White Tiger

CHAPTER 9

San Francisco, California

Mid-day traffic combined with an automobile/pedestrian accident at the intersections of Market and Gough kept Chee Wei from driving as fast as Ryker would have liked. To make matters worse, it appeared the entire city of San Francisco had decided to take its collective lunch hour at the same time, leaving the downtown area mired in near-gridlock. Even if they’d been in a marked cruiser with the lights and siren going, they wouldn’t have made better progress.

“Well, this sucks balls,” Chee Wei said.

“You have experience with that, I guess,” Ryker said.

Chee Wei fidgeted a bit in the driver’s seat. “Hey, I’m a Democrat, but I’m not that open-minded. What’s that address again?”

Ryker looked at his notebook. Suzy’s handwriting wasn’t exactly a portrait of neatness, but it was serviceable.

“Twenty-four twenty-three Quintara. On the corner of Quintara and Thirty-third Street.”

“Nice ‘hood,” Chee Wei said. “Very family-oriented.”

“I hope we’ll be able to confirm that soon.”

“You think Lin’s guys will beat us there?”

Ryker shrugged. “Only if they have the same address we do.”

“Hope they don’t.”

“Hope is a bad word, you should stop using it,” Ryker sighed. He twisted in his seat, looking for a gap in the traffic to exploit. There was nothing. A bottled water truck blocked most of his view.

Chee Wei drummed his fingertips on the Crown Vic’s black dashboard, then began fiddling with the GPS.

“We’ll have to cut through the side streets to get there any time before the sun goes down,” he remarked. “We might be able to make the turn onto Octavia, then cut across to Sunset that way.”

“Sounds like a plan, unless you’ve got a helicopter in your pants.” Ryker checked his watch as the Crown Vic trundled forward, then leaned back in his seat. He rested his elbow on the armrest and cupped his chin in his right hand, impatient with the holdup.

“What?” Chee Wei asked, reading his body language. “You mean to tell me you’re not used to San Francisco traffic, after all this time?”

“I’m trying to decide if I want to ask for a patrol unit to head over to the address.”

“So you do think Lin’s guys will get there ahead of us,” Chee Wei said.

“No idea.”

“It would really suck for us if they find this girl and plug her before we can talk with her,” Chee Wei continued. “Plus, she’s gotta be a hottie to the max, if that Lin Dan was porking her.”

Ryker smiled despite his irritation. “‘Porking her’? You realize that term went out probably before you were born, right? I don’t think I’ve heard it since 1982.”

“Makes sense, because I picked it up when I watched The Neighbors last night.”

Ryker rolled his eyes. “At least watch some of Belushi’s good movies, if that’s how you’re going to spend your time. Animal House.The Blues Brothers. Even Continental Divide. But I guess watching The Neighbors beats surfing porn.”

“Cathy Moriarty’s hot,” Chee Wei informed him.

“Yeah, thirty years ago.”

“Hey, I got a woody watching her.”

“You probably get a woody watching Woody Harrelson,” Ryker said, “and frankly, that’s beginning to frighten me a bit. Maybe you should marry this girl in China, and soon. Even your parents must be worried, if they’re going to go through all this trouble to set up an arranged marriage.”

“My parents just want a grandson,” Chee Wei answered. He took his foot off the brake and allowed the Ford to glide forward for ten feet before coming to a halt again.

“Gosh, that’s worrisome. They really think extending the gene pool’s a good thing to do, huh?” Ryker fished out his cell phone and looked at the unit’s plastic screen absently.

“So you gonna make the call, or what?” Chee Wei asked. “Taraval’s got patrol responsibility-I worked over there before coming over to Metro.”

“Yeah thanks, I remember who patrols where in the city,” Ryker responded, a touch irritated at the push. He kept looking down at the phone. A homicide dick calling up a neighborhood station for patrol assistance wasn’t something that would be deemed unusual, but in this circumstance there was no clear threat.

