Blood Passage (31 page)

“
Wife? You brought wife here?”

“
Sure. Why, what’s the problem?”

Wu pointed at the one-way mirror. “She there? Listening now?”

“
No, no,” Karen replied impatiently, “they’ve got her down the hall in another room, talking to her.”

“
Sure?”

“
Of course I’m sure.”

“
All right,” Wu said, “Look, I tell you. Went to girlfriend’s place. Wife gone to club with friends, I told her I be home right after work but went to girlfriend’s place.”

“
What’s this girlfriend’s name?”

“
Amy Chang, 11463 Carton Boulevard, apartment 1278.”

“
How’d you get there from work?”

“
Take bus.”

“
How long did you stay?”

“
Late. Left about two in morning.”

“
What about your wife? Weren’t you scared she’d come home and find you were out?”

Wu shook his head vigorously. “When she go to club with friends, stay out all night. Come back next morning hung over as hell.”

Karen chuckled. “Did you go straight home?”

“
Yes. Had to walk long way for bus. Should be more buses during night. Don’t they know some people stay up late?”

“
What bus did you ride?”

“
Forty-seven. Only bus running in whole fucking town.”

“
Anybody see you when you got home?”

“
Hope not.”

Karen shrugged. “We’ll see if the girlfriend’ll back up your story.”

“
For godsake don’t bring her here if wife here! She find out about girlfriend, they kill me!”

Karen looked at him. “Who’ll kill you, Wu?”

“
You stupid or something? Wife and goddamned brother Yi, that’s who!”

Karen laughed and waved him away. “Beat it, loser.”

Hank sat down across the table from Mikki Lung.

“
What’s your relationship with Peter Mah, Ms. Lung?”

“
Uh, he’s my uncle,” Mikki replied. “My mother’s his sister.”

“
I see. And you work for him, is that right?”

“
What’s this all about? Has somebody done something wrong? You’re scaring me half to death.”

“
Just answer the questions, Ms. Lung, and everything will be fine. Do you work for Mah?”

“
Yes, I’m his administrative assistant. I work in his office upstairs, above the restaurant, I mean.”

“
How long have you worked for him?”

“
Well, let’s see, I guess it’ll be two years next month.”

“
What does your job involve?”

“
Oh, I answer the phone, I look after the e-mail and the regular mail, I look after Uncle Peter’s files, I run errands, that sort of thing.”

“
What kind of errands?”

“
Like going to the bank, picking up his dry cleaning, whatever he asks me to do.”

“
Who else works in the office with you?”

“
Nobody, just me. I’m kind of a one-woman show there.”

Hank frowned. “Oh? No one else at all who works upstairs for Mah?”

Mikki laughed nervously. “Oh, I see what you mean. Well, there’s Uncle Peter’s driver, Mr. Hu. There’s Mr. Goenda, the bookkeeper, but he actually has his own office across town. There’s Jimmy Yung and Donald Sheng.”

“
What do they do for Mah, Ms. Lung?”

“
Donald does deliveries and Jimmy’s like a personal assistant to Uncle Peter.” She smiled. “I think Uncle Peter really likes Jimmy and is grooming him for bigger things.”

“
Oh, what kind of bigger things?”

“
I think some day he’ll take over the restaurant for Uncle Peter. When Mr. Yi retires, of course.”

“
I see. Anybody else work upstairs for Mah?”

“
Uh, let’s see. I said Benny, Jimmy, Donald. Oh yes, Mr. Foo. He helps Donald with delivery. And Billy Fung.” She made a face. “He doesn’t do very much.”

“
You don’t like Billy Fung?”

“
He’s pretty useless. And oh yes, some guy from Hong Kong who goes around with Billy. Tang Lei. He makes me nervous.”

Hank put a photograph of ShonDale Gregg down on the table in front of her. “Have you ever seen this man, Ms. Lung?”

“
No, I sure haven’t. Who is he, Lieutenant?”

