Jade Dragon (Action Girl Thrillers)

by A. D. Phillips

  “Care to enlighten me? As to what a girl’s most dangerous weapon is?”

  “I’ll give you a clue. They begin with the letter T. Guys like you are so busy watching the front, they don’t see the knife she’s sharpening behind her back.”

  Kyle laughed at his partner’s argument. “Are you ever optimistic?”

  “No.” Lakeysia waited for Kyle to stop grinning before she continued. “I always expect the worst. That way, I’m prepared when it happens.”

  Chapter Four: An Uninvited Guest

  The rookie policewoman looked up at the American flag flying over the downtown precinct, face beaming with pride. Even though they’d never met, Lakeysia could tell it was the girl’s first day on the job. The slim redhead’s uniform was neat, her handcuffs brand new, and the truncheon on her belt polished to a shine. The veteran watched with vague interest as the young recruit removed her cap, and placed it over her chest.

  Lakeysia sighed. Should the new kid on the block survive the day, she wouldn’t feel nearly as patriotic tomorrow. In a few hours time the rookie would be patrolling the streets. Once exposed to the city’s criminal underworld, the gritty reality of tackling muggers, sex offenders and murderers first hand would hit hard, and the new kid would soon realize her academy training was insufficient preparation for the challenges ahead. While simulated exercises captured some essence of crime fighting, there was no margin for error - or second chances - in the real world. There was always space to engrave another name on the department’s memorial plaque.

  Like many before her, the rookie was a young, spirited idealist who’d pledged her allegiance to protect and serve. If necessary, she was prepared to give her life in the line of duty. What hadn’t been tested was her ability to cope with the death of another officer, especially someone she’d grown close to. Lakeysia considered sharing the shattering experience of losing her previous partner to an assassin’s bullet, in hope the young girl would opt for a safer career path. Then she realized it was too late for that. The rookie had already made her decision. At this point helpful words of encouragement would do far more good than an honest, realistic assessment.

  Lakeysia hid her doubts behind a smile and shook the younger woman’s hand. “Welcome to the precinct. Symons, Homicide. So, who’ve I got the honor of speaking to?”

  The rookie snapped to attention. “Mea— Officer Wilson, ma’am.”

  “No need to be formal. Loosen up a little. I ain’t your commanding officer. Just stopped to offer a guiding hand. If you ever make detective, apply to Vice. Less dead people to deal with. Besides, we got a real asshole for Lieutenant.”

  Wilson’s eyes widened with shock. “If you don’t mind me saying, Detective Symons, shouldn’t you…”

  “Show respect to my superiors?” ventured Lakeysia. “I should, yeah. Page three, paragraph twenty, bullet point seven or whatever. Let me give you some practical advice, Wilson. Criminals don’t follow the police rulebook. Forget that shit and use your common sense. Otherwise, they’ll be calling me down to the morgue to look at your naked, skinny body. And that’s something I’d rather not do. Understand?”

  “Yes. I understand.” The rookie’s knees were trembling. She was probably imagining herself on a cold, metal slab for the first time in her life.

  Lakeysia rested a comforting hand on Wilson’s shoulder. “Hey, you take care. Your badge don’t mean nothing to the lowlifes littering the streets. Point your gun in their face, and it’s a different story. Self preservation by crapping on the rest of civilization. That’s their motto. Don’t mean you gotta live by it, but it does have its merits.”

  Her grim observations had left Wilson downbeat and depressed. Lakeysia lifted the rookie’s chin, smiled, and added a humorous coup de grace. “You watch your ass out there. Whether your partner decides to or not.”

  The young girl’s face brightened. “Thank you for being so honest with me. It’s a nice change from…” She glanced over her shoulder. The two policewomen were alone on the front steps, but Wilson spoke quietly nonetheless. “From the bullshit PC rhetoric they feed us on criminal’s rights.”

  “Careful, Wilson. Keep thinking like that, and you might end up like me. See you around.”

