She Walks the Line. Roz Fox Denny

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СКАЧАТЬ bit her lower lip.

      “Well?” he demanded impatiently.

      “Of course. I already turned my report in to the chief, though. I’d assumed you wouldn’t require my services again.”

      “You thought wrong. Do I need to call your chief first?”

      Mei realized she was squeezing Foo’s ball out of shape. She tossed it lightly across the kitchen and closed the back door after the dog streaked in and dived after the blue ball. “I’m more than half an hour away. Shall I meet you at the morgue, instead?” She hadn’t applied to Homicide because she’d never gotten used to the smell of death. The morgue, while sterile, gave her the creeps, too. She had huge respect and great empathy for what Crista and Risa did.

      Her caller spoke to someone out of Mei’s hearing. He came back almost immediately. “The team says we’ll be here at least another hour trying to figure how the courier and his assailant breached security. Get here as fast as you can, okay?”

      Mei pulled the phone away from her ear and frowned at it. “Yes, sir,” she said in a syrupy sweet voice. “Am I to report to you, then? I don’t know your rank. Or does Interpol naturally take precedence in local investigations, kind of like the FBI?” She heard Archer clear his throat several times.

      “Please come, Lieutenant. I have extensive experience in tracking down international art thieves and next to none when it comes to murder.”

      She bent a little. “On that score we’re even. If you don’t mind, I’d rather leave that particular aspect of the case in the very capable hands of our homicide squad. But I’ll head out right away. I admit I’m curious about the photo and this note. See you in about forty-five minutes.” She hung up, debating only a moment as to whether she ought to change back into the suit she’d worn earlier, or go as she was. Vetoing the suit, deciding it would take too long, she did pluck her revolver from its locked box and secured it under her belt at the back of her jeans. To heck with packing a Taser. The docks were spooky at night. She felt more secure with an equalizer.

      Mei grabbed a cherry-red blazer to throw on over her white T-shirt. Red might not be appropriate attire for a murder investigation in progress, but it gave her confidence. And to face Archer and a dead man, Mei Lu needed all the confidence she could muster.

      “Sorry, Foo. I’m abandoning you again.”

      The dog sank to his belly and put his chin on his ball, gazing up at her with soulful eyes.

      “All right, come on, then. But I’ll have to leave you in the car.”

      He didn’t appear to care. The little dog loved riding in cars. Mei kept a water bowl and bottled water in her vehicle because most of her trips with the dog were impromptu, whether for strolls in the park or quick visits to the grocery store.

      Her Toyota choked and sputtered, but the engine finally turned over. Mei patted the dash and gave thanks to the car gods. Once she got under way she never worried about breaking down. That was her father’s everlasting concern. So many times Michael Ling had tried to buy Mei a new car. She appreciated that, but repeatedly pointed out that she wanted to succeed or fail in this job on her own.

      Aun Ling had plainly never understood her daughter. Of course, Mei’s mother had gone from a huge Chinese household in a manufacturing sector of mainland China to a strange land where her arranged husband worked night and day, especially when Mei and Stephen were little. If Mei had rightly deciphered the Wong family history, her mother’s once prominent family had, like many others in China, fallen on hard times. While Aun rarely brought up her girlhood, she let slip enough things for Mei to know the Wongs had enjoyed great wealth and prestige.

      Aun courted no American friends. She derived immense pleasure from her home, and from entertaining her husband’s Asian associates and their wives. Aun also felt duty-bound to arrange suitable marriages for her children. Stephen was more important, because as Aun said often, a woman’s purpose on earth was to produce a male heir to carry on the family name. Mei never was quite sure how her mother viewed her position, and she’d adroitly sidestepped Aun’s attempts to have her meet the sons of visitors from Hong Kong or, later, mainland China. Mei would have liked a closer relationship with her mother. They always seemed to be at odds, and Mei sincerely regretted that.

      She found a parking space shortly after passing Security, having easily identified the proper dock from the gaggle of police cars parked nearby. Mei checked her purse to make sure she had her shield and saw it gleam in the nearly spent sun. She poured Foo’s water, lowered her windows a few inches to give him air, and slid from the car. She surveyed the scene as she locked her doors and pocketed her keys.

      Mei Lu spotted Cullen Archer almost at once. He exuded a powerful presence even among seasoned men in uniform and those identifiable detectives who always wore rumpled suits. Archer stood casually, his artist’s hands bracketing narrow hips. When had she noticed his well-shaped hands? More to the point, why would she notice—especially since he stood next to what had to be the courier’s body now zipped into a body bag and tagged for delivery to the morgue?

      Shaking off an edgy feeling Mei dragged in a lungful of fishy air. Shoulders back, she strode straight up to the man who’d requested her presence.

      She knew two of the detectives, having been introduced to them by Risa. Mei didn’t expect to see Risa here, as she worked sex crimes, but the departments’ cases too often overlapped. Mei flopped open her holder and flashed her shiny new lieutenant’s shield. Archer grasped her elbow and pulled her aside, into a circle of light cast by an overhead dock flood that had just come on.

      He extracted a plastic sleeve holding a photo and a second one displaying a handwritten note on thick, badly creased paper. “I hope you can see these well enough. The detective in charge wants them preserved to dust for prints at the crime lab. Let’s hope they find some. I told him there were none on the last set. This fellow is dressed almost identically to the previous courier. Dark, loose-fitting Mandarin-style shirt and pajama-like pants. As well as these items, his belly band contained a modest amount of cash, so if he carried the actual artifact, his killer obviously wasn’t interested in the cash. Oh, and he had the stub of a bus ticket to Houston.”

      “From where?”

      “Seattle.”

      “Hmm. Not a place he’d attract attention, given their vast Asian community.” Mei studied the photo for a few seconds. “The earthenware vase is from the tomb of Lou Rui, unearthed in Shanxi province. So it isn’t part of the same collection as the warrior being peddled by the first courier.”

      “No, but both are on a list of objects that disappeared from a government-operated Beijing museum several months ago. No one can or will say exactly when.”

      “No,” she murmured. “That’s not the Chinese way.” Mei didn’t need to be told that both would be priceless to a serious collector, however. Or to a dealer—like her father. With dread forming in her stomach, she slid the picture under the letter and began reading aloud, until Archer’s cell rang. Not only did she deduce it was Catherine on the line, but following his side of the conversation, she realized he wanted her assignment extended so she could help with this case.

      “Thanks, Chief,” he was saying. “Lieutenant Ling’s ties to Houston’s Asian neighborhood may be of value to me in unraveling this puzzle. I took the liberty of inviting her here to see this latest victim firsthand. Would you like a word with her?”

      Mei reached for the phone with a less than steady hand. СКАЧАТЬ