“I…No!” he exclaimed. “I not want that. Harry really did not kill?” he added.
“No, Harry didn’t kill anybody. Now tell me the truth. Why did you go see Wong yesterday?”
This time Charlie decided to cooperate. “He telephone. He tell me come and talk.”
This wasn’t what Frank had expected. “Wong sent for you?”
“Yes. He say he sorry.”
“For what?”
“For Angel,” he reported sadly.
“Did he kill her?” Frank asked in amazement.
“No, no,” Charlie said, shaking his head vigorously so Frank would understand. “But he know who did.”
“And he told you who it was?”
“No, he no say,” Charlie reported with a trace of the frustration Frank was feeling. “He say he tell police only. He want tell me he sorry first.”
Now Frank was thoroughly confused. “If he didn’t do it, why would he be sorry?”
Charlie shook his head again, slowly this time. “I not know. He say it his fault Angel die. He say I understand later.”
Frank swore under his breath. The killer must have realized Wong had figured it out and decided to silence him. But who was he and how did he know Wong was going to betray him? And how had Wong figured it out when Frank couldn’t? He was missing something, some clue that he should have seen and didn’t. That was the only explanation.
“What time was it when you saw Wong?”
“Ten o’clock, maybe,” he said uncertainly. “Maybe eleven. Not sure.”
So Wong was alive then and dead by three, for what that was worth. If Frank only knew who had visited him after eleven, he might have some useful information.
Someone knocked on the door, making Frank wince. He glanced at Donatelli, who shrugged. “Maybe George confessed,” the younger man said with a sly grin and opened the door.
The officer outside said, “Somebody to see you, Detective.”
“A Chinese man?” Frank guessed.
The officer scratched his head. “No, two white women. One of them is Mrs. Brandt.”
Frank looked at Charlie. “The other one is probably Mrs. Lee.” He turned back to Donatelli. “Get the boy. We’ll turn them both loose and send them home with her.”
Donatelli went out.
Charlie stood, pulling himself up to his full height. “Thank you, Mr. Malloy.”
Frank glared at him. “Just don’t waste my time again, and keep that boy of yours out of trouble.”
Charlie nodded once. “I will.”
Donatelli brought Harry into the room. The boy still looked frightened. “Papa!” he exclaimed in surprise when he saw Charlie. “I thought you were going to let him go!” he said to Frank.
“I’m letting you both go,” Frank said. “But the next time you lie to me, I’m going to lock you up and forget about you for a couple days.”
The boy’s gaze darted to Charlie and back to Frank again. “You’re letting both of us go?”
“That’s right. Your mother is upstairs waiting for you. Take her home and don’t come back here.”
The boy still didn’t understand, but Charlie took him by the arm. “Come,” he said and drew the boy out of the room and down the hall. Harry was asking questions, but Charlie silenced him with a stern command, and then they were gone.
Frank rubbed the back of his neck wearily.
“What about Mrs. Brandt?” Donatelli asked.
“What about her?” Frank snapped.
“Nothing, I…I guess she’ll leave when she sees you let them go,” Donatelli tried.
“You don’t know her very well then,” Frank said. As much as he hated that Sarah was involved in this case, he also felt an overwhelming urge to discuss it with her. Maybe she could help him see what he’d missed. She’d done it before. “Go up and make sure the Lees leave and wait with Mrs. Brandt until I get there. Tell her I’ll be with her in a minute and don’t let anybody bother her.”
“Why don’t you just go up yourself?” Donatelli asked with a frown.
“Because Mrs. Lee will make a big fuss if she sees me and start crying and thanking me. Now hurry up. I don’t want Mrs. Brandt left alone up there.”
Frank waited, trying to figure out where to take Sarah. He thought about the Italian restaurant nearby but decided against it. They might not receive a warm welcome there after what had recently happened. By the time he found Sarah in the lobby upstairs, he’d decided on a neighborhood coffee shop.