  Lakeysia patted Wilson on the back, and entered the precinct. The downtown offices had been converted from a hotel in the early 1950s. While most interior walls were demolished during the renovation, the elevators were a throwback to the past. Cage doors, grinding pulley wheels and floor indicator dials were modern equipment back in their day, but replacements were now long overdue. Lakeysia suspected the antiquated system had been retained so the department’s foot soldiers would be forced to exercise their legs on the stairs. Naturally, the higher ups who made policy had cozy offices at City Hall, with private ‘executive’ elevators included in the package.

  Lakeysia exited the lift cage four stories up. Homicide Division occupied two complete floors, to the annoyance of detectives in Robbery and Vice. Their officers often complained about sharing a single office, albeit an eighty foot square one. They’d have more to grumble about if their workload was half that of a Homicide cop. There were far more unsolved murders in San Francisco than investigators, and two whole rooms were needed to store ‘cold case’ files. According to rumors, some documents even predated the precinct building.

  The first person Lakeysia ran into was Frances Moore, the division secretary. The sweet faced, brown haired lady preferred a traditional shirt, long dress and high heels to the more practical outfits worn by female plainclothes officers. Frances spent her typical day behind a desk, accessing computer records, photocopying police files and running background checks while senior personnel were out chasing leads.

  “Detective Symons.” Frances generally referred to police officers by their formal titles. “Glad I found you. Lieutenant Thorne asked me to send you his way when you got here.”

  Lakeysia looked at the Lieutenant’s office, a partitioned area in the back corner. Venetian blinds were closed behind the soundproofed windows, concrete evidence Thorne was holding a private meeting.

  “See the watchdog’s as patient as ever,” joked Lakeysia. “He been in there long?”

  She answered Frances’ inquisitive look with a nod towards her partner’s desk. Nicole Tasoto sat in Kyle’s chair, answering questions from two female detectives. She paused occasionally to wipe away tears. If her despair was all an act, she was doing a convincing job.

  “Twenty minutes or so,” Frances said. “That’s not like Detective Travis, being early for an appointment with the Lieutenant.”

  “I’m sure he’s got his reasons,” Lakeysia said, eyeballing Nicole. “The grieving daughter for one.”

  Frances shook her head in dismay. “Does that guy date every girl he sees?”

  “Just those he finds attractive. Aren’t we the lucky ones? Catch you later, Frances. Got an interrogation of my own to look forward to.”

  Lakeysia took a deep breath, and stepped into the Lieutenant’s domain. Christopher Thorne was the ideal poster child for zero tolerance policy. Someone not acquainted with the dome headed Texan could easily be intimidated by his towering, broad chested figure, bushy black mustache and pale reddish skin tone. In another life Thorne would be an actor typecast as an army drill instructor. Photos hung behind the boss’ desk detailed his long, illustrious history with the police department: early days as a patrolman, his promotion to detective, a multitude of awards and commendations, and an unbroken seven year stint in charge of Downtown Homicide Division. The old warhorse’s poker face was lined with wrinkles, a sign of a man well past his prime, but Thorne hadn’t grown soft with age.

  The Lieutenant brushed a fly off his suit then got down to business. “Travis already gave me the long version,” he said, pushing a case file across his desk. “Now you’ve decided to join us, care to give us your take on things?”

  Lakeysia took a seat beside Kyle, crossed her legs, and leaned back against the chair rest. �
�Probably just a serial killer,” she concluded. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  Thorne wasn’t buying it. “Serial killer? Tasoto must have trodden on a few toes over the years. What makes you think this isn’t a one off?”

  Lakeysia was about to defend her position when Travis butted in. “Could be a former employee on bad terms,” he suggested. “Someone he fired maybe, an old colleague with an axe to grind.”

  Lakeysia opened the case file. Crime scene photographs showed the remains of Toshigi’s chauffeur. As usual the forensics man had covered every angle, including the trashcan where the killer disposed of the driver’s severed head.

  “Or a sword to swing,” said Lakeysia. “Cause of death seems clear cut. Pun intended.”

  Travis was determined to voice his opinion. “I say it’s a videogame freak, someone who didn’t like the latest Dragonsoft offering and decided to make her point at the annual meeting. There’s nothing here that would indicate a serial killer.”

