“There it is, Uncle Dom,” said Junior, bringing the Chevrolet to a stop at the side of the narrow street. They both got out of the car and crossed over to a small restaurant that bore a long, wooden sign on which was written THE CHINESE PALACE above several Chinese characters that obviously said the same thing.
Dominic led the way inside. It was noon, the twenty tables or so occupied by young people whose dress revealed their occupations as secretaries and retail sales personnel.
He stopped in front of the cashier, a middle-aged Chinese woman, drew out a picture of Maria from his jacket pocket, and laid it face up on the stand.
“We’re relatives of this girl,” said Dominic. “Did she come here to eat supper eleven days ago? That’s a week ago Thursday.”
The Chinese woman looked at the picture thoughtfully for a few seconds, then shook her head. “I didn’t see her.”
“Did you work that Thursday evening?”
“Yes.”
“How many people are employed here?”
“Six, including myself.”
“Do you mind if I ask around? We’ll be quick about it.”
“We’re busy right now. It’s lunchtime. Could you come back afterwards?”
“That would mean a second trip. We’ve got a lot of territory to cover.”
“Are you from the police?”
“No. Like I said, we’re relatives of the girl.” When the woman hesitated, Dominic laid a folded five dollar bill on the stand. The woman’s hand covered it in an instant, then she rose from her stool.
“I’ll ask around,” she said, picking up the photograph and walking over to a waiter. Showing him the picture, she spoke rapidly in Chinese. He studied it closely, then shook his head. A second waiter entered the room carrying dishes which he placed in front of two diners. When he was free, the woman showed him Maria’s picture. He also shook his head after a few seconds of deliberation. The woman followed him into the kitchen. She returned shortly and passed over the photo. “She was not here that Thursday. As far as we know, none of us have seen her before.”
Dominic nodded as he took the picture. “Thanks.” He motioned to Junior and led him out into the street. Back in the car, he drew out a questionnaire from a folder and filled in the information he had obtained, listing the name of the restaurant, its address, the time of their visit, to whom he had spoken, the number of people who worked there, a description of the cashier and the two waiters he had seen, and a brief comment as to his opinion. He wrote that the restaurant was a mediocre one which would not have appealed to Maria or the type escort she would have been with.
When the questionnaire was completed, he replaced it in the folder with one other he had filled out so far that day.
“Uncle Vito sure didn’t miss a trick with his questionnaire,” said Junior, chuckling.
“It’s a good one,” said Dominic. “It’s thorough, and that’s the only way we’ll accomplish anything - by being thorough.” He opened a notebook containing the names of the restaurants assigned to him to check on that served Chinese food and crossed off the CHINESE PALACE. “The next one is the Green Jade. It’s about a dozen blocks straight ahead.”
Junior started the car and drove off. “You think they’ll remember her after all this time?”
“Probably. Waiters are pretty sharp. They can remember people longer than the average person. It’s habit - keeps them from mixing up orders.” He pointed ahead with his finger. “There’s a place to park. The Green Jade is only a block further up the street.”
The GREEN JADE was almost a twin of the CHINESE PALACE. They took lunch there, then Dominic went through the same ritual of paying another five dollars to gain information. Again it was negative. Returning to the car, he filled out his third questionnaire and gave Junior the address of the next restaurant to visit.
They worked steadily until nine o’clock that evening, taking time off only for quick snacks. When they drove back to the house, they met Ettore and Bob getting out of their car.
“Did you have any luck?” asked Ettore of Dominic.
“No. How about yourself?”
Ettore shook his head as he led them inside. Rose met them at the door. “Have you all eaten supper?” she asked.
“Grandpa ate, Mama,” said Bob.
Ettore ruffled his hair. “He wouldn’t drive me any further until we ate a four course dinner.”
“There’s coffee and cake in the kitchen,” said Rose. “We’ll take your reports while you’re eating.”
When they had been seated and served, Vito took Ettore’s questionnaires, checked them off against his master sheet, then reviewed each one carefully. There were seven of them.
“The second, third and sixth ones,” said Ettore. “We’ll have to go back. Some of the waiters were away.”
Vito laid those reports to one side, then picked up the eleven filled out by Dominic.
“We have five we must go back to,” said Dominic. “One of them has a waiter who thinks he saw a customer resembling Maria, but it didn’t seem the sort of place where she would eat. The others had waiters off for the day.”