Sarah’s heart ached when she saw how tired Malloy was. He’d been working way too hard, and the new rash of phony confessions hadn’t helped at all. Malloy didn’t even speak to her. Anything he said to her here would be noted and repeated and used to tease him, she knew. He motioned toward the door, and Sarah preceded him.
“What about the O’Neal boys?” Donatelli called after them.
“Keep them for a while longer,” Malloy called back, and then they were outside.
Tom the doorman wished her a good day, and she thanked him, earning a scowl from Malloy. As soon as they were out of Tom’s earshot, she said, “Are you sending me home?”
“Not yet,” he replied to her surprise. “Let’s get some coffee.”
They walked in companionable silence, not wanting to say anything important until they were well away from the resident reporters. In a few short minutes they reached the shop. Malloy ordered coffee, and they waited until the waitress had poured it and left.
“You let both of the Lees go,” Sarah said at last.
“They didn’t kill Wong,” he replied gruffly. “The boy thought the father did it, and the father thought the boy did it. They were trying to protect each other.”
“Oh!” Sarah remembered Minnie’s story and felt the sting of tears at this evidence of the love they felt for each other. No real father and son could have shown it more clearly.
“What is it?” Malloy asked, reading her emotions too well.
“I was thinking how…how love makes people do strange things.”
Malloy looked a little surprised, but he didn’t say anything, so Sarah took the opportunity to defend herself.
“The reason I’m here is that Minnie came to me again. I guess she thinks I got you to release George the last time and wanted me to help Harry and Charlie. I couldn’t just send her home,” she added defensively.
He waved away her explanation. “Charlie Lee went to see Wong on the morning he was killed. That’s why I brought him in.”
“That’s what Minnie told me. Why did he go to see him?”
“Wong sent for him. He wanted to tell Charlie he was sorry about Angel. He knew who had killed her, and he thought it was his fault.”
“Did he tell Charlie who it was?” Sarah asked in amazement.
“No, he was waiting to tell me.”
“But someone killed him before he could,” Sarah said. “Are you sure it wasn’t Charlie?”
“Positive. He didn’t know enough details about the killing.”
Sarah considered what she knew about John Wong’s death. “But none of this makes sense. It means the killer must have found out somehow that Wong was going to reveal his identity, so he went to Wong’s house, and Wong sat there and let him bash him over the head.”
“I know. Wong would have fought back, so he must not have known the killer was there,” Malloy said. “He must’ve sneaked in and hidden.”
“But who could it be?” Sarah asked in frustration. “You’ve eliminated all the suspects.”
“Which means I missed something. What is it?”
Sarah blinked. He was actually asking for her help! She tried not to act surprised. Or as ridiculously pleased as she felt. “I…I don’t know. Let’s see,” she stammered, willing herself to act normally. “It all started with Angel’s death, so if we can figure out who might have killed her, we’ll know who killed Mr. Wong, too. What do you know about Angel’s killer?”
“He was a Chinese man with a pigtail,” Malloy
said.
“Your witness was too far away to see his face,” Sarah recalled. “But she could tell by his clothes that he was Chinese.”
“Don’t forget the pigtail.”
“And by his pigtail,” Sarah added. “And Angel knew him well enough to go greet him.”
“Which should help, but it hasn’t so far,” Frank groused.
“What color were his clothes?”
“What color?”
“Yes,” Sarah said. “The Chinese men wear black trousers, but their shirts are all different colors.”
“The witness didn’t say what color the killer’s shirt was,” he said with a frown of annoyance.
“It might not help to know, but it couldn’t hurt. Maybe it will help you narrow down your suspect list, at least.”
“I don’t have any suspects left, remember?” he reminded her crossly.
“Then it’s got to be someone else, somebody we haven’t thought of yet”
“That’s a relief,” he said sarcastically. “Now I only have to question every other Chinese man in New York until I find the right one.”
“Or figure out how John Wong knew who the killer was,” Sarah was happy to remind him.