Jesus. Look at me, suddenly worried about how things are going to look. What am I doing, running for public office or trying to solve a murder? He shook his head at the thought, and he hit the speed dial for central dispatch. When the call went through, he identified himself and gave his badge number, then requested that a patrol unit sit on the southwest corner of Quintana and 33rd Street until their arrival. The dispatcher relayed the request to the Taraval patrol desk for actioning. A car would be outside the address within six minutes, and would remain until Ryker and Chee Wei arrived, or a more pressing matter demanded their attention. Ryker could live with that.

Chee Wei made a turn on a northbound street, still caught up with the flow of traffic; he hadn’t been the first to make the assumption that getting off Market Street was a good idea. The smaller side streets were almost as bad as Market was, but there wasn’t anything that could be done about it. Clogged traffic and poor parking were two of San Francisco’s more chronic diseases.

“So, you going to go after the widow or not?” Chee Wei asked. “If you’re not, maybe I’ll try. I’ll bet I actually can wear Lin Dan’s robe and slippers.”

“Chee Wei, you really need to get laid.”

“True, but you didn’t answer my question,” Chee Wei responded.

“And my silence should indicate my position on the matter,” Ryker said. “Of course I’m not going to do anything with the widow. She’s part of the Lin family, and if I did anything that pisses anyone off, the department will come down on me with both feet.”

“You’re such a girl,” Chee Wei taunted, grinning broadly.

“Maybe so, but I’m still not available, so keep it in your pants, hot shot,” Ryker warned with a humor he didn’t necessarily feel. He’d been having trouble keeping his mind focused on the task at hand, and the fact that thoughts of the newly-widowed Valerie Lin kept crowding out his professional sensibilities every thirty seconds weren’t making things any easier. Nor was Chee Wei’s admittedly good-natured banter. Even now, Ryker could see how her dark slacks had clung to her, accentuating the gentle sweeps of her hips and buttocks-

Let’s not go through that again, he thought, recalling his biological reaction to seeing her in the flesh. Revisiting her visage even through the distance of memory was no less likely to prevent such an organic response from reoccurring, and he certainly didn’t need to be popping a boner while riding shotgun with Chee Wei.

The traffic finally broke enough so that Chee Wei could accelerate onto Haight Street and start making up some time. It still took almost fifteen minutes to make it to the rotary at Dewey and Taraval Streets, and then another ten to make it into the central Sunset District proper. They arrived at the address Suzy had given them almost an hour before.

The S.F.P.D. patrol car was sitting in front of a fire hydrant, which in turn sat at the corner before a line of ubiquitous two-story tract homes. Off Taravel, the main street through the area, the neighborhood was very residential and to Ryker’s eye well maintained and neat. The single-family homes generally lacked true front lawns, where concrete driveways or patios were found more often than not. The first story of each home was usually comprised of a one-car garage and the occasional entry, while the second story was where residents lived. From some windows, families would be able to see the blue Pacific Ocean several blocks to the West, and Ryker had seen for himself just how striking the sunsets could be…which begat the district’s name. It was also an integrated neighborhood, with a large Asian population woven into the tapestry. A likely enough background for a young woman to try and lose herself while trying to figure out what to do next.

Chee Wei pulled abreast of the black-and-white Ford patrol car, and Ryker rolled down the window.

“Hey guys, Ryker from Metro,” he said, showing his badge. “Thanks for sitting out here for us, I appreciate it.”

The patrolman sitting in the front passenger seat shrugged. His hair was flecked with gray, and the sergeant’s stripes on his shoulder indicated he was the senior of the two officers.

“You took your sweet time about it,” the sergeant said. “You get sacked by that bang-up on Market?”

“We did, and I’m sorry it took us so long to get here,” Ryker apologized.

The patrol sergeant waved the apology away.

“We get paid the same whether we’re sitting or patrolling. Next time, just give us an address with a better view, all right?”

