The Chinese Tiger Ying

by Larry Darter

  “You said you would help us,” Ken said after reclaiming his seat on the couch beside his daughter.

  “That is stolen property, property Brandi Camargo is paying me to recover.”

  “Yes, but now you know why we had to take it,” Chloe said. “And, Bryce had already stolen it before I took it from Brandi’s store.”

  Glancing at Tiger Ying where Ken had set it on the coffee table I said, “Didn’t this already get Lee Tran killed?”

  Chloe immediately dissolved into a sobbing mess again, her face buried in the handkerchief.

  “I’m afraid so,” Ken said solemnly. “We made a miscalculation, one which Lee paid the price for.”

  “Bugger,” I said. “Tell me the rest, and then we’ll decide what to do.”

  Thirteen

  By the time I got away from the Lawrence house, they had revealed the scheme they had settled on to deal with Austin Bryce. Chloe had been in favor of hiring an attorney to prove in court Bryce’s malfeasance with the aid of Tiger Ying as evidence. But the idea was struck off because they weren’t flash with cash and lawyers weren’t cheap.

  Instead, they decided to use William Chambers to get at Bryce. The logic had seemed sound to the trio of amateur detectives—Ken, Chloe, and Lee Tran. While Chambers had been compensated for his financial loss by the museum’s insurance carrier after the fire, they thought it might interest him to learn Bryce had nicked his cultural relics using the fire as a cover-up. The idea was Chambers might be keen as to see the authorities bring Bryce to justice given it would provide an opportunity for him to get his actual artifacts returned. The trio of conspirators felt getting Chambers involved and Bryce prosecuted would expose Bryce’s arson frame-up and would restore Ken Lawrence’s good name.

  Following a spirited debate, they decided Lee Tran would handle contacting William Chambers. It was Tran who had suggested their plan was not without risks. Chambers and Bryce had been longtime acquaintances. There was the odd chance Chambers wouldn’t cooperate with them. He might even alert Bryce to their scheme. If it played out that way, things could get awkward.

  As the ablest member of the team, and the only one with a firearm, Tran had insisted he was best suited to contact and negotiate with Chambers, especially if it turned out the application of a little pressure became necessary. But, as schemes often do, their scheme had gone awry. Someone had murdered Lee Chan. To make matters even worse, Tran’s co-conspirators were left in the dark about what had happened. Ken and Chloe didn’t know whether Tran had even contacted Chambers before he died.

  Before they had learned Tran was dead, out of desperation Ken had phoned Austin Bryce. Ken had disguised his voice and told Bryce he had Tiger Ying and intended to expose him. Ken had done it because he thought Chambers might have contacted Bryce after talking with Tran and together they were holding Tran prisoner. But, soon after they learned Lee Tran had been murdered and hadn't known what else to do.

  Two things I’d learned from my own efforts before I’d caught up with the Lawrence duo led me to believe Tran had contacted Chambers before someone had killed him.

  Firstly, I remembered Brandi Camargo telling me that Tiger Ying had been designed as a water vessel. Also, I recalled a statement Chambers had made during the conversation with Brandi Camargo I’d overheard at her shop. Chambers had indicated he knew a water vessel from the Western Zhou dynasty was among the pieces to be sold at the private auction. Chambers' insistence on getting a belated invitation to the auction, or the chance to see the pieces beforehand suggested how keen he had been to get a look at the ancient water pot. That suggested Chambers already had reason to suspect one of his artifacts he thought had perished in the museum fire years ago, namely Tiger Ying, was about to go on the auction block. The most logical source of such a suspicion was a chat between Chambers and Tran before Tran died.

  If my theory was correct, it also made sense it might have been William Chambers who had murdered Lee Tran. Granted, I couldn’t come up with a motive, and at best my theory was purely based on supposition. But, what if Chambers and Bryce had both been involved in the museum fire, say perhaps as co-conspirators in an insurance fraud scheme? That would certainly provide a motive. In such circumstances, Chambers may have killed Tran to protect himself and maybe Bryce as well from having their dodgy scheme exposed. I had no real evidence to justify pointing the finger of guilt at Chambers. But at present, he appeared the best suspect in the murder.