“Must we go to all of them, Uncle Vito?” asked Junior. “Why don’t we leave out the cheesy ones?”
“No,” said Vito. “We’ll always wonder whether we passed up the one she did visit. Some of these cheesy places serve fine food.”
“How about those out of town?” asked Dominic.
“I’m preparing a list now. I estimate it will take five or six more days to complete the coverage of those in town, then you can start on those in the suburbs.”
“I never knew there were so many Chink restaurants in the world,” said Bob. He drew back the skin next to his eyes. “Me velly, velly solly. No serve splaghetti.”
Dominic laughed as he lit a cigarette. “I’m beginning to feel like a plate of chow mein myself. How many places have we checked out so far?”
“With today’s production,” replied Vito, “we’ve finished off twenty-six. That’s pretty good for four days of work, especially with having to go back to most of them at least twice to speak to all the employees.”
The phone rang. A few moments later Mario came into the kitchen.
“Someone on the line for you, Ettore,” he said. “He wouldn’t give his name.”
“I’ll take it here.” Ettore rose from the table to pick up a phone hooked to the wall. “DiStephano here,” he said in the mouthpiece. He listened over the receiver. Dominic got up and walked over quickly when he saw a tense expression cross his father’s face. “Would you please spell your name,” said Ettore, taking out a pencil from his pocket and poising it over a telephone pad. “C...H...I...N...G.......L...I. We’ll be glad to meet you anyplace you want.....Very well, at Carpenter’s, off North Street. I’ll find it.” He glanced at his watch. “I can be there in half an hour or so.....Thank you, I’ll see you then.” He hung up the phone, his eyes gleaming. “It’s some Chineseman,” he told them. “He said he had information concerning the girl whose picture we are showing around. Get the car, Dom.”
Junior stood up. “Can I go, too, Grandpa?”
“And me,” said Bob.
“All right,” said Ettore, starting out after Dominic, the two boys hard on his heels.
Carpenter’s was a large neighborhood bar on the corner of two seedy looking streets. Dominic found a parking space across from the entrance.
“You two young fellows wait here,” said Ettore to his grandsons. “We’re liable to scare him off if he sees an army charging in.”
He and Dominic got out and walked through the entrance. It was a noisy place, a television set mounted on the wall showing a cowboy picture with the sound at full blast, three half-drunk youths throwing darts at a board, half a dozen bargirls cadging drinks from a solid line of middle-aged, workingmen types.
Ettore wormed his way through the crowded bar to a larger room in the rear where several tables and booths were positioned for the clients to see a second television set showing the same program as the one up front. He peered round the room, then walked over to a booth where a short, chunky Chinese man was seated drinking a beer.
He slid into the opposite seat, Dominic sitting down beside him. “Are you Ching Li?”
The Chinese man nodded. “Care for a drink, Mr. DiStephano?”
“No, thanks. Can we get down to business?”
“Yes, sir. I work at the Empire Celeste. You were there yesterday. Do you remember?”
“I remember it.”
Ching Li drained his glass of beer. “I’d better tell you now, Mr. DiStephano, that the information I’m about to give you will cost me my job - and probably get me into a lot of trouble.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Would you give me some idea of what information you have so I can decide how much I can contribute to offset the financial loss you may suffer?”
“I’ll be glad to. I can tell you which restaurant your daughter ate in a week ago Thursday and who she was with.”
“That’s worth a thousand dollars,” said Ettore.
“I’ll lose much more than that. You’ll understand once I explain the circumstances.”
“How much more?”
“Five times as much. Maybe more.”
Ettore turned to Dominic. “How much money do you have with you?”
“About five hundred.”
“I have two thousand.” He turned back to Ching Li. “Will a check for the additional twenty-five hundred be acceptable, or would you prefer to come to my house? I have more there in the safe.”
“A check will be quite all right.”
Ettore handed over his two thousand, the five hundred from Dominic, then wrote out a check.
Ching Li nodded his thanks. “Your daughter was in our restaurant a week ago Thursday with a young man named Chet Bonazzi. I think his first name is Caesar, but everyone calls him Chet. While you were at the restaurant yesterday, I heard Charles Wong, the owner, tell the cashier not to give you any information. So when she showed the picture around, she asked the waiters if they knew her name, not whether she had ever been there. I don’t think any of them associated the picture with the death of your daughter.”