Ryker smiled. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

The patrol sergeant motioned to his younger Hispanic partner, and the black-and-white hitched forward a bit as the driver dropped it into gear.

“All right, we’re out of here unless you need us to stay. We gotta get back into the rotation.”

“See anyone entering or leaving?” Ryker asked.

The Hispanic patrolman behind the wheel jerked a thumb toward the pastel yellow house off the car’s left rear fender. It had the right number, 2423.

“Saw some activity on the second floor,” he said. “Just someone peeking through the curtains every now and then.”

“Good enough,” Ryker said. “Thanks again.”

He motioned Chee Wei to pull ahead. Chee Wei took his foot off the brake and the big Ford sedan drifted up the street. He watched in his rearview mirror as the patrol car pulled away from the curb and turned onto Quintana. There was a spot a bit further up the street, and he pulled into it without a problem, shoehorning the Crown Vic between an old Chevy pickup and a Toyota Prius.

“I’m the parallel-parking master!” Chee Wei crowed.

“Make sure you send your audition tape to America’s Got Talent,” Ryker said before he unbuckled his seat belt and opened the passenger door.

“You really need to be more supportive,” Chee Wei griped good-naturedly as he hauled himself out of the car.

Ryker walked down the sidewalk toward the house on the corner. He stopped when he heard Chee Wei call out to him.

“Hey, check it out,” he said.

Ryker turned. Chee Wei was still in the street, looking toward the south. Ryker followed his gaze, and sure enough, the glossy black Mercedes-Benz S550 was parked at the curb about a hundred feet down, its grille pointed toward them. Behind the wheel was a Chinese; beside him was a huge Caucasian man with broad shoulders and an equally broad face. The same men Ryker and Chee Wei had seen leaving Lin’s estate in Tiburon.

Chee Wei bent at the waist and placed his hands on his knees. He stared directly at the car.

“They’re all there-two up front, two in the rear. Good call putting the squad car on the house. You’ll thank me for badgering you about that later, right?”

“Let’s have a chat with them,” Ryker said, reversing course and walking toward the parked Mercedes. Chee Wei fell in with him.

As they advanced, the white man in the passenger seat favored Ryker with an open, appraising stare. He then said something to the driver. The car took off from the curb immediately.

“Hey!” Ryker shouted. “S.F.P.D., stop right there!”

The Mercedes did no such thing. It pulled into a driveway on the opposite side of the street, executed a three-point turn, and accelerated away from the two detectives. Ryker didn’t even have the time to pull his badge.

“Now that’s illegal, disobeying an officer of the law like that,” Chee Wei said, reaching for the cell phone clipped to his belt. “I’ll call it in-our pals on patrol’ll have them pulled over in no time.”

Ryker thought it over for a moment, then shook his head. He didn’t want any more issues with Jericho…or Lin, for that matter.

“Let them go,” he said, as he turned away from the street and headed back toward the sidewalk.

“Come on!” Chee Wei exclaimed. “They were waiting for the patrol guys to pull out, so they could go up there themselves!”

“And what’s wrong with that? It’s a free country.”

Chee Wei hurried after him. “How about that part where they’re interfering with an investigation?”

“So far, they’re not, not really,” Ryker said, stepping onto the sidewalk. He turned and faced Chee Wei. “They can talk with anyone they want to, and we can’t necessarily stop them from that.”

“And they can beat people, like those two gays and the girl in the Tenderloin?”

Ryker put his hands in his pockets and faced his younger partner.

“Chee Wei, the way I see it, this investigation is going to last longer the less we piss off Lin,” he said. “All Lin has to do is make one phone call to set things in motion, and the eventual response will be that Jericho’s balls retract and we’ll get pulled off the case.”

“Even James Lin couldn’t stop us from conducting a murder investigation,” Chee Wei replied. “And why the hell would he want to? His own son was whacked, for God’s sake. For sure he wants to find out who did it, and bring them to justice.”

