He hurried out and along the hallway, took the stairs three at a time and burst through the doors, startling Johnson who said, “Where’s the fire?” Ignoring the black detective, and the ugly look Wallace gave him, Ryker fired up the DVD player again and used the timer to backtrack to when Danny Lin and Xiaohui arrived at the Taipan Suite and went inside. He fast-forwarded, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen. The minutes and seconds blurred but he kept track of the hour, 3 a.m., 4 a.m., 5 a.m., 6 a.m....
“Found anything interesting?” Spider stood behind him, Wallace by his side, their reflections visible in the upper corner of the screen.
“Playing a hunch,” Ryker said.
“Yuh-huh,” Wallace drawled, before turning and heading back to his desk. Maybe he’d become addicted to John Wayne movies. Ryker wished he’d climb up on his tall horse and mosey on out of town.
As 8 a.m. rolled up, room service arrived, the waiter with the breakfast trolley. Ryker pressed Play and the DVD player went into real time. The breakfast dishes lay hidden beneath silver heat covers, cutlery was laid out on the spotless white tablecloth, there was even a little vase with flowers, plus the slim leather wallet for the customer’s signature. The waiter knocked on the door, paused, knocked again. He opened the door and said something. Sir, are you there? I want my gratuity.
“It can’t be him,” Spider said. “Time of death—”
“Watch the tape.” Ryker compressed a whole bundle of irritation into that short phrase. Spider sighed, and Ryker sensed the impatience the lieutenant radiated like stale after-shave. Screw you, Spider, we’re all impatient. Wallace moved files around on his desk, lifting and dropping them so they made a slap-bang noise. He was like some kid told he couldn’t have candy for being naughty. Ryker mentally reviewed the rest room incident and decided his only mistake was failing to break Wallace’s fucking arm, yuh-huh.
He chided himself for being so stupid. He wasn’t mad at Wallace, he was mad because James Lin thought he could pull everybody’s strings, and Ryker didn’t like being pulled. Well, of course, that all depended on who was doing the pulling. He’d met several suitable candidates over the past couple of days, none of whom knew he existed, unfortunately.
On the TV screen, the waiter entered the room. Ryker knew what was coming next. He pressed Fast Forward again and time rolled on. The duty manager and two hotel employees blurred out of the elevator and into the room like characters in a Benny Hill TV show; all that was missing was the music. They came out again with the waiter and had a brief conference in the hallway. Security beamed down seconds later and put a man on the door. Hotel blazers came and went. The breakfast trolley disappeared. Ryker stopped, rewound, watched the same sequence again.
Hotel blazers came and went. Three of them stood between the trolley and the camera, talking. Ryker played it again. Spider leaned forward, his pale blue eyes unblinking, his lips forming a tight line. Three hotel blazers stood talking. Four hotel blazers went their separate ways. Ryker hit Rewind, then hit Play, then hit Freeze. Four hotel employees, when there should only have been three.
Two of the four faced the security camera. The other pair had their backs to the lens. Ryker pressed Play. One of the unknowns turned his head, revealing himself as a Caucasian man. The last member of the group was smaller, a woman, race undetermined. Ryker dismissed the man, whom he judged to be around six feet and one-eighty pounds, and focused on the woman. Not once, as she walked along the hallway and out of shot, did she show the camera anything except the back of her head. Another employee took the unwanted breakfast trolley away. Just before he passed out of shot he stopped, bent down, lifted the tablecloth, and looked underneath. Then he straightened and continued on his way.
“Some hunch,” Spider said.
Ryker was already dialing Sandra Raymond at the Mandarin Oriental. Two rings later she said, “Detective Raymond.” Her exasperation came through loud and clear. Maybe she thought Ryker was stalking her. Maybe he’d like to.
“Detective Raymond. This is Detective Sergeant Ryker.” He said it for Wallace’s benefit. “The room service guy brought a breakfast trolley to the scene at zero-eight-hundred. It sat outside the door for twenty minutes. Nobody was in the mood for scrambled eggs, someone took it away. Find out who, and what happened to the trolley.”
“How important is this?” Raymond asked.
