Dirty Laundry (29 page)

Instead, I pulled a head-sized fluffy gray thing with ears out of a plastic bag and handed it to him. “Here. It’s for Abby. It’s called a Totoro. The lady at the store in Little Tokyo said kids love it. Thought she might like one.”

“Thanks.” Hong Chul made no move to take the toy. Instead, he took a long drag on his cigarette and stared up at the sky. Even in the orange-fizz glow of the parking lot lights, I could see tears forming in his eyes. A taint of pain-filled water, then they were gone, lost in the wispy streams. I put the Totoro back into the bag, paying close attention to fitting its body in past the handles to give him a bit of time to pull himself together.

Mouse-sized moths played death-tag with the lights overhead, creating fuzzy Batman symbols on the asphalt below. A few hundred feet away, the hospital’s ER did a brisk business. The automatic glass doors barely had time to kiss before they were flung open again by someone hurrying in. Several scrub-wearing men and women hung at the edge of the smoking area, fatigue draining their faces to a lifeless gray. Blood and gore stained their cottons, making them look more like hapless butchers than healers.

Personally, seeing how tired they all looked, I’d sooner trust them with a Q-tip than a scalpel, but the hospital had other plans for them. One detached from the pack, then another. Others came to take their places, less splattered but no less tired.

Hong Chul and I were the only civilians. Almost made me want to light up just so I could fit in. As it was, Hong Chul’s pulls on his cigarette seemed halfhearted at best. Nothing compared to the frantic inhale and puff assembly line next to us.

“How’s she doing?” I had to ask. Even if I didn’t want to hear the answer, I had to ask.

“Okay,” Hong Chul grunted. “I guess. Fuck, no one’s saying she’s fantastic, but she’s out of surgery. Fucker nicked her liver. We’ve got to watch her turn fucking yellow and get sick on top of worrying she’d die.”

I knew nothing about the side effects of being stabbed in the liver, but it was never a good thing when an organ got punctured. I couldn’t imagine how small Abby’s organs were. A knife made serious damage in an adult. I’d be surprised if Abby’s insides
didn’t
look like they’d been put through a blender.

“How’d it happen?” His daughter was maybe three feet, tops. Someone would have had to squat down and stab her. It’s not a motion that would have gone unnoticed. “Where’d it happen?”

“My mom took her to one of the Korean malls—I don’t know—for a purse or something.” Hong Chul’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, and I took a step back. Even if Wong had told me Hong Chul was a nonviolent man, keeping out of arm’s reach still seemed like a good idea. “There’s this grocery store on the first floor, and I guess they were having a huge half-off sale. My mom put her in a cart so she wouldn’t get stepped on, then grabbed a bag of rice. She turned around because Abby was screaming, and that’s when she saw all the blood.”

“What did the cops say? Any suspects?”

“Shit, no one saw anything. There were too many people.” He sniffed and looked away. In profile, he seemed more like a lost little boy than the hardened thug Madame Sun made him out to be. His lower lip trembled, and he pulled his mouth in tight, desperately fighting to keep control of his emotions. “Who the fuck does this to a kid?
My
kid?”

I’d done calls with Ben where we’d found a kid in the middle of some of the worst shit imaginable. It always amazed me how brutal people could be to children—especially their own. Just when I thought I’d seen it all, some other monster would crawl out of the pits of hell and show me a new way to carve childhood and joy out of a kid. I wouldn’t want to see that dead-soul film build up in Abby’s innocent eyes.

From the way Hong Chul chewed on the end of his cigarette, he intended to find out who’d hurt his baby girl and God help them.

He pinned me in place, his face desperate with pain. “You think whoever killed Vivian stabbed my kid?”

“Dude, I don’t know, but it’s not something we can ignore.” I wished I could give him some solace, but that kind of hope was too pie in the sky. “What did the cops say?”

“Fucking nothing. There’s a woman cop upstairs. She’s still talking to my mom.” He cleared his throat. “It’s one of the cops who came by earlier. She’s the one who thought I killed Vivian. Told her what I told you, and fuck her if she thinks I did something to Abby.”

“Is her name O’Byrne?” He nodded once, and, belatedly, I wished I’d called Bobby up so I could use him as a human shield if she started in on me. She’d caught Vivian’s murder and Hong Chul was a one degree of separation from that case. It made sense for her to come around to sniff out anything about the assault on Abby. “Yeah, she’s a bitch, but she’s a hardass cop.”