“I kind of think Lin has a different definition of justice than you do,” Ryker said, glancing back over his shoulder at the neat yellow house at the corner. “I don’t know if he’s figured it out yet, but eventually, he’s going to want cops who are more sympathetic to him on the case. That way, if S.F.P.D. finds the killer, said person gets delivered to Lin’s goons. And this”-he nodded his head in the direction the Mercedes had taken off-“was just par for the course, an initial reaction. Once Lin calms down, he’ll either use us or pull us.”

“Dude, you really have a thing for conspiracy theories,” Chee Wei deadpanned.

“Hey, this is San Francisco, home of the loony liberal left. Conspiracy theories are what we live on out here.” Ryker waved toward the house. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

The two detectives walked toward the house. The entry was on the second floor, accessible by a winding, stucco-covered staircase. Chee Wei bolted up its length, his Bostonian loafers clacking loudly on the red tiled steps. Ryker climbed it unenthusiastically, his rubber-soled Rockports barely making a whisper. Chee Wei rang the bell as Ryker clambered onto the stoop behind him. A wind chime suspended beneath an ornate glass dragonfly hung beside the door, making small tinkling sounds as the light breeze caressed it.

There was no answer. Chee Wei rang the bell again.

“Think one of us should watch back?” he asked.

Ryker looked through the opaque window next to the door. He shook his head.

“No. Someone’s coming.”

He stepped back from the window and pulled his badge. Chee Wei did the same as the door opened. A security chain prevented it from opening more than five inches, and a thirty-something Chinese female face peered out at them. She was only borderline cute, and had the look of a mother, not a sexpot. There was no way this could be Xiaohui Zhu, Ryker decided.

“What do you want?” the woman asked, her English heavily accented.

“San Francisco Police,” Chee Wei said, showing her his badge. “I’m Detective Fong, this is Detective Sergeant Ryker, from Metro Division. May we come inside for a moment?”

“Why you want to come in?” the woman asked quickly. “I didn’t call the police!”

“We’d like to discuss some things with you,” Chee Wei said. “You’re not in any trouble, but we think you might be able to give us some assistance.”

“I don’t-”

“Do you have a sister named Xiaohui Zhu?” Ryker asked abruptly.

The woman behind the door looked at him, then back at Chee Wei. It didn’t take a degree in rocket science to see that she was trying to decide upon something…like whether to lie or not.

“No,” she said simply, choosing to lie. She started to close the door.

Ryker shoved it back open, slamming the door back against the chain. The woman shrieked a little and jumped behind it and out of view.

“This happens one of two ways,” Ryker said, his voice firm. “You let us in to talk with your sister, or we get a warrant. And some very, very bad people are looking for your sister. If you make us get a warrant, we’ll have to leave, and then they’ll show up before we can come back. Believe me, they’re not really all that interested in talking with her, and the kind of conversation they’ll likely have won’t last more than ten seconds. So you might want to consider letting us in so we can begin to straighten this whole thing out.”

The woman stepped out from behind the door after a moment, wide-eyed and clearly frightened.

“How I know you real police?” she asked.

Ryker reached into his wallet and pulled out one of his business cards. He held it out to her.

“Call the number on the card, but don’t dial the extension. Press three instead, and you’ll get the watch officer. Ask for me. He’ll tell you I’m away from the station.”

The woman regarded the card for a moment, then snatched it out of his hand. Ryker allowed her to slam the door shut.

Chee Wei checked his watch then looked out over the street.

“Well, this could take a while.”

“Patience, grasshopper.”

“Whatever you say, Blow-My-Wand Kenobi.”

The corners of Ryker’s mouth twitched upward slightly, as much of a smile such a comment deserved.

The chain rustled on the other side of the door, and it opened an instant later. The woman looked at both detectives suspiciously for a moment, but it was obvious that at least the question of their identities had been resolved.

“Why you want my sister?” she asked.

“Your sister is a known associate of Lin Dan,” Chee Wei said, pronouncing the deceased’s name with perfect Chinese intonation. “We really need to speak with her regarding her whereabouts last night.”

“I know nothing about this,” the woman protested. She was wearing faded blue jeans and a gray Gap T-shirt, over which was a light blue sweater. Worn slippers adorned her feet. She wore no makeup, and her face was relatively plain without it. A simple gold wedding band reflected the sunlight from her hand.

“Ma’am, may we come in?” Ryker prodded.

After another brief hesitation, she nodded curtly and stepped to one side. Ryker shuffled in ahead of Chee Wei, and the woman closed the door behind them. She locked it and slid the chain back into place. The smell of ginger and garlic was in the air. From deeper in the house, a small dog yapped.

“Why you want to ask my sister about this man?” the woman asked.

“You know of him, then,” Chee Wei said.

“Not me, I don’t know anything.”

“Lin Dan could be a female name as well, but you knew it was a man.”

“It’s on the news,” the woman countered, pointing down the small hallway toward what was probably the living room. “Chinese station.”

Ryker rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“May I have your name, please?” he asked.

“Mabel Chan,” she replied automatically. “My husband, his name is Eugene.”

“And your sister’s name is Xiaohui Zhu,” Ryker continued. “And we have it on some pretty good word that she’s here.”

There was a spell of silence for a long moment. Ryker looked around the small entry hall; white tile, beige walls, Victorian-style crown moldings, and a slightly battered wall table holding up two antique-looking bowls of green glass. Both were overflowing with old mail. He reached out past Chee Wei and snatched up one envelope. Mabel Chan opened her mouth and took a quick breath to protest, but he ignored her. The envelope was indeed addressed to the Chan family. He returned it to the bowl, and turned to face Mabel.

“Mrs. Chan-Mabel? — it’s for the best that we speak with your sister as soon as possible. She could be in some serious trouble, and we need to figure out if she needs help from us.”

Mabel looked from white man to Chinese man and back to white man.

“Come with me,” she said. With that, she led them to a small living room outfitted with two small leather loveseats. One was against another beige wall; the other had its back to the window overlooking the driveway outside. Both were oriented toward a large plasma screen television. On it played a Chinese news program, the volume muted. English captions flashed at the bottom of the screen, and Ryker thought that was odd.

“For my son,” Mabel explained, catching Ryker’s expression. “He doesn’t speak Chinese good.”

“Ah,” Ryker said, biting back a comment regarding Mabel’s imprecise English.

“Please sit.” Mabel waved toward the couches, then vanished down the nearby hallway. Heading for the bedrooms, Ryker figured as he lowered himself onto one of the loveseats. Chee Wei took his place on the second, and glanced around the room. His brow furrowed and he shook his head.

“Beige walls, tan leather couches, and an off-pink carpet,” he observed. “Some people have no grasp of the basic principles behind home decorating.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, Martha Stewart. This place could really be classed-up some. Maybe some deep red shag carpeting and murals of Cupid being gang-raped by a bunch of Boy Scouts?”

Chee Wei looked at Ryker evenly. He shook his head again after a moment.

“No wonder you’re divorced,” he commented.

“Says the kid who bought a Lexus thinking it would get him a date,” Ryker shot back. “Worthwhile investment after all, huh?”

“Blow me.”

“Sorry, I don’t have time to organize a search party.”

Chee Wei started to say something in response, but Ryker held up his hand. The small dog began yapping again, after which they could hear voices from the back. Two women, one whose voice bore overtones of fear, the other moderate and reasonable. Neither spoke English. Ryker looked at Chee Wei questioningly, and the younger detective shook his head.

“I think it’s Shanghainese or some other dialect,” he said. “Sorry, I can’t make any sense of it.”

“I’ll remember that during your next performance review,” Ryker groused.