  It was almost dusk when I rode into the car park at my office building. Strapped on my back was a haversack Ken Lawrence had lent me. Inside the haversack was Tiger Ying. I had conditioned my offer to help Ken and Chloe on them allowing me to take custody of the artifact until we decided on its final disposition. They hadn’t been keen on the idea but reluctantly had agreed to my terms once I made it clear I wasn’t giving them a choice in the matter.

  My mind focused on the pressing revelations of the day, I didn’t notice the white Acura RDX parked a few spaces down from my office entrance until I’d got off the motorbike and pulled off my helmet. When I glanced toward it, I saw the skux looking hunk behind the wheel wearing a big smile. It was Nick Bell from Moana Dive Shop. He got out of the car and walked over. I’d almost forgotten all about my promise to ring him.

  “How’s it going, Nick?” I said. “What are you doing here?”

  “You never called, but at least you remember me,” Nick said with a goofy grin. “So, I did a little sleuthing of my own. I found your website on the net and got your office address.”

  “You could have rung me at the office number,” I said.

  “I did, six times, and left messages.”

  “Oh, right,” I said. “Sorry, I’ve been a bit biz and haven’t thought to check the office machine for messages the last few days.”

  “Anyway, I thought I’d try stalking you. This is the third time this afternoon I’ve hung out here in your parking lot. I was about to give up again when you rode up.”

  “Ah, how sweet,” I said.

  “Seems I showed up at the right time,” Nick said. “You look like a girl who needs food and drinks.”

  Without even thinking about it, I almost tossed out a ready-made excuse for why it wasn’t an ideal time for dinner and drinks but stopped myself. What did I have planned for the evening beyond a sad dinner for one and drinking alone at home?

  “Are you asking me out?” I said with a grin.

  “Yes, I am,” Nick said, “if you can squeeze me into your busy social calendar.”

  “Okay, cool,” I said. “In that case, I accept. I have to stow my bag inside the office. I’ll meet you back here quick smart.”

  “Awesome, I’ll be waiting.”

  I went inside the office, feeling surprised by the tingly feels in some pleasant places. I had an old military surplus cabinet safe, the type the former owners used to store classified documents. It looked like a bulky file cabinet but was a secure and fireproof safe. I dialed in the combo and pulled open the top drawer. It was the perfect size to accommodate Tiger Ying, haversack and all. I tossed it in, closed the drawer, and spun the tumbler. Then I popped back outside and locked up.

  “You can ride with me,” Nick said. “I can drop you back here later to pick up your bike.”

  “No worries,” I said. “I’ll follow you and save you the trip back. Did you have a place in mind?”

  “How do you feel about udon noodles? I know a great place on Kuhio.”

  “Sweet as,” I said. “I love that place.”

  “Okay, then after dinner there is a cool Irish pub a few blocks away if you want to get a drink.”

  “Yep, I know the pub as well,” I said. “I once lived in a flat across the car park from it. Shall we go?”

  “Yeah, hop on your bike lady, and I’ll lead the way,” Nick said.

  A bit of a cynic, whenever I went out with a bloke for the first time, I preferred to have my own transportation instead of relying on him. That way if the date turned out d
own the gurgler or a piss around, I could rattle my dags home. I needn’t have worried about Nick though. He turned out to be a hard case and had me laughing like a drongo throughout dinner. Then we bowled round to the pub for drinks.

  Sitting at the bar with Nick, drinking Bushmills and cranberry and the odd Guinness, it occurred to me I was on my first date since things had ended with Mike. I felt a tiny bit conflicted about it until my blood alcohol level rose. Then I was all good. Nick was amazing good company, and he was a hottie.

  “Anyone in your life right now?” Nick said.

  “Right now?” I said. “Only you.” I had said it with the smile that usually had guys howling at the moon when I flashed it.

  “Well, aren’t you direct,” Nick said laughing. “So, why did you agree to go out with me tonight? After all, I am a stalker.”

  I smiled. “I had a premonition.”

