Lethal Legacy (21 page)

“Yes."

“The terrible times my parents went through made them paranoid.” He uttered an
embarrassed laugh. “They're always imagining they see Polpotites. Turn right at the next
light."

“From what I hear, Mr. Yong, they may be right"

He stared at her, the streetlights glinting on the whites of his eyes. “You're
joking."

“No, I'm not.” Amy signaled and turned onto a darker, narrower street. “The FBI think
former members of the Khmer Rouge have infiltrated many of the Asian communities."

“No,” he firmed his lips and shook his head, “Immigration is very strict. They'd never
allow such a thing to happen."

“Aliens have been coming ashore here, or sneaking over Canada's border, for years. There
are probably many more illegals here than we think."

“No way. Dr. Prescott. Everyone in the neighborhood would be talking about it. There,”
Antoan pointed to a two-story, tile-roofed building with sweeping up-tilted eves,
“that's the Golden Turtle.” A sign with hundreds of glistening gold lights outlined the
image of a turtle. “Park at the side,” Antoan said.

Amy did as he instructed and turned off the ignition. “Does your mother think the Golden
Turtle is connected to the Khmer Rouge?"

“She says Mr. Chinn, the owner, collaborated with them.” Antoan made a face. “She has not
yet learned to trust people."

Amy took in a breath and let it out slowly. “I hope she's wrong.” She checked her
shoulder holster. “Thank you for showing me the way."

“I'd better come in with you."

Red lacquered panels trimmed with intricate gold and black scrolls framed the dimly
lighted foyer. Man-sized bronze Fu-Lion dogs crouched on either side of the entryway. A
massive Asian, wearing a blue suit that threatened to part at the seams if he flexed a
muscle, leaned against the archway leading into the lounge.

He regarded her imperiously as she approached. ‘Tourists aren't welcome here,” he
said.

“I'm Dr. Amy Prescott. I'd like to see Mr. Chinn."

“Make an appointment."

“No,” she narrowed her eyes, “I'll call Police Lt. Salgado instead.” She hoped the
lieutenant never found out how often she used his name. “He sent me to see Mr. Chinn.
He's not going to like it when he finds out I was prevented from speaking with him."

“What you want?"

“I'd rather discuss my business with Mr. Chinn."

He pointed a sausage-sized finger at her. “Wait here.” He marched across a darkened room
filled with small tables. On each one, stubby candles flickered in gold-colored glass
containers.

Amy moved inside the archway to get her eyes accustomed to the darkness. A bar lined with
stools occupied one wall. On the other side of the room, tables bordered a small dance
floor. A couple danced to a Dinah Washington tune that was playing on the juke box.

The doorman came back and growled, “He'll give you five minutes.” He jerked his
bullet-like head and started back the way he'd come.

Amy and Antoan followed him down a corridor decorated with gold foil wallpaper printed
with soft charcoal renderings of bamboo. A number of doors opened off the corridor and
at the far end, a stairway led to the second floor. From behind one of the doors came
the voices of a number of men.

Their escort knocked at the door closest to the stairs. When a man said, “Come,” their
escort let them in and left.

A man dressed in a pale pink shirt and black suit sat behind a teakwood desk. He had
broad cheekbones, a long face, and a square chin. He wore a diamond ring on his right
hand and his open-throated shirt displayed a heavy gold chain around his neck.

In a nearby corner stood a mirror-lined and glass-fronted curio cabinet filled with
Shoushan stone chops depicting the Chinese astrological years. Off to the man's right, a
sliding glass door led to an enclosed bonsai garden with hidden lighting.

She and Antoan crossed the room, their feet sinking into plush silver gray carpet. Mr.
Chinn got to his feet Amy was surprised to find he was over six foot tall.

“I am Mr. Chinn, Dr. Prescott,” he said, letting his gaze travel over her. “This is a
delightful surprise.” His smooth vanilla voice sent a riffle of apprehension along her
skin. “I must say, doctors have certainly changed since I last saw one.” He turned up
the corners of his mouth in a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

She put out her hand. “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Chinn.” She gestured to Mr. Yong who
had halted several steps behind her. “Do you know Antoan Yong?"

