All Signs Point to Murder

by Connie Di Marco

  “Me? No. But I kept that baseball bat handy just in case. If he had the nerve to come back, I was gonna crack his skull with it.”

  My eyes widened. It was hard to imagine my diminutive grandmother being such a tough cookie.

  “He never came back, but neither did Clara. Next time I saw her, she had bruises on her arms and a black eye and she ran away from me. It just broke my heart.”

  “I wonder if the son recognized you tonight.”

  “Wouldn’t be surprised if he did. All those kids probably got an earful and a beating too. And for all I know, maybe he’s followed in his old man’s footsteps, beating up women. Like father like son.”

  “Whatever happened to the family?”

  “The kids are all gone in different directions. Both the parents are dead. And now Paolo’s a cop. Strange. Hope he turned out better than his father.”

  We took 19th Avenue, the main thoroughfare that cuts through the Sunset, following it into Golden Gate Park. The wooded area was free of traffic and we wound along the road lined with eucalyptus trees. I cracked my window slightly and cold air poured in. My grandmother was strangely silent. I wondered if she was still thinking of her friend from the neighborhood.

  I looked over at her. “A penny …”

  “I was thinking about that handsome man—that’s the sister’s husband, isn’t it? The one who shot the girl?”

  “Yes. Well, except he didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?”

  “Shoot her. The bullet came from a different gun.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “Someone shot at him and he shot back. They couldn’t be absolutely sure until the autopsy. The bullet that hit Moira didn’t come from his gun.”

  “Still, he has some brass showing up at the wake like that.”

  “That’s one way to put it. I guess he wanted to make sure his daughter paid her respects.”

  “Hmmph,” Gloria responded. “I don’t know about the wisdom of that! What’s he going to tell her? ‘This is your aunt, she’s dead because somebody shot her in your house. We thought it was Daddy at first … accidentally.’ I can see why the family didn’t want him there. But, my! He’s certainly handsome!” My grandmother was an aficionado of good-looking men.

  “True. He also seems like a very nice guy and very upset about what happened.”

  “When did you talk to him?”

  “I was there that night, and then he showed up at Geneva’s sister’s apartment when I was helping her clear it out. And I’ve talked to him a couple of times since.”

  “Why did he go to the girl’s apartment?”

  “He said he wanted to talk to them. To Dan and Geneva.”

  “What’s there to say?”

  “Atonement. I think he was just desperate to convince everyone that he didn’t mean any harm.”

  “That’s all well and good, but this is something that family will never get over, no matter who did it. I feel just terrible for them.”

  Gloria leaned her head back and stared at the passing houses for the rest of the ride into North Beach. By the time we reached Castle Alley, it was after ten o’clock. My grandmother climbed out of the car and told me to drive safely. She turned back and said, “Just remember, dear. Never marry a short man.”

  I smiled and waited with the engine running until she’d climbed the stairs and closed the door behind her. Kuan’s living room light was on, so I knew he was keeping an eye and an ear out for her.

  thirty-eight

  I dialed Cheryl’s number while I waited at the traffic light on Montgomery. She answered on the first ring. I was a little nervous about returning to Macao, but since the place would likely be filled with customers, I pushed my fears aside.

  “You still up for that drink?”

  “Sure. Pick me up downstairs.”

  When I pulled up in front of Cheryl’s building, she was waiting on the sidewalk wearing a little black cocktail dress, a wrap thrown over her shoulders, and very high heels. She clambered into the car.

  “Did you have a place in mind?”

  “Yes. A place called Macao. Moira worked there occasionally.”

  “Ooooh. Nice. I’ve heard about it! It’s down on the Embarcadero? I’m up for it.”

  “Maybe it’s a complete waste of time, but I want to check the place out at night. Besides, it’s the only thing I can think of to do right now.” I filled Cheryl in on Brooke’s arrest and Moira’s wake.

  “Maybe we’ll meet a friendly informative bartender. So, what do you really think? Do you think the police might be right? That Brooke planned to murder her husband?”

  I thought for a few moments before answering. “I don’t know what to think. Moira wasn’t exactly what you’d call well-balanced. It might make sense if it were Moira sending emails to cause trouble between Brooke and Rob. She had access to their house and also her sister’s office. She could have used both those computers and her own too.”

  “How well do you know Brooke?”

  “I can’t say I know her well. But she’s an extremely bright woman and this thing sounds screwy. If you’re planning to murder someone, sending emails doesn’t make a lot of sense. But I’m worried it might be enough to convince a jury.”

  I took Broadway straight down to the Embarcadero. We followed the waterfront along the eastern side of the city until we reached Pier 3. I drove past the club and managed to find a metered space. We parked and walked back along the deserted sidewalk. The fog hadn’t reached this side of the city yet and the air was still clear and chill. Lights from the East Bay reflected in the black waters lapping against the pilings. I shuddered when I thought of my close call two nights before on the pier.

