Outside, Chuck unlocked the door to the herb shop and we went in. He led the way through the bead curtains at the rear, into a combination office and storage room. It contained a teak desk, and he sat down behind it and immediately rattled off half a dozen sentences in Chinese. The doorman moved over to a crate of some kind and sat on it and looked at the wall.
“I told him deafness is a virtue,” Chuck said to me. “We can speak freely now.”
“I’ve been speaking freely. It’s your turn.”
He made a steeple out of his hands and postured them against his lower lip. “Is it true that Jimmy Quon is dead?”
“It’s true. I found him myself, a little more than an hour ago.”
“At the temple of Tien Hou?”
“That’s right. With his head bashed in.”
“I do not like that,” Chuck said. “A place of worship... such a crime is a sacrilege.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“How do you know Carl Emerson is responsible?”
“He hired Quon to kill Lieutenant Eberhardt; you already know that. What he’s doing is burning his bridges. You understand what that means?”
“I am familiar with the expression.”
“All right. Does Emerson know you know he hired Quon?”
“No.”
“Where did you hear it? From Quon?”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you why?”
“Not specifically.”
“Then as far as Emerson is concerned, Quon and one other person besides Eberhardt were the only ones who could link him to the shooting. He bought off the other person, but Quon was a different story.”
“Who is this other person?”
“You don’t need to know that. It’s not important. The point is, Quon was making trouble because I pushed him into it. I suppose you know he tried to ambush me last night at my flat?”
“No, I did not know that.”
“Well, he did. And Emerson didn’t like it; he doesn’t know I’m on to him, and he was afraid I’d get Quon before Quon got me — afraid his name would come out into the open. Quon set up another ambush tonight; that was what he was doing at the temple. And what I was doing there, but I didn’t know that until afterward. Emerson found out about it and went there and murdered Quon. You see?”
“Yes,” he said. “I see.”
I moved over to the desk, rested a hip against it. “Was Mau Yee anything to you? A close friend?”
“No. An acquaintance.”
“But he was Chinese and he was a member of Hui Sip. You wouldn’t want to see his killer get off free, would you? A Caucasian?”
“Perhaps not.”
“Unless Emerson is a friend of yours. Is he?”
“No.”
“So you tell me where I can find him and I’ll take it from there. That way, we’re both satisfied. Hui Sip, too.”
“Do you intend to kill Mr. Emerson?”
“I don’t know what I intend to do with him. I’ll figure that out when the time comes.”
“Perhaps you will decide to turn him over to the authorities.”
“That’s a possibility.”
“If that were to happen, would you give them my name?”
“No. Not as long as you’re cooperative.”
“I would not like to be harassed by the police,” he said.
“I’m not interested in you, Chuck. Now that Jimmy Quon is dead, the only person I’m interested in is Emerson.”
I watched him think. At length he said, “Will you believe me if I tell you I do not know where you can find Mr. Emerson?”
“If it’s the truth.”
“It is. I do not know where he is. He lives in Burlingame; perhaps you should go to his home.”
“I know where he lives. But there’s a chance he might still be here in Chinatown. He didn’t come around to the parlor tonight?”
“No. He did not.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Several days ago.”
“Upstairs?”
“Yes.”
“How often did he come here to gamble?”
“Once or twice a month.” Chuck’s mouth crooked sardonically. “He seldom lost. Mr. Emerson is quite a good poker player.”
“Are you the one who introduced him to Jimmy Quon?”
“Not directly so. Jimmy worked for me on occasion. Mr. Emerson is generous with gratuities when he wins; they struck up an acquaintanceship.”
“When did Quon tell you Emerson had hired him? Before the shooting or afterward?”
“Afterward. Jimmy was afflicted with a loose tongue.”
“If you’d known about it beforehand, what would you have done?”
A small shrug. “Would you have me say I would have attempted to prevent it?”
“No,” I said. The anger was plain in my voice; I wanted him to hear it. “You wouldn’t have done anything. It wasn’t any of your business, was it?”
“My business is herbs,” he said. “And games of chance. I do not concern myself with the folly of others.”
“Very practical. You’re a sweetheart, you are.”
“You may think of me what you wish. What you do about it is another matter.”
“The same thing goes from my point of view,” I said. “That’s another reason why we’re having this talk. Where do I stand with you and Hui Sip, now that Mau Yee is dead?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you fear tong vengeance?”
“Not fear it, no. But I’d like to know what to expect. If Hui Sip considers me an enemy, then I’ll have to make it reciprocal. I’ll have to go after them — and you — the same way I’m going after Emerson.”
Chuck smiled faintly; it did not come anywhere near his eyes. “That would be most foolish. You could not hope to succeed.”
“Maybe not, but I’d have to try. And I could probably make things pretty uncomfortable for you before it was over. Neither one of us wants that to happen. So how do I stand?”
“I cannot speak for Hui Sip. I can only speak as one of its elders.”
“And?”
“I have no particular quarrel with you. Your difficulties here were with Jimmy Quon — a personal matter. I do not concern myself with personal matters any more than I concern myself with human folly.”
“You think the other elders will feel the same way?”
“Possibly.”
“You might want to talk to them about it,” I said. “Just to keep the peace.”
“I will consider it.”
“You do that.” I backed off from the desk. “This has been an interesting little chat. Wouldn’t you say so, Chuck?”
“Most interesting.”
I kept on backing until I reached the bead curtains. When I got there he said, “One final word before you leave. It is my wish that we shall never again have the pleasure of such a stimulating conversation. In view of that wish, my humble opinion is that you would be wise to avoid Chinatown in the future. Were I you, I would not even come here to eat in any of our excellent restaurants.”
“I hear you,” I said. “You leave me alone, I leave you alone. The next time I want Chinese food, I’ll go somewhere out on the avenues.”
“Then I wish you well in your search for Mr. Emerson. Good night, sir. And good-bye.”
I backed through the curtains, across the shop to the entrance. Chuck and the doorman stayed where they were. When I opened the door my hand was shaking a little; I thought that it was a good thing I’d had it in my pocket the whole time, around the gun where Chuck couldn’t see it.
Sometimes, like with the poker players upstairs, you can run a dangerous bluff and get away with it.