“We've met.” Mr. Chinn's attention didn't shift to Antoan, nor did he offer to shake
hands. “What can I do for you. Doctor?” he said, waving them toward a couple of
straight-backed chairs in front of his desk.

“I'm an investigator, Mr. Chinn. Mr. Yong tells me a young lady by the name of Chea Le
works here."

Mr. Chinn swiveled his head slowly and his black eyes honed in on Mr. Yong like a timber
rattler on a ground squirrel.

Mr. Yong twisted his fingers together. “I, I may have been mistaken, of course."

Mr. Chinn lifted one shoulder dismissively and once more focused on Amy. “Why are you
looking for this woman?” he asked.

Amy repeated the story she'd told the Yong family and added, “Does she still work
here?"

“No. I can't depend on her. Comes in late, doesn't show up when she's supposed to."

“When did you last see her?"

He picked up a needle-sharp letter opener with a green jade handle. Without taking his
eyes off of her, he tilted back in his white leather chair and cleaned his fingernails
while he pondered her question.

In the silence, sounds from the adjoining rooms became more apparent to her. The murmur
of men's voices seeped in from one side. From overhead came a woman's laughter, then a
rhythmic thumping sound. As she realized the probable cause of the noise, her cheeks
flamed.

Mr. Chinn observed her embarrassment with a half smile and raised one eyebrow a fraction.
The sounds escalated and Mr. Yong squirmed with discomfort.

“My sister.” Mr. Chinn pointed his chin toward the ceiling. His eyes met Amy's. “Quite
insatiable.” He took a black record book from a drawer and ran the letter opener's
glistening tip down the page. “The last time Chea Le graced us with her presence was
January the twelfth."

“Do you have an address, or a phone number where I might reach her?"

“I don't keep employee records.” He stood up. “If there's nothing further, I have work to
do.” Amy and Mr. Yong rose to their feet and started for me door.

“Yong,” Mr. Chinn said. “A word, please."

When Amy stepped into the corridor, she pulled the door to her until it almost closed and
stood with her back to it.

“Don't you ever interfere in my business again,” Mr. Chinn said in a cold, hard tone,
keeping his voice low. “Otherwise, you and your family won't have a business, nor a
building to run it in. Clear?"

“Yes, Mr. Chinn. So sorry, Mr. Chinn. It'll never happen again, Mr. Chinn."

Amy hurried down the corridor, edged into the lounge, and sat down at a table. When a
cocktail waitress approached her, Amy ordered an orange seltzer and asked, “Do you know
where I can find Chea?"

The woman looked at her with a startled expression. “Why?"

“A man might go to prison if I don't find her.” Much to her exasperation, Antoan picked
that moment to appear in the doorway. With a scared look, the waitress backed away and
returned to the bar. Amy swore under her breath as she watched Antoan scurry across the
room without looking right or left.

Amy scanned the faces of the happy hour crowd. At a nearby table, two men sat talking,
their faces intent. One turned his head and she glimpsed a scar that extended from his
cheekbone to his ear.

She frowned and chewed the edge of her lip. Not too long ago, she'd seen a scar like
that, but she couldn't remember where. The waitress appeared at Amy's side, set down the
seltzer, left the change, and hurried away.

When Amy lifted the bottle, she found a small, folded piece of paper. She palmed it and
headed to the rest room. Once inside a stall, she unfolded the note and found a message
that read.
Meet me in the parking lot in fifteen minutes.

Amy sauntered back to her table, sipped her drink, making it last as the minutes dragged
by. Finally, she rose and made her way to the parking lot At the back of the building,
nearly obscuring the rear exit door, stood a large green dumpster. Amy waited in the
shadows.

Five minutes. Ten. Twenty. Amy had begun to lose hope when the exit door opened and me
woman slipped through. “Over here,” Amy whispered.

The woman ran to her. “We can't talk here."

“I have a car."

“Good.” She crouched down beside the dumpster. “Start the motor, open the back door, and
I'll get in."

Mission accomplished, Amy took off down the street with the waitress crouched on the
floor behind the front seat.

