Dragon Gate (5 page)

“I know, I know.” She stepped through the car into the backseat and folded her arms in resignation.

I climbed into the driver’s seat, started the car, and looked over at Rayna. “Was your mother working today?”

“Yes. She works at Sundown Hospice Center.”

“I don’t get up to Boulder very often. Which way do we go?”

Rayna glanced at me. “A man who will ask for directions? I’m impressed.”

“Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret. We don’t ask for directions if we don’t want to get where we’re going. We’re usually not lost.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Cruise down to 28th and turn right. We’ll take Baseline.”

I followed her directions through Boulder, and before you could say “antidisestablishmentarianism,” we were at the Sundown Hospice Center.

The modernist building had a rolling roof that would have made an impressive Slip’N Slide, but which could be a problem in heavy snowstorms. The siding was painted with muted earthy colors. It looked comfortable, which I suppose was the point. When you’re dying, you certainly don’t want to be uncomfortable, but you don’t want a bright and cheery atmosphere either.

Rayna had me drive to the far end of the parking lot. She pointed to a black Mercedes. “That’s Mother’s car.”

I parked beside the Mercedes and escorted Rayna to the building. My eyes swept the parking lot, looking for any sign of danger, but the place was calm. A family was getting into a car in the next row, and from the somber looks on their faces, I knew they were watching a loved one die. Such times are never easy, and my heart went out to them.

Esther walked ahead of us.

We entered through the double glass doors, and Rayna approached the receptionist counter. A guest book sat open, facing us. I glanced at it and saw you were supposed to write your name, the room number you were visiting, and the time you arrived. When you left, you were supposed to enter the time you exited.

“Hi, Ann,” Rayna said to the receptionist. “Is my mother still here? She won’t answer her phone.”

Ann was a middle-aged overweight woman with a kind face. She wore thick glasses and a flowered blouse. She looked at Rayna, and when she spoke, I detected a note of concern in her voice.

“I haven’t seen Liz in hours. I checked her office when your brother called, and she wasn’t there. She still isn’t answering her phone?”

Rayna shook her head. “My friend and I are going to have a look around.”

“Of course.”

Rayna and I walked down a hallway past a chapel and an open area with plenty of tables and chairs beside a kitchen. There was a sign on the refrigerator, but I couldn’t read it at this distance.

Esther passed through each door as we walked down the hall just in case Liz was there. Each time she exited, she shook her head.

We moved past a row of offices and stopped at the one with
Elizabeth Noble
engraved on a sign beside the door. The light was off.

Esther walked through the door and returned a few seconds later.

“It’s dark but I think there’s a body on the floor,” she said.

I glanced down the hall and saw a nurses’ station at an intersection. Patient rooms would be down the three halls shooting off from that counter. Two women sat at computers at the station, but they weren’t looking at us.

“Allow me,” I said. I grabbed the doorknob to Elizabeth’s office, but it was locked. “You have a key?”

“She never locks the door,” Rayna said. “I can get a key from Ann.”

“It’s all right. I’ve got this.”

I picked the lock in less time than it takes to write about it—a skill I’d acquired recently—and pushed the door open. When I flipped the light switch, the office appeared to be empty aside from the large desk and chairs. The chair behind the desk was pushed off to the side and up against the wall. The tiled floor looked clean except for a pool of crimson under the desk. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Esther was right.

“Wait here,” I said. I entered the office and walked to the side of the desk.

A headless woman’s body lay on the floor in a puddle of blood. I didn’t see any sign of struggle. Based on her position, she’d either knelt on her own or she’d been forced to her knees and held there while someone decapitated her.

“What is it?” Rayna asked from the doorway.

I held out my hand, palm toward her. “Stay there. You don’t want to see this.”

I cursed under my breath and moved closer. The woman’s head had rolled under the desk. From the state of the blood, I’d say she’d been there for at least a few hours.

Rayna ignored my suggestion, and I heard the sudden intake of breath when she saw her mother.

I turned and took her in my arms. “I’m sorry.”

She sagged against me, shaking as she cried into my shoulder. I held her tight. I had no words for her, but when a parent dies, you really don’t want any words because they feel empty and change nothing.

