Hidden Moon io-2

by James Church

  “Inspector, I’m going to do you a favor and pretend my hearing has gone bad. We have a lot of work to do, let’s do it.”

  “Good, let’s go harass someone, Lieutenant. You can show me how it’s done.”

  Min stopped me on the way out. “Inspector, could I see you a moment?” He shut the door when I stepped into his office. “Lay off the kid, would you? He’s smart, he has a good reputation. Maybe if we stay on his good side, he’ll go away happy.”

  “You forgot one thing. He works for SSD. The last thing in the world he wants to do is help the Ministry.”

  Min went over to his desk and sat down. If his chief inspector bottom was on the chair, it meant he was going to say something important. “I’m going to tell you this once, Inspector. One time, a single, solitary time. Listen carefully, please. We cooperate with SSD on this, or they eat us alive.” He closed his eyes. “Don’t argue, just do it and let’s get back to normal, like the man said.”

  4

  The two of us were in Han’s car, heading toward the Gold Star Bank. Han was driving with one hand, holding a cigarette in the other. It didn’t take much to convince him that his car was better than mine, and that if we were taking his car, he should drive. The driver always thinks he is in control, exactly what I wanted. Things would go smoother if Han thought that he had the lead and that I recognized his position. I looked out the window and wondered why no one from SSD ever knew anything about investigations. Or why they wouldn’t listen to anyone who did. Maybe it was the gene pool they pulled from. Han was driving too fast. That was another SSD trait.

  “We in a big hurry?” I put my hand on the dashboard to brace myself as we pulled around a truck.

  “I’m driving, Inspector. When you drive, you pick the speed. Let’s agree on that, shall we?” In that borrowed voice again.

  I took a piece of poplar wood out of my pocket and began sanding it with an old scrap of sandpaper. There wasn’t much left of the sandpaper, and poplar isn’t all that interesting. I was just going through the motions. The car swerved as Han reached for my hand and yelled, “Hey! You’re messing up my upholstery.”

  “You’re driving,” I said. “I’m sanding. Let’s agree on that.” I brushed the front of my shirt. It always amazed me how much sawdust came out of a little piece of poplar; sawdust and matchsticks. Trash wood, my grandfather would say.

  Han pulled over and braked sharply in front of the train station. “Put it away, Inspector. I heard about you and wood. You can mess up that dump you call an office with sawdust if you want, but not here. In fact, don’t do it in my presence, not on this case.” When he was angry, I noticed, he fell into using his real voice. It was younger, not so tough.

  I blew some sawdust against the front windshield and watched it settle on the dashboard. “I’m not here because I volunteered, Han. As I recall, the sequence was this: You showed up in my chief inspector’s office, and he told me to cooperate with you. It was a Ministry order. We were to work as a team. I’m doing my part; I’m doing what I do. If you want to make changes to that, be my guest. Get your headquarters to call you back home. Otherwise, we have work to do. Sawdust bothers you? File a complaint. Trust me, it’s a lot easier to clean up sawdust than it is to repair cigarette burns in upholstery.” I waited, but he didn’t have a smart answer ready, so I continued. “Tell me something, if you don’t mind.”

  “What?” Kind of sullen but also, I thought, preoccupied.

  “You wear those sunglasses when you sleep?”

  Han threw his cigarette out the window and stepped on the gas. A traffic policeman was crossing the street to see why we were stopped. Han sped past him. “Okay,” he said. “Good. We’re beyond the getting-to-know-you stage. The textbooks refer to it as ‘initial posturing.’ It has been established beyond a reasonable doubt that you don’t like SSD. That’s your problem. Can we move on to something else?” This was still his regular voice, but I could tell he didn’t have a chance to use it much, except maybe when he was talking to himself.

  “Move on to something else,” I said, “such as?”

  “Such as the bank robbery we’re supposed to be investigating.”

  “Is that the next stage in the textbook?”

