by Dianne Emley
Vining took the packet of information that Early handed her. “Should be an interesting conversation with Mr. Li. I’ll get Caspers and we’ll be on our way.”
“Caspers looks ragged today. Haven’t seen him in a while.”
Vining knew he was getting forty winks in the sleep room. “We’re all working long hours.”
“That we are, but we don’t want anyone getting hurt because they’re overtired.”
Vining read between Early’s words. Sarge was aware that Caspers’s off-duty shenanigans were impacting his job. Caspers was a favorite in the unit. His sense of humor and energy brought a much-needed bright spot, but that would only carry him so far if he continued to shoot himself in the foot.
“Agreed, Sarge. I’ll make sure he understands that.”
“Kissick get everything he needed from you?”
Vining answered truthfully. “Yes.”
TRAFFIC HAD BEEN RELEASED ON THE STREET IN FRONT OF THE HOLLENBECK Paper building, but yellow barrier tape was still attached to the chain-link fence surrounding the construction site. Arriving workmen carrying lunchboxes were being intercepted by a tall Latino in a white polo shirt embroidered with a Pai Builders logo. They weren’t happy to be told to go home until further notice. PPD vehicles were parked along the curb. A uniformed officer with a clipboard was standing at the building entrance, keeping track of who entered and left the scene.
Vining parked near two PPD sedans marked “Forensics.”
Standing outside the barrier tape, looking more cheerful than Vining would have expected, was Pearl Zhang. She was with Lieutenant George Beltran. Homicide-Assault was one of the detective units under his command. They were standing between two tall steel-protected Canary Island date palms in front of the building.
From the way Zhang and Beltran were leaning toward each other and talking animatedly, it appeared they were flirting.
“Looks like Beltran’s trying to get some tail.” Caspers was more alert than when Vining had first encountered him that morning, but he was somewhat less than his usual effervescent self. This was okay with Vining, who wasn’t up to dealing with full-strength Caspers.
“His magic seems to be working on the Dragon Lady,” Vining said. “At least she’s not in her friend the chief’s office, complaining how much the work stoppage is costing her.”
Beltran reached to grab Zhang’s forearm to punctuate a point he was making. She did not retract but leaned even closer. They both broke into laughter.
“Go George,” Caspers remarked with admiration.
Beltran’s glee caused him to twist away and spot Vining and Caspers. He regally waved them over.
Passing the entrance to the building, Vining glanced inside. Sunlight streamed inside the debris-filled hull. Wooden stakes and twine divided the area into a grid. PPD forensics specialists and a half-dozen uniformed offers were sifting through the rubble.
“Good morning, Detectives.” Beltran’s cheery greeting was more fitting for a surprise encounter across a ballroom at a charity event than standing on the periphery of a murder scene. Rumors about Beltran’s affairs had been grist for the gossip mill for years. Now that he had recently separated from his wife, his much-ballyhooed reputation as a ladies’ man was on open display.
Beltran wasn’t Vining’s type, but she could see why women found him attractive. He was Latino and had a square jaw, strong cheekbones, and thick black hair that was just starting to show silver at the temples, as if by master plan. He likely tweaked it. It was known that he bleached his teeth, so they would stand out better against his perennially tanned olive skin. He was athletic and outdoorsy He wore clothes well.
Cameras loved him and he loved cameras. He enjoyed being the public face of the PPD at press conferences and had garnered female fans who’d sent him e-mails, gushing about how hot he looked in his uniform. He liked to hobnob with the rich and famous. Pasadena had attracted the rich and merely affluent since the early 1900s. Hollywood celebrities were now discovering its small-town charms with big-city features, to the dismay of longtime residents who resented the glitzy influx. But Beltran liked the glitterati just fine. The better to shop around his screenplay Death in a Blue Uniform. Rumor had it that his Hollywood ambitions had derailed his upward mobility in the PPD, which had once been his overarching passion.
“Good morning, Lieutenant.” Vining shook his hand and then greeted Pearl Zhang without a handshake. “Mrs. Zhang. You remember Detective Caspers.”
