Lethal Legacy (14 page)

“You mean someone raped you?"

“No. He had a knife; I'm sure he intended to kill me."

Mr. Fenwick leaped to his feet. “I don't believe it.” He strode the length of the room
and came back to glower down at her. “We've never had anything like that happen
here."

Amy stood up. “It's happening now."

Ivan Fenwick crossed his arms over his bulging pectorals. “The sheriff told me the doctor
murdered his wife."

“Cam Nguyen was in jail when my car was tampered with."

“Ah, but he was here today, Doctor.” He spread legs the size of tree trunks, put his
hands on his hips and thrust out his jaw. “Maybe he figures you're messing in matters
better left alone."

“There was another man here today; the man who was playing handball with the doctor."

“You mean Kim Sen. You're way off base, lady. Kim wouldn't hurt a fly."

Amy wrote the name in her notebook and studied it for a moment. Where had she heard that
name before? “How long has Mr. Sen worked for you?"

“Eight or nine months."

“What do you know about him?"

“He's a good, reliable worker, gets along with people, and is never late. That's all I
need to know."

“What's the name of the Asian who works nights?"

“Victor Samphan. He,” He halted abruptly. “Now wait a minute. I don't want to get anyone
in trouble."

“We've already eliminated your Caucasian employees. If we can do the same with the two
Asians, you're in the clear. Have you had some trouble with Victor?"

“He's got a short fuse. Gets mean when he drinks. Knocks his kids and old lady around.
He's been jailed a few times. But I sure as hell don't think he'd get mixed up in a
murder."

“I used to work at the crime lab in Seattle. I saw terrible things committed by people
who didn't appear to be the type. Do both of your men have keys to the exit doors of the
club?"

“Yes."

“Would you give me their addresses?"

“Well, I might,” Fenwick rubbed the back of his neck and narrowed his eyes at her, “if
you agree to forget the assault. Rumors like that can ruin a club.” He smiled and
gestured to a chair. “Let's relax and talk about it."

Amy sat down. “I do intend to find the man. Make no mistake about that, Mr. Fenwick."

“Make that Ivan, Dr. Prescott. And you're welcome to use the club facilities any time
you'd like."

“I doubt if I'll be spending much time in Wheeler once this case is closed. However, any
mention I might make about your club shouldn't endanger your business."

“Fine. Fine. Glad to hear it.” Ivan beamed at her, got to his feet, pulled out a drawer,
and handed her two time cards.

The greenhouse gardeners told Amy that Cam hadn't returned and they
didn't know where he was staying. Amy left a note for him with the head gardener telling
him they were dealing with two men instead of just one. She warned him to use caution
since the men might think he knew the location of the item they sought. She closed with
a plea for him to call her or Jed.

With that out of the way, she consulted the information Ivan Fenwick had given her. Kim's
address led her to a two-story clapboard building with faded white paint. The landlady
who presided over the rooming house either didn't speak English or didn't want Amy to
know that she did.

Amy studied the cars at the curb. If either Kim or Victor was the culprit, it was
possible that one of them owned the blue pickup that followed her the first day she'd
visited Cam at the jail.

She drove up the alley behind the rooming house and came upon several old cars and an
ancient gray van. Hanuman Janitorial Service was hand-painted in uneven letters on the
van's rust-streaked panels. Amy wrote down the name and the license numbers of the cars
and went on her way.

The quest for Victor Samphan led her to a remote wooded canyon. Through thick stands of
fir, she caught glimpses of the turbulent water of the Wasku River. After following a
mud-slick lane for several miles, she located Samphan's house. Set back in a grove of
cedars, it was scarcely visible from the road.

When Amy knocked, a woman opened the door only wide enough for her slender body to slip
through. She appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties, yet her face looked
drawn and haggard.

“Hello,” Amy said, and smiled at her. The woman's dark eyes remained wide with fear. “Are
you Mrs. Samphan?” she asked.

When the woman nodded nervously, Amy asked, “Is your husband at home?"

The woman shook her head. “No, he's not here."

“Perhaps I could wait. Do you expect him back soon?"