Then, out of the night, I heard her voice “Well, if it isn’t the man I thought I’d have to hunt down tomorrow morning.”

And I was pretty certain she’d just heard me call her a bitch.

There really should be an international warning signal that all evil people should wear. I’d probably catch some shit about freedom of speech or some crap like that, but really, a jester hat with bells would go a long way in keeping people—mainly me—from making an ass out of themselves. At the very least, the scrubs standing between us and the door should have scattered like pigeons when a cat strolled through them, but no such luck. Plastering a pleasant look on my face, I turned and gave her a nod hello.

“O’Byrne.” I kept it short and businesslike. Maybe I was hoping she’d hop on the nearest broom and fly off with her monkeys, but she didn’t deliver.

“McGinnis.” She smiled, her hyena teeth turning a ghastly tangerine in the off-putting light. “Good to know you hold me in such high regard. Especially since I don’t hold
you
in any.”

“Calling them like I see them, Detective.” I made another attempt to hand the fat gray ball over to Hong Chul. This time he took it. The bag crinkled loudly in his fist, and his knuckles turned white, pale even under the citrus glow.

Finishing off the rest of his cigarette, Hong Chul let the verbal ping-pong pass over his head and put the stub out on the cement. Exhaling the last of the smoke out of his lungs, he nodded at me but gave O’Byrne one of his hard looks. It didn’t look like he was any more fond of her than I was.

“You done with my mom, or are you going to be harassing us some more?” The thug Madame Sun had told me about was suddenly evident in Hong Chul’s furious glower. I would have stepped back, but O’Byrne was next to me. I’d have knocked her on her ass, and she’d probably shoot me in retaliation.

“I’m just doing my job, Mr. Park.” O’Byrne used the patented cop soothing voice they’d taught all of us at the academy. “If you’re done here, your mother hoped you’d head back upstairs. Your daughter was beginning to wake up when I left.”

“Fuck, and I’m not there.” Hong Chul swallowed any bile he had left in his throat, and I slapped his shoulder. “I’ll talk to you later, dude. If you find out anything, let me know, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” It was a lie. O’Byrne and Wong would both have my ass if I told Hong Chul I found out who stabbed his daughter first. The detective practically snarled at me when Hong Chul headed inside.

“What the hell are you doing here, McGinnis?” She didn’t even wait until Hong Chul cleared the doors before she turned on me. “And why are you hanging around one of my suspects?”

“He called me. We do yoga together.” I stepped out of the bounds of the cancer-summoning circle. She dogged me, her legs long enough to match my stride.

Once clear of the smoke ring, O’Byrne grabbed my arm and tugged me around. I let her. She was friends with Bobby, and I never knew when I’d need him to hit her up for some info. It didn’t mean I liked it or even wanted her to think she could push me around. O’Byrne pulled every subtle intimidation tactic we’d all be taught. She squared her shoulders and tucked her hands on her hips, pushing back her jacket and exposing her gun.

I knew she wasn’t doing it because she needed to prove she was one of the guys. O’Byrne didn’t play the gender game. She was a
cop
and probably bled blue. I bled red. I’d liked being a cop, but it hadn’t been my entire life. Cops like O’Byrne cut their milk teeth on handcuffs and badges. I’d told Hong Chul the truth. She was a bitch and would stab at me in any way she could if she thought it would get the job done, but the bottom line was O’Byrne was a damned fucking good cop.

And I was glad she’d pulled Abby’s case. Even if she was only on the fringes of it.

I looked down at her hand on my arm, and she released her hold, letting her arm drop to her side. “You really think Hong Chul stabbed his kid? That’s fucked-up, even if you’re in full paranoia.”

“No, I don’t think he stabbed his kid, but he might know who did. I was hoping he could think of someone who was pissed off at him.” O’Byrne’s frown was on me for a moment before her attention flicked over to the ambulance arriving. Something had her on edge. If I were a betting man, I’d have said it was me. “Did he tell you anything I could use? You know, since the two of you go play Frisbee together on Sunday.”

“No, mostly we talked about who could have done it. You got any ideas?” I took her disgusted grunt as a no. “Look, if I had anything solid, I’d tell you. Or maybe Wong. I’d get at least a six pack of beer out of it from him. All I get out of you is attitude.”

“Is this all fun and games for you, McGinnis?” She’d been primed for action when she’d first come downstairs, and I’d apparently tossed the last straw onto her back. “You know, they told me you were a joke, but I thought I’d give you the benefit of the doubt. Now, I see they were right.”