  “Not yet,” Lakeysia said bleakly. Inwardly she hoped Travis was right, but anybody brutal enough to chop off a man’s head as part of an elaborate kidnap scheme wasn’t about to stop there.

  Thorne closed the file, doing his best to remain hopeful. “For now, let’s go with the revenge theory. The gaming culture, eh? That’s a long line of suspects. You said you thought the perp may have been a woman?” He looked to Kyle for an answer.

  “At this point, the picture of events we have is pretty vague. We’re still trying to piece together the facts.”

  “Has the girl said anything?” the Lieutenant asked.

  “Not yet. Jennings and Lowes are talking to her now.”

  Lakeysia glanced sideways at her partner. “Perhaps you could employ some of your legendary charm, get her to open up over sushi, teriyaki and sake.”

  Of course, Travis had to defend the woman. “Nicole’s pretty shaken up.”

  “Travis,” said Thorne. “I suggest you have someone escort Miss Tasoto home. Give her time to rest, pay a visit, calm her down. Maybe then she’ll be more willing to talk.”

  “Shouldn’t be too hard,” Lakeysia muttered under her breath.

  Travis reacted to her sarcasm with the usual ignorance. Once the Lieutenant decided on a course of action, they both knew it was a waste of effort to debate his decision.

  Thorne opened the blinds. Through the window Lakeysia watched Kyle return to his desk and converse with Nicole. The two of them hugged each other tight, a further sign of a blossoming relationship. She cried into his shoulder, a trick commonly used by femme fatales to lower a man’s guard. Guilty or not, Travis was getting too close to this woman.

  “What do you make of the daughter, Symons?” Thorne was clearly thinking along similar lines.

  “You want my two cents, Lieutenant?” she asked rhetorically. “Miss Tasoto did her old man in and there’s more on the way. Either that or she knows who did. She’s definitely hiding something. Call it female insight.”

  “Let Travis handle her,” Thorne said. “You do a background check on Tasoto senior. You might want to talk to his attorney. Goes by the name of Randall Forbes. He’s a real slippery character.”

  “A sleazy lawyer. Ain’t that a refreshing change?”

  ***

  A record search by the ever-reliable Frances turned up some interesting facts about the deceased’s attorney. Randall Forbes had been a close acquaintance of Toshigi Tasoto since the Japanese entrepreneur relocated to San Francisco twelve years earlier. He was co-founder of Dragonsoft, and a high-ranking member of the board of directors. After Toshigi, Randall held the largest financial stake in the company.

  The high priced lawyer had no reservations about flashing his earnings in public. He owned various properties throughout the state of California, and spent a good fraction of his spare time throwing exclusive parties on his luxury yacht. Every other weekend, wealthy socialites, corporate high fliers and their ilk were invited to Fisherman’s Wharf for a private get together. It was the kind of meeting where shady business deals were conducted in broad daylight. Randall’s clients weren’t afraid of the authorities. They possessed more than enough money and clout to derail any unwanted investigations into their activities.

  Randall’s boat was christened Apollo, after the god from Greek mythology. The lawyer had obviously seen himself as a key figure in Toshigi’s version of Mount Olympus. With the king dead, perhaps it was time for Randall to rename his yacht Zeus. It didn’t take Lakeysia long to locate the ship. Most vessels moored at the wharf’s forty plus piers were either floating museums or tourist attractions. The midday tours of San Francisco Bay and Alcatraz Island had already started, leaving only historic wrecks and private launches as potential candidates. Apollo was the cream of the fleet: a sleek, yellow sailed vessel built for a crew of five.

  Lakeysia saw two people on deck, but she doubted the woman massaging Randall’s back was a sailor. The Asian girl’s hands were soft and manicured, and her slim, artificially busty body and pink bikini suggested she had more experience navigating the male population than the waves of the Pacific. A half naked Randall lay face down on a sun bench, sipping martini from a cocktail glass. Cool air blew in from the bay, carrying a rich, sickly aroma of wax and body lotions.