  “Well, hell. Another point for the very attractive and direct lady.”

  “Just a wee feeling,” I said still grinning.

  Nick leaned in and gave me a quick pash. Then he touched his glass to mine in a little toast.

  We finished our drink, the last one I knew I should have if I planned to risk life and limb drink driving on my motorbike. Nick must have read my mind, or else he knew a tart when he saw one. He smiled and delivered his line.

  “Care to come over to my place for a nightcap?”

  I had hoped for something a bit more original, but bloody hell, I knew I wanted to. Still, I couldn’t resist a wee tease.

  “Would we do something really fun if I said yes?”

  He smiled at me and let the question hang for a moment before answering. Touche.

  “I guess that would be pretty much up to you,” he said.

  “Sweet,” I said. “Let’s find out.”

  Fourteen

  The amber digital display on the alarm clock beside Nick’s bed said it was four-thirty in the morning. I was lying on my side next to Nick, listening to him snore softly. I was naked and wishing very much to be dressed, and on my motorbike on the way home. I wished I was already back home, dressed in my favorite oversized tee shirt, and in my own bed.

  Like so many of the modern, feminist-friendly urban men I’d met, Nick felt it was important to spend the night together rather than shagging a couple of times and saying goodnight. What that meant was the inevitable awkward maneuvering around the bathroom in the morning. It meant wriggling into my undies and bra and getting dressed while being watched by a guy I hardly even knew.

  Not that the sex hadn’t been nice. Not even. Nick had been both virile and attentive. He’d scratched the itch for me in ways I’d not experienced in a long while. I was simply ready to call it a night. The clock told me it was four-forty. I slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the chair where I’d discarded most of my clothes when I’d dropped my gear. The only light to see by was the muted ambient light coming through the blinds from a street lamp outside.

  The search for my undies proved fruitless and putting on my bra seemed more trouble than it was worth. I shoved the bra into a jacket pocket and gave up on finding the undies. Nick would find them eventually. Maybe he was one of those blokes who wouldn't mind having a small souvenir of his latest conquest.

  After I was dressed, I tiptoed out of the bedroom, through the lounge to the front door. I shrugged on the jacket but waited to put on my boots until I’d quietly closed the front door behind me and was safely outside the flat.

  The night was pleasant and warm, perfect for a ride. I hopped onto the motorbike, pulled on my helmet, and headed home. When I got there, I brushed my teeth, took a long hot shower, and put on my favorite comfy shirt. Then I went to bed and fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  A few minutes before ten in the morning, I woke up with no earth-shattering insights into myself or Nick Bell. He was a good chap. I couldn’t think of any reason I shouldn’t see him again if he was up for it. I felt rested and lay in bed for a while with my mind lurching from the steamy memories of the evening with Nick and what I planned to accomplish after rising. Sex was nice, especially when it overlapped with love. But even by itself sex was bloody good.

  Two hours later, freshly showered, with a brekkie of Marmite on toast, orange juice, and coffee settling nicely, and my teeth newly brushed, I left the house and went to work.

  It was twenty past noon, warm and sunny with a nice breeze when I rolled into the car park in front of my office building. The first thing I did after walking into the office was to open the safe to confirm Tiger Ying was still there. Satisfied, I re-locked the safe. I knew taking custody of it had been the right thing to do, yet having responsibility for it left me feeling a bit paranoid. Especially, since at least temporarily, I’d allowed myself to get sucked into the conspiracy with the Lawrence team surrounding the theft of the valuable ancient relic now in my possession.

  Nothing on my daily calendar was pressing until my two o’clock appointment with Dr. Nix. Oddly, I found I was keen to attend the second session. After giving it a think, it seemed ringing Mike Young and telling him what I’d learned from Ken and Chloe was the best use of the time I had until my appointment. Mike had shared information with me on the murder of Lee Tran. Until now, I hadn’t contributed anything from my end. After I chatted with Mike and went to see my shrink, I’d work out a plan for the rest of my day.

  I dialed the police station on South Bertania where Mike worked and asked to speak with Detective Mike Young in homicide. After a short wait on hold, Mike came on the line.