Ryker sensed he had the attention of everyone in the squad room. “It’s looking like the killer sneaked out when the room service guy wasn’t looking, and hid in his trolley until other people arrived. At an opportune moment, she just up and walked away while wearing a hotel blazer. Talk to Klein. We’re looking for fingerprints, trace, DNA.”
“She?”
“I’d say somewhere between five-zero and five-six, ninety to one-twenty pounds.” Bigger wouldn’t fit the trolley. “When she climbed out she was wearing the blazer and black pants. Perfect camouflage for the terrain.”
“She could be an employee,” Spider said softly.
Ryker didn’t respond; just as equally the killer could be impersonating an employee. He told Raymond, “She knew the position of the security camera. We’re missing a shot of her face.”
He waited a few seconds, wondering if Raymond would get it, and he wasn’t disappointed. “So she stayed in the suite with the body until morning? Jesus.”
“Yep, she was in there all night, until the room service guy opened the door.” Ryker glanced at Spider, who shook his head in disbelief. “She knew Danny Lin had booked a wake-up call and breakfast. She might already have been hiding in the suite when he called room service. How long was the suite empty before Danny Lin arrived? Who had access? Find out. We know the killer has patience. Maybe we need to go further back with the tapes. Related subject. Hotel lobby security, from eight-twenty to eight-thirty. If anyone came downstairs and exited the hotel during that time frame, I want a Kodak moment. Also check with staff, see if anyone’s missing some clothes, ask if they can remember when the clothes walked, who might have been around, anything.”
“It’s my sister’s kid’s birthday next week, she’s seven years old. She’s having a party. I’d like to go, if that’s okay.”
Raymond’s unveiled sarcasm slapped him hard. He did his best not to smile, which wasn’t easy with Spider standing there. “I’m with Lieutenant Furino. We’ll see about sending some cavalry. Get things moving, Sandra.”
“Will do.” She hung up before he did.
“So what have we gained?” Spider asked.
Ryker stopped the video. “Maybe a face, if we’re lucky. Maybe someone will remember something. The more questions we ask, the more chance of getting an answer. I’m putting Morales in with Raymond.” Maybe that would put a smile on Morales’s sour face. Ryker remembered something else. “There were a couple of Bay area cops at the hotel when we got there. Jackson. And Blacque, spelled with a ‘q.’“ Jesus, maybe my memory isn’t so bad after all. “Can you give their boss a courtesy call, ask if they can drop by the hotel?”
“I’ll see what I can do. Anything else?”
“You arranged cover for Chee Wei?”
“It’s solid,” Spider said. “But if that hooker hasn’t opened her mouth this time tomorrow, we deal the cards another way. I’m bent over my desk on this one. Pants around my ankles.”
“Hell of a picture, lou,” Ryker said.
Spider grimaced as if he didn’t like the mental image either. “You heading back to the Mandarin?”
“It’s the place to be. Then I’m going to pay Valerie Lin a visit, see what falls out of the tree when I shake it.”
Spider motioned with his head and Ryker followed him into his office, closing the door as soon as they were inside. Spider settled in his chair and said, “What’s to be gained by hassling James Lin’s daughter-in-law?”
Ryker had never thought Spider was the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he didn’t think he was totally stupid either. Nonetheless he spelled it out. “That video increase
s doubt over the Zhu woman’s being the murderer. Like it or not—and I don’t—Valerie Lin is similar in size to whoever hid in that breakfast trolley.”
“Hold on. You’re forgetting she has a witness who swears she was home. The housekeeper. It’s in the report.” He tapped a folder on his desk. “The original’s in the murder book. The phone records checked out too. It’s just like she said, she was calling her sister in China when Danny Lin joined his illustrious ancestors. For your information, we had to request authorization via the chief’s office before we could pull those records.”
“Her sister-in-law,” Ryker corrected him.
Spider opened the report and flipped a couple of pages. “My mistake, not hers. Seems like anything to do with the Lin family has to be cleared by a couple of security agencies. You see where I’m going with this?”
“The housekeeper is a loyal family servant who’d swear Valerie Lin was playing Gypsy Rose Lee on Broadway at the time of the murder, if she was ordered to. Meanwhile, Valerie Lin drove to the hotel with her favorite chopping knife.”