Esther stood at the doorway, keeping watch. I glanced over at her a few times, and she gave me an all-clear signal.

When the tears slowed, I patted Rayna’s back. “Let’s get you out of here. I’ll call the police. They can ID her.”

She gathered herself, pulled away, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I can handle it,” she said as she moved to the body.

“Don’t touch anything,” I said. “This is a crime scene.”

“Where’s her head?” Rayna asked.

I pointed under the desk, and Rayna dropped to one knee to look. I expected the tears to start again, but she rose and met my gaze. Her eyes seemed almost lifeless in that moment.

“It’s her,” she said. “That’s Mother.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She closed her eyes and took a series of deep breaths then stepped closer to me. She gestured toward her mother. “If you’d been here, could you have protected her?”

I nodded.

“My brother will tell you we aren’t in any danger.”

“That’s what he said.”

Rayna shook her head. “He’s lying. I want you and Ms. Chan to be our protectors. The Marshall Clan will be after us next.”

“So you know who did this.”

“Of course.”

“Your brother let that slip too, but he refused to elaborate.”

“I’ll tell you what I know but not here.” She glanced at her mother’s body.

“I understand.”

I led her out of the room. We went back to the receptionist’s desk, and I told Ann to call the police. I gave her my card and told her to pass it along to the officer in charge but that I wanted to get Rayna home. I didn’t have any connections in the Boulder Police Department, and I knew they wouldn’t appreciate our leaving the scene, but as the Nobles were wealthy, I figured we could get plenty of leeway. The rules really don’t apply to rich people.

KELLY CHAN

Riding in the back of the Rolls Royce, I decided I really liked being chauffeured around. The seat was comfortable, and Graham wasn’t much of a talker, which suited me fine. We drank wine on the ride over. I could get used to this. The windows were made of one-way glass, so I could see out, but no one could see in. That struck me as a nice tactical advantage.

When we arrived at the banquet hall, we stepped out of the Rolls. I placed my hand on Graham’s arm at the crook of his elbow, and we approached the place as if Graham owned it. He probably did.

A man dressed in a nice suit opened the door for us. “Good evening, Dr. Noble.”

“How are you tonight, Charlie?”

“I’m well, sir.”

“Give my regards to Diana and the children.”

As we walked down a crowded hallway, all eyes were on us. Graham leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You look lovely, Ms. Chan.”

I nodded but kept my eyes on the people who milled about. They all wore expensive clothes. One outfit would probably pay the rent on my dojo for a year. The first thing I looked for was anyone who seemed out of place. Was someone wearing a Timex instead of a Rolex? Did someone have shoes from Famous Footwear? Were there any telltale bulges hiding a gun? Did anyone touch his or her waist, doing a weapon check? I did all of this simultaneously, letting my eyes pass over everyone. If something were off, I would know.

While Stephen Noble died on the wrong end of a sword, it was best to keep an eye open for anything. I did notice a few bulges that were definitely guns, but a glance at the men in question told me they were bodyguards. Their eyes swept the room like mine, but they either passed over me or lingered a bit too long, checking out my breasts or my legs. The fools. If I were looking to kill someone here, it would be child’s play.

Graham led me to a doorway leading to the banquet room. He stopped to chat with someone who clearly felt he was important. His wife looked bored or maybe stoned. Graham introduced me but I simply smiled and nodded then kept my eyes moving. I wasn’t here for pleasantries; it was my job to make sure Graham survived.

Banners that read,
Welcome Doctors!
hung on the walls.

The banquet room was about the size of a football field with circular tables arranged just so, with eight place settings, colorful floral centerpieces, and large bowls of salad with fancy pitchers filled with a variety of dressings. Cloth napkins folded to look like upside-down boats sat in front of each chair, and the tablecloths looked to be made of white linen.

It would be a bitch to get bloodstains out of those tablecloths should violence ensue. Part of me wished for violence. The other part of me wondered why people would spend so much money to go out and show off how much money they had.

