“Cops won’t buy that.” He rocked nonstop.
“Only need a day, then I’m out of the country. Take ’em that long to sift through the ashes.” Stay out of my mind!
“Dog can’t turn you in! Let her out the back door and do what you have to. Kill me, but don’t hurt my dog.”
“Kill you? Thought you’d never ask…” Shamus picked up his backpack and rummaged through it. The dog barked and scratched at the door.
He heard a board creak from the basement stairs. The dog’s bark became high-pitched and excited. Shamus looked up. Something was wrong.
“What was that?” He raised the revolver. The Ruger tumbled out of the backpack. He ignored it. He didn’t like that sound. Now the dog made so much noise he couldn’t hear anything else. Shamus walked toward the door that led to the basement.
Shamus heard a chair fall behind him. He whipped around. Crap! Somehow the skinny guy had worked free of the tape. Shamus thought of the Ruger nearby. That was stupid.
He aimed the revolver, but he saw Nelson dart to the hall closet and open the door. He rushed to follow.
“Daisy, attack!” Nelson shouted. The basset bounded out of the closet, leaped up, and licked his face.
The contrast between the command and the result of this pathetic attempt to escape brought a smile to his lips. He saw a nail clipper by the chair. Aha. Shamus heard a sound and turned back toward the basement door.
“Stop!” Chang pointed his .45 at the figure that moved toward Nelson and Daisy. His shot boomed into the wall when the target ducked at the last second and raced to the front hallway.
Chang heard Daisy bark and howl over his own ringing ears. He saw Nelson carry her through the swinging door to the kitchen. Shamus must be against the wall in the hallway.
A strange standoff. Chang could cover the door to the kitchen, but he didn’t dare pop around the corner of the long front hallway. Shamus must see the kitchen door, but not Chang.
Where was he exactly? Listen…Chang breathed deeply and tuned the Dragon’s ears to the hallway. He felt it strain for release. Not now…
“Drop your gun, cop, or I’ll shoot them through the door!”
The guy’s voice…Desperate…Chang used the sound to pinpoint where he stood in the hallway. He refused to acknowledge the face of the young Asian girl that floated in front of the wall. Can’t hurt her now…
He took aim and fired the rest of his clip into the wall. The thin sheetrock would barely slow down the heavy caliber bullets. He ejected the magazine and slammed the second one home. He ran toward the hall, heard shots, and dove for a better angle.
Shamus felt three hard blows on his back. He fired several shots through the door to the kitchen. How did he punch me though the wall? His legs felt cold and wet. He sagged until he sat on the floor. Once he caught his breath, he’d run for the front door.
The kitchen door flew open, and Shamus saw several steel bowls crash against the wall. Nelson charged into the hallway and fell when he slipped on the rug, landing next to Shamus with a hard thump. Shamus wrapped his arm around his neck and pulled him close. The dog followed and barked.
Time slowed down for Chang, and he viewed the hallway through the Dragon’s eyes. He held the gun in both hands. He saw movement, heard a metallic clatter, then a shout. He fired at a blur of a figure. Just when he pulled the trigger, the guy dropped. Missed! Chang saw Nelson sprawled on the hall floor, the runner carpet bunched by his feet where he’d slipped. Nelson held a paring knife, and steel nesting bowls surrounded him. His face was bruised and swollen. Shamus had grabbed Nelson and pulled him too close for Chang to risk a shot.
Chang could see three blood streaks down the wall and rose-shaped blotches on the white painter’s outfit. Even so, Shamus managed to stand and keep the revolver pressed against Nelson’s head. Daisy’s barks pounded Chang’s skull.
Chang crept down the hallway, his weapon trained on Shamus.
“Back off!” Shamus’s voice carried a raspy, wet quality, but he was steady on his feet. He reached back and turned the knob to the front door.
“Let him go. You need an ambulance.”
“Fuck you.” Shamus opened the door and backed up. Daisy bolted for the daylight, and the two men tripped over her long body.
“Daisy, no!” Nelson groped for the dog and tried to crawl after her. Shamus held onto the pistol and grabbed the back of Nelson’s shirt.
Chang closed the distance. One more step and he could kick the gun away. Paramedics still might pull him through…Chang stopped short. Shamus struggled to pull Nelson toward him and looked back. Chang gazed with his own eyes at Shamus, then shot him twice in the face.
