Black Karma (22 page)

She looked at him and hesitated.

“It's all right,” he said. “I just need to take a piss and pull myself together.”

She stood reluctantly. “Don't take all night. This place gives me the creeps.”

He nodded his head and waved her away. She turned to walk out the door and toward the bar. As she rounded the corner, she heard the gunshot. The bartender met her gaze with a scowl.

She ran back and slammed the bathroom door open. Kelly sat where she'd left him. His gun lay in his hand at his side. Blood and gore dripped from the ceiling. The smell of cordite overpowered the bathroom stench.

She leaned back against the bathroom door and sighed. “Kelly, what have you done?”

She didn't wait for the police. Despite having a concealed carry permit, the butterfly knives would be a problem. Too, she didn't want to have to explain why she'd been looking for Kelly. The story didn't even make sense to her; she'd have been hard-pressed to explain it to someone else.

She walked out of the bar and into the fog to find her car. Song followed her to her car and waited patiently in the black SUV behind her. She started the ignition, uncertain of her destination, and found herself heading straight for Chinatown and home. Her mind seemed as cloudy as the mist, while the windshield wipers slapped back and forth like forced applause.

When she arrived at her building, she got out of the car to explain to Song she'd be spending the night at home, then ran up the steps of her building. Pressing the elevator sensor, she stepped into the lift.

“‘If you were me, I'd kill myself,'” she repeated as tears welled. She brushed at the errant drops with her hand. “‘If you were me, I'd kill myself?' When are you going to learn to muzzle your fucking mouth? What kind of crazy bitch says shit like that?!”

She cried and couldn't stop. She dropped to the floor of the elevator as sobs racked her body. When she ran out of tears, she lay curled on the floor, too emotionally spent to get up.

Eventually forcing herself upright, she pushed the button on the lift to take her back to the lobby. There was no sign of Song as she got into her car. She headed west toward the hospital. She needed to get a sanity check. She needed to lean against the rock that was Lee. She needed her friend.

The elevator ride to Lee's floor garnered a number of stares. She could only imagine what she looked like: a tall Asian woman with short hair and mascara tracks running down her face, wearing a crimson-red scarf and a long black coat like an anime character. A smirk formed on her lips at the thought.

Automatic pistols swung up to greet her as she walked into Lee's room. She froze. Recognition slowly dawned on the faces of the two bodyguards as the pistols slowly dropped to be holstered again.

“Sorry,” one of the men said. “You surprised us. It's a little late for visitors.”

“I know,” she replied. “I need to see my friend. Can we have a few minutes alone?”

The two guards exchanged looks then opened the door. “We'll be right outside if you need us,” the speaker for the pair said. “Take your time.”

The door closed, and she turned toward Lee's bed. Awake, he studied her warily. She walked over and sat on the edge of the mattress. His drains had been removed. His color looked better.

His eyebrows lifted in a question. “What's wrong?”

“I just needed to see you.”

“This is me, remember? What's wrong?”

“Kelly ate his gun.”

Her statement surprised him. He seemed to think about the idea. “I'd be lying if I said I'll miss him.”

“I was with him, Lee. I told him if I were him I'd kill myself. Then he pulled out a gun and blew his brains all over the ceiling.”

She started to cry again.

Lee's face contorted with anger. “It's a good thing he's dead, or I'd kill him myself, the useless shit.”

Pulling her forward so she could lay her head against his shoulder and cry, he patted her like a child. She rested against him and snuffled.

“It's not your fault,” he assured her. “Kelly didn't die because of you. He killed himself because he got tired of being a useless drunk. You were just the last witness to a selfish existence. He died the way he lived—without a thought for anyone but himself.”

“He said the tan man was looking for Daniel Chen. Kelly was just his gopher. He came to us so we could do his job for him. Maybe you got shot because the tan man thought you were Chen.”

“Do I look like Chen?”