“
We believe it’s someone your boss wanted to meet. His name was ShonDale Gregg. Did you ever hear Mah mention that name?”

“
Gregg? What was the first name again?”

“
ShonDale.”

Mikki shook her head. “No, sorry, Lieutenant. I never heard that name before.”

“
What about someone named Gary?”

“
Um, I don’t think so.”

“
What about Mah’s cousin, Martin Liu? Ever hear him talk about him?”

“
Martin? Oh, you mean the boy that was killed? I remember that. I was a sophomore in high school. My parents talked about it when it happened. My mother was upset because Uncle Peter was upset. We went to the funeral. His poor mother was just devastated. I wonder what happened to her. I haven’t seen her for years now. Not since it happened.”

“
What about Mah, Ms. Lung? Has he been talking lately about Martin?”

Mikki shrugged. “I suppose so. I heard him say once to Jimmy that he really wanted to find out who shot that boy. He…” she hesitated, “didn’t think the police did a very good job finding out who did it.”

“
What about the last week or so? He say anything in the last week about Martin?”

“
This past week? Let me think. Um, not that I can recall. He doesn’t talk about personal things very much in the office, Lieutenant.”

“
You didn’t hear him talking to one of his men about this ShonDale guy, suggesting that he may have had something to do with Martin’s death?”

Mikki’s jaw dropped. “Wow, he did? I mean, is that true? Did he kill Martin? Uncle Peter would sure like to know about that if it’s true.”

“
Just answer the question. Did Mah talk to any of his men about this ShonDale Gregg?”

“
If he did, it’s news to me.”

“
All right, thanks, Ms. Lung.”

Interviews were also conducted with Millie Lung, Mikki Lung’s older sister, who had completed a college program in food preparation and worked at the Bright Spot as the daytime cook, Tom Wong, an elderly man who was the busboy, and two other waitresses. No one recognized the photograph of ShonDale Gregg or had heard his name mentioned around the restaurant, and no one knew anything about what their boss had been doing late last night. Everyone agreed that he came downstairs for dinner at seven and went back upstairs at eight, and no one remembered seeing him after that. They were all sent home as their interviews were completed.

Missing from the roster were Jimmy Yung, Billy Fung, Tang Lei, Benny Hu the driver and Peter Mah himself. After her interview, Mikki Lung called her boss. Peter then called Henry Lee and gave him his instructions. Henry hurried downtown and inserted himself into the process, arriving as Hank was interrogating Foo Yee. The attorney was a short, stout, middle-aged man who was well-dressed without being obvious about it. His dark suit looked expensive but had a few wrinkles from being carelessly crammed into the closet between wears. His watch was understated and the wedding ring on his left hand was a plain gold band. His thinning black hair was shot with grey strands. It was too long and slightly mussed, as though he had driven to the station with his car window down. Hank could detect the odor of cigarette smoke coming from his clothes, and he guessed that Henry was a smoker. He was given a few minutes to confer in private with his client before the questioning resumed.

“
Counselor,” Hank said, sitting down across from Foo, “this is Officer Buddy Hum from Midtown District. He’s been kind enough to lend his services where English might be a problem.”

“
I believe we’ve met before,” Lee said in Cantonese to the uniformed officer who sat down in the chair across from him. “Your mother is the sister of Anthony Wong, is she not?”

“
No,” Hum replied in the same language, “she’s his cousin on her father’s side. My mother has no brothers, only sisters.”

“
My apologies, Mr. Hum. Mr. Wong is a client of mine.”

“
I didn’t know that.” Hum turned to Hank, switching to English. “Mr. Lee was inquiring about my family. One of my mother’s cousins, Anthony Wong, is a client of Mr. Lee’s.”

“
Are you satisfied with Officer Hum’s competence in Cantonese?” Hank asked Lee.

“
Yes, of course.”