  “Inspector”-Han turned into a side street that took us two short blocks from the bank-“I’m not interested in our becoming fast friends. All I want is to see this case file in the out-basket.” He switched off the engine, took off his sunglasses, and pulled a notebook from a side pocket on his door. “Your out-basket had a piece of wood in it, oak I think it was.”

  “What sort of oak?” I wasn’t going to give in that easily. Maybe oak was the only tree he knew.

  Han leaned back and smiled. “Oak, that’s enough.”

  “Fine, we’re back to stage one, getting acquainted.” Han didn’t fit with the normal SSD character. I’d never heard one of them refer to a textbook, or to any book, actually. “If I had to guess”-I stared out the windshield-“I’d guess you aren’t from SSD. The blazer had me fooled, but no one from SSD is so smooth, and none of them know oak from abalone. Who are you really?”

  Han didn’t break stride. “Just who your boss said I was. We have been put together to focus resources on a crime the Center wants solved. You have a reputation as a competent investigator.” Curiously, it sounded like a compliment. “I have access to files and equipment you lack. I’ve worked in SSD for almost eight years. Satisfied?”

  “No. It’s a sad day, when one ox can’t pull the cart.”

  “Let’s leave farm implements out of it for now.” He started thumbing through the notebook. “This woman, Chon, at the bank. Have you seen her file?”

  “She doesn’t have a file.”

  “Inspector, everyone has a file. I have a file. You have a file.” A faraway look came over his face. “And it’s some file.” He closed his eyes briefly, in a kind of ecstasy I didn’t like. “Anyway, I can have her searched in our records.” He checked his cuffs. “At least we can see if she exists on the computer. She works with foreign currency; most of those people have to fill out special paperwork.”

  “Only one problem, we don’t have her full name yet. She hasn’t been formally interviewed.”

  “What does that matter? Her name should be cross-filed under the bank’s employees.”

  “So, why are we sitting here? Drop me off, and you can go back to your office to check.”

  “Go back? I’m going to call in her name from here. It will only take a couple of minutes for the computer run. That way, when we go in, we’ll have something to talk about.” Han took a cell phone from his coat pocket, dialed a number, said a few words, then put the phone on the dashboard and slumped down in his seat. “Now we wait.”

  A few minutes later, the phone buzzed like a bee. Han pulled it to his ear, nodded his head, then turned it off.

  “Impressive,” I said.

  “Yes, they move fast.”

  “No, I mean that buzzing. How do you get it to do that, instead of playing music?”

  Han snorted. “Give me your cell number. I’ll call you so we can see what you have.”

  “Not a chance.” I climbed out of the car. Whatever tune was programmed on my phone, Han didn’t need to hear it. “It’s time to go to work.”

  “Don’t you want to know what they have on her in the files?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they don’t have anything. I already told you, she doesn’t have a file.”

  “How did you know that?” Han looked in the rearview mirror, frowned, and smoothed his hair.

  “I checked. Women like her don’t have files. Women like her know a certain level of people, and people at that level don’t want to be in the files of women like her. It’s too hard to do, staying out of her file. The easier route is just to get rid of it, pay someone to lose it. Maybe we can go through the foreign visitors’ roster that the immigration people have, but I don’t think she’ll be the
re, either.”

  Han shook his head. “Don’t worry; someone has a file on her, someplace. Let’s find out who she knows.” He smiled at the mirror, ran his finger over his teeth, and then frowned again. “I hate dealing with people who don’t have files. There is something abnormal about it.”

  Just as we reached the bank’s front door, Han took a pair of latex gloves from his pocket. “You have a pair of these, Inspector?”

  “No, but I have this.” I put on the mask from the morgue. “Do I really need it? We’re not going to do an autopsy, Han, we’re just going to ask the lady some questions.”

  “This is a crime scene, Inspector, and there may be evidence. Without these gloves, you’ll contaminate the place, leave fingerprints. Take off the mask. They’ll think it’s another robbery.”