Zhang nodded in greeting. “Good morning, Detectives.” She wore a slim dress with a patent-leather belt around her tiny waist. The style was understated, but the fabric was rich: lustrous royal blue silk. Her hair was still tightly pulled back. Today she was wearing big diamond stud earrings so heavy they bent her earlobes. Around her neck was a round disk of carved apple-green jade set inside gold with a large diamond at the top. She wore no makeup on her flawless face other than mascara and her trademark deep-red lipstick
In the sunlight, Vining could detect Zhang’s age in the fine lines around her eyes and mouth.
She carried what Vining guessed was a pricey designer handbag. It was a study in understated elegance, with black leather quilted in a distinctive pattern and three dangling gold charms. The handbag didn’t shout its pedigree by having the designer name plastered all over it. It was like a secret handshake between society ladies, as much of an insider symbol as the hand signs thrown up by street-gang members.
Vining could care less about such status symbols, except when it came to firearms. Then she coveted the very best. Her only exposure to luxury clothing and accessories had rubbed off from Emily who had become alarmingly aware of such through the influence of her stepmother, arriviste Kaitlyn.
Vining knew that Zhang might well have a dramatic and inspiring up-by-her-bootstraps story. She could have arrived in the States with ten dollars in her pocket, worked hard, saved every penny she’d earned, taken calculated risks, and built an empire. She might think that put her on a pedestal above a lowly cop like Vining, and that she hovered above any requirement to tell all she knew about Scrappy Es-pinoza’s murder. Vining privately relished the thought of yanking her off that pedestal and making her understand that no matter who she was or how much money she had, if she didn’t talk, she was an accessory to murder. And one more thing— Vining didn’t want her son around Emily.
Beltran was cheerful. “Excuse me, Mrs. Zhang, while I talk to my investigators.”
“Of course. I have to be on my way. Thank you very much, Lieutenant, for your time. And please call me Pearl.”
“Pearl, I’ll let you know the minute we release the scene. I’ve committed maximum resources to processing it as quickly as possible, to not only give us the information we need but to put your crew back to work. You have my cell-phone number if you have any questions or concerns.”
“Yes, I do. Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“George.” He extended his hand.
“George,” she replied, returning his handshake with a smile and a bow.
He bowed as well.
Vining had to admit that Beltran excelled at spreading the royal jelly.
He was still smiling when he turned to Vining and Caspers.
Vining was waiting for the right time to tell him that Zhang was holding back on what she knew about China Dog when he beat her to the punch.
“China Dog is the street moniker of Marvin Li.” Beltran watched Zhang getting into her spotlessly polished Mercedes. “Li owns a business in San Gabriel that employed Scrappy Espinoza and has been in and out of jail most of his life.”
Vining already knew this and was about to voice her concerns about Pearl Zhang’s integrity when Beltran added, “Marvin Li is Pearl Zhang’s cousin on her mother’s side. Pearl was forthcoming about Li’s criminal history. She insists he’s stepped into the light and is one of the good guys now. He’s dedicated his life to keeping gangbangers employed and out of the life. Pearl apologized for not revealing this when
you spoke last night. She was upset about the murder and afraid that her cousin’s former life was splashing onto her business and reputation, a fear she’s had since Li moved into her part of town. Pearl contacted Li early this morning and told him about the murder. She said he was shocked and knows nothing about it. Pearl believes him.”
He took a business card from his pocket and handed it to Vining. It was for Aaron’s Aarrows and had a handwritten cell-phone number on it. “Li will be at his place of business all day and looks forward to talking with you.”
Beltran’s success with Pearl Zhang brought home a truth that Vining’s grandmother often reminded her about and that Vining often forgot: You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Vining slipped the card into her jacket pocket. “You got a lot more from her than I did last night.”
He looked at the large placard on the chain-link fence with the rendering of the completed condominium and retail complex, developed by Red Pearl Enterprises.