“Yeah, maybe I could have a séance or something,” he said with more sarcasm.
Sarah ignored his barb. “Maybe Mr. Wong’s nephew knows something that will help,” Sarah mused. “Something must have happened between the time you visited him and the time he was killed that gave Wong the information he needed to figure it out.”
“That’s true. Ah Woh was pretty upset after we found Wong. Maybe now that he’s calmed down, he’ll remember something.”
“And of course Keely might remember something, too,” she added with a grin.
Malloy made a face.
“I could go to see her to save you the trouble,” she offered. “I know you don’t want me involved, but I certainly won’t be in any danger at the Mission.”
“She won’t remember anything. She was drugged,” he reminded her.
“She wasn’t drugged when Wong figured out who the killer is. She might remember something or know who came to see Wong, the same way Ah Woh might.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Go ahead if you don’t mind seeing her again.”
“Maybe I can convince her to go back home, too.”
“Uh, don’t bother with that,” he said uneasily. “Her mother said she doesn’t want her back.”
“That’s awful!” Sarah exclaimed in outrage.
“The whole family is awful,” Malloy reminded her.
Sarah sighed. “I guess I really should go see her, then. She’ll need some guidance about what to do next, and she needs to understand that the Mission is the best place for her right now.”
“Doesn’t she like it there?” he asked knowingly.
“I’m sure she’ll get used to it, when she understands she doesn’t have much choice,” Sarah assured him.
“Good luck,” he said with a grin.
“Good luck to you, too,” she said more soberly. “Will you let me know what you find out?”
He sobered, too. “Of course.”
FRANK WAS PANTING AND SWEATING UNDER HIS CLOTHES by the time he’d climbed up the five flights of stairs to where he had originally encountered the old woman who’d seen Angel’s killer. This time he had to knock on the door, and he waited so long for a response that he was starting to fear she had died since his last visit.
At last, a voice asked, “Who’s there?”
“Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy,” he replied. “I need to ask you a few more questions about that girl’s murder.”
The door opened at once, and the old woman stood there, her grin revealing toothless gums. “Come on in!” she offered happily. “I guess you ain’t found the killer yet or you wouldn’t be here.”
“No, I haven’t, although your information was very helpful. I forgot to ask you something important, though.”
“I already told you all I know,” she said, hobbling over to the rocking chair that still sat by the window. “But I don’t get much company, so go ahead and ask your questions. I’m happy to oblige.” She sat down in the chair with a weary sigh.
Frank followed her over to the window and looked out as he had the other day. He’d remembered right. She had a perfect view of the place where Angel had died. “You said the killer was Chinese,” he reminded her.
“That’s right. Had on them clothes they wear, like I told you.”
“Can you describe the clothes he had on?”
“Well, now,” she said in surprise. “I’II try. My memory ain’t what it used to be, though. Let’s see.” She screwed up her face as she considered. Frank hoped she was trying to remember and not trying to make something up.
“Had on a hat,” she recalled after a moment. “I think I told you that. Had a wide brim.”
She hadn’t said anything about a brim before. Frank had pictured a bowl-shaped hat, like the one Harry wore that had his old pigtail attached. “What else?”
“The pigtail. Told you that, too.”
“Yes, you did,” he said encouragingly.
“Trousers was black, and the shirt…the shirt is what I remember most. It was red.”
Red? “Are you sure?”
“‘Course I’m sure. Wouldn’t mistake that, would I? Don’t see somebody wearing a red shirt every day, now do I?”
“No, I don’t suppose you do,” Frank agreed. It wasn’t something he saw every day, either. He tried to remember ever seeing a Chinese man wearing a red shirt.
“Does that help?” she asked hopefully.
“Yeah, it does. Now if you don’t mind, would you go over everything you saw again? Right from the beginning.”