Spider made a show of looking around the room. “What is this, Candid Fucking Camera? Let’s keep it sane, okay? Mrs. Lin is not, repeat not, to be hounded by you at this or any other time. She’s a grieving widow, for Christ’s sake.”
“I’m aware of that, and I didn’t say I was going to hound her.”
“Sounded pretty much like it to me.” Spider drummed his fingers on his desk top. “Leave Valerie Lin alone. For the moment, anyway. I’ll talk to Captain Jericho, see what he says. Best I can do, Hal.”
Ryker thanked him and retreated gracefully. He intended to raise the subject again first thing in the morning, unless they got another break through Chee Wei or from the hotel video.
As if he were telepathic, Chee Wei called at that very moment to report they’d arrived safely at Xiaohui’s sister’s apartment. “I’m pretty sure we weren’t followed, and there’s nothing suspicious in the street. I’m looking out the window now.”
“Outstanding. How’s Princess Xiaohui?”
Chee Wei chuckled. “Happy to be with her family. She talked about getting some more stuff from her own apartment. I told her I didn’t think that was a good idea. The sister says she’ll call one of her cousins, ask them to pick it up.”
Ryker checked his watch. “I make it three-twenty. What say we skip the three-thirty call and make it four o’clock? Thereafter every thirty minutes. When Debbie goes home you call me.”
“Ten-four, mother hen.”
Ryker looked for Morales. Debbie Price was in the process of hanging up after a telephone call when Ryker approached her desk and said, “Hey Debbie, have you seen Detective Morales?”
“He’s a little down today,” Debbie said. She’d straightened her curly red hair and added blonde highlights. The overall effect made her look ten pounds lighter and ten years younger. Ryker wondered if she might have her eye on someone, and realized that someone could well be Luis Morales, given Debbie’s preference for Latino men. Relationships between squad members were discouraged for perfectly logical reasons, but clerical staff weren’t cops, which meant that technically they weren’t part of whatever squad they happened to be assigned to. “I saw him at the end of the hall. He didn’t even notice me.”
“That’s hard to believe. Hair’s looking nice, by the way.”
Ryker stepped out into the hallway. Sure enough Morales stood by the window at the far end, by the stairs, toying with a Styrofoam coffee cup. He glanced over his shoulder as Ryker approached.
“Just needed some air,” Morales said.
“It’s allowed,” Ryker said. “I should have asked—how’d your court case go?”
“Liquor store owner changed his mind. Local gang threatened to put a cap in his ass, you can bet on it.” Morales crushed his cup. “Two punks walk free and start planning their next hold-up. I just hope I’m there when it goes down. Ah, fuck it. What’s happening with you?”
“Bet you wish you were in Chee Wei’s shoes. He’s with the Chinese girl we brought in. Camped out in her living room.”
Morales grinned. “You gotta be shitting me. Whose ass do I have to kiss to pull that kind of duty?”
“Mine, but I’m not in the mood right now,” Ryker said. “Tell you what, next good-looking girl comes in, she’s all yours. Reason I’m here, Sandra Raymond’s still at the Mandarin, she could do with some help. I’m heading over there. Wouldn’t mind having you along.”
“Sure. Gets me out of this place.” Morales dunked his crushed cup into the bin, his mood brightening visibly. They returned to the squad room and Ryker briefed Debbie on Chee Wei’s assignment and his half-hourly check-ins. She assured him she’d be there till six, as soon as she took that call she’d let Ryker know and pass the baton to him. The flicker of interest in her eyes as she glanced at Morales didn’t go unnoticed by Ryker, though Morales seemed unaware, as he cleared his desk and grabbed his coat. Ryker collected his Glock from his desk and Spider gave them a nod and wave from his office on the way out of the squad room.
Ryker quickly brought Morales up to speed with the rest of the stuff while they cut a path through the city’s late afternoon traffic.
“There’s a rumor going around,” Morales said. “I dunno who started it. You and the widow-woman Lin got the hots for each other. Anything to that?”