Dominic was studying Ettore’s face. “What’s the matter, Papa?”
Ettore relaxed the rigid muscles of his jaw. “I think I know of the Bonazzi family.” He turned back to Ching Li. “Have you any idea why the owner, Charles Wong, is trying to conceal the truth?”
Ching Li shook his head. “I don’t know. If I hadn’t heard you mention your name when you came in, and then overheard Mr. Wong give instructions to the cashier, I wouldn’t have thought anything about it. It was only when I reached home last night that it struck me that I had seen them both that night. I guess Mr. Wong did it because Mr. Bonazzi and his friends are frequent customers at the restaurant, and didn’t want any trouble.”
“How do you remember it was a week ago last Thursday?” asked Dominic.
“I’m off Fridays and receive my pay Thursday nights. Mr. Bonazzi left a sizeable tip, so I was happy that it made the week rather good.”
“And my daughter,” said Ettore. “How do you know it was her?”
“Mr. Bonazzi usually brings in the more....ah, fancy kind of woman. I remember thinking what a nice person your daughter was. Then when I went through some old newspapers last night and saw her picture, I knew right away it was her.” His voice softened. “She was a very nice young lady, very polite. Mr. Bonazzi’s women friends are not generally like that.”
Ettore looked at Ching Li carefully. “I’d like you to come home with me and sign a statement.”
The Chinese man shook his head. “I won’t do that, Mr. DiStephano. I will be in enough trouble if this leaks out.”
Ettore passed over his notebook. “Please write your address so we can contact you later on.”
Ching Li did as he was asked and handed back the notebook. Ettore motioned to Dominic to start out. “Thank you Mr. Li. If you have any further information, please don’t hesitate to call me. I will be quite willing to pay you for it.”
When they were out on the street, Dominic said, “Papa, why didn’t you make him sign a statement?”
“I said I know of a Bonazzi family. If this is the same one, the father is a Mafia don.”
Dominic whistled.
Two men came out of the shadows. At once Dominic poised himself on the balls of his feet.
“Easy as she goes,” said one of the men. “We’re police officers.” He turned to Ettore. “I’m Detective Lieutenant McPherson, Mr. DiStephano. Could I have a few words with you? Either at the station or at your home.”
“We’re going home now,” said Ettore. “Follow us there if you want.”
“Thank you. We’ll be right behind.” They walked diagonally across the street to a plain black car and climbed in.
Ettore and Dominic got into their car. Junior started the motor. “Take us home,” said Ettore.
“Who were those men?” asked Bob.
Dominic chuckled when he saw a jack handle lying on the seat beside the boy. “The fuzz,” he said. “Were you going to protect us with that?”
Bob shrugged. “Like Grandpa said, it’s a tough ball game.”
Ettore leaned forward and patted him fondly on the shoulder. “Good boy. You’re more of a DiStephano than some of my sons.” He looked out of the rear window and saw the police car following theirs. “When is Vince getting back?” he asked Dominic.
“He’ll be here tomorrow. Do you expect trouble with the fuzz?”
“I don’t know. But when they show up at a meeting nobody else knows about, then call you by name, it’s time to add things up.”
“Maybe they have the phone tapped, Grandpa,” said Junior.
Ettore pursed his lips. “You’ve got a point there, Junior. We’d better pass the word along to watch what we say over it.”
Junior turned into the driveway and stopped. “Shall I park it in the garage or leave it outside?”
“Leave it outside,” said Ettore, getting out of the car. “This night may not be over yet.”
The police sedan had parked at the curb, the two officers already walking up the flagstone path. Ettore opened the door and motioned them inside. He introduced them to Rose and Vito, then they took seats in the living room, the two boys sitting quietly to one side.
“Mr. DiStephano,” said Lieutenant McPherson. “Would you mind telling me what Ching Li told you?”
“Not at all,” said Ettore. “If you will tell me how you knew I received information from him.”
“I will be frank with you. We’ve heard that you and your son have been checking restaurants which serve Chinese food. We’ve been doing the same. Two days ago we received a tip that your daughter might have eaten at the Empire Celeste. We spoke to Mr. Wong, the owner, but he was somewhat evasive, so we’ve been keeping his eight waiters under surveillance.”