Each woman in the hall had probably spent a small fortune getting her hair done this afternoon. I suspected everyone wore a new outfit too. One couldn’t be seen in public wearing clothes she’d worn before, after all. That would be criminal.

I considered the money being spent here tonight and felt an anger brewing deep in my soul. For a fraction of the cost of this evening, how many women’s shelters could be funded? How many babies could be fed? Or on a personal note, how many weapons could be purchased?

Graham introduced me to a few people. Their names went in one ear and out the other. They were all doctors, and I knew I wouldn’t see them again. I might send some business their way, but that was a subject I didn’t broach.

Eating dinner with strangers was not my idea of a good time. The people were nice enough, though I got the impression they assumed Graham and I were sleeping together. When we finally sat down to eat, I found myself sitting next to an older woman who wore too much perfume. Our table sat by a raised dais with a lectern and microphone. I hoped we didn’t have to listen to a speech.

“My name is Virginia,” the older woman said as she poured herself a glass of water. She gestured with the pitcher. “Would you like some?”

“Sure,” I said and held my glass so she could pour me a drink. “I’m Kelly.”

“Are you in medicine, or are you Dr. Noble’s date?”

“The latter.”

“Nice. How long have you known him?”

“Not long.” I didn’t want to tell her I’d met him less than an hour ago. She’d probably think I was from an escort service.

“He’s done so many good things for the community. We all adore him. Did you meet him at The Steam Room?”

I shook my head. Evidently Graham’s father’s murder wasn’t common knowledge. “A mutual friend introduced us,” I said.

I nudged Graham, who was speaking to an elderly man seated at the next table. Graham turned to me. “Yes?”

I leaned close and whispered, “Do these people not know about your father?”

“It won’t be on the news until tonight. I didn’t want it to interfere with the dinner. There are a few investors who are interested in one of our programs.”

“What kind of program?” I asked.

“We’ve developed a treatment for Alzheimer’s, and several pharmaceutical companies found out about it. Does this matter to you?”

“Not especially.”

Virginia tugged at my arm. I’ve killed people for less, but I turned and gave her a smile. Over smoked salmon and vegetables, I got to hear her entire life story.

When dessert arrived, she took a bite of chocolate mousse and said, “So what do you do?”

“I’m a teacher,” I said.

“How nice. What do you teach?”

“Chinese history.”

An attractive blonde woman in an elegant blue dress stepped onto the dais and approached the lectern. She pulled the microphone down to her level. “Good evening,” she said and waited for the room to quiet. “I’m Dr. Jenkins. Thank you all for coming. Are you enjoying the convention so far?”

A round of applause sounded.

“Excellent,” she said. “This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for. Our speaker tonight is a successful businessman and the inventor of what may prove to be the breakthrough drug of the twenty-first century. Please put your hands together for Dr. Graham Noble!”

Shit. Graham was the keynote speaker?

He rose and waved to the crowd as he stepped onto the dais.

The son of a bitch didn’t tell me he was speaking. I hadn’t secured the room. If someone wanted to kill him, he’d be an easy target.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.”

The applause died down, and he began to speak. I didn’t listen.

Instead, I excused myself from the table and moved toward the doors. I wanted to be close to Graham to protect him, but my instincts told me that the people here in the room were not dangerous. I’d checked them out as they entered. If there were danger, it would come from the doors or possibly from the wait staff, though everyone seemed fine to me, and I’m an excellent judge of danger. It’s difficult to explain, but dangerous people carried themselves differently.

If someone were in the room behind the banquet, he or she could open fire through the wall with a machine gun, and I wouldn’t be able to save him. I glanced back at Graham when I reached the door.

“As some of you know,” he said, “my uncle Lucas and my mother, Liz, run the Sundown Hospice Center and they get Alzheimer’s patients from time to time. They’d been using the standard drugs—Aricept, Exelon, Razadyne, and Namenda—to treat dementia and memory loss in their patients. Three years ago, however, one patient insisted on using a blend of natural herbs and chemicals, and as he was dying anyway, a family member administered it without my uncle’s knowledge. Amazingly the patient’s memory returned quickly and there were no noticeable side effects.”