“Jesus.” Ryker shook his head. “Chee Wei loves his soap opera, doesn’t he?” Morales laughed, confirming the source of the “rumor.” Ryker wanted to knock it on the head instantly, since at least half of it was true. He decided attack was the best form of defense. “I’ll tell you this, Luis, she’s damn fine-looking. I’d go so far as to say ‘sizzling.’ It’s beyond belief that Danny Lin would rather pay for pussy when he’s got a sex fantasy waiting for him at home.”
“She impressed you that much, huh?”
“The day I end up in bed with someone like Mrs. Danny Lin is the day I get religion.”
“You’re not a religious man.”
Ryker was only too glad to change the subject. “Not in the church-going sense. Do I believe in God? Sure, it was drilled into me as a kid. And it feels good to know there’s a higher being responsible for everything—and someone to blame when things turn to shit. It gives me my place in the universe, you know?”
Morales nodded, taking it seriously. “Yeah. Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.” He leaned forward to look up at the imposing structure that was their destination. “Sometimes I think that’s what all churches should look like. So high they touch heaven. People should be able to step in an elevator, go right to the top, and step out into God’s waiting room. Make an appointment with His secretary. Sit down and talk to the Man Himself. Feel His love. Know His purpose.”
“Pull over, Morales,” Ryker said. “You’re under arrest for driving under the influence.”
Morales was still laughing when they turned into the entrance to the hotel’s parking lot. Ryker showed his shield to the guy on the barrier, who let them through. There were plenty of empty spaces. Ryker assumed most guests must arrive and depart in chauffeur-driven limos rather than in beat-up Fords with municipal license plates that needed a wash and wax.
Ryker called Sandra Raymond and asked her to meet them in the lobby. There she introduced them to the duty manager, an impeccable middle-aged man with a pencil mustache that was so precise it must have been trimmed using a microscope and surgical scissors. Ryker assured the manager they would keep as low a profile as possible, and only disturb guests if and when it became absolutely necessary. As soon as the manager went on his way, Raymond vented her anger. “Every time I tried to talk to someone, that oily little dick shooed me away and put his tongue up their ass.”
“As long as none of them were female, between five zero and five-six, we’ll let it pass,” Ryker said. “Have you had a chance to look at the lobby tapes?”
“This way,” Raymond said. She led them to a room just round the corner from the eleva
tors and out of sight of the entrance. She knocked on the door and entered. A big man whom Raymond introduced as Duffy turned in his chair and nodded to Ryker and Morales. Besides his uniform he wore a lightweight wire headset and mike. In front of him were eighteen flat screen monitors arranged in three banks of six. Ryker counted as many tape machines stacked to one side and numbered. The monitor images changed constantly, cycling through various floors and hallways, some empty, some not.
“You’re ready to go,” Duffy said, pointing to one of the tape decks. Raymond offered Ryker a second chair, which he declined like a true gentleman. Morales grabbed it and pretended to sit down, then laughed and offered it to Raymond.
“Thanks,” she said, dropping into the chair with a sigh. “Been on my damn feet all day. I’m claiming for shoe leather, and Lieutenant Furino better okay it.”
“So what’s on TV?” Morales asked. “Spongebob Squarepants?”
“This,” Raymond said, leaning forward to press the Play button. She pointed to the lower-right TV monitor, which showed a view of the hotel lobby and reception desk. The time stamp said 08:17. Ryker felt a tingle of anticipation in his stomach. She’d found something! Six customers stood at the reception desk, attended by three hotel clerks. Further back, a woman of around sixty sat on a couch reading one of the pamphlets scattered on the coffee tables, which advertised tours of the city, trips around the Bay, restaurants, attractions. Pedestrians and street traffic were visible through the glass doors. The uniformed doorman stood in profile, one eye on the street and one on the lobby. The time stamp changed to 08:18 and from somewhere off to the left, a woman wearing a long black coat over black pants and shoes appeared. She strode to the entrance without pause. The doorman saw her coming, opened a door for her, and smiled pleasantly. She went down the steps, turned left and was instantly lost in the stream of passers-by.
“You think that’s her?” Morales said.
“She knew the position of the camera,” Ryker said. “Didn’t turn round, just kept walking. We saw her hair, that’s all. Same length and style as the woman we saw on the suite hallway tape.”
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