the movements studied or done for my sake, which made them all the more beguiling. The world could be what it was, as long as I didn’t have to take it on alone.
“It’s been nice teaching Kay these last few months,” I said. “Maybe I’ll get some kind of degree and go work for the Justice Institute.”
“It’s a thought,” she said. “But I don’t believe you could give it up.”
“Some people didn’t think Elton John could pull off a country record.”
In the shower I kneaded something lavender-scented into my scalp and tried to remember the lyrics to “Burn Down the Mission.” When I shut off the nozzle I stood, naked, and luxuriated in the mist-filled chamber that smelled so strongly of all things her.
Chambers dead, and Wong and Nagy, and now Qiu. I could forget them all.
“Dave.”
In the bedroom Sonia stood holding the phone. Instead of handing it to me, she hit the speaker button and tossed it on the bed.
“Believe it or not I’m glad you’re back with her,” Essex’s voice said. Her glib tone sounded forced. “She seems pleasant, if a bit weak for you.”
“She’s right here,” Sonia said, “and she’ll beat your ass if you ever show your face in this city.”
“Maybe I never left,” Essex said.
“Then give us your address.”
“I need to speak to Dave.”
“You’re speaking to both of us. My fucking phone.”
A tentative silence from Essex’s end of the line.
“All right.” Her voice sounded tired. “If you want to involve yourself, I accept.”
“I wasn’t asking permission.”
“Dave,” she said. “Is this really necessary?”
“Yes, she is. Go ahead.”
A pause, a consideration. “You weren’t wrong about the things you said last time we spoke.”
“Double negatives get on my nerves,” I said. “What do you want?”
“Have you been prying into my affairs? Asking questions?”
“You’re the one who keeps finding reasons to phone,” I said. “I’ve said my piece.”
“This is important. This could be fatal. Now please answer me.”
“He’s been busy helping me with a problem,” Sonia said.
“Have you sent someone?”
“Who would I send?” I asked her. “Jeff and I are on the outs, and Kay is locked up filing invoices until this is over. You won, Dana.”
“I hope that’s true,” she said. “Because it’s not me you have to fear. What you said about my not being fully in control, you weren’t—you were right.”
“Okay.”
“And I hope you’re being honest, because if you’re not, what’s coming will be so much more horrible than what you expect.”
“Meaning?”
“Watch yourself, Dave.” To Sonia, she said, “Miss?”
“What?”
“Take care of him.”
“Turn yourself in,” Sonia said, meeting my gaze. “We can take care of him together.”
I said, “Sonia’s right. You know who this is. We can all walk out okay if you come clean.”
“I can’t risk it,” Essex said.
She hung up without a good-bye.
“So that was her,” Sonia said. She rubbed her shoulders. “Why does she phone like that?”
“Usually to taunt me. This was different.” I sat on the bed and finished dressing. “I have to find her.”
Sonia said, “Yes, we do.”