White Tiger

“On his way. I’ll have him take out the pipe and put a bucket underneath. We’ll flush it down.”

Ryker straightened and nodded; Chee Wei had everything covered, as usual. Feeling superfluous and twenty years too old, Ryker said, “You know, I miss the good old days. You’re too young to remember, but once upon a time the only people who wore earrings, were women.” He wanted to rip the sink apart and get his hands on whatever was down there. It looked like a stud diamond set in silver but maybe he wasn’t seeing all of it.

“Whoever dropped it didn’t stick around to call a plumber, that’s for sure. They were in a hurry.” Chee Wei frowned. “Now, if it belongs to the murderer, he or she would have tried to retrieve it, or flush it away so no one would ever find what might be a telling piece of evidence. But… and forgive my presumption… if the owner wasn’t concerned with leaving trace and hoped she might be able to return at some time in the future to pick it up…?”

Ryker noticed how Chee Wei had assigned the unknown earring owner a sex, following Ryker’s thoughts exactly. “Take it one step further. How would she get access to this place?”

“Hotel staff. Cleaning staff. Maintenance.”

“If our plumber turns out to be a girl, slap cuffs on her and hold her on suspicion.”

They both looked back over their shoulders as a huge shadow filled the doorway. The guy wore coveralls and carried a toolbox and a plunger. He must have weighed 300 pounds. He looked from Ryker to Chee Wei and said, “Someone report a blocked sink?”

Chee Wei negotiated the mid-morning traffic in silence, giving Ryker a chance to think about the Lin family and in particular James Lin, father of the deceased. James Lin owned shipping, electronics, real estate. He had ties with several influential U.S. Senators eager to broaden profitable trade links with China, the growing economic and industrial giant that was gearing up to take over the world. Ryker had also heard through the private grapevine that James Lin had ties to various criminal figures, both in the U.S. and Asia. That didn’t concern Ryker. What did concern him, and still irritated him greatly, were the events of six months ago.

An actress named Shannon Young had died at a party thrown by Danny Lin for some big shot friends of his up from L.A. for the weekend. The strikingly beautiful blonde had the bad manners to overdose in her host’s bathroom. The coroner’s report said the heroin she’d injected into her veins was almost pure, which suggested that someone who didn’t know what the hell they were doing had supplied the gear. The finger of suspicion didn’t just point at Danny Lin, it shoved itself all the way up his ass and tickled his prostate.

Ryker had disliked Lin instantly, not because of his father’s wealth or even because of his unconcealed arrogance and his general contempt for Westerners, which was simply part of the Chinese makeup. No, it was because Danny Lin regarded Shannon Young as nothing more than an unpleasant smell that was stinking up his bathroom. He didn’t care that she’d died, he just wanted her removed and the place cleaned up so his party could continue. For this reason alone Ryker had intended to make things as unpleasant for Danny Lin as possible, starting with a very public arrest, and not forgetting his partying friends, not a single one of whom claimed to know the dead girl.

But suddenly the order had come down from above like a blazing meteor, commanding all concerned to regard Sharon Young’s death as an accidental misadventure, with no one to blame except herself. As if that wasn’t bad enough, twenty-four hours later Ryker had been bewildered to read an addendum to the crime scene report detailing how substance traces had been found in her purse and in her Mercedes, intimating that she had brought her own heroin to the party. When Ryker queried this anomaly his own captain told him bluntly to stop asking damn fool questions and let it go, the case was closed. It was obvious as all hell that James Lin had used his power to derail the investigation. Equally obvious was the fact that no one could do a damn thing about it.