Vining looked at it, too, and privately conceded that the finished project would be impressive. She glanced at Caspers, who was listening attentively, respectfully silent.
Beltran added, “Pearl confessed that not many people in her professional life know that Marvin Li is her cousin. He was once a very bad guy.”
Vining nodded. “I saw his criminal history. We found out that he was Scrappy’s employer last night.”
“You have to appreciate her concerns about maintaining her reputation with the many civic and charitable organizations she’s involved with and all the citizens who have a certain image of her. People who trusted her enough to invest money in her business.”
Vining was familiar with the destructiveness of a hidden life. One could try to bury it, yank it out by the roots, douse it with poison, but, like a pernicious weed, it kept sending shoots to the surface, often in a different place, where one would least expect it. She and Pearl Zhang had that much in common.
FOURTEEN
VINING AND CASPERS WALKED TO A WHITE MODULAR BUILDING IN the adjacent parking lot where Pai Builders had their on-site office. On their way, Detective Louis Jones called Vining on her cell phone. He and Detective Doug Sproul had learned that the brother and cousin of Titus Clifford, who had been murdered in a shooting attributed to the NLK, had been seen at the Volcano restaurant in Old Town around the time Scrappy was murdered. Jones had issued a BOLO— Be On the LookOut for— the brother and cousin who were sought for questioning.
Vining led the way up the steps to the Pai Builders office, opened the flimsy door, and stepped onto thin indoor-outdoor carpeting that was tracked with dirt. Desks and filing cabinets were arranged along the walls. A plump young woman with chin-length two-toned hair— platinum on top and raven-black beneath— sat at the desk closest to the door. Both ears were lined with pierced earrings, including a small gold squiggle through the cartilage at the top of her right ear. Cleavage overflowed her snug and partially unbuttoned blouse. Her face was reminiscent of a Kewpie doll.
She asked, “Can I help you?”
“Detectives Nan Vining and Alex Caspers to speak with Joey Pai.” She moved her jacket to show her shield.
Caspers was behind her, but she could tell by the look in the woman’s eyes that he was showing her more than professional interest and she was not immune to it.
At the rear of the trailer, a large Asian man stood from behind a cluttered desk. He appeared to be in his forties and wore a white polo shirt with a Pai Builders logo on its breast. He was tall, broad, and deeply tanned, looking as if he’d once been an athlete but had since filled out. “Find any more bodies?” he jokingly shouted to them.
Vining approached. “I’m Detective Vining.”
He held out a big palm to shake. “Joey Pai. How can I help you?”
Instead of taking his hand, she gave him her card. “This is Detective Alex Caspers. We’d like to ask you some questions about the murder on your construction site last night.”
“So, Detective …” He glanced at her card. “Vining. Have a seat. How can I help you?”
She sat across from Pai. Caspers remained standing, looking out a small window. She took out Scrappy’s most recent mug shot. “This is the dead man. His name is Abel Espinoza. Nicknamed Scrappy. Do you recognize him?”
Pai took the photograph and studied it. “Can’t say that I do.” He handed it back to her. “That guy’s got gang tattoos. I don’t hire gang-bangers. I wouldn’t let him set foot on my construction site.”
He was either born or raised locally. He had that breezy, almost too-familiar manner of Southern Californians born after the Kennedy administration, as if life was just a dream, dude.
“Excuse me a minute.” He picked up a two-way radio from his desk, keyed it, and spoke into it using adept Spanish.
Vining looked at a calendar from a heavy-equipment supply company on the wall. It had a photograph of a model wearing a bikini and high heels. She had mile-long legs, huge breasts, tiny waist, and hips that would be appropriate for a ten-year-old boy. She was suggestively climbing astride a backhoe.
The photo had already attracted Caspers’s attention.
Vining commented, “She looks like a Barbie doll.”
With complete sincerity, he said, “I like Barbie dolls.”
“Real women don’t look like that.”
He turned up his hand and shook his head, as if nonplussed by her comment.