There was a stirring from the back of the house. Ryker hauled himself to his feet just as Mabel reappeared, casting a glance over her shoulder. She was followed by another woman, a little taller than she was. From the corner of his eye, Ryker saw Chee Wei practically elevate to his feet in an instant, as fast as a sommelier in a high-class restaurant could uncork a bottle of champagne. And with good reason.

If there was any woman that could have made Lin Dan abandon his wife, she would be Zhu Xiaohui. Clad in white corduroy hip-huggers that accentuated the curves of her figure topped by a collared black leather halter top with a braid zipper that fairly strained to barely hold back her round breasts, she was a head-turner who could have stopped all lanes of traffic on the 101 freeway in a heartbeat. Xiaohui oozed a rampant sexuality that even the dead would likely notice. Her feet were bare, and her skin was creamy and smooth.

But her face was something else. While Ryker had no trouble imagining it was something lovely to behold under the proper circumstances, at the moment there was an impenetrable frostiness to it that made the perfection of her features look as fake as a plastic nose.

Now this, he thought, is a lady who knows how to get what she wants…and doesn’t give a damn who she hurts to get it.

“Officers, my sister. Xiaohui,” Mabel said needlessly. Ryker nodded to her and vaguely wondered if Mabel was at some level deeply chagrined that she had been so utterly short-changed by the same family gene pool that produced her sister.

“Miss Zhu, I’m Detective Sergeant Ryker. This is-”

“Detective Fong Chee Wei,” Chee Wei cut in, almost breathlessly. “We’d like to ask you…ah, we’d like to ask you some, you know, questions-”

Ryker looked over his shoulder at Chee Wei and tried to telegraph a warning: Shut the hell up, and try not to get anything on the walls.

Chee Wei got the message. He cleared his throat and reached into his jacket, removing his notebook and pen. His Adam’s apple bobbled nervously a bit as flipped through the pages, trying to at least pretend he was a cool and competent homicide detective.

Xiaohui looked at the Chinese detective and smiled icily, subtly amused, even though Ryker was certain this was something she went through all the time.

“Miss Zhu, would you mind having a seat for a moment?” Ryker indicated the couch behind Chee Wei. Chee Wei caught the motion and stepped out of the way with a nervous smile, unable to stop himself from firing furtive glances at Xiaohui. Ryker groaned inwardly, but he’d had his moment with Valerie Lin. It was only fair that Chee Wei’s hormones had the opportunity to become carbonated too.

“What is this about?” she asked. Her voice was lightly accented but completely understandable. Miles ahead of her sister in that way too, Ryker noticed.

Ryker looked at her directly. “Lin Dan, of course.”

Xiaohui nodded once, then walked toward the couch with a practiced hip-swaying gait. She smiled vaguely at Chee Wei again, then coiled up on the couch like a tigress. Her sister sat next to her with all the comparative grace of a zeppelin trying to dock in a heavy wind.

Ryker remained standing, and Chee Wei took the other couch, pen at the ready. Ryker clasped his hands behind his back and regarded Xiaohui frankly for a moment before beginning.

“Are you comfortable with English, Miss Zhu?” Ryker asked needlessly. Just a little something to say before he began with the interrogation.

She smiled in response, but it didn’t reach her perfect eyes.

“I’ve studied it for years,” she responded a little tartly. “Are you comfortable with Chinese, Mr. Ryker?”

“Miss Zhu, you were with Danny Lin last night at the Mandarin Oriental, correct?”

“His name is Lin Dan. And why would you think that I was with him, sergeant?”

“The fact that hotel surveillance caught both of you on camera would be my first guess,” Ryker said, not liking her attitude and taking the wind out of her sails immediately because of it. For added effect, he continued with, “You left one of your earrings behind. Interested in getting it back?”