“If you think I give a shit about what some cops say about me, then you’re screwed in the head.” I took a step in, pushing back on O’Byrne’s personal space. She didn’t flinch, facing my body full on. I kept my voice low, but it cracked under my anger. “Madame Sun came to me because the cops blew her off. I went to Wong with whatever I had because he was on the Choi case, and I’d have tried talking to Jenkins if I’d thought it would do any good. So don’t accuse me of thinking this is a joke.”

“I didn’t know you’d gone to Wong before.” Her eyebrows scurried together over her nose. “What for?”

“Gangjun Gyong-Si might be pulling a fake sexual therapy scam with his clients. Eun Joon Lee was one of his clients. I think he got Eun Joon Lee pregnant before she was murdered. Maybe even back in Seoul. I
know
Vivian Na and Hong Chul are both his. I don’t know how May Choi fits into this, other than Gangjun was her maiden name. She might be related to Gyong-Si, but he says no.” I ticked off everything I knew on my fingers, connecting the dots for her. “But then he plays up this campy fortune-teller gig to make himself ‘safe’ for women to see him. And I only have hearsay to go on about the sex thing, so there you go. That’s pretty much everything.”

“I knew Sun had clients dying but didn’t know about this Gyong-Si guy. He’s definitely somehow tied into this, then.” She mulled over what I said. “If he is pretending to be gay, that’s not a crime, per se. Might be fraud but I don’t think it’ll hold up. Abuse of authority if someone talks about it. I’ll see what Wong’s got on him.”

“Doesn’t matter if he’s gay or bi or whatever,” I replied. “The point is someone’s pissed off about it. Maybe he has a lover out there who’s mad Gyong-Si’s sleeping around or a ticked-off husband who found out his wife got knocked up by her fortune-teller. Wong was supposed to see if Lee’s husband knew she was pregnant—”

“They arrested him this afternoon for her murder.” O’Byrne tapped her foot. “I don’t think he did it, but the captain was pushing Wong for it. He’ll be bailed out, pretty sure of it. Everything against him was circumstantial.”

“Jenkins did a shitty job on that case. No way in hell someone climbed over the balcony to get into that apartment.”

“I’d ask how you knew Jenkins put that in his initial report, but it sounds like you’ve got Wong in your back pocket.” She’d sneered when she said it, but I could tell her heart wasn’t in it.

“Nah, found that out before the case became Wong’s.” I didn’t bring up how I got the information. As far as she knew, Jenkins could have told me over a bottle of vodka and a box of Krispy Kremes. “Look, I don’t know what to tell you other than I’m trying to stay out of your guys’ way, but I’ve got a case to run. Sun’s the one who hired me. I work for her. She wanted to find out why her clients were dying. Now, she’s got a dead daughter, and there’s a baby girl upstairs someone tried to put on a skewer.”

“Well, do me a favor—”

“Because you know, we’re so close,” I cut in.

“Don’t be an asshole, McGinnis,” she growled. “We’ve got a couple of witnesses who came forward to say Darren Shim was the shooter but someone else drove the car. If Hong Chul tells you who it is, I want you to let me know. Immediately. It could be the driver’s the one who stabbed Abby. This could all be a warning for Mr. C-Dog to keep his mouth shut.”

“Detective, if Hong Chul knows who was driving that car, you won’t need me to tell you who it is. By tomorrow afternoon, you’re going to be finding his body cut up and smeared all over Koreatown.”

T
HE
next morning after much too little sleep, I discovered I was out of coffee. The cat had lots of food, but somehow I’d let my bean supply dwindle. Grumbling to myself, I got dressed and braved the slightly chilled morning air. I bundled up the papers I’d left on the chest and dashed through the misting sprinklers toward the office. Bolting up the steps, my wet boots hit the fresh paint, and I skidded to a trembling stop. Shaking off as much of the damp spray as I could, I tried to wrestle my keys out of my pocket when it dawned on me I was smelling freshly brewed coffee, and the heavy wooden door was not only unlocked but swung open.

The coffee scent I dismissed. The granola sisters were early risers, and the masochists who jogged before dawn usually stopped in at the shop across the street for their morning hit. But the office door was quite another matter. I dropped the folder I’d carried up from the house onto one of the Adirondack chairs, edged open the screen door, and quietly slid halfway into the office.