She wiped her eyes, looked at him, and shook her head. “We all look alike to a
gwailo
. I think you look a little like Cary Grant.”

He smiled. “You're an idiot, but I love you.”

She put her head back on his shoulder. “Just a little longer, then I'll be all right.”

He put his arm around her. “Take all the time you want. If you're a good girl, I'll share my Jell-O with you.”

Chapter 26

Around two in the morning, Bai drove from the hospital to Chinatown, where, for the first time in days, she didn't have to pass triad soldiers to get to her door. Her car slipped into its familiar parking spot in the garage. When she reached the third floor, the flat stood dark and empty.

After turning on a light in the kitchen, she poured three fingers of scotch and took the crystal highball glass with her into her bedroom. She kicked off her shoes and shucked her coat onto the floor.

As she sat down on the bed, her phone rang.

“You're late getting home.”

She didn't bother to ask Jason how he knew her whereabouts. “You don't have to worry. I have Song with me somewhere. I had business in town.”

“What kind of business?”

“The kind of business that isn't any of your business.”

“Aren't you interested in finding out
who
the tan man is?”

He had information for her. She could tell by the tone of his voice. “That was fast. I only gave you his prints yesterday.”

“I don't have a name for him. My contact inside law enforcement ran his prints. His identity came back as a classified file with a federal hold, which means your tan man either was or is a federal agent. Or he's in witness protection.”

She appreciated his efforts but felt a sudden urge to go to sleep. Her head lolled as she tried to think. Her brain refused to work. “I'm too tired to think about this tonight. Can we talk tomorrow?”

She took a drink of scotch in an effort to numb herself.

“Do you want company?” he asked.

“Not tonight.”

“Are you all right, Bai?”

“I've had a bad night. I confronted Kelly. He blew his brains out. I feel like it's my fault, even though, rationally, I know that's not true. I think I've had as much as I can handle for one day. I have to rest.”

“If you need anything, call me.”

“I will. Thanks for the information. I'm going to sleep now.”

She ended the call then downed her drink before sprawling on the bed and wrapping the coverlet around her like a cocoon. There didn't seem to be any need to undress. She pulled her knees up until she curled into a fetal position. Her dreams were filled with blood and guilt.

Morning came much too soon.

Her phone woke her at eight. She looked at the display but didn't recognize the caller. When she answered, a surly voice greeted her. “This is Howard. I've been expecting your call. Why haven't you called me?”

“Good morning, Howard. Yes, I've been doing well. Thank you.”

She snapped her phone shut and pulled the covers over her head.

“Jackass,” she mumbled.

A minute later her phone rang again. Howard changed his greeting. “Good morning, Bai. How are you? I hope you're doing well.”

“I feel like dog shit,” she mumbled and hung up on him again.

A minute later her phone rang. When she answered, he blurted, “What does it take to have a conversation with you?”

“Take me to breakfast.”

“When would you like me to pick you up?”

“An hour . . . in front of my building.”

“I'll be there.”

She hauled herself from the bed to the shower, got dressed, and waited in the lobby until a limo pulled to the curb. A chauffeur stepped out to hold the rear door open. She exited her building to walk down the steps. She'd dressed, as usual, in black jeans and a leather jacket. Throwing caution to the winds, she'd left her Kevlar coat lying on the bedroom floor.

Howard didn't step out of the car to greet her. She found him working feverishly on a laptop inside the rear compartment. He didn't look up when she entered. His fingers flew across the keyboard for another minute before he closed the laptop and turned to her.

“Sorry,” he said. “Memos had to go out immediately. A great deal of money was at stake.”

“I understand. Business is business.”

“Where would you like to go for breakfast?”

“The Cliff House. I'd like to see the ocean. I find the sea calming.”

“Did you get that, Jan?” he asked his driver through the open glass partition.

Jan answered without turning around. “Yes, sir. I'll see to the reservation.”