  The entryway under the canopy was brightly lit tonight. The fish still swam in their underground river and I wondered if they were on the menu. A tinkling fountain I hadn’t noticed at the door completed the water theme. Inside, my eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. On a slightly raised stage at the rear of the large room, a pianist sat at a baby grand playing a jazz standard. He finished his piece and another man in formal wear stepped onto the stage next to a stand-up bass. A moment later, a slender blonde woman arrived and pulled the microphone from its stand. The music started and the singer launched into a Billy Holiday tune.

  We found a small table in the middle of the room, close enough to enjoy the music but not so close we couldn’t talk. I ordered two Macaos for us when the waiter came.

  Cheryl looked at me quizzically. “What’s a Macao?”

  I shrugged. “We’ll find out.”

  “It’s so nice to be out on the town.” With a toss of her head, Cheryl indicated a man seated midway at the bar. “Hey, check out that guy at the bar, Julia.”

  I followed her line of sight and stifled a gasp. “Cheryl …”

  “What?”

  “I know him.”

  “You do?”

  “It’s Matt,” I whispered. “From the wedding. He was there the night Moira was shot. He’s also my client now.”

  “No kidding. Did you know he’d be here?”

  “No. No idea. Surprise to me.” I realized I was staring. As if he could feel my gaze, Matt turned, and, after his initial surprise, a look of recognition spread across his face. He raised a hand in greeting and, carrying his drink, navigated through the maze of tables toward us.

  “Julia! Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Hi, Matt. Join us. Please.” I indicated the chair between me and Cheryl.

  “Thanks.” He sat down in the empty chair.

  “What brings you here?” I asked.

  “My office is right across the street at One Embarcadero. I stop in sometimes for a drink before heading home.”

  “This is my friend Cheryl.”

  Cheryl smiled at Matt. “Nice to meet you.�
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  The waiter returned and placed two tall frosted drinks before us with thin green shoots of lemongrass peeking out of each glass.

  Matt took a sip of his own drink. “Actually, I was kind of half hoping I’d run into Rob tonight. There are some good investments I’d like to talk to him about.”

  “Rob comes here?”

  Matt nodded. “Sometimes. Under the circumstances, I didn’t want to bother him with a phone call.”

  “He was at the wake earlier tonight. He brought Ashley.”

  Matt grimaced. “Oh. Yeah. Well, to tell you the truth, I suppose I should have gone too. I just couldn’t handle it. I made my excuses to David. I hope they’re not upset with me about it, but you know … this whole thing has been too much.” He hesitated. “Julia, there’s something I meant to ask you. Have you ever done any astrological work with stocks or companies? You know, like predicting if a certain company’s stock will rise?”

  “I haven’t, although there are people whose specialty that is—business consultations and so on.”

  “Really!” His interest was definitely piqued.

  “It’s not my area of focus, but some of the same rules apply.”

  “Maybe you could put me in touch with someone like that? Could astrology be used to predict a company’s growth?”

  “Oh, I’m sure it could. It would be very important to cast the chart of the business correctly. For example, you’d have to know when the partnership papers were signed, or exactly when a corporation was formed, but it’s definitely possible. I know a few astrologers who do that kind of work almost exclusively. There’s one in particular I know personally. I’ll send you an email and pass on some names.”

  Matt turned in his chair and stared at the front entryway. “Hey.”

  “What is it?”

  “Oh, nothing, I guess.” He twisted back in his chair. “It’s strange. I could have sworn I saw Rob.”

  I turned and saw a man with dark hair moving away from the glass entrance toward the sidewalk, but he was so far way I couldn’t be sure. I looked at Matt. “Was it him?”

  “Nah, I guess not.” Matt shifted his attention back to us. “Can I order another for both of you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Cheryl?”

  “Okay. Thanks.” She smiled brilliantly in Matt’s direction.

  Matt signaled to the waitress, who nodded and moved away to fill his order. He turned his chair slightly toward Cheryl. “Have we met before?”

  Cheryl continued to smile. “I don’t think so.”

  “Weren’t you at Geneva and David’s wedding?”

  “No. I’ve never met them. They’re friends of Julia’s.” She nodded in my direction.

  “Well, that’s too bad. Wish we’d met there.”

  Matt was definitely interested, and Cheryl was enjoying the male attention. And I was the invisible girl. I continued to sip my cocktail while Matt downed his freshly ordered drink. On stage, the singer worked her way through a few more torch songs. By the time the set finished, my glass was empty. I glanced toward the bar and spotted a bartender I hadn’t seen when we first arrived. He was in his early thirties, Asian. Tall and slender and his head was shaved. This had to be Tony, the Berkeley grad student and friend of Moira’s. I wasn’t sure there was a way I’d be able to talk to him alone, particularly with Matt and Cheryl at the table. I sipped the melted ice from my drink while the two of them chatted, oblivious to my presence. It was time to go.

  I nudged Cheryl under the table and, picking up my cue, she gave me a quizzical look but gathered her purse and jacket.

  “Leaving so soon?” This was addressed to Cheryl.

  “Well, yes, we both have to be up early tomorrow.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you here again, I hope.”

  Cheryl simpered. “I’m sure you will.”

  They continued to smile at each other. I left some bills on the table and slipped my jacket on as I stood up.

  “Good night, Matt.”

  He stood and held Cheryl’s chair. “Night. Drive safe.” He smiled at Cheryl again and handed her a business card.

