I guess I can scratch the owner off my list of people to talk to. “Here’s my card in case you think of anything else that might help. Call me anytime.”
Katerina walked me down the stairs to the entrance. As I turned to walk away, she called out.
“Agent Abby, wait. I remember. Piper mentioned a place in Sausalito. I can’t remember the name but she said they made organic cotton candy.”
Chapter 5
I was a block away from my favorite dim sum shop; I figured a quick bite before heading across town to the medical examiner’s office wouldn’t hurt. I huffed it uphill along Sacramento Street to Young’s Fresh Dim Sum on Stockton. I knew I had pigged out on this stuff the day before, but I have a serious addiction to dumplings. Plus, Young’s wasn’t like the sit-down restaurant I took the family to on Sundays where the servers push carts around from table to table. No, this place was a hole in the wall. It had character.
Young’s had a simple counter to order from. Behind it were three stacks of bamboo steamers four high. Each one was filled with a different dumpling. There were a few tables to sit at, but mostly the place was designed for takeaway. I didn’t feel much like taking this stuff back to the office, and there was a seat open at one of the tables, so I made my selection and sat my butt down in the open chair.
I didn’t pay much attention to the gentleman next to me. He appeared busy with his spread of cheap eats. Two bites in and I realized the suit next to me was the Asian detective from the other day. Of all the dim sum joints in town… I couldn’t believe my luck — stuck at a table next to a guy I never thought I would see again. I couldn’t get up and leave; there was no place to go. It was only a matter of time before he recognized me. Wrong.
The guy continued to eat without looking up or taking a breather. He plopped his dumplings, one by one, into the sweet dipping sauce before popping them into his mouth, chewing fast and loudly. When he finished his main course, I thought for sure he would look up and notice me. Nope. He steamrolled right into the rice cake.
I finished my entire meal without being discovered. What kind of detective is this guy? Clearly he wasn’t observant. Sheesh, lucky for the SFPD. Real keeper they got—
“I remember you,” he said without any sort of prompt coming from me.
I looked around, unsure if he had spoken to me. Eventually, he turned his head to me.
“How did you know? You never looked up once.”
He motioned with his head to the table in front of us. Sitting on top was a brand new, hot water heater used for tea. I could see both of our reflections in it.
“Oh.”
“I’m sure you were thinking I must be some crappy detective for my bad observation.”
Busted. “Why would I think that?”
He finished the last of his rice cake and wiped his hands on a napkin. “Look, I’m really a nice guy. We started off on the wrong foot. Truce.” He stuck out a clean hand and followed that up with a large toothy smile.
Realizing how silly the situation was, I gave in. “Truce. My name is Abby Kane.”
“Nice to meet you, Abby. I’m Kyle Kang. How’s the arm?” he asked as he held onto my hand and turned my arm from side to side as if he could somehow see through my jacket and make some sort of medical observation.
“The arm’s fine. Thanks for asking.”
“Do you eat here much?”
“Not as much as I would like,” I said, wiping my hands with a napkin. “You?”
“Quite often. I work out of the Central Precinct, which isn’t far. Plus, we’re responsible for Chinatown. You work in the area?”
“No, my office is near City Hall.”
He nodded as if he knew what building I worked in. “Oh, yeah, yeah. Do you work at the Asian Art Museum? Are you a docent there?”
Just when I thought we could be friends. “No, but nearby.”
He stood up quickly and adjusted his jacket. “It’s nice to properly meet you, Abby. I hope to see you around,” he said, smiling, completely oblivious to the barb he had thrown my way earlier. I hoped it wasn’t intentional.
I politely said goodbye and headed back to my car. It was time to pay my friend, Dr. Timothy Green, a visit.
Chapter 6
Detective Pete Sokolov sat at his desk with butcher paper spread out. He was busy picking pieces of flesh off an entire dried mackerel.
Kang waved his hand in front of his nose. “I should have known you were the source of that smell.”
“I’m Russian. This is my people’s food. And anyhow, you eat that fermented fish sauce. It’s worse smelling than this.”
“Maybe, but I don’t eat it every day.” Kang leaned back in his chair and watched his partner and best friend since high school tear away at the fish like a lone piranha. “Hey, remember that lady from the other day? The short Asian one?”
“The one that took our guy out? Yeah. She’s a looker, that one. Why?”
“I ran into her again at the dim sum shop.”
“Maybe she’s following you to make sure you don’t need help,” Sokolov said before letting out a low laugh.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Kang waited for the big man sitting across from him to calm down. “I’m serious here. Something’s been bothering me since that day, and I finally figured it out after bumping into her again. She reminds me of someone we know.”
“You talking about that inspector from a few years ago?”
“That’s exactly who I’m talking about. What was her name?”
Sokolov scrunched his eyebrows. “Chu, Chee—”
“Choi! That’s her name. Inspector Choi.”
“What about her?”
Kang shook his head from side to side. “She just really reminds me of her. I don’t know why.”
“Maybe it’s because she’s short, female and Asian.”
Kang rolled his eyes. “It’s more than that.”
Sokolov gripped both flaps along the gut of the fish and tore it open, revealing more of the flesh. “You’ve seen this woman twice, and you think you know her.”
“Eh, it’s a hunch. Forget about it. What’s new?”
“Cavanaugh wants to know where we’re at on those two bodies that popped up last week.”
“I think we have to tell him what we’re thinking.”
“You remember what happened the last time we went that route?” Sokolov spit a bone between his two fingers before brushing his hands together.
“Yeah, and we were right.”
“I’m not so sure he remembers it that way, regardless of what ended up happening.”
“Are the two of you trying to blow my diet? You know damn well that food is my go-to in stressful situations.” Captain Richard Cavanaugh stood there behind his desk with both hands on his hips, his belly hanging over the front of his belt buckle and his face projecting a look of disbelief.
“I’m just saying that findings are pointing this direction and we think we need to start looking at one guy here,” Kang answered evenly, not wanting to worsen the situation any further.
“I’m not seeing it. Make it clear for me.”
Words sputtered out of Kang’s mouth as he sat perched on the edge of the chair, waving his arms like a conductor who was desperate to keep his symphony from straying. “This isn’t random,” Kang continued. “The killer knows what he’s doing.” He held up a hand and began a count. “Our male vic had almost all of his gold teeth removed. His other jewelry and money was left untouched. He wasn’t beaten. There were no witnesses. He died quickly from a knife across the neck. Our second vic, she had her finger removed—”
“She was robbed. According to her husband, there was a diamond ring on her finger,” Cavanaugh blurted.