“So, this is your idea of a private conversation?” she asked.

Howard leaned forward to push a button that raised the glass partition. “Is that better?”

“Much. Thank you.”

“I understand you met with my mother,” he said glumly.

“I did.”

“What did you discuss?”

“Bloodlines.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Ours, as it turns out. Were you aware your cousin Jason is the father of my child?”

He looked surprised. “No. I wasn't.”

“Your mother is very aware. She sees my daughter as the heir to Kwan Industries. How do you feel about that?”

“How old is your daughter?”

“Thirteen.”

He smiled. “For a minute, I thought I was already being replaced.”

“That doesn't speak well of your mother.”

“You should take that up with my two older siblings. I suspect they feel the same way after being replaced.”

“How do you feel about marrying a woman who comes to you having had your cousin's child? Won't that bother you?”

“Not nearly as much as I suspect it will bother Jason,” he replied with a self-satisfied smile.

The thought of his cousin's displeasure seemed to delight him. She didn't consider his glee a mark of good character. Moreover, she didn't want to become embroiled in a bitter family dispute, especially one involving Jason. He and she hadn't always agreed, but they'd always cared for and protected one another.

“Do you want to marry me, Howard?”

He seemed to ponder the question. “I have to marry someone. It really doesn't matter to me whom. I imagine I'll go on living as I always have, devoted to my work and traveling from country to country. You should know being married to me will be a lonely affair.”

He stopped and pursed his lips. “Having said that, I also have to admit I'm attracted to you. I don't quite understand my feelings. I find you entertaining and unpredictable, and annoyingly honest. I'm not saying I'm in love with you, but I wouldn't mind giving a relationship a try. It would be a first for me.”

“What do you mean by ‘relationship'?”

“A real marriage isn't what I'm suggesting. You have to understand I don't have much experience in these matters. My parents' marriage is more of a business contract than a union. The only thing they have in common is a company that consumes them and three sons they've spent their lives ignoring.” He hesitated. “I'm not proposing monogamy or anything that confining.”

She studied his features. He seemed to be serious. His expression appeared thoughtful, though his concept of a relationship was vague, at best. What he'd described barely qualified as dating, let alone a marriage.

She tried a different tack. “What do you think your mother is looking for?”

“That's an interesting question. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure.”

“Your mother hinted she wanted to train me to take over as chairwoman of Kwan Industries when she retires.”

“That's not entirely implausible,” he said, smiling. “My mother's motives have always been a mystery to me. If what you say is true, it would definitely be advantageous for me to marry you. I've always suspected I'm the Prince Charles of Kwan Industries. I fear I may reach old age without ever plucking the crown from my mother's head. Perhaps together, we might wrest control from the old girl.”

Though he smiled, she got the feeling he wasn't joking. A glint of hope, or perhaps greed, slipped past his cool demeanor, giving her the impression he craved the helm of Kwan Industries and wasn't sentimental about how he achieved the position.

“I don't think your mother would be easily displaced,” she observed. “She's a formidable woman.”

“Then it should be interesting. You're also a formidable woman. Let the jousting begin,” he said, throwing his arm out for emphasis.

She smiled, letting him think his nonchalant attitude fooled her. He obviously sought allies in his bid for power. Her concern centered on whether or not he could be trusted. He joked about opposing his mother for control of the family business. Two brothers had already been set aside. The pattern of deceit and betrayal within the family disturbed her.

They reached the Cliff House and walked into the Bistro to have breakfast. Their table rested next to a window where they had a view of the Pacific. Held at bay, a gray bank of fog roiled a few miles offshore. The churning water below reflected the same dreary shade as the overcast sky.

She sat and enjoyed the view while savoring the welcoming smells of coffee, baking bread, and frying bacon inside the warm café. After lots of coffee and a Dungeness crab omelet, she felt almost human again. Howard appeared reluctant to leave. He sipped his cappuccino as he studied her from across the table.