Lