by S. J. Rozan
“Wow. Who wrote that speech? Besides, I’d have bet anything you were a Red Pole. An enforcer.”
He shook his head, grinning, as though I’d said something adorable. The waitress came out and brought our tea—my Kenyan black and something pale and spicy-smelling in a heavy mug for Ironman. Mocha pumpkin spice chai latte, no doubt. She also put down a plate of tiny iced cookies and a dish of dates.
“So,” Ironman said, popping a date in his mouth. “You really are a private eye, huh? How’d you get into that?”
“I was hoping to be able to help the cops run in guys like you.” I poured myself a cup of tea.
“And your cute friend Mary—I remember you guys hung out in high school. She’s some scary detective now, huh?”
“I’ll tell her you said so.”
“What about that big White guy, he’s your partner? Your business partner, or your personal partner?”
“You seem to know a lot about me, Ironman.”
“I’m interested. Like I said, making up for lost time.”
“You haven’t asked about my brothers.”
“Ted’s a professor at Queens College.” He ticked off on his fingers. “Elliot’s a doctor. They both have kids. Andrew’s a photographer. He’s gay. Tim’s a lawyer. He’s straight but he’s still single and if he hasn’t changed since high school I can guess why that is. They’re all good. And your mom’s fine, too. She looks good, the old lady. I saw her just this morning, out on Canal Street buying fish.” He smiled, showing gleaming teeth, while I thought, Damn. Talk about things that sound like threats. Strike three.
“I’m touched that you recognized her, Ironman. I always liked your mom, too. She’s still behind the counter at Bright Star Bakery, I see. I guess she must enjoy the job because I know a filial son like you must have offered to support her if she wanted to retire. Or if you didn’t, your sister, who was always nicer than you anyway, would have. Or your sister’s husband. Even though they have three kids to think about, out there in Montclair.” I had done my homework, too, as soon as I’d ID’d him at the funeral. “So how about”—I leaned forward—“we drop the vague intimidation, which, I have to tell you, is pissing me the hell off, which is not language I use lightly.”
I sat back and sipped. The tea, at least, was good.
Ironman’s face briefly darkened, but he got himself under control fast. He broke into a grin. “Check it out! They teach you that at PI school?”
I shrugged. “I was an A student.”
“You always were a Goody Two-shoes.” This was seriously not true, but because he clearly needed to shore up his wounded male pride, I didn’t argue.
“So, okay,” he said. “Let’s forget about everyone else. Who cares? Let’s talk about you. So, tell me something. Because I’m interested. Why were you at our building yesterday, and this morning? That hotness you were with—that’s Old Choi’s niece. I’ve known her since she and her sister were just bug-eyed rich kids coming down to Chinatown to gawk. In fact, I tried to date her once, but Old Choi shut me down. Is she your private eye client or something?”
I smiled. “Ah. Now we come to the subject of this meeting.”
“This isn’t a meeting, pretty one, it’s a date. On a date you need something to talk about while you’re looking each other over.”
“If that’s it, we can talk about how you’re in contention to head the Li Min Jin now that Chang Yao-Zu’s been killed.”
“Whoa, Ms. Private Eye! Where’d you hear that?”
“It’s all over Chinatown, Mr. Youth Programs.”
“You shouldn’t listen to gossip.”
“You shouldn’t be a tong member. Thanks for the tea.” I got up to go.
“No, wait.” He grabbed my hand. “Come on, sit down. We’re just getting started.”
“Doing what?”
“Getting to know each other again.”
“Ironman, you’re handsome and charming, and I don’t want to know you.”
“Sit down.” His grip barely tightened and his voice barely hardened, and now I saw the man I’d seen yesterday and at Choi Meng’s funeral. The man who might become the next head of the Li Min Jin.
I sat. “Okay, now what?”
He lifted his mug and looked at me as he sipped. Again, the grin. “We go on getting to know each other.”
“How?”
“We tell each other things.”
“What things?”