“
Fine. We’ve reached a bit of an impasse with your client here, but it has less to do with language than his inability to remember where he was Wednesday night. Now that you’re here, maybe he can tell us what we need to know.

Lee turned to Foo and said in Cantonese, “Go ahead and answer their questions. Where were you last night?”

“
I had a few drinks and went to a few places.”

“
He says he had a few drinks and went to a few places,” Hum translated, then turned to Foo. “Where did you go?”

“
I don’t know. Around.”

“
I asked him what places,” Hum said to Hank, “and he said he doesn’t know. Around.”

“
Who were you with?” Hank asked.

Foo listened to Hum’s translation and shrugged. “Sheng.”

“
Who’s that?” Hank asked.

“
He’s referring to Donald Sheng,” Henry Lee supplied. “He’s another of Mr. Mah’s employees.”

“
Were you with anyone else?” Hank asked.

Foo listened to the translation and made a face. “Guys came and went.”

“
He says that people came and went,” Hum told Hank.

“
What about between eleven and midnight last night?” Hank asked, leaning forward. “Where were you?”

“
A club,” Foo replied when Hum had translated the question. “Don’t know for sure which one. Maybe Sheng remembers.”

When Hum had translated, Hank slid a photograph across the table. “Seen this car before?”

Foo stared at the photograph and said something to Lee, who replied with impatience. Foo sat in silence. Hank looked at Hum.

“
Mr. Foo said, ‘why do they ask me about this piece of shit?’ and Mr. Lee replied, ‘I don’t know. If you haven’t seen the car before, just tell them that.’”

Hank tapped the photograph. “So, Foo, have you seen it before or not?”

Without waiting for a translation, Foo snapped in Cantonese, “I haven’t seen this piece of shit before. Don’t waste my time with shit like this.”

“
He said—”Hum began.

Hank raised a hand. “I got the general drift.” He stood up and walked around the table until he was behind Foo. Leaning down over his shoulder, he said, “here’s the thing, Foo. This car was stolen Wednesday night and used to transport a murder victim to a dump site in South Shore East. We’re going over it right now and I’m betting that we’re going to find evidence that proves you were in it. Why not just tell us about it and save yourself a lot of trouble later?”

“
He says that we are examining the car and expect to prove that you were in it last night,” Hum told Foo in Cantonese. “He says it would be better to tell them about it now.”

“
Like fuck. He can fuck his neighbor’s dog for all I care.”

“
He says you can fuck your neighbor’s dog,” Hum said.

“
My neighbor doesn’t have a dog, smartass.” Hank went back to his chair and sat down. “Counselor, if your client wants to be treated like a hardassed gangster we can do that. No problem.”

“
Give me a moment,” Lee said. To Foo he said in Cantonese, “I told you before what was expected of you. Mr. Mah’s instructions are quite clear. Cooperate and give whatever answers you can. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut. Do you understand?”

Foo sighed. “I understand.” He looked at Hum. “Tell the dog’s asshole I haven’t seen the car before.”

“
He says he hasn’t seen the car before,” Hum said.

Hank slid another photograph across the table. “What about this guy? Seen him before? Maybe Wednesday night?”

Foo looked at the photograph and turned to Henry Lee. “I haven’t seen this piece of shit before. Can I go now?”

“
He says he hasn’t seen him before,” Hum translated.

“
Know anything about a man named Gary?”

Foo listened to the translation and shook his head.

“
Can I see the bottoms of your shoes?”

After a moment’s silence, Hum said, “show him the bottoms of your shoes.”

“
Like fuck I will.”

Henry Lee stirred impatiently. “Foo, you idiot, show the man your shoes.”

“
These people are fools.” Foo lifted up his left leg and draped it over the corner of the table.

Hank got up and looked at the sole of Foo’s left shoe. “Now the other one.”

“
The other one,” Hum translated. “Show him the bottom of your other shoe now.”

“
Why not?” Foo draped his right leg over the corner of the table next to his left leg, smiling.