Xiaohui said nothing, but she didn’t need to. Like anyone who consorted with the fabulously rich and shameless, it was unlikely she would have a very high opinion of mere public servants. Especially ones that hadn’t been bought off or who had no interest in her bedroom skills. Ever the windows to the soul, Ryker believed he could clearly see the snotty derision in her eyes.

“My sister tells me you feel I’m in some danger,” she said. “What danger?”

“Lin’s father. He has some of his men looking for you. A few Chinese and a big white man. You know them?”

“No,” she answered simply. “I’ve never even met his father before.”

“Tell us about last night, Miss Zhu,” Ryker continued.

“And if I don’t?”

“Let’s not go there. You can make this as hard or as easy as you like, ma’am. It’s all up to you.”

“Am I a…a suspect?” she asked.

“For certain,” Ryker replied.

Xiaohui looked at her sister and snapped off something in her native dialect. Mabel hesitated, then left the room, her face composed into lines of worry. She disappeared into the kitchen. Dishes rattled.

“My sister is a simple housewife with a family,” Xiaohui said. “She does not need to hear these things.”

“We understand that,” Ryker acknowledged.

She nodded, and looked down at the ratty, off-pink carpet. As if deciding it was too cheap for her exotic feet to come in contact with, she curled them beneath her on the couch.

“Lin Dan and I were lovers,” Xiaohui said softly, her eyes downcast. “I did not like him much as a person, but he took very good care of me. Do you know what a ‘kept woman’ is, sergeant?”

“I do,” Ryker said.

“In China, it has a stronger meaning than here in America. Kept women are provided for, given everything they desire. Lin Dan did that for me. He was my benefactor, but that was all he was. A means to an end.”

“But you didn’t like him,” Ryker pressed.

Xiaohui raised her eyes and met his gaze.

“I did not like him much, I said. But I would never destroy that which gives me what I need, and Lin Dan did just that. I am not like my sister, sergeant. I have different desires, and a simple home and family are not what I want. Not ever.”

Ryker nodded. He glanced over at Chee Wei, who was busy writing notes. He looked back at Xiaohui.

“So you’re an escort, then?” he asked.

“Not any longer. Lin Dan provided more than enough for me to leave that life behind.”

“Very well. About last night…?”

She sighed, and for an instant she appeared to be very, very weary. Ryker stared at her, watchful for any changes in her body language which might contradict what she would say. He detected nothing overt, but that meant nothing at this point.

“We met at the Mandarin Oriental. We would see each other only fairly occasionally, though he needed to be discreet because of his wife. She is not a very jealous person, but because of his troubles, he wanted to avoid making a spectacle of our relationship.”

“What troubles?” Chee Wei asked. Ryker didn’t react to the interruption, because it meant that Chee Wei was engaging his professional self, and he had skills to bring to the table.

Xiaohui looked over as if she had forgotten he was there, then redirected her gaze to Ryker.

“You know which troubles, sergeant,” she said. “I do know some things about what went on in Lin Dan’s life, and your name is familiar to me.”

“He told you about Shannon Young, did he?”

“He told me that you were interested in making him the guilty party. But that’s not very important any longer, is it?”

Ryker shrugged, and motioned for her to continue.

“We had sex. After that, I went to the bath. I soaked in the tub, and listened to music. Wong Fei. When I called for Lin Dan to bring me a towel, he did not. I thought he had fallen asleep, even though he had promised he wouldn’t. So I got out of the tub, dried myself, and then”-she abruptly lowered her gaze to the floor once again-“I found him in the bed.”

“And then?”

She snorted humorlessly, and when she looked up at him, Ryker could see the fear in her eyes. What she had seen in the hotel suite the previous night had cracked right through what he figured was a normally unflinching demeanor as effortlessly as a high-velocity bullet would pass through rice paper.

“I got out of there,” she said. “What did you expect?”

“I would have expected you to call the police,” Ryker told her.

Xiaohui shook her head, laughing humorlessly. The sound had a nervous edge to it.