Pai set down the two-way. He rested his hands on the arms of his desk chair. Like the other office furniture in the room, it was utilitarian and far from top-of-the-line.
“I wish I could be of more help, Detective. That murder was terrible, of course, but did they have to deface the mosaic, too? It had been commissioned by Mr. Hollenbeck years ago and had been on a wall in his office. Now I have to hire a specialist to restore it, if possible, and get the security company that was supposed to be watching the site to pay for it. Mrs. Zhang is displeased, to put it mildly. She’s worried that the murder will put a chill on condo sales once the complex is finished.”
“The dead man had two little kids, a mother, and a couple of siblings. It’s put a chill on their lives, too.”
“For sure. I mean, that goes without saying.” Pai became flustered as he attempted damage control. While citizens condemned gang violence, the flower of their fervor was still reserved for NIMBY— Not In My Back Yard.
“Mr. Pai, do you know of anyone who has a grudge against you or your company?”
He made a dismissive sound. “Where do I begin? Burning the place down or destroying equipment would be more their style. Some in the community see property developers as the enemy. We tear down notable buildings, use up open space. But Pearl Zhang is known for her adaptive reuse of historic buildings. She won’t settle for anything less than top-of-the-line work. That’s why she hires us.”
“How long have you known Mrs. Zhang?”
“About five years. This is my third job with her, and the biggest. She’s becoming a giant in the San Gabriel Valley. She’s tough, but reasonable. She’s a good businesswoman. We work together fine.”
“Who’s backing her financially?”
“I don’t know specifics. She has investors. She’ll bring by men in suits to the site. I get paid on time. That’s all I care about.” Pai had second thoughts about what he’d said. “She’s totally legit. Everything’s aboveboard. I don’t work that way.”
“Do you know anyone who has a grudge against her?”
“You don’t make friends in this business. The local preservationists get mad, the residents in the area get mad, the businesses nearby get mad, at least while construction is going on. Then they’re happy when people move into the apartments and condos and the street-level retail draws foot traffic. But there are projects in Pasadena that have been tied up in lawsuits for decades.”
“Do you know Pearl Zhang personally, beyond your business relationship?”
“Not really.
I’ve been to her office in San Marino. She’s come in here with her son and mother, but I don’t go out drinking with her, if that’s what you’re getting at. It’s all business.”
Vining handed him the recent DMV photo of Marvin Li. “Have you ever seen this man around here?”
Pai took his time, finally shaking his head. “No. I would have remembered that guy, all inked up and with that long Fu Manchu mustache.”
“Does the name Marvin Li ring a bell?”
“No.”
“How about Aaron’s Aarrows?”
He laughed. “Aaron’s Aarrows? What’s that?”
“Those guys who stand on the street corners with the big arrows advertising apartments or new shops.”
“Right. I’ve seen them, but not around here.”
“Does Pearl Zhang ever talk about her extended family? Aunts, uncles, cousins … ?”
“You think she’s mixed up in this?”
“I’m just asking questions, Mr. Pai.”
“I don’t know anything about her family, other than her mother and son.”
“Are any of your employees Chinese?”
“No.”
“You don’t employ anyone who’s Chinese?”
He became serious. “I’m of Korean descent, Detective.”
Behind him, she saw Caspers quickly face the wall, as if to hide his grin.
“I know. All Asians look alike, don’t they, Detective?” Pai was grim.
Vining felt her cheeks grow hot.
Pai laughed. “I’m just messing with you. People take me for Chinese all the time. Your face …” He laughed some more. “My brother’s a deputy sheriff out of the Altadena station. I love to give him crap. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t mess with you.”
“No problem,” Vining said.
“My parents emigrated from South Korea during the war. I was born and raised in Northeast L.A. I graduated from Wilson High School. There are so many Chinese immigrants in the San Gabriel Valley these days. People come up to me and assume I don’t even speak English. I’m always like, ‘Hey, I’m a native American.’ But to answer your earlier question, my crew is nearly all Latino. That’s the business now.”