  We made our exit to the street.

  “He’s very cute, Julia.”

  “Ya think?”

  “Yes, I do. And nice too.”

  “Mmm. Seems so.”

  “You don’t sound very excited. But I know what you need.”

  “What?”

  “You need to start dating again.” I didn’t respond. “Maybe we should come back here again?”

  “I’d have to take out a loan to drink here on a regular basis.”

  “Do you think I should have stayed tonight?”

  “Nooooo.”

  “What if he thinks I don’t like him?”

  I laughed. “I think he got the message … loud and clear.”

  “Do you blame me? I mean, I have to start somewhere. Dating, I mean,” Cheryl replied defensively as she settled into her seat.

  I looked over at her and smiled. “You’ve made a good start.”

  She sniffed and didn’t respond.

  I dropped Cheryl at her apartment and, without mentioning my plan, returned to Macao. I parked the car half a block away once again and walked back. A good three-quarters of an hour had elapsed. Matt was nowhere to be seen. The band was playing another set, and several of the tables were still filled, but the seating at the bar was open. I climbed onto a stool. The same bartender approached and placed a napkin in front of me.

  “What’ll it be?”

  “Are you Tony?”

  He smiled. “Yes.”

  “I’d like to talk to you if I could.”

  “About?”

  “Moira Leary. I’m a friend of her sister’s.”

  His face underwent a shift. “Not here.”

  “Where?”

  “I’m off in an hour. Meet me at Wong’s. On Jackson. Please order a drink.” He seemed nervous.

  “Can you bring me a Coke?”

  He nodded.

  When he returned, I paid the tab and added a tip. “I’ll be there.”

  I finished my Coke and left the bar. I didn’t hang around but drove straight back to Chinatown. Wong’s is an all-night hole-in-the-wall on Jackson, with dusty windows and plastic flowers on the tables. They serve coffee, tea, and pastries, both Chinese and American, and not much else. I parked in a red zone near the doorway to the diner and waited. I hoped Tony would show.

  Forty minutes later, I spotted him walking up the hill. He entered Wong’s and took a seat in the rear, far away from the front windows. I left my car in the red zone and joined him at his table. He was sipping a coffee.

  “Can I get you one?”

  “No thanks, too late for me.”

  “I’ve got some studying to do tonight, gotta stay awake. Look, I didn’t want to be seen talking to anyone there, especially about Moira.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re watched all the time. I work there to pay for school. It’s real good money but I have to be careful.”

  “You were seeing Moira?”

  “No, no. Just friends. I liked her. She was great, but she was real messed up. She was in a lot of trouble. I heard about what happened.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  Tony was silent.

  “Drugs?”

  “Well, maybe that too. But the cops were pressing her for information about her boyfriend.”

  “Andy?”

  “Yeah, that’s the guy. He keeps the books for Luong Cheng, the owner of Macao. At least that’s the official story.”

  “What’s the unofficial?”

  “Take a guess. I suspect the feds are sniffing around Cheng for a lot of reasons. That’s why I don’t want to be seen talking to anyone, particularly a no
n-Asian.”

  “Where’s the money coming from?”

  He looked at me over his cup of coffee. “I’m Chinese, and Cheng and his crew are Vietnamese, but I pick things up even if I don’t speak their language.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Could be coming from any number of things, but let’s put it this way. I don’t think you’ll find a lot of green cards among the kitchen staff. One night, Moira was in a real state. I kept pressing her to tell me what was wrong. She finally broke down and told me some stuff.” Tony sighed. “Apparently she got busted. They picked her up and then let her go. She was under pressure to get information about what her boyfriend did for Cheng. She was between a rock and a hard place, if you know what I mean. Frankly, I don’t think she knew that much about what was going on. But listen—whatever happens, that didn’t come from me.”

  Tony’s information tied in with what Zims had told me. The cops, either city or federal, had picked Moira up and then let her go for some purpose of their own. If Andy thought Moira would turn on him, he’d have a damn good motive to get rid of her.

  “I hope they catch whoever did this. I really do. She was kinda nuts, but she had a good heart. Listen, I’m gonna take off now. Can you wait a while before you leave, if you don’t mind?”

  “Okay.” I wondered if he wasn’t being overly paranoid, but maybe he was just afraid of losing his job.

  Tony left and I ordered a cup of tea and a pastry and consumed it slowly. After another forty-five minutes, I left Wong’s and returned to my car. I drove over the hill on Sacramento and then cut down to California. Traffic out of town was light. I didn’t notice anything unusual until I crossed Polk. That’s when I saw the dark sedan following me.

  thirty-nine

  The same headlights stayed behind me for several blocks, remaining about two car-lengths behind. I’m very careful about locking my car doors, especially at night, and I look over my shoulder when getting into my car too. I clicked the door locks again for good measure. Two cars passed me in the next lane, but the car behind remained at the same distance.

  When the next light turned green, I accelerated quickly and kept my speed up for the next few blocks, hoping a police cruiser wasn’t waiting in an alleyway speed trap to ticket me. The car following matched my speed. Why would anyone be trailing me? And if they were, how long had I been followed?