"The viciousness of these murders of young women at the very start of their lives has personally touched and horrified me," she was saying.
The sound was low, so Kim had to lean forward to hear her.
"At Tang Ling, we feel we can't stand by without offering our support. It is for this reason that I personally have set up a fund of ten thousand dollars for information leading to the arrest of the coward responsible for these unspeakably cruel crimes. Thank you." She put the paper down.
The person interviewing her started asking questions, but Kim couldn't understand what Tang was saying. All he could see was the sign in front of her. A sign in the shape of a check with the words on it: TANG LING, LTD., OFFERS $10,000 REWARD FOR ARREST OF THE BRIDE KILLER.
"I won't rest until I see the coward punished," she said.
The bartender finally came over. "What'll you
have?"
Feeling all alone in the world and sadly misunderstood, Kim hugged his carryall and shook his head.
Fifty-eight
C
lio's car was in the driveway. A yellow Saturn.
Mike pulled in behind it, and April felt a warning jab from the ghost, Trouble, that sometimes burrowed in her stomach. She was still queasy from Wendy's thirty-six-hour crisis—the sick and threatened woman all alone and drinking herself to death. Maybe on purpose, but maybe not. Now this innocent-looking two-family house with the dog inside barking its head off. Trouble everywhere.
Mike killed the engine. April was doing her calculations. There were two of them in the car with four guns between them and no wish to die. There were possibly two people in the house and no telling how many guns. If Kim was there, she didn't want him either to shoot or run again.
"Plan?" she said.
Before Mike could answer, the front door opened, and the woman from the wedding photo stepped outside alone. Clio Alma had long, straight hair, all one length, red lips. She was wearing a beige linen dress that showed off her well-rounded figure. Her lovely face was annoyed, not frightened or anxious.
"You can't park there," she said. Matter-of-fact.
Mike and April got out of the car at the same time, holding up their gold shields. "Clio Alma?" Mike took the lead.
"Yes?"
"I'm Lieutenant Sanchez. This is Sergeant Woo from the police department. We'd like to ask you a few questions."
"Is this about my husband?" she asked with a tense smile.
The two cops walked up the cement path. She stood in front of the door. "I can tell you he's all mixed up sometimes and doesn't always know what he's doing, but I'm fine. Everything's fine now. Nothing to worry about." She didn't want them to come in.
"Is your husband here now, Mrs. Alma?" April asked.
Clio gave her a sharp look. "I told you, everything's fine. We don't need you here." She tried to get back inside and close the door, but Mike's foot got in the way.
"We'd like to come in for a few minutes. It won't take long."
"Who called you, my tenant?" she demanded. "She's a liar; you can't believe anything she says."
"No, your tenant didn't call us. We're investigating two homicides. We're here to talk about that."
"Homicides!" Clio's fine eyebrows shot up. The distress in her voice caused the dog at her feet to start barking frantically. "I don't know anything about that. I told them before."
"Who did you tell?"
"The policeman who came here last week."
"Did you know there was another murder since then?"
"No .. . Maybe I heard something. I don't know."
She put her hand to her forehead as if trying to remember.
"Let me help you. Two young women, clients of Tang Ling, have been shot and killed," April told her.
"He's not here," she said quickly. "He's not here. Look for yourself." She shook her head, opened the door wider, and retreated into the living room, where she picked up her barking dog. "Shh," she told it. Unlike Dim Sum, the dog quieted instantly.
April entered the house, thinking fast in case Kim was really was there and she had to deck him. Stairs to the left. Click. Living room to the right. Click. In the back the kitchen, linoleum surfaces all clean and tidy. Wall-to-wall carpet, commercial grade. Sofa and recliner, stack of glossy magazines on the coffee table in the living room. Click. Nothing much on the walls. Home sweet home to Kim Simone. She prayed he was there and made a fast tour of the downstairs. Mike took the stairs two at a time and came down two minutes later shaking his head. April flipped the light switch for the basement, and they went down together. Nothing there either. When they returned to the living room, Clio was sitting on the sofa with the dog on her lap. Her pretty mouth sulked. "Too much trouble," she said.
"Your husband?" April went to the front window and looked out. Two officers were in a Con Ed van opposite. It was still light, and the street was quiet, except for some young roller boarders practicing on a curb.
"Yes. He's like a child. Sometimes he disappears. I don't know where he is." She heaved a sigh.
"On May ninth, Sunday a week ago, he delivered a gown to Riverdale and dressed Tovah Schoenfeld just before she was shot to death." April left the window and stood in front of her.
After the letdown of no Kim where she'd wanted him to be, her heartbeat finally began to slow. All the way out in the car, she'd been so full of hope that he'd be there. She'd prayed that he'd be there and more than half expected him to fall out of a closet, like a ghost in a funhouse.
Clio nodded. He'd delivered Tovah's gown and dressed her.
"You drove him there in your car?"
"He doesn't have a driver's license," she said, putting her face in the dog's soft fur.
"Did you drive him there and wait for him?" April asked.
Clio stroked the dog, hiding her lips in the dog's black fur, lowering her eyes.
"Did you use your car to drive to work?" April asked.
"No," she said softly.
"But you went to work that day, Mrs. Alma."
"No."
'Yes, you did. I spoke to your employer a few minutes ago. She told me they had a family party on May ninth. And you were there all morning, cooking." April struck a chord.
"I don't remember what day." Clio's eyes were in the dog's fur. "Maybe. I cook many parties for them."
"I understand. I get confused by dates, too. But we can straighten all this out. Did you know that Kim was driving your car to Riverdale?"
"No."
"Did you know when he returned?"
"No. I told you. As far as I know he didn't take the car."
"Why did you tell the detective that you drove him?" April asked softly.
"He doesn't have a license. I didn't want him to get in trouble." Clio spoke with a flat voice, then turned around to look at Mike. He was standing behind her by the front door, letting April talk. "He wouldn't hurt anybody, I know."
"Did you know he had a gun?"
"He doesn't have a gun," she said scornfully. "Where would he get a gun?"
April didn't answer. "Did he ever talk about any of the young women whose gowns he worked on?"
"He talks all the dme. He has some crazy ideas," she said softly.
"What crazy ideas?"
"I don't know. I don't listen." She started rocking back and forth with the dog. "And he doesn't come home sometimes. It scares me."
"What scares you, Mrs. Alma?"
"The men he meets. He's doesn't understand anything about bad people."
April glanced at Mike. "What do you mean?"
"He's too trusting. He could get hurt."
"Does he have any particular friends he visits?" April asked. Maybe they could find him with a friend.
"Someone in a bar gives him money...." Clio lifted her shoulders. "I told him to stay away from men who offer him money. He doesn't listen."
"What kind of crazy things does he say about brides?" April asked, back on the brides.