“Oh no. No, I was not about to call the police. I was going to go home, to Shanghai, and forget all about this place and Lin Dan.”

“That’s not going to happen now, Miss Zhu.”

She nodded, and hugged her knees to her chest. Her fingernails were painted a fiery red, as were those on her toes.

“I know that,” she said softly.

“Miss Zhu, if you didn’t kill Mr. Lin, then who might have?”

“I have no idea. I never thought Lin Dan was a very smart man. He was good for making money, I suppose, but he likely offended many people. He was crass and not exactly astute in social situations. But I wouldn’t know who his enemies were. We didn’t speak of those things.”

“Why not?”

She looked up at him again.

“We were lovers, but I did not love him. I really didn’t care what went on in his life, so long as I got what I wanted from him.”

Class act, sister. “So you would have no idea who would want Lin Dan dead?” Ryker kept his tone disbelieving even though his gut told him it was the truth. “Funny, his wife said the same thing. Lin Dan was certainly an international man of mystery, wasn’t he? Or is it just a common trait in Chinese women, to be so dismissive of the men in their lives?”

“I do not know Lin Dan’s wife, so I can’t speak for her, sergeant. Lin Dan was not dismissive of me, but yes, I was of him. He served a single purpose for me, and that was all.”

“So you won’t be mourning his passing then,” Ryker declared.

Xiaohui paused. She took a deep breath and let it loose in one long sigh.

“I never wished him dead. The way he died looked quite horrible. But all I can think of is, he must have brought it upon himself. And whoever did it was very professional, I would think. For me not to have heard anything-”

“Did he have an orgasm, Miss Zhu?”

The sudden swerve in the line of questioning knocked her off balance.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, blinking her eyes.

“I asked, did he have an orgasm. With you?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, what does this have to do with-”

“Indications are that he was apparently in the midst of ejaculating when he died,” Ryker continued. “Given your obvious talents, it’s pretty obvious that you’re more than reasonably capable of inducing that condition in a man.”

“Lin Dan only came with me once last night, sergeant,” Xiaohui responded slowly, and Ryker could see that the sudden revelation had put her guard up.

“I’m sorry, Miss Zhu, but you’ll be coming with us. Our criminologists will need to conduct a physical survey of your person for DNA evidence, and we’ll also need access to your residence. For your sake, I very much hope that we can find the clothes yow were wearing last night.”

The alarm that spread across her face was so genuine that it was almost surprising.

“You’re arresting me?” she asked, completely shocked.

“That’s what we call it.” Ryker turned to Chee Wei. “Detective Fong, Mirandize Miss Zhu, if you don’t mind. I’ll take her in custody, then we’ll have Taraval send a unit to transport Miss Zhu to Metro.”

Chee Wei closed his notebook and slipped it back inside his jacket. His face was expressionless.

“On your feet please, Miss Zhu,” he said, all business. He reached behind his badge holder and pulled out his Miranda card as Ryker pulled his handcuffs from their pouch at the small of his back.

Xiaohui Zhu slowly rose to her feet. Ryker took her left wrist and turned her around so that she faced the couch, then slapped the cuffs on. She gasped at the contact, and when he turned her around again, her eyes were squeezed tightly shut.

“I did not kill Lin Dan,” she whispered. “I did not do it.”

“Well, someone sure did,” Ryker said, “and until I find someone else who fits the bill, you’re the only show in town. Look at it this way, at least you’re getting all of our attention. That should mean something to a girl like you, right, Miss Zhu?”

Chee Wei shot him a disapproving look, but Ryker ignored it. It was uncalled for and wholly unprofessional, but he couldn’t resist the jibe. Xiaohui Zhu was as heartless a bitch as they came, and times were tough all around. He would get to the bottom of it eventually, so long as he stayed on the case, and one component to that was keeping the girl away from the elder Lin’s goons. After things were squared away, he would personally see to it that she got on a plane to Shanghai, and that would be that.