Which brought them to the present. What steps would James Lin take to cover up the manner in which his son had died? Ryker could well imagine. A single phone call to the mayor’s office, or perhaps even the governor’s office, and Ryker and his people would be pulled off this case too. A special team would be brought in, part investigator, part diplomatic mission. For Christ’s sake don’t piss off the mega-rich Chinese businessman. What could Ryker do about it? Absolutely nothing, but until he received the order to abandon ship he intended to operate the pumps to the best of his ability. And if his actions somehow pissed James Lin off just a little bit then he felt he would have earned this month’s pay. Which was why he and Chee Wei had passed Japantown and Pacific Heights and were heading along California Street on their way to the Sea Cliff District, to Danny Lin’s house overlooking the beach and the Pacific Ocean. A subtle telephone inquiry had confirmed that Mrs. Valerie Lin was home. Not only had she agreed to see Ryker, she had also accepted his unwillingness to discuss the matter in detail over the phone, which Ryker thought must make her the most incurious woman in the city. He intended to find out why.

His cell phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number but accepted the call. “Ryker.”

“This is Sandra Raymond.” It took Ryker all of three seconds to remember the detective working hotel reception so she could keep an eye on everyone coming and going. Whose idea was that anyway, hers? He wondered whether her bed skills matched her cleverness. “You wanted to know about an earring?” She sounded uncertain, probably because Ryker was taking so long to respond.

“Yes. What about it?” The plumber had removed the wash basin pipe and caught the diamond stud as it fell out. It was on its way to the forensics lab together with other evidence from the Taipan Suite, but first Ryker had showed it to a jeweler in the hotel mall who’d given the single piece a four-figure value, and estimated the matching pair would have cost no less than thirty thousand dollars. The jeweler had similar merchandise but was certain these earrings hadn’t come from his store.

“Kyung printed a picture,” Sandra Raymond said. “We’ve been showing it round. Bingo, one of the room maids remembered seeing earrings just like these.”

“Time and place,” Ryker demanded, prompting Chee Wei to glance at him.

“The maid was working the 37th and 38th floors within an hour of our murder. Sheer luck we got hold of her, she’s covering early shift for a friend whose daughter’s getting married today. She describes a Chinese woman, twenties, tall, film star looks. Could have been around the Taipan Suite elevator. Mulholland’s got his laptop, they’re putting together an identikit.”

Breaks like this came only rarely; Ryker had learned to appreciate them as little acts of God. “Wire it to me as soon as they’ve got something. We’re on course for the vic’s wife.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

“You’ve done enough. Take the rest of the month off, hop a plane to Hawaii and charge it to the department.” She laughed out loud before Ryker disconnected. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and told Chee Wei, “Some maid remembered seeing the earring. And the good-looking Chinese woman who wore it.”

Chee Wei grinned. “Shouldn’t take too long to interview every hooker in San Francisco. One of them is bound to confess.”

“Think about it for a minute,” Ryker said. “Put yourself in Danny Lin’s shoes.”

“Hey, no thanks, I like my dick just where it is, attached to the rest of me.”

“You’ve booked one of the most luxurious-and expensive-suites at the grandest hotel in town. Why? You’re not going to breeze through Chinatown and hope you pick up some street hooker on the way there.”

“I’m not?”

“No you’re not, because you’ve already arranged a very special night with your mistress.”

Chee Wei laughed. “Oh come on. Quick, Watson, a Hansom cab! I’ve solved the case!”

“Would you give a pair of thirty-thousand dollar earrings to a one-night stand?”

“Depends how good she is. Okay, maybe not. Maybe you’re onto something. So maybe someone knows who Lin Dan’s mistress is. I’ll shake a couple of trees, see what falls out. Hey, the wife finds out about the mistress. Gets a little pissed. Takes a kitchen knife to the hotel and, zzzziiittt.” His hand slashed the air, complementing the sound effect.

“Klein said it was a damn sharp knife.”

“Twenty bucks and postage’ll get you a boxed set of ninja steak knives.”

Remembering Klein’s statement, Ryker wasn’t at all sure whether the Shopping Channel had supplied the hardware that had separated Danny Lin from his manhood, but he let it go for the moment as Chee Wei’s portable navigation system instructed them to take the next turn, and they moved down among the big, rich houses that comprised Sea Cliff District. Chee Wei’s fascination with modern electronics had compelled him to spend good money on a state of the art journey planner, a combination satellite-fed Global Positioning System and street map