She didn’t mind a bit. Frank doubted anybody paid much attention to her anymore, so having a willing audience was a rare treat. She repeated the story of Angel’s murder, but she didn’t remember anything new. Satisfied he’d learned everything he could from her, Frank took his leave. Now he just had to find that red shirt.
THE MISSION WAS ONLY A SHORT DISTANCE FROM POLICE Headquarters, so when Malloy left her in search of his witness, Sarah strolled down to pay Keely a visit. Mrs. Keller was happy to call Keely out of her class so Sarah could meet with her.
“Just between us, Keely is going to have a difficult time adjusting to life here,” Mrs. Keller confided. “I don’t think she ever obeyed a rule in her life, and she…Well, she isn’t above lying to get herself out of a scrape.”
“Do you think she’s capable of adjusting?” Sarah asked.
“Oh, she’s very bright,” Mrs. Keller assured her. “She could learn if she tried.”
“Maybe I can help her understand why she needs to,” Sarah said. Mrs. Keller didn’t give her much encouragement before she went to get the girl.
A few minutes later, Keely came into the front parlor, where Sarah was waiting. She still wore the dress that Ah Woh had washed and pressed so carefully. Her long, dark hair had been carefully brushed and pinned up into a bun on the back of her head. Instead of making her look older, however, it made her look younger and more vulnerable.
“Hello, Keely,” Sarah said with a smile.
“Hello,” she answered without much enthusiasm, sitting down on the sofa beside her. “If you come to try to get me to go home, you’re wasting your time.”
Sarah remembered what Malloy had said about her not being welcome there, but she wouldn’t mention that to the girl. “No, I came to see how you’re doing. You’ve been through a difficult time, and I don’t want you to think no one cares about you.”
“Why should you care?” she asked skeptically, reaching up to adjust the pins holding her bun in place.
“Because I do,” Sarah replied simply. “Do you need anything?”
She didn’t look like she believed Sarah, but she said, “I need some clothes.” She looked down at her dress in disgust. “I should’ve made Johnny get me some, but I thought there’
d be lots of time for that,” she added wistfully.
“You must miss him,” Sarah said gently.
Keely made a face, as if her own emotions embarrassed her. “He treated me good. I never knew…”
“Knew what?” Sarah asked when her voice trailed off.
“I never knew it could be like that,” Keely said with a frown. “I’d been with boys before, but I didn’t know it could feel like that. Johnny, he knew how to do things.”
Sarah tried not to gape. She hadn’t expected such frankness. “Well…”
“He was gonna marry me,” she said, oblivious to Sarah’s discomfort. She was adjusting her bun again. “I made him promise me after we did this one thing that he showed me. I never saw anybody do it like that before.”
Sarah wondered how many acts of intercourse Keely had observed, but living in such close quarters with her family had probably provided many opportunities. “Mrs. Keller said you were in class when I arrived,” Sarah tried in an attempt to change the subject to something less shocking.
Keely didn’t notice. “What’ll happen to Johnny’s money now that he’s gone?” she asked.
Sarah blinked in surprise. “I…I don’t know. I expect his nephew will inherit it unless he has other family someplace else.”
“He don’t,” Keely said. “He told me. He had a wife in China, but she died, and he didn’t have no kids, either. So Ah Woh will get it all?” she asked with interest.
“I suppose he will.”
“I guess he’ll be wanting a wife then,” she mused.
Sarah stared at her, wondering if she could really be thinking about throwing herself at Ah Woh with the renewed hope of getting a rich husband. Somehow she didn’t think Ah Woh would be as interested in her as John Wong had been, though. Reminding herself that she’d come here for a reason, Sarah said, “Mr. Malloy thinks that Mr. Wong had figured out who killed Angel.”
Keely looked at her in surprise, and Sarah thought she saw a flash of fear in the girl’s eyes.
“Don’t worry. You’re perfectly safe here, Keely,” Sarah assured her. “Mr. Malloy wanted me to ask you if Mr. Wong had said anything to you about it.”
Murder In Chinatown Page 23