“You tell me why you were at our building yesterday.”
“And what do you tell me?”
“Something interesting about it.”
“About the building?”
“Yes, gorgeous, about the building.”
I drank more tea. “Mel Wu is my client, you’re right. She’s executor of Big Brother Choi’s estate. She wanted to go up and take a look around, and she didn’t feel safe in your building without bodyguards.”
“She’d have been fine.”
“Sure. Anyway, her looking around was derailed by Chang’s body bleeding all over her uncle’s living room. Did you kill him?”
“Are you serious?”
“Someone did.”
“Well, it wasn’t me.” Ironman smiled and delicately traced a finger down the back of my hand. “Believe me, it wasn’t.”
I moved my hand away. “Since you didn’t kill him, maybe you can tell me what the message was he had for Mel.”
“Message?”
“From Choi Meng. Something he’d wanted her to know.”
“Really? About what?”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Chang got himself killed before he could deliver it. So how about you tell me and I’ll tell her?”
He gave a slow smug smile. He picked up a cookie, assessed it, and bit into it. “I don’t know what it was, darling, but I bet I know what it was about.”
“Go ahead.”
He leaned across the table as though we were co-conspirators.
“The charm isn’t working, Ironman. You owe me, and I want my trade.”
He gave me puppy eyes. “You’re a hard nut to crack, Lydia Chin.”
“So I’ve heard. Do I get my trade or do I leave?”
He took another cookie, peered at it. I was contemplating upending the rest of them into his lap when he finally spoke. “I don’t know what the message was. But whatever it was, it probably has something to do with whatever’s buried in the building.”
“Buried in the building? What does that mean?”
He shrugged. “Nobody knows exactly what it means. They say there’s something valuable, buried in the building.”
“Who are ‘they’?”
“The people who say. They’ve said for years. And they also say Tan Lu-Lien’s books don’t balance.” Again, the amused smile. “She’s the tong’s White Paper Fan, you know. That means—”
“She’s the CFO. You guys really think your secret codes and all that stupid stuff are so secret? I knew that was her position, and I want to know who says her books don’t balance.”
“You want to know? Aha, I found something that interests you! Well, for your information, pretty much everyone says that.”
“I doubt that, or she’d have been dealt with long ago, however you respectable citizens in your nonprofit deal with people these days.” I poured myself more tea, though it had faded to lukewarm. “But if I understand your irritating wink-wink beating around the bush here, you’re saying some of you think she’s been skimming and burying her gains in the building somewhere in the form of hard cash.”
“Or something else, something more easily transportable,” he said reasonably. “Diamonds, you know, things like that.”
“Why not just use a safe deposit box?”
“A White Paper Fan opening a safe deposit box might have been noticed.”
“In another borough? Another state? Oh,” I said, seeing his eyes. “You have people watching her. Just you? Or you and Chang and what’s his name, Loo?”
“Not Chang. He was B
ig Brother Choi’s man and Tan is—was—Big Brother’s woman.”
“But you and Loo, huh?”
“Loo’s a senile idiot. Why would I work with him?”
“You won’t work with Loo and you’re spying on Tan. So much for a sworn brotherhood.” Besides, I thought, Tan’s a sister.
“It’s the responsibility of power to keep power in check.”
“Now I know you didn’t write that.”
He shrugged. “We all have our obligations. Everyone knew Big Brother Choi would never sell. That makes the building a very safe hiding place. Or, it did.”
“Not anymore?”
“Don’t bat your eyes at me all innocent. Mel isn’t just Big Brother’s executor. The old bastard left her the building. Everything’s changed.”
“I suppose it has.” I sipped at my tea. “Why,” I mused, as though to myself, “would he not sell?”
Ironman took the bait, though not in words. He gave me a long, expectant look, like a teacher waiting on a pupil. After a moment I caught his meaning.
“You’re not serious,” I said. “You think they were in it together? You’re telling me Choi was holding on to a multimillion-dollar piece of New York City real estate so he and Tan could use it as a piggy bank and stuff things in the walls?”
