“Hold on. You’re forgetting she has a witness who swears she was home. The housekeeper. It’s in the report.” He tapped a folder on his desk. “The original’s in the murder book. The phone records checked out too. It’s just like she said, she was calling her sister in China when Danny Lin joined his illustrious ancestors. For your information, we had to request authorization via the chief’s office before we could pull those records.”
“Her sister-in-law,” Ryker corrected him.
Spider opened the report and flipped a couple of pages. “My mistake, not hers. Seems like anything to do with the Lin family has to be cleared by a couple of security agencies. You see where I’m going with this?”
“The housekeeper is a loyal family servant who’d swear Valerie Lin was playing Gypsy Rose Lee on Broadway at the time of the murder, if she was ordered to. Meanwhile, Valerie Lin drove to the hotel with her favorite chopping knife.”
Spider made a show of looking around the room. “What is this, Candid Fucking Camera? Let’s keep it sane, okay? Mrs. Lin is not, repeat not, to be hounded by you at this or any other time. She’s a grieving widow, for Christ’s sake.”
“I’m aware of that, and I didn’t say I was going to hound her.”
“Sounded pretty much like it to me.” Spider drummed his fingers on his desk top. “Leave Valerie Lin alone. For the moment, anyway. I’ll talk to Captain Jericho, see what he says. Best I can do, Hal.”
Ryker thanked him and retreated gracefully. He intended to raise the subject again first thing in the morning, unless they got another break through Chee Wei or from the hotel video.
As if he were telepathic, Chee Wei called at that very moment to report they’d arrived safely at Xiaohui’s sister’s apartment. “I’m pretty sure we weren’t followed, and there’s nothing suspicious in the street. I’m looking out the window now.”
“Outstanding. How’s Princess Xiaohui?”
Chee Wei chuckled. “Happy to be with her family. She talked about getting some more stuff from her own apartment. I told her I didn’t think that was a good idea. The sister says she’ll call one of her cousins, ask them to pick it up.”
Ryker checked his watch. “I make it three-twenty. What say we skip the three-thirty call and make it four o’clock? Thereafter every thirty minutes. When Debbie goes home you call me.”
“Ten-four, mother hen.”
Ryker looked for Morales. Debbie Price was in the process of hanging up after a telephone call when Ryker approached her desk and said, “Hey Debbie, have you seen Detective Morales?”
“He’s a little down today,” Debbie said. She’d straightened her curly red hair and added blonde highlights. The overall effect made her look ten pounds lighter and ten years younger. Ryker wondered if she might have her eye on someone, and realized that someone could well be Luis Morales, given Debbie’s preference for Latino men. Relationships between squad members were discouraged for perfectly logical reasons, but clerical staff weren’t cops, which meant that technically they weren’t part of whatever squad they happened to be assigned to. “I saw him at the end of the hall. He didn’t even notice me.”
“That’s hard to believe. Hair’s looking nice, by the way.”
Ryker stepped out into the hallway. Sure enough Morales stood by the window at the far end, by the stairs, toying with a Styrofoam coffee cup. He glanced over his shoulder as Ryker approached.
“Just needed some air,” Morales said.
“It’s allowed,” Ryker said. “I should have asked-how’d your court case go?”
“Liquor store owner changed his mind. Local gang threatened to put a cap in his ass, you can bet on it.” Morales crushed his cup. “Two punks walk free and start planning their next hold-up. I just hope I’m there when it goes down. Ah, fuck it. What’s happening with you?”
“Bet you wish you were in Chee Wei’s shoes. He’s with the Chinese girl we brought in. Camped out in her living room.”
Morales grinned. “You gotta be shitting me. Whose ass do I have to kiss to pull that kind of duty?”
“Mine, but I’m not in the mood right now,” Ryker said. “Tell you what, next good-looking girl comes in, she’s all yours. Reason I’m here, Sandra Raymond’s still at the Mandarin, she could do with some help. I’m heading over there. Wouldn’t mind having you along.”
“Sure. Gets me out of this place.” Morales dunked his crushed cup into the bin, his mood brightening visibly. They returned to the squad room and Ryker briefed Debbie on Chee Wei’s assignment and his half-hourly check-ins. She assured him she’d be there till six, as soon as she took that call she’d let Ryker know and pass the baton to him. The flicker of interest in her eyes as she glanced at Morales didn’t go unnoticed by Ryker, though Morales seemed unaware, as he cleared his desk and grabbed his coat. Ryker collected his Glock from his desk and Spider gave them a nod and wave from his office on the way out of the squad room.
Ryker quickly brought Morales up to speed with the rest of the stuff while they cut a path through the city’s late afternoon traffic.
“There’s a rumor going around,” Morales said. “I dunno who started it. You and the widow-woman Lin got the hots for each other. Anything to that?”
“Jesus.” Ryker shook his head. “Chee Wei loves his soap opera, doesn’t he?” Morales laughed, confirming the source of the “rumor.” Ryker wanted to knock it on the head instantly, since at least half of it was true. He decided attack was the best form of defense. “I’ll tell you this, Luis, she’s damn fine-looking. I’d go so far as to say ‘sizzling.’ It’s beyond belief that Danny Lin would rather pay for pussy when he’s got a sex fantasy waiting for him at home.”
“She impressed you that much, huh?”
“The day I end up in bed with someone like Mrs. Danny Lin is the day I get religion.”
“You’re not a religious man.”
Ryker was only too glad to change the subject. “Not in the church-going sense. Do I believe in God? Sure, it was drilled into me as a kid. And it feels good to know there’s a higher being responsible for everything-and someone to blame when things turn to shit. It gives me my place in the universe, you know?”
Morales nodded, taking it seriously. “Yeah. Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.” He leaned forward to look up at the imposing structure that was their destination. “Sometimes I think that’s what all churches should look like. So high they touch heaven. People should be able to step in an elevator, go right to the top, and step out into God’s waiting room. Make an appointment with His secretary. Sit down and talk to the Man Himself. Feel His love. Know His purpose.”
“Pull over, Morales,” Ryker said. “You’re under arrest for driving under the influence.”
Morales was still laughing when they turned into the entrance to the hotel’s parking lot. Ryker showed his shield to the guy on the barrier, who let them through. There were plenty of empty spaces. Ryker assumed most guests must arrive and depart in chauffeur-driven limos rather than in beat-up Fords with municipal license plates that needed a wash and wax.
Ryker called Sandra Raymond and asked her to meet them in the lobby. There she introduced them to the duty manager, an impeccable middle-aged man with a pencil mustache that was so precise it must have been trimmed using a microscope and surgical scissors. Ryker assured the manager they would keep as low a profile as possible, and only disturb guests if and when it became absolutely necessary. As soon as the manager went on his way, Raymond vented her anger. “Every time I tried to talk to someone, that oily little dick shooed me away and put his tongue up their ass.”
“As long as none of them were female, between five zero and five-six, we’ll let it pass,” Ryker said. “Have you had a chance to look at the lobby tapes?”