The woman twisted cracked, reddened fingers together. “I don't know.” She moistened her
lips. “Probably two or three hours. He, he's very seldom home. He works two jobs."

“I see.” Amy gave her a business card. “Please have him call me. I want to ask him a few
questions."

The woman nodded and closed the door.

Amy slogged through the mud to her car. A whole day lost and nothing gained. When she
happened to glance behind her, she glimpsed a man watching her from around a corner of
the house.

Then she spied the blue pickup in the shed.

“Shit!"

Jed's expletive traveled through the receiver with such force it hurt her ear. “Getting
angry won't help, Jed."

“I don't give a damn. Do you think Cam's carrying a gun?"

“Could be. I tried to argue him out of getting one the other day. That may be why he's
avoiding me."

“Jesus, I hope he doesn't screw around and get himself in worse trouble than he already
is."

“He's like a different person."

“A man whose wife has been brutally raped and murdered changes, Amy. I'll take a run over
there tomorrow and see if I can find him. Let me know if he calls you."

Amy hung up the receiver and went to look out the living room window. Rain sprayed the
glass and droplets drizzled down the slick surface. In the muted glow of me lamppost,
she could see water overflowing the gutters. Cars created geysers as they plowed through
hub-deep pools.

Cam could be out patrolling the greenhouses in this deluge, she thought. Anything could
happen. He wasn't used to such hardships. What would he do if confronted by Mat's
assailants? He was a doctor, not a fighter. She doubted if he even knew how to defend
himself.

She rinsed and dried the few dishes she'd used for dinner. When alone, she seldom felt
justified in using the dishwasher. When she'd given the kitchen a thorough cleaning, she
moved on to the living room. There she straightened stacks of forensic science journals
on the dark oak coffee table, and fluffed cinnamon, gold, and green velvet pillows
decorating the glide rocker and the toffee-colored couch.

All the while she worked, she sensed an underlying desperation in her attempt to put her
house in order. Yet, she refused to let herself consider the source.

By eleven o'clock she had run out of excuses to stay up, so she put on a flannel shirt
that had belonged to Nathan and went to bed. She seldom wore the shirt for fear it'd
lose his scent, but tonight she feared she might need the comfort the shirt gave
her.

The instant she turned out the light, fear clutched her chest. Again, she stood in the
basement of the gym straining to see the killer. Would he come at her with his hands, or
his knife? Perspiration broke out on her body and she fought for breath.

The sharp shrilling of her bedside phone jerked her back to reality. Her pulse still
racing, she snatched up the receiver. “Hel-Hello?” She stammered. Her voice sounded
shrill and breathless to her ears.

“I had to know that you were all right."

“Nathan...” She gulped for air.

“Sorry I woke you."

“You didn't"

“Amy, I know this is wrong. But I got that awful feeling about you again today and I was
afraid that ... Are you sure you're all right?"

She hadn't told her father or Jed about the attack, How could he have known? To avoid
answering the question, she changed the subject. “I'm glad you called. I needed to talk
to you."

“What about?"

“I mailed you copies of the fingerprints we have. APIS has nothing on the two men."

“There are two?"

“Yes. One of them was in one of the pictures you took when you were in the Asian
vegetable market"

“Send me an enlarged print."

“I will. Remember the piece of caramel candy I found by the fir tree? The dentist says
the man has a broken front tooth. And the man who was watching me the day I was at Cam's
house does too."

“You didn't mention anything about such a man the last time we talked."

She took a quick breath. “I must have forgotten. Anyway, one or the other or both
ransacked Pran's greenhouse. Uprooted a bunch of plants. He killed one of the gardeners.
Broke his neck and back."

There was a silence before Nathan finally said, “I thought they might be Khmer
Rouge."

“What? This isn't Cambodia."

“The FBI have had reports of them infiltrating Asian communities in the U.S."

“The man who saw the driver who hit Mr. Pran referred to him as one of the
yavana.
He refused to identify him."

“Smart man. They would kill him
and
his family."

“An Asian woman I met says they're extorting money from the shopkeepers. Do you think
they're the same men who killed Mai?"