“Not entirely. He was a sentimental son of a bitch. He truly loved the old dump. But having a fortune hidden in it could make it a lot easier to turn down the fortune Ting was offering for it. At least until he got Ting up to a price he liked.”
“For Pete’s sake, Ironman. You’re a tong member. He was your Big Brother.”
“Oh, yes, and siblings always treat each other well, don’t they? Yours always have?”
That stopped me. “I do see your point. But really, you think Choi was stealing from his own tong?”
“It wasn’t his tong,” Ironman snapped. His fist clenched. I wondered if he was aware of it. “He was the leader, but the power and the profit-sharing are supposed to be organized along very specific lines.”
“Profit-sharing?” I tried to keep the squeak of derision out of my voice. “So, what, you didn’t get your Christmas bonus?”
He relaxed. “Something like that.” He tapped the back of my hand. That’s what you get for leaving your hands on the table, Lydia. I pulled them into my lap again. “Another thing that’s supposed to work on definite lines,” he said, “is contact between us and the home-office Li Min Jin boys back in Hong Kong. Those lines are, there isn’t any contact, except between the head here and the head there. Oh, you didn’t know that, did you, smarty-pants?”
“I thought one of the objects of having a building was so you could put up visiting tong members. Isn’t that contact?”
“Oh, sure, if we go there or they come here, it’s all kissy-kissy, welcome brother, how can we help? But business, day-to-day tong business, is strictly on the top level. So it’s a little mystifying why Tan Lu-Lien has been calling one of the Hong Kong hotshots over the last couple of months.”
There was no point in asking how he knew. I wondered if Tan knew, though, how closely she was being watched.
“Who?” I asked.
“Oh, like the guy’s name would mean anything to you?”
“Try me.”
“Johnny Gee.”
“He was head of the Black Shadows when she was in the gang in Hong Kong.”
“Hey, not bad,” he said with exaggerated wonder. “You study up?”
“So he moved up into the tong,” I said, ignoring that. “Wouldn’t it be natural for her to keep in touch with an old gang pal?”
“Natural or not, he’s with the Li Min Jin Hong Kong and she’s with the Li Min Jin New York, so that would be a no.”
“If they don’t discuss business, just pass the time?” I asked.
“How do you know what they discuss?”
“Obviously I don’t.”
“Do you have a theory?”
“No.”
“Well, I do. For one thing, this old friendship of theirs is new. She started calling him six months ago. Before that, nada. Here’s what I think. I think these calls were authorized by Big Brother here and the head in Hong Kong.”
His superior smile clearly wanted me to ask why. As much as I wanted to know, I almost shrugged and said fine, just to drive him nuts. Luckily my inner PI won out over my inner teenager. “Why would they do that?”
“Tan understands the money. Maybe that’s Johnny Gee’s position in Hong Kong.” I thought of Tan saying Johnny Gee had put her in charge of the Black Shadows’ finances. If he’d had the talent or training to do that kind of thing himself, why would he give her the job? No, it wasn’t likely Johnny Gee was the Li Min Jin Hong Kong’s White Paper Fan. But I didn’t say so.
“I think,” Ironman said, “the Hong Kong boys are getting ready to kick us to the curb. I think Tan and Big Brother bled off the profits, Big Brother was going to sell the building, they were going to split what they had with the Hong Kong boys, and the rest of us were going to be cut loose. Then Big Brother went and died, but I bet that doesn’t matter. He and Tan made a deal with Hong Kong, and she’s going to keep it. And you know what?”
“What?”
“As far as I’m concerned, that’s fine. I haven’t liked the way things have been run for a while now. It’s time for new blood, new organization, new thinking.”
“For your community-service nonprofit.”
“Yeah, sweetie, that’s right. But here’s the problem. She thinks she’s going to take our money with her when she goes.”