  Lakeysia walked up the boat’s gangplank and flashed her badge in Randall’s face. “Detective Symons, Homicide,” she announced. “I can see you’re a busy man, Mister Forbes. I promise I won’t take up too much of your time.”

  Randall turned to his masseur. “Asuka, would you excuse us? I’ve got some business to take care of.”

  The girl smiled, rubbed Randall’s back one more time, and disappeared below decks.

  “Sure she’s old enough?” asked Lakeysia. “You wouldn’t want to screw around with a minor. The bad publicity might not sit too well with your clientele.”

  Randall seemed totally relaxed as he refilled his cocktail glass. “Asuka’s my physical therapist. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Right. And you’re a strictly legitimate businessman. In case you’re feeling charitable, police officers don’t drink on duty.”

  “Good to see you know the law, detective,” Randall said with a smirk. “May I ask what this is about?”

  “Toshigi Tasoto was murdered earlier this morning.” Lakeysia broke the news as brutally as possible. Official policy was to be tactful, but she liked to catch her opponents off guard.

  Randall choked on his martini. “What?” he coughed. “When did—”

  Lakeysia pressed her advantage. “What was your relationship with him?”

  “Toshigi and I were business partners.” Randall stood up and stared incredulously. “Surely you’re not suggesting that I had something to do with this?”

  “I don’t know. Did you?”

  An outraged protest was a common response by guilty suspects, and Lakeysia wanted to keep Randall in the hot seat as long as possible. As expected, he had an alibi ready.

  “I’ve been here all night,” Randall said. “Asuka can vouch for me.”

  “I’m sure she will.” Lakeysia stepped over a pile of revealing feminine clothes, folded her arms, and confronted the slimy lawyer head on. “Course, she’d back you up anyway, wouldn’t she?”

  “What exactly are you implying?”

  “Want me to spell it out for you?” Lakeysia paced slowly around the ship’s deck, paused to look out to sea, then turned sharply around. “You into mixed race relationships? Got a taste for Asian girls?”

  “My personal life is not your concern, Miss Symons.”

  “Detective Symons,” Lakeysia corrected him. “Ever had the boss’ daughter aboard?”

  Anger flashed in the attorney’s eyes. He downed his martini and sucked his lips dry. “I think you’ve outstayed your welcome, Detective.”

  Randall’s cocky swagger was notably absent. For whatever reason, Lakeysia’s invasive line of questioning had struck a chord. She followed through, hoping to capitalize on h
is vulnerability. “What? You won’t answer questions without a lawyer present? You stand to inherit a fair chunk of your late partner’s wealth. Am I right?”

  “Since you seem so interested in Miss Tasoto, perhaps you should question her. She inherits her father’s estate, not me. Now, if you’re finished.”

  “And you, as co-founder, gain sole ownership of his company. Annual profits of forty million. Not bad for a runner up prize.”

  Randall clenched his glass tight. “Detective Symons, I’m just about through listening to your unfounded accusations which, if I might say so, I happen to find quite insulting.”

  “If I think of any more, I’ll be sure to let you know. Don’t sail too far. Wouldn’t want us to get the wrong impression, would you?” Lakeysia started to leave, but stopped at the top of the yacht’s gangplank. “One more thing, Mister Forbes. Witness reports indicate the killer may be a woman. If I were you, I’d be wary of who you invite below decks. Be a shame for something bad to happen to such an upstanding citizen. Enjoy your rubdown. I‘d stay longer, but I really need some fresh air.”

  ***

  Randall only allowed his temper to flare once Lakeysia had driven away. In a fit of rage, he hurled his cocktail glass into the ocean. Intentionally or not, Detective Symons had been accurate with her assumptions. It was as if she possessed an uncanny trait for ferreting out the truth. Randall was so distracted by her unannounced visit he didn’t see Asuka emerge from his private cabin. It was only when she wrapped her arms around his waist he became aware of her presence.

  Normally Randall would choose an attractive girl’s company over business dealings, but this matter was too important to be deferred until later. He kissed Asuka on the cheek, and impatiently waved her below decks. After making certain she was out of earshot, Randall collected his cellphone from its holder, composed himself, and made the call.

  ***