Ettore stood up, his face tight with barely suppressed anger. “You can leave now,” he said curtly. “I don’t like being lied to.”
Lieutenant McPherson pulled at his nose, then raised his hands in acknowledgement of his deceit. “I’m sorry, sir, but I would be revealing confidential information if I told you exactly what I know.”
“I might be in the same position, too,” said Ettore stiffly.
Lieutenant McPherson shrugged. “We’re on your side, you know. We want to get our hands on the murderer of your daughter almost as much as you do. You see, you’re a pretty solid citizen, and the boys in the department are bitter about a nice girl like your daughter ending up that way. So, if you help us, you’d be helping yourself.” He looked straight into Ettore’s eyes. “We also have a general idea what you’re trying to do. Every police officer on the force would like to turn over the killer to you and your sons. But it doesn’t work that way, no more than if some fellow down the street wanted to be a judge, like your son.”
Ettore sat down. “Ching Li said my daughter ate at the Empire Celeste the night she was murdered. She was with a Caesar Bonazzi.”
“Is that all he said?” asked McPherson.
Ettore sat more erect in his chair. “You already know about him?” he asked accusingly.
McPherson pulled at his nose again for a few seconds. “Yes,” he finally admitted.
“Have you questioned him?”
“Yes. He stated that he took your daughter to supper, then drove her to her car. He said it was about ten o’clock when he let her off. He then went to a private club and played cards until three in the morning. There were five other men in that card game. All swear that Bonazzi came in before eleven and left after three.”
“What kind of men are they?”
“I wouldn’t believe four of them on a stack of bibles, but the fifth one is a reliable type.”
“How about a lie detector test?” asked Dominic.
“It’s not quite that simple. You can’t force them to take it.”
“Yes, but if they refuse, I would suspect them of lying.”
“The law doesn’t look at it that way.”
“How about the hair on Maria’s clothing? And the skin under her nails?” pressed Dominic.
McPherson seemed to fold up into a tightly closed shell. “I can’t answer that.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Look, you’ve got to understand that we have rules like any organization. I’m here only to explain that we’re working around the clock to solve this case. Mr. DiStephano, you’ve got a lot of friends downtown, and the department has assigned over twenty men to look for the murderer. But the rules say we are not to give out confidential information. They’re good rules, and every time a police officer breaks them he generally hurts his own case, besides getting into hot water. So, please don’t push me.” He rose from his chair. “Did you pay Ching Li any money?”
“Yes. I gave him five thousand dollars,” said Ettore.
“Well, I can’t tell you how to spend your money, but please lay off the case. Some of the officers have complained that you visited the restaurants before they did. You could have alerted a suspect.” He nodded his head about the room as a form of farewell, then led out his associate. Vito saw them to the door.
“Who is this Bonazzi?” asked Vito, upon returning to the living room.
“He’s a Mafia don,” said Ettore.
“Mafia!” exclaimed Rose. “Whatever would Maria be doing with people like that?”
“It’s not like it was twenty years ago, Rose,” said Ettore. “They don’t wear flashy suits and carry guns. On the surface they’re respectable business men. Bonazzi owns several companies, big ones. One of them wanted to buy some of my downtown property a few years ago. It was all on the up and up - just a business deal.”
“Did you sell it to them?” asked Rose.
“No. It was good property. It’s doubled in value since then.”
Dominic mixed himself a scotch and soda, swirling it around in the glass to chill it against the ice cubes. “Now what, Papa?”
“I want to learn everything possible about Caesar Bonazzi.” He turned to Vito. “Vince and Mike will be here tomorrow, won’t they?”
“Yes. But Tony phoned to say he will be a day or two longer than he expected.”
“All right. Let’s organize to gather information about Bonazzi. What do you suggest?”
“I would start with the places he lived and the schools he attended. Are they Chicago people?”
“Yes.”
“Then it shouldn’t be too hard. Dom, go to the newspapers tomorrow and check out their morgues. If he played any sports or got into any trouble, it will be listed there. Check his father’s files too - they could give some information. Papa, how about your business contacts?” His voice became casual. “I could use some of my people to obtain information.”
Ettore shook his head. “Thank you, Vito, but we’ll keep it among ourselves for the time being. If we run into a stone wall, then I will consider outsiders.”