Stephen Knight - White Tiger

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 that boasted details of every city, town, street, “points of interest” and ATM in the United States and Canada. Ryker was duly impressed but given that Chee Wei hadn’t set foot outside of San Francisco in ten years the gizmo seemed like a waste of money that could have better spent on his other interests, gambling and hot women. Then again, money was the last of Chee Wei’s concerns. His parents owned a profitable restaurant and worked their asses off eighteen hours a day for the sole purpose of accumulating wealth for their number one son. It didn’t seem to concern them that Chee Wei would rather wear a shield than an apron and had no interest in their endeavors; the Chinese family dynamic was all that mattered to them.

“My parents are pissed with me,” Chee Wei said at that moment, surprising Ryker, who wondered whether some kind of telepathy was at work. “I mean, what era do they think we’re living in, the 1920s?”

Ryker had no idea what Chee Wei was talking about so he contented himself with admiring the packed mansions on either side of the car as it crawled along the street, headed for Danny Lin’s humble abode.

“It’s like they think I’m still a kid who can’t decide things for himself.”

“How many guesses do I get?” Ryker said. He pointed at a house half-hidden behind a high wall with overhanging trees. Chee Wei nodded and pulled in just past the driveway, occupied by a Range Rover SUV and a gleaming black Audi A8 with tinted windows. They got out and climbed the winding rock bordered path that led up to the front door. Ryker noted a carefully sculpted ornamental pond filled with fish that glinted silver and gold, which he was sure hadn’t been there the last time he’d had occasion to visit. A stooped, white-haired Asian man tended a patch of garden ablaze with warm colors.

“So who is she?” Ryker asked, arriving at the door. He thumbed the button and listened for a noise within the house, but didn’t hear anything. He wondered if the doorbell was broken and looked around for the old Chinese gardener, but he was gone. Maybe he was stealing the hubcaps off the department Crown Vic.

Chee Wei made a sour face. “I don’t know. We were betrothed when I was five years old. My mother waved the contract under my nose as if it was some kind of legal document I’d signed. Twenty two years later, I’m supposed to marry this total stranger from another country. She’s mainland Chinese, from Guangzhou, they still go in for that stuff.”

“Maybe she’s rich,” Ryker said. “Maybe she’s good looking. You should find out.”

“Did I ever tell you I’m allergic to marriage?”

Ryker cupped his hands around his eyes and peered through the glass. A shadow moved inside the hall, coming closer, resolving itself into someone wearing a maid’s uniform. “You just haven’t met the right girl yet,” Ryker said. The maid stopped as a second shadow appeared. Something was said; the maid turned and went away.

“Oh, so you’d recommend the institution, would you?”

It was Ryker’s turn to make a sour face just as a lock clicked and the front door opened. The most gorgeous Chinese woman he’d ever met stared at him, her delicate brows coming together to form a frown that did nothing to detract from her looks. Ryker fumbled for his badge while thinking, Danny Lin was seeing other women instead of coming home to this? He found the concept difficult to believe. His badge eluded his questing fingers and he had to open his jacket wide to show it to her, at the same time exposing his Glock 17 riding in its armpit holster. Her gaze flashed to the weapon and he immediately felt like a jackass.

“I presume you’re the policeman who telephoned earlier,” she said, her English perfect and her accent almost nonexistent, the result no doubt of expensive classes. He understood that many Chinese businessmen insisted their wives learn to speak fluent American English and lose all trace of the “old country” lest they be thought rustic. “I’m Valerie Lin.”