  “The crime took place days ago. By now hundreds of fingers have visited. There’s no physical evidence left. But who knows, you can always get the flu.”

  “Are you really going to leave that mask on?” He was sounding nettled.

  I opened the door and walked in. “Don’t worry, it’s just us.” One of the desks was missing, and no one was sitting at the other two. The three teller windows along the rear wall were open; the broken one had been fixed. “Good security practice.” I turned back to Han. “Front door open, and the place is empty. No wonder they got robbed. If you need some cash, Han, it’s there in the back. Help yourself.”

  Han pulled off his gloves and stuffed them in his back pocket. “Something isn’t right here, Inspector.”

  “You’re telling me. Overnight, they’ve cleaned the place up, rearranged the furniture, and left for Switzerland. A good piece of plywood has disappeared, as well. It was exterior plywood, but they were using it inside, which wasn’t very smart. You could get splinters.”

  “No one’s gone to Switzerland, trust me on that. Keep your eyes open while I go to check the back. Whistle if you see anyone coming.”

  “Don’t bother. They’re in the back waiting, watching us on the security camera right now.” I pointed at the small camera bolted on the wall close to the ceiling in a back corner, over one of the desks. “I wonder if it taped the robbery. Wouldn’t that be a lucky break?”

  “You’re out of luck, Inspector.” Miss Chon came in behind us through the front door. “We don’t tape. We just monitor from the back, mostly to make sure the clerks stay honest.” She frowned as I turned around. “I don’t have any communicable diseases, nothing that is airborne, anyway. You can take off your mask.” She looked at Han, then back to me. “I see you felt the need for reinforcements. I already told you, we don’t require an investigation.”

  “And I told you, I am polite but persistent. This young fellow is not from my ministry, but he is more persistent than I am, and probably not as agreeable.”

  Miss Chon didn’t bother to look at Han again. “I don’t care who he is. You’ll both have to leave, unless you have financial business to transact with the bank. Since the robbery, we aren’t letting people loiter. No one even comes in if we don’t recognize them as a customer.” She walked over to her desk and sat down. “I don’t recognize either of you.”

  “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” Han was back to his tough voice, though the overall effect wasn’t helped by the buzzing coming from his coat pocket. “This is an SSD investigation, and the inspector and I will stand here until the mountains fall into the sea if we feel like it.”

  Miss Chon was wearing a red dress with a white belt that made her waist look even smaller. It was a wonder she could breathe. “You’d better answer your phone before then. It might be your mother.” She smiled at me, I smiled back.

  Han swore under his breath. “Get your manager out here. And where are the records?” He fumbled in his pocket for the phone; the buzzing stopped.

  “Before we see the manager, we need to ask you a few questions.” I smiled again at Miss Chon. “Nothing too probing. Were you sitting out here when the robbery occurred?”

  “This is my desk, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know whose it is. You weren’t sitting here yesterday. You were sitting at the desk that isn’t around anymore. You got tired of it? Needed a newer model?” I looked at the indentations in the rug where the other desk had been. It must have been heavy; the marks it left went deep into the carpet.

  “It isn’t a crime to move furniture, Inspector, unless your ministry has discovered regulations from the old days, when things were tidy and dull. We needed a new interior scheme, that’s all, something that would attract more foreign customers. We hired a decorator, an Italian man who favors silk shirts that open to here.” Wherever “to here” was would look good on her, but I pretended not to notice. “He told us the colors were too plain and the furniture was too heavy. So, we’re lightening things up. Yesterday seemed like a good day to start.”

  “This may come as a surprise, Miss Chon, but a bank robbery is considered a serious crime, and altering a crime scene is a bad thing to do. It’s actually hampering an investigation. That’s not from the old days; in the old days there weren’t investigations.” The look on her face told me she wasn’t going to chew her nails over the news that she had altered a crime scene. I moved along to something else. “What about that teller window? How did you get it repaired so quickly?”