19
I leaned back in my chair in the back garden of Miansai, moving my hands and the rest of me out of Ironman Ma’s grabbing range. “Well,” I said, “as fascinating as all this is, Ironman, is there some reason you’re telling it to me? Besides getting to know each other again?”
“That’s not enough?”
“Nope.”
He drained his mug of spiced whatever. “You spent a lot of time this morning with Tan Lu-Lien.”
“She and Mel Wu were getting to know each other again.”
“How sweet. Did you and Tan get to know each other, too?”
“I was just a fly on the wall.”
“And Tan Lu-Lien is a spider.” He lifted his eyebrows meaningfully. I wondered how many ways he had of being nonverbally patronizing.
But I got it. “Are you telling me she’s gay?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Lyd, look at her. Dyke-a-rama.” Lyd, again. If he kept this up, next time he came up to bat he’d be out before he started. “Look at how she dresses. How she walks. Tattoos not someplace sexy, but on her hands, for shit’s sake.”
“How do you know she doesn’t have them someplace sexy?”
“Oh? Does she?”
“Listen to yourself, Ironman. You can’t stand her, and I bet most of the tong members feel the same. If she’d acted like your idea of a woman, it could’ve been fatal for her even with Big Brother Choi’s protection.” Listen to me, defending a gangster to another gangster. I’d have to check myself for fleas once I got up from these dogs. “She says that if she were a man, she’d be the next leader, but as it is, she’s out after the vote or whatever it is you guys do.”
“Bullshit. She never would’ve been leader. A bean counter? Even a man. She’s out for sure, and good riddance, but she’s not taking our money. Go back and talk to her.”
“What?”
“I want you to go back and see if you can find where the money’s hidden. No, don’t see if you can. Just do it. Find that money.”
“Find your own money, Ironman.” I eyed him. “Unless you’re afraid Mel’s going to evict you all and sell to Jackson Ting before you do.”
“She’s not going to sell to him.”
I shrugged. “As far as I know she’s still deciding. And whether she sells or not, she can still evict you.”
“She’s not going to sell to him, and she’s not going to evict us. She’s going to sell
to me.”
“She’s going to what?”
He laughed. “Gotcha! See, you don’t know everything, do you? I want that building. I want what’s buried in it and I want it.”
“Why?”
“Come on, you’re so smart.” He sat back. I was working it out but I held my tongue. Ironman gave a big theatrical sigh. “The Li Min Jin has a lot of business interests. Ongoing projects. Investments. You know. But the organization’s full of old men, stuck in the past.”
Investments. Projects. The organization. I said nothing.
“We need new vision. We need to start to see past the small-time bullshit to the big wide world out there.”
“Chinese crime—it’s not just for Chinatown anymore. Is that your slogan?”
“You know, you can be a real pain.”
“I’ve heard that. And Big Brother Choi had no vision?”
“Big Brother Choi was happy just puttering along with what we had. I’ve heard the stories about what he was like when he was young, but he sure as hell wasn’t young anymore.”
“But you are.”
“If—if—you were right about me having a shot at the top spot, it’d be the old men who’d want to stop me. They’d be behind old Loo because they’re all senile idiots like he is. If any of this were happening—I mean, it’s all theoretical, but if it were—the tong would be split just about fifty-fifty. Guys with vision versus senile idiots. But if one of the vision guys had the building, that might tip the scale.”
“I don’t believe it. You’re serious. You really want Mel to sell you the building?”
“Damn right I do, sweetheart. Then we can stay in it, the way her uncle wanted. Wouldn’t that warm her heart, to do what dear Uncle Meng wanted? If she sells it to Ting, she’s going to have to empty it, like you said. You know how hard it is to evict people in New York? And you know how hard it would be to evict us? I promise you her life will be a lot easier if she just sells me the building.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
He smiled. “For someone in the criminal business, you seem awfully jumpy about seeing threats everywhere.”
Only when they’re actually there. “How are you going to pay for this real estate investment?”
