Stephen Knight - White Tiger

“Blow me.”

“Sorry, I don’t have time to organize a search party.”

Chee Wei started to say something in response, but Ryker held up his hand. The small dog began yapping again, after which they could hear voices from the back. Two women, one whose voice bore overtones of fear, the other moderate and reasonable. Neither spoke English. Ryker looked at Chee Wei questioningly, and the younger detective shook his head.

“I think it’s Shanghainese or some other dialect,” he said. “Sorry, I can’t make any sense of it.”

“I’ll remember that during your next performance review,” Ryker groused.

There was a stirring from the back of the house. Ryker hauled himself to his feet just as Mabel reappeared, casting a glance over her shoulder. She was followed by another woman, a little taller than she was. From the corner of his eye, Ryker saw Chee Wei practically elevate to his feet in an instant, as fast as a sommelier in a high-class restaurant could uncork a bottle of champagne. And with good reason.

If there was any woman that could have made Lin Dan abandon his wife, she would be Zhu Xiaohui. Clad in white corduroy hip-huggers that accentuated the curves of her figure topped by a collared black leather halter top with a braid zipper that fairly strained to barely hold back her round breasts, she was a head-turner who could have stopped all lanes of traffic on the 101 freeway in a heartbeat. Xiaohui oozed a rampant sexuality that even the dead would likely notice. Her feet were bare, and her skin was creamy and smooth.

But her face was something else. While Ryker had no trouble imagining it was something lovely to behold under the proper circumstances, at the moment there was an impenetrable frostiness to it that made the perfection of her features look as fake as a plastic nose.

Now this, he thought, is a lady who knows how to get what she wants…and doesn’t give a damn who she hurts to get it.

“Officers, my sister. Xiaohui,” Mabel said needlessly. Ryker nodded to her and vaguely wondered if Mabel was at some level deeply chagrined that she had been so utterly short-changed by the same family gene pool that produced her sister.

“Miss Zhu, I’m Detective Sergeant Ryker. This is-”

“Detective Fong Chee Wei,” Chee Wei cut in, almost breathlessly. “We’d like to ask you…ah, we’d like to ask you some, you know, questions-”

Ryker looked over his shoulder at Chee Wei and tried to telegraph a warning: Shut the hell up, and try not to get anything on the walls.

Chee Wei got the message. He cleared his throat and reached into his jacket, removing his notebook and pen. His Adam’s apple bobbled nervously a bit as flipped through the pages, trying to at least pretend he was a cool and competent homicide detective.

Xiaohui looked at the Chinese detective and smiled icily, subtly amused, even though Ryker was certain this was something she went through all the time.

“Miss Zhu, would you mind having a seat for a moment?” Ryker indicated the couch behind Chee Wei. Chee Wei caught the motion and stepped out of the way with a nervous smile, unable to stop himself from firing furtive glances at Xiaohui. Ryker groaned inwardly, but he’d had his moment with Valerie Lin. It was only fair that Chee Wei’s hormones had the opportunity to become carbonated too.

“What is this about?” she asked. Her voice was lightly accented but completely understandable. Miles ahead of her sister in that way too, Ryker noticed.

Ryker looked at her directly. “Lin Dan, of course.”

Xiaohui nodded once, then walked toward the couch with a practiced hip-swaying gait. She smiled vaguely at Chee Wei again, then coiled up on the couch like a tigress. Her sister sat next to her with all the comparative grace of a zeppelin trying to dock in a heavy wind.

Ryker remained standing, and Chee Wei took the other couch, pen at the ready. Ryker clasped his hands behind his back and regarded Xiaohui frankly for a moment before beginning.

“Are you comfortable with English, Miss Zhu?” Ryker asked needlessly. Just a little something to say before he began with the interrogation.

She smiled in response, but it didn’t reach her perfect eyes.

“I’ve studied it for years,” she responded a little tartly. “Are you comfortable with Chinese, Mr. Ryker?”

“Miss Zhu, you were with Danny Lin last night at the Mandarin Oriental, correct?”

“His name is Lin Dan. And why would you think that I was with him, sergeant?”

“The fact that hotel surveillance caught both of you on camera would be my first guess,” Ryker said, not liking her attitude and taking the wind out of her sails immediately because of it. For added effect, he continued with, “You left one of your earrings behind. Interested in getting it back?”

Xiaohui said nothing, but she didn’t need to. Like anyone who consorted with the fabulously rich and shameless, it was unlikely she would have a very high opinion of mere public servants. Especially ones that hadn’t been bought off or who had no interest in her bedroom skills. Ever the windows to the soul, Ryker believed he could clearly see the snotty derision in her eyes.

“My sister tells me you feel I’m in some danger,” she said. “What danger?”

“Lin’s father. He has some of his men looking for you. A few Chinese and a big white man. You know them?”

“No,” she answered simply. “I’ve never even met his father before.”

“Tell us about last night, Miss Zhu,” Ryker continued.

“And if I don’t?”

“Let’s not go there. You can make this as hard or as easy as you like, ma’am. It’s all up to you.”

“Am I a…a suspect?” she asked.

“For certain,” Ryker replied.

Xiaohui looked at her sister and snapped off something in her native dialect. Mabel hesitated, then left the room, her face composed into lines of worry. She disappeared into the kitchen. Dishes rattled.

“My sister is a simple housewife with a family,” Xiaohui said. “She does not need to hear these things.”

“We understand that,” Ryker acknowledged.

She nodded, and looked down at the ratty, off-pink carpet. As if deciding it was too cheap for her exotic feet to come in contact with, she curled them beneath her on the couch.

“Lin Dan and I were lovers,” Xiaohui said softly, her eyes downcast. “I did not like him much as a person, but he took very good care of me. Do you know what a ‘kept woman’ is, sergeant?”

“I do,” Ryker said.

“In China, it has a stronger meaning than here in America. Kept women are provided for, given everything they desire. Lin Dan did that for me. He was my benefactor, but that was all he was. A means to an end.”

“But you didn’t like him,” Ryker pressed.

Xiaohui raised her eyes and met his gaze.

“I did not like him much, I said. But I would never destroy that which gives me what I need, and Lin Dan did just that. I am not like my sister, sergeant. I have different desires, and a simple home and family are not what I want. Not ever.”

Ryker nodded. He glanced over at Chee Wei, who was busy writing notes. He looked back at Xiaohui.

“So you’re an escort, then?” he asked.

“Not any longer. Lin Dan provided more than enough for me to leave that life behind.”

“Very well. About last night…?”

She sighed, and for an instant she appeared to be very, very weary. Ryker stared at her, watchful for any changes in her body language which might contradict what she would say. He detected nothing overt, but that meant nothing at this point.

“We met at the Mandarin Oriental. We would see each other only fairly occasionally, though he needed to be discreet because of his wife. She is not a very jealous person, but because of his troubles, he wanted to avoid making a spectacle of our relationship.”