“Their methods are similar, but that doesn't mean much."

“How am I to solve a crime when everyone is too frightened to tell me anything?"

“Whatever you do, be careful, Amy. I have seen the awful things these men do to women. I
fear for you."

For an instant, she was back in the dark locker room again. “So do I. I don't even trust
Cam anymore. I, I ... Oh, Nathan, I wish you were here.'”

He let out a long sigh. “I wish I were too."

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “I know it would only make things worse for you."

“Impossible. My life is already a mess. In the four months I've been married, I've slept
with my wife once, and that was on our wedding night"

Amy felt as if her jaws had locked and it hurt to force out words. “Why is that?"

“I don't know. When I try to talk to her, she cries and begs me not to leave her."

Amy didn't want to hear about their problems, didn't want to feel sorry for a woman who
stood between her and the man she loved. “Have you tried a counselor?"

“Angela refuses. Worse yet, I have no way of knowing if her problems are because of
something I did or something I did not do.” He sighed. “I shouldn't ask you this, Amy,
but I have to know. Was I a good lover?"

“Nathan..."

“Please, Amy, tell me. Did I give you pleasure?"

If he had cut out her heart, she couldn't have hurt any worse. Still, she couldn't deny
him the reassurance he needed. “No one has ever made me feel as you did. I, I didn't
even know I was capable of experiencing such ... of feeling like that."

“Neither did I,
Mihewi.
When I am with you, I have,” he cleared his throat,
“
spirit
feelings ... My people call it
liloiz gaudeo,
causing
joy."

Amy was silent, not knowing how to respond.

“Then, there is the other feeling,” Nathan continued. He laughed softly. “You smile, or
flip your hair, or flash your eyes at me and my heart thunders. I think, I must touch
her. And when I do,” his voice grew husky, “
Mikewi,
my Sun Woman,
heteuit,
my blood turns to fire and I want you."

“I know."

“You feel that way
too?"

“Yes."

“
Mihewi
...” He hesitated for a long moment. “Amy, would you have made love with me
the last time I saw you?"

“Yes."

He chuckled. “Right there in your conference room?"

Her laughter had a bittersweet quality about it. “On the chair, on the table, on the
floor. It wouldn't have mattered to me."

“Or to me.” He drew in a deep breath, then let it out. “Describe your bedroom. I want to
picture you there."

She smiled, thinking of him imagining her. “The wallpaper is cream-colored with little
yellow roses. The curtains and spread are white with lace trim."

“What do you have on?"

She laughed. “Your flannel shirt."

“My shirt! I thought you would be wearing something pink and filmy I could see
through."

“I have some of those too, but at special times I wear your shirt because it comforts
me."

“Amy, how can you forgive me for what I have done to you?"

“You did what you thought was right at the time.” She gave a weary sigh. “And that, I'm
afraid, is a lot more praiseworthy than what we're doing now."

The next morning, as Amy was dressing, the twins made her aware of their
presence again. “Good morning, babies,” she said, somewhat self-conscious at hearing her
voice in the quiet room. Recently she'd read that pregnant women should talk and sing to
their unborn babies. Researchers claimed an unborn child had thoughts and feelings and
might even sense its mother's moods. Since that was the case, she decided she'd sing and
talk regardless of who might think she'd slipped a cog. Besides, it made the twins seem
more real and helped ease her loneliness.

“So, J. T. and J. B.,” she said in a cheerful tone. “I guess it's about time I started
thinking about getting a nanny."

She took a pencil and scratch pad into the kitchen and wrote.
Wanted: Live-in
Nanny,
at the top of the page, then stirred rolled oats into water and started
the microwave.
Motherly woman.
In her mind, she envisioned a plump, large-bosomed
woman of around fifty.

Amy dropped two slices of bread into the toaster and scribbled.
Must love
children.
When the toast popped up, she buttered it and sat down to eat. “You
guys are certainly changing your mother's life. Before you came along, I seldom thought
of food. Now look at me.” She laughed. “One way or another, you're going to turn me into
a blimp."