I left Cheng Ye Zheng at the restaurant just past six. It was a short walk back to the Blue Dragon. I went around the block once to shake off the effects of the conversation. It had taken a few personal turns that I had hoped to avoid, but Mr. Zheng was convincing and forceful in his gentle way. I felt as if I’d said too much to him.
I was steady emotionally by the time I reached the apartment building and thought I was ready for May Wen. I was ready until she opened the door wearing a black slip and looking like a comic-book villainess—a very sexy comic-book villainess. I went weak again quickly.
May gave me a face full of sensuous, dramatic boredom.
“A few more words, if you don’t mind,” I said without the nonchalance I had intended.
She stepped out of the way and shut the door behind me.
“No, leave it open,” I said.
She shrugged and put the door ajar.
I took one of the keys, the larger one, out of my pocket and slipped it into the first of the two locks. The thick brassy deadbolt emerged from the door like an eager lover.
She looked at me silently.
I held the key up for her to see.
“So?”
“Came from Ted Zheng’s secret box.”
“A little pervert, huh?” She was unfazed.
I shut the door. “I don’t know. Was he?”
“Maybe just a thief,” she said, a teasing smile dancing on her face.
“Anything missing?”
“You tell me. You’re the one nosing around,” she said. She went into the room, picked up her cigarette case from the coffee table, pulled one out and lit it. Waited.
“Who was he visiting? You or your husband?”
“Why would he visit David?”
“Why would he visit you?”
“Are you slow on the uptake or trying to put me in my place?”
“You pick.” I was getting stronger.
“Look, you are nobody I have to talk to,” she said. “And I just got off work, and I don’t feel like answering all your questions. All right?”
“Fine. Maybe your husband will answer them.”
“He’s out of town.”
“I can find him.”
Her eyes lowered briefly. “You a critic?”
“What was it? Drugs or sex? Or both?” I asked.
“People make much too big a deal out of both of them.”
“How about murder? Are we making too much of it?”
She did her best to give me an ironic grin. “We had a little thing. It was completely harmless.”
“Your husband know?”
“He knew I got some party favors from Ted.”
“Party favors?”
She gave me the look. “How could you be so stupid?”
“Drugs.”
“You make it sound so serious. A little something to enhance the music.”
“And you and Ted…”
“Yes. A little tit for tat. How detailed do you want me to get?”
“Tell me just what you told your husband about it.”
“You are a pain, Mr. Strand. He didn’t know. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t have to know. You are going down the wrong street altogether. Nobody around here would kill Teddy. Even if my husband knew, he’d be mad at me, not Teddy. I’ve done it before, Mr. Strand. David takes the guy’s side. Then he pouts for a day or two. Then we make passionate love and he starts thinking about his clients and…and…well…” She shrugged. “Listen, Teddy played around with drug dealers. Maybe he played a little harder than you think.”
“Maybe.”
“And me? Why would I do it? He was my source, and I enjoyed making payment.”
When I returned home, I did something rare. I poured myself a gin and tonic. May Wen’s sexiness and nastiness had me twisted around. I paced awhile before remembering I still had the photograph of a naked man in my pocket. I took it out, and as I slid it back into the envelope for safekeeping, I discovered the check. It was nestled inside, against the back of the envelope. I’d missed it earlier.
The check was from the account of Mrs. Kein Ho and Miss Barbara Siu.
The address specified 3B, the vacant apartment. Mrs. Ho’s.
It was a canceled check, number 1221, made out to FastMail. The check had been signed by Barbara Siu.
I found the number for Barbara and her sister. I went to the phone and dialed immediately, pacing and growing more impatient with each unanswered ring.
How could I have missed it? I thought. I was angry with myself, and I passed on a bit of that negative energy to Linda Siu when she answered.
“I’d like to speak with your sister,” I said when she identified herself.
“That might be difficult. She’s not here,” said Linda, not intimidated by my unintentional cold tone.
“I’m sorry. I need to talk with her.”
“There’s something going on at the temple. I expect her back before ten. Is there something I can help you with?”
I considered telling her. I decided not to. I didn’t want to give the two of them time to cook something up if something needed cooking.
“You mind if I come over then?”
There was a long pause. Finally a hesitant no. Then she added, “Are you sure you can’t tell me what this is about?”
“I’d rather address it with the two of you,” I said, but I wasn’t altogether sure that was true. I’d just as soon not have Linda around when I brought up the subject.
Barbara Siu was exceptionally flighty. Linda Siu seemed to counter by being exceptionally tough and abrasive.
I politely refused the offer of tea, claiming it was too late. However, my reticence came from the manner in which Mrs. Ho might have met her death. Daily tea containing doses of any one of a number of poisons could drive a woman crazy. Crazy enough to venture into an empty elevator shaft. Crazy enough to be easily guided to an empty elevator shaft. Such a frail body could easily have thrown off its mortal coil with the help of the tiniest of shoves.
“What is it that you want of us?” Linda asked.
“I want to find out a little more about your relationship with Mrs. Ho.”
“Mrs. Ho?” Linda said, surprised, then indignant. “I thought you were investigating the death of the young man.”
Barbara seemed to cower from the increased volume of her sister’s thought.
Demurely, Barbara stepped closer and spoke in halting English. “In afternoon I take tea to her.”
“My sister cared for Mrs. Ho,” Linda said. “Helped her. Did her shopping. Cleaned her apartment. Gave her baths when it became necessary. Why are you questioning us?”
“Just trying to find out about Mrs. Ho and Ted Zheng.”
“You’ve talked to us once. We told you what we knew. That should be enough,” Linda said.
“I’m really sorry. But I wasn’t aware of the death of Mrs. Ho at the time.”
“Mrs. Ho’s death was an accident. What are you trying to do, Mr. Strand? Mr. Lehr pays you by the hour and you have to dredge up something more to keep busy?”
Linda wasn’t just impatient—she was angry.
“I found this check.” I showed it to both of them.
“So?”
“I found it in Ted’s belongings.”
“I don’t know why he had it, but I certainly don’t know what it has to do with anything.”
“He had it in a secret place where it would be away from prying eyes.”
“I don’t understand…”
Barbara said something in Chinese, then turned to me. “Mrs. Ho and I went to bank. She set up account so I can buy things for her.”
With that Barbara left the room, leaving me with a seething Linda Siu.
“Barbara is the most wonderful person in the world. She is also very easily upset. So help me, Mr. Strand, if…”
Barbara returned carrying a cardboard shoe box.
“You see,” Barbara said. “Everything in here.” She lifted the lid. There were checks in short stacks secured with rubber bands. There were two dozen or so envelopes containing what looked like bank statements. There was the checkbook. “You look carefully. I do not cheat Mrs. Ho.”
I felt ashamed, though I had done nothing other than ask what I thought were reasonable questions.
But Barbara’s eyes were pleading for me to believe her.
“May I take these with me?” I asked Barbara.
Barbara nodded.
I left feeling troubled. It is always troubling to see a relationship when one person seems so dominant, so forceful, and the other so submissive, so weak. Was Linda a wonderful older sister protecting an innocent and shy person from the evils of the world? Or had she created it, denying the full expression of life from someone who could be dominated?
I turned back as I was leaving to see the tough sister comforting the other. If it was love…