CHAPTER 55
No Harm, No Foul
Dover, Monday
Despite the cool spring day, Chang’s uniform felt itchy. The ceremony dragged on, and he barely remembered the reporters’ questions afterward. Byrd’s huge grin and shiny head danced in his mind. Nancy Brand’s sharp outfit and strawberry-shampoo scent stayed with him, too. Was she just being nice when she whispered, “Want your clothes back?”
He tucked the commendation award under his arm and took the stairs up to his desk. The governor had piled on praise, maybe even meant it. Then again, she was all smiles with Byrd in front of the cameras.
He stayed as long as required, said his lines as per instruction, and climbed Shu’s mountains while the flashbulbs recorded his empty smiles. Nelson, bruises and all, was just another face in the crowd during the ceremony. Chang scratched his neck under the tight collar and put the commendation on his desk.
When he saw the light go on in Byrd’s office, he walked over. Didn’t bother to knock. Byrd looked up and registered annoyance for a moment. His decoration-covered chest and polished boots gleamed. Several copies of the Daily Post sat on his desk. Chang saw the headline: “Killer Deal.”
“Ah, the star of the show. Sit down.”
“No thanks.”
Byrd shrugged.
“Chang, you did the right thing out there for everyone. Maybe you can be a good soldier after all. I’ll need help next year and after that when I win.”
“I’m sure, sir.”
“You should be happy. You got your man, a clean report on the shoot, and the lab work already backs your case. Somehow, you got to be the big hero after all.”
“Not somehow, sir.” Would it kill him to mention Nelson’s name?
Byrd lowered his voice. “Chang, I know what was going on. I’m not stupid, you know.”
“Confucius say: Smartest man in room, sometimes stand alone.”
Byrd’s face turned brick-red.
“I should have known better. You’ve saved yourself, but your badge was on the line. Don’t risk it by embarrassing the department. Got it?” Byrd’s bushy eyebrows formed a single furry line across his forehead.
“Why don’t you keep it safe for me?” Chang flipped his shield on Byrd’s desk and drew his service weapon. He savored the flicker of fear in Byrd’s eyes.
Chang removed the magazine and racked the slide to eject the chambered round. It landed on top of a newspaper and rolled to the floor.
Byrd said something, but Chang skied down the snowy slopes of Mount Shu and couldn’t hear him.
Chang left his uniform in the locker room and walked to Nelson’s cubicle in his civvies. Nelson’s bruises were already fading. Even better, Chang saw no signs Nelson was going to hibernate inside his own mind.
“You made it official?” Chang felt tension drop from his shoulders.
“I left a letter. My boss is a good guy, and I don’t do drama.”
Chang watched Nelson take out a pen and scribble “Nelson wuz here” on his desk.
EPILOGUE
Four weeks later
Chang tried to be quiet while he searched Nancy’s kitchen for a mug. He grabbed the kettle before it shrieked. She hadn’t woken up when he’d gotten out of bed, and he wanted to let her sleep.
He slipped out the front door
to retrieve the morning paper. Pink light tinged the dark sky. Inside, he turned to the opinion page to see if the rumor about Patrick Flannigan was true. Chang thought the grainy picture with the byline had to have been retouched. Those teeth hadn’t been white in decades.
Off to Grayer Pastures
By Patrick Flannigan
We once thought our career would end not with a bang but a whimper here in the gentle bosom of Wilmington. Fate’s fickle hand had other ideas, and we head once again for points north and return to the New York Times.
With the conclusion of the Iceman case, we leave for one last dance with the Old Gray Lady. We wish the people of Wilmington well and thank them for their years of support. We know they will sleep soundly for two reasons. First, the one-man reign of terror that was Shamus Ryan has come to an end. Second, that Delawareans will no longer have to rely on the callous good fortune of detectives like Paul Chang. His “heroics” came at the potential cost of his own friend’s life when he dangled the poor fellow as bait. The force is well rid of such renegades.
Ironically, the self-styled Iceman himself was more forthcoming than the state police. We hope the experience inspires a new approach, one that trusts the people with information.