  “What’s up, Mike,” I said after he answered.

  “Hello, T. J.,” Mike said. “I tried reaching you at the office yesterday, but all three calls went straight to voicemail.”

  “Yep, sorry,” I said. “I was out on interviews all day and didn’t get back here to pick up messages. What did you want?”

  “I have some information on the murder weapon and weird ammunition used,” Mike said. “But, you have contributed nothing since our agreement if you would like to go first.”

  Awesome. It seemed Mike intended to continue being a douche. I hadn’t missed the sarcastic tone.

  “I do have information to share, actually,” I said sweetly. No point in giving him the satisfaction of knowing his attitude was doing my head in.

  “Seriously? What do you have?”

  “I have the name of a possible suspect in the murder of Lee Tran for starters.”

  “Who is the suspect?”

  “A guy named William Chambers,” I said. “I have reason to believe he met with Tran the night of the murder.”

  “What’s his connection with Tran?”

  “I believe Tran was involved in the theft from my client’s shop, and he tried to broker a deal for the stolen artifact with Chambers. The artifact may have belonged to Chambers years ago, and he might have been keen to get it back.”

  Mike said, “Who is your source?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said. “Fancy meeting for a coffee or lunch so I can tell you in person?”

  “Can’t, I’m meeting Maki for lunch, and I’m already running late,” Mike said.

  “Maki?” I said. “Maki Oshiro?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought she transferred to property crimes,” I said.

  Maki Oshiro, an HPD detective, had been Mike’s partner when I’d first met him. Even then, it had been clear to me Oshiro fancied Mike. When Mike and I started dating, she had spit the dummy out of jealousy and had requested a transfer from homicide to property crimes.

  “She did, it isn’t a business lunch,” Mike said. “We’re seeing each other now.”

  “What? You’re dating your ex-partner?” I said. Why did I feel like I’d just taken a punch in the gut?

  “Any reason I can’t date an ex-partner?” Mike said. “She’s a great woman, and we don’t work together anymore.”

  “It’s none of my business what you choose to do,” I said. Oh my God, I’d sounded so wh
iny.

  “Back to the previous discussion, who is your source?” Mike said. “I want to interview him or her myself.”

  I was feeling crook and having trouble focusing. I felt like I was about to hyperventilate. I took deep breaths and let them out slowly a few times. Bloody fantastic. My eyes were filling with tears. Seriously? Was I going to cry? I coughed and tried to clear my throat before speaking.

  “As said, it’s a long story,” I said after several moments. “If you’re ever able to manage to find time to get together in person, I’m happy to tell you what I know.”

  “That’s how it is, huh?” Mike said. “Unless I do it your way, you’re going to hold out on me instead of keeping our agreement to cooperate?”

  “Not even,” I said. “I bloody well know you’re still pissed off at me, so you’re throwing a wobbly and being a dick. Sod off then and go enjoy lunch with your girlfriend. You know how to reach me if you ever find time to chat about what I know. I don’t need your help anyway, I’m doing fine on my own."

  I slammed down the phone. That was childish, aye? But, it felt good anyway. What a class girl I was. I tried telling myself I didn’t care who Mike dated, or if he dated. But the tears betrayed my true feelings on the matter. It was shaping up to be a shit of a day. The pity party was officially back on.

  By one-fifteen, I’d managed to stop crying. I went into the small toilet in my office and washed my face at the sink. After drying my face on a paper towel, I looked in the mirror. My eyes were puffy and as red as if I’d been smoking weed. Bloody marvelous. I locked up the office and headed to my appointment.

  On the way to Nix’s office, I berated myself over my childish reaction to Mike’s news. Yes, he had been a douche for telling me about dating Oshiro just to wind me up. But, bloody hell. Why did I let it upset me as it had? For fuck’s sake. I’d just spent the previous evening shagging another guy for half the night and had already been looking forward to doing it again. I hadn’t even thought about Malone for the past two days. I thought I was getting better. Then all it took to toss me right back into a depressive spiral was Mike telling me he was shagging his ex-partner Oshiro, that stupid cow.