“Sorry.” the woman said. “I don't dare let anyone see me talking to you."

“Why not?"

“The whole place went on full alert the instant you went into Chinn's office."

“Because of the gambling rooms and the prostitution upstairs?"

“How did you know?"

“I'm an investigator. I worked at the crime lab in Seattle at a time when there were
several stabbings in this area. I learned the nature of the business conducted in a
place like that."

She turned onto a quiet residential street, pulled over, and shut off the motor. “What's
your name?"

The woman sat perched on the edge of the backseat, wringing her hands. “Lian Choy."

“What can you tell me about Chea Le?"

“We rent an apartment together."

“Is she home? Can I talk to her?"

Lian shook her head. “I haven't seen her in two weeks.” A sob tore from her throat “I
didn't know what to do. She wouldn't like it if I talked to the police."

“Because she's involved in prostitution?"

“That was Chinn's doing."

Amy stared at her. “What do you mean?"

“If Chinn asks a girl to come work in his crib and she won't, he has a friend of his on
the police force pick her up on a prostitution charge."

“Oh, now I see. Mr. Chinn pays her bail, she comes to work, and never gets out of
debt."

“You got it. The dirty, rotten bastard."

“Was Chea dating anyone?"

“Yes, but I never met him. We worked different shifts."

“Did she leave anything in the apartment that'd give me an idea of where she might have
gone, or who she might have been seeing?"

Lian shook her head. “One day I got home from work and everything except her furniture
was gone. All her clothing. Even her books."

“Did she leave a note?"

“Nothing.” She drew in a tremulous breath. “We've been friends for a long time. It's not
like Chea to walk out on people."

“Did any of the neighbors see her move out?"

“The woman down the hall said she saw a man she didn't know in the hall."

“Does she remember anything about him?"

“I was so upset, I didn't ask her."

“Did Chea have a car?"

“Uh-huh. She borrowed from Chinn to get it. Said she might as well, she'd be working on
her back for the rest of her life anyway."

Amy turned, knelt on the front seat and took the other woman's hands. “What kind of a
car?"

Lian saw the look on her face and tears overflowed her eyes. “Oh, God, something awful
has happened to her, hasn't it?"

“What's the color and make?"

“A-a...” Her slender body shook. Her teeth chattered. Finally, she got the words out. “A
b-blue Honda."

Amy arrived at the Cove Restaurant ten minutes late and headed for the
rest room. She combed her wind-blown hair and put on some lipstick. In her haste, she
moved too quickly and winced as the nagging pain in her back radiated into her side and
took her breath away. Damn! Was this what the doctor meant when he said her bones would
spread apart to accommodate the twins?

She pressed her hand against the sore spot and sank onto a padded stool. God, she was
tired. The thought of dealing with Jed and her father at once added to her
weariness.

With a resigned sigh, she rose and went to find their table.

Both men stood up as she approached. B.J. put his hand on her shoulder. “Have a bad
day?"

“You could say that.” She seated herself.

Jed gave her a long, cool look, sat down, and picked up his drink. “So, do we know who
the dead woman is?"

“Captain Morelli said he'd put a rush on the fingerprints.” She took her notebook from
her purse. “Victor Samphan owns the gray van I saw behind Kim's place."

“The one that had Hanuman Janitorial Service painted on it?” B.J. asked.

She nodded, saw the waiter advancing on them, and scanned the menu.

After the waiter had taken their order, B.J. said, “So Victor and Kim may be in this
together."

“Not necessarily. Victor could have been doing some cleaning.” She glanced at the next
item in her book. “Chea Le has an arrest record for prostitution and petty larceny in
Seattle."

Jed rattled the ice in his empty glass. “Did you get an address?” He signaled the waiter
and pointed to his glass.

“She no longer lives there. I talked to a woman who has been sharing an apartment with
Chea."

B.J. beamed at her. “Good work, kitten."

She paused as the waiter served their salads. “Chea moved out two weeks ago and her
friend hasn't heard from her since."

“The timing's right.” Jed took a long pull on the drink a cocktail waitress had
delivered, picked up his fork, and attacked his salad. “B.J. says the woman died at
least ten to twelve days ago."