by his thick salt-and-pepper Fu Manchu mustache.
“Dude, I don’t like this,” he said at last. “You know Alex Navarro? Alex knows every damn thing that goes on with the Latin gangs. If he doesn’t know this chick, she wasn’t there.”
“So who the hell is she?” Parker asked. “And why is she riding around with me?”
Now he felt even more like he was being backed into a corner. Robbery-Homicide taking his case, Ruiz suddenly not who he thought she was.
“Could be she used a different name then,” Metheny said. “You know how those undercover spooks are. They ‘immerse’ themselves in their roles,” he said with a certain amount of disdain.
Metheny was an old-time cop from the kick-ass-and-take- names school. Everything was black or white for him. There were good guys and there were bad guys. He hit the streets armed with the law and about nine concealed weapons not approved of by the ACLU. A warrior for justice.
“Maybe,” Parker conceded grudgingly, but he didn’t believe it.
“Flush her out and call her bluff, man.”
“Yeah.”
There was nothing else to do. Parker knew he couldn’t trust Ruiz. He might as well find out why. Find out how many enemies he really had.
He was already questioning the timing of it all. Ruiz had come on just days before the Lowell murder, and now she was selling him out to Robbery-Homicide, and Robbery-Homicide was taking the case for themselves. But how—even with the inside scoop on the blackmail—could anyone have known Lenny Lowell was going to be murdered?
He didn’t like any of the possible explanations. He tried to tell himself he was being paranoid and building conspiracies where none existed. Only the killer could have predicted Lowell’s death, and no one could have predicted who would be up on the board to take the case.
Metheny was watching him, watching the thought process and the subtle changes in his face that went along with it.
“There’s no such thing as coincidence, man,” Metheny said. “Not with Robbery-Homicide. Those dudes don’t saddle up for no reason.”
“It doesn’t make sense that Ruiz is connected to them,” Parker said. “What would they need her for when they could take the case anytime they wanted?”
“Then what does make sense?” Metheny asked. “I once knew a guy who did giant chain-saw wood carvings from tree trunks. They were pretty damn good. He had this one of a moose. Looked just like a damn moose. You could practically smell it. I asked him how he did that, and he said to me, ‘I start with a big hunk of tree trunk, and I carve away everything that doesn’t look like a moose.’
“Chip away everything this mess couldn’t be, and you’re left with the truth. If Ruiz isn’t who she says she is, then who is she? If she’s not some kind of RHD spy, what’s left?”
A sick, watery feeling trickled through Parker’s body. He’d only ridden with Ruiz for a matter of days. She irritated him so badly, he hadn’t paid much attention to what she was all about besides being a pain in the ass. But she’d known about his Jag, and she’d known about his loft, and she had commented more than once on the price of his wardrobe, and how easily he parted with money.
“What’s left?” Metheny asked.
The words were sour in Parker’s mouth. “Internal Affairs.”
36
I know JayCee!” Boo Zhu said, his tiny eyes bright with excitement. He laughed and snorted. His nose was running. Instead of wiping it, his abnormally long tongue swept across his upper lip.
“JayCee Ty! JayCee Ty!” Boo Zhu looked proudly at Chi, who was standing to one side on the dock trying to look as if he hadn’t had a hand in Boo Zhu’s announcement.
Detective Kyle turned to Madame Chen, standing just outside the doorway to the other part of the building. In the bright light she looked as pale as the white clapboard behind her.
“Who is this?” Kyle asked.
“The son of a cousin,” Madame Chen said, crossing the small parking area. “He is challenged, as you can see.”
Kyle looked up at him. “What’s your name?”
“Boo Zhu! Boo Zhu know!”
“You know J. C. Damon?” Kyle asked.
Boo Zhu began to dance with all the grace of a bear, beside himself with pride that he had the answer to a question no one else seemed to have.
“Boo Zhu likes to please,” said Madame Chen.
“Are you saying he doesn’t know what he’s talking about?”
“He knows that it will please you to say what he believes you want to hear.” She flashed a glare at Chi. “He will tell you he knows the president if you ask him.”
“JayCee Ty! JayCee Ty, ma’am!” Boo Zhu said, pointing a stubby finger toward the door to the office. “Yes, ma’am? Yes?”
Tyler darted back from the doorway. His heart was galloping so fast, he thought he might faint. Carefully, he dropped to the floor on his knees and crawled along the wall to the open window, then slowly raised his head until he could just see over the edge of the sill at the side of the window.
“Calm yourself, Boo Zhu,” said Madame Chen.
“I good boy!”
“You’re very good,” Kyle said. “You know the answer, don’t you?”
“Detective, please,” said Madame Chen. “He is only a child in his mind. He doesn’t understand.”
“Who’s Ty?” Kyle asked.
“Ty R! Ty R!” Boo Zhu exclaimed.
“Tyler?”
“Ty R, JayCee!”
“J. C. Damon?”
Boo Zhu had begun to sing a nonsense song to dance to, his euphoria blocking out all else.
Kyle turned to Chi. “What about you? Do you know J. C. Damon?”
Tyler’s eyes filled with tears. He was so afraid, he thought he might wet his pants like a baby.
“If you don’t already know this,” Kyle said, “J. C. Damon is wanted for questioning in relation to a homicide, among other crimes. If you’re protecting him, you’re harboring a criminal. If he used your vehicle in the commission of a crime, you can be charged as an accessory.”
Chi stared for a moment at his aunt. When he spoke, he spoke in Chinese. “You cannot risk yourself and the business, Aunt. Lying to the police is a serious offense.”
“So is betrayal of family,” Madame Chen returned.
“He is not family.”
“You betray me, Chi. If you do this thing, I do not know you. I will not know you.”
“We can go downtown,” Kyle said. “I can get an interpreter. If I believe you’re withholding information, you can be detained as material witnesses.”
Madame Chen turned on him. “Do you think me a fool, Detective Kyle? I am an intelligent woman in two languages. You are a bully in only one. I am calling my attorney, who, as it happens, is the attorney for my business and for my family, including my nephew.”
“You can’t stop your nephew from talking to us,” Kyle said. He turned again to Chi. “Do you know J. C. Damon?”
Chi looked at his aunt.
Tyler held his breath.
“I defer to my aunt’s wisdom,” Chi said humbly, bowing his head. “As matriarch of our family, she knows best. It is her wish we consult with our attorney.”
Kyle turned once again to Boo Zhu, still locked in his own little world of bliss, singing to himself. “Boo Zhu?