  Miss Chon crossed her legs and began to dangle one shoe off her foot. She looked very comfortable. “Quickly? What do you mean, Inspector? We’ve been waiting to get that fixed since February. The glass only came in this morning. The janitor put it in himself. He said we’re not to touch it for a couple of days, something about letting the glue dry.” Miss Chon reached over and massaged her ankle. I could hear Han’s labored breathing behind me.

  “Maybe we should see the manager now,” I said.

  “You already have, Inspector. Who did you think I am, a clerk, a pretty face to greet the men with bags of money? I’m the manager. And if you have no more questions, I’m very busy.” She looked up at the security camera for an instant, then turned back to me. “We’re closed today to customers. Tomorrow, to mark a fresh start, to help clear away the memory of the robbery and the unpleasantness outside, we’re holding a small party in the afternoon, at five o’clock. I know it’s a Sunday, but perhaps if you’re not busy you’d like to come, you and the bumblebee from SSD.”

  As we walked back to the car, Han was silent. Just before he got in, he gave a little skip. “I knew it.” He opened the door and then slammed it shut. “I knew it.”

  “Something I missed?”

  “She’s in on it, Inspector. Did you see the way she was sitting?”

  “I did. But you seemed to be paying more attention than I was.”

  “What did it tell you-I mean, her posture, her demeanor?”

  I opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. “She sits like a lady who knows how to cross her legs.”

  Han climbed in on his side. “No, she doesn’t. She doesn’t sit like a lady at all. Her bearing was all wrong. She’s nervous, shifty. She didn’t make eye contact with me once.”

  “I think she doesn’t like you.”

  “Of course she doesn’t, I’m from SSD, and I’m a threat. She has a guilty conscience.”

  “So why did she make eye contact with me?”

  “Because she knows you’re not a threat, Inspector. She thinks you’re a clown.”

  “Really, is that so?” I took some paper from my pocket and jotted a few notes. “Who do you think was in the back room?”

  “No one.”

  “I’d say you’re wrong, I’d say there was someone. She was nervous, I’ll grant you that, and she needed to get us out of there before we went into the back to take a look. She glanced at the security camera, not very long, but long enough to tell whoever was back there to leave. What did you think of the glass?”

  “What glass?”

  “The new glass in the teller window. She said the janitor did it himself and then told her
not to touch it for a few days until it dried.”

  “So?”

  “It wasn’t glued. You don’t glue glass into place. You use putty. But this was just sitting in a slot in the frame. It could fall out if someone slammed the front door.”

  “Who cares?”

  “Why would she make up a story about something like that? More to the point, why would anyone who knows about being a janitor talk about gluing in the window?”

  Han rubbed his nose. “You said there was a desk missing.”

  “A heavy desk.”

  “What was in it?”

  “At last, a good question, Lieutenant Han. Now I have one for you. Shall we get something to eat?”

  Chapter Four

  It was Sunday, but I went to the office anyway. Now that SSD had moved in on the case, it would be harder for us to drop. But there is always a hole in the clouds. If the case was actually supposed to be solved-which I still doubted-then SSD would fumble around and trip over evidence, but we might eventually pull some facts together. If it wasn’t supposed to be solved, I knew SSD would make sure we didn’t get ourselves in trouble by finding anything remotely like a concrete lead. It was unlikely we’d discover anything at the party Miss Chon had mentioned, and that was fine. A party is, after all, a party. No harm in standing around.

  Meanwhile, I decided to drive over and nose around the neighborhood near the bank. There were a few residents in the old apartments who spent the whole day doing nothing but sitting around with their eyes open. Imagine my surprise when it turned out, on the day of the robbery, they had all been somewhere else. None of them knew a bartender with a high-pitched voice and a scar on his face, either, though a couple of them flinched when I told them they’d better believe I’d remember how they helped me out on this.