So, we pen this column with mixed emotions. We leave the Daily Post in younger and more capable hands and look forward to a return to New York. To Wilmington, a fond farewell. To Chang and the rest of the stonewallers, good riddance.
Finally, a point of agreement. Shu was better at ignoring such taunts, but at least the bitter old man would be out of his life.
“You’re up early.”
Chang turned and saw Nancy propped up in the doorway. She was wearing his shirt again. He gazed at her bare legs. “Maybe you should keep that.” A nice surprise last night.
“After you ripped half the buttons off?”
Such a cute smile. “Bill me.” He fought off the urge for a repeat performance.
Nancy looked more serious. “You were awake when I dozed off last night. Didn’t you get any sleep?”
“I have a lot to do today.” Chang hoped she wouldn’t force him to lie about staying up all night.
Her pause told him she caught the dodge. “I understand.”
No, she didn’t. Maybe if they lasted a while he’d explain about the Nightmare. Chang picked up the manila envelope from the kitchen table. “I guess I’m legal now.”
“Ready to hang out the proverbial shingle. I made sure they spelled everything right.”
She’d also cleared the last of Byrd’s bureaucratic roadblocks at the licensing office.
“Thanks,” Chang said.
“Just trying to buy a vote for my boss.”
“For last night…”
Her kiss made him forget all about the Flannigan piece.
“What do you think?” Chang held up the framed license for East-West Investigations. The smell of fresh paint and new carpet hung in the air.
“Who’d you sleep with to get that approved so fast?” Nelson grinned.
He was out of his shell today.
“I’m a gentleman.” State police controlled the approvals, but Nancy knew Byrd didn’t need any bad press in an election year.
“Dried seahorse?” Nelson sounded like a new man. Chang wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.
“A few dinners and your imagination runs wild.” Chang lowered his voice. “Seahorse not needed, thank you very much.” No mystery to his own good mood.
“Any chance she’ll get to dine at Shu’s House of Mandarin Delight soon?”
“Thirsty man who find well, not share with Dragon Queen.”
“That’s a no?”
“You’re going to make an excellent gumshoe.”
Chang and Nelson greeted Shu when he opened the front door. The incense burned, but tonight it was a light, flowery fragrance. It was late for Nelson, nearly eleven o’clock, but Chang hoped his mother would still be alert. For her this was early.
They waited while Shu assisted her to the parlor. Chang understood. Too proud to see guests in her bedroom.
“Paul finally come when he knows I better.” Tai Kai waved the two into the room. Shu drifted out. Chang held his tongue. Even with the new lease and efforts to set up the new office, he visited every night. Her last bout of pain scared even Shu, but either he or the doctors had done something right.
“You look good tonight, Mother.”
“What you know?”
Chang wanted to say he had great taste in women, but he knew that would bring up another round of Colleen-bashing.
He explained about the new private investigation firm he was starting with Nelson. He resorted to Mandarin when she didn’t understand. She wrinkled her nose when he did. He told her the name. She closed her eyes and then looked at Chang.
“It suit you.”
Tai Kai turned toward Nelson. “You fired, too?”
“No, ma’am. I resigned. Computers are too boring.”
“Safe, not boring. You quit to work with Paul?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Maybe you crazy again.” She paused and pointed at Chang.
“When he look for rat, you watch out for tiger.”
“If we hurry, we can catch last call at Tea Hee.” Chang sped up before he remembered he didn’t have his get-out-of-jail-free card anymore.
Even so, they reached the shop, and to his surprise it was crowded with young folks. He watched Nelson look at the drink specials and all the elaborate blends. Chang ordered some hot water for his ginseng.
“Who’s next?”
“I am.” Nelson sounded confident. “I’ll have a tall ‘Chai of the Tiger’ please, for here.” He smiled at Chang. “Appropriate, don’t you think?”
“Sorry. We’re all out of the ‘Tiger.’ Can I get you something else?” The line grew behind them. One kid looked at his watch.
Nelson didn’t miss a beat. “Certainly. I’ll have the Earl Grey.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
J. Gregory Smith was born and raised in Washington, DC. He earned his Bachelor of Arts in English from Skidmore College, and his Master’s in Business Administration from the College of William & Mary. A public relations professional in DC, Smith continued his work after moving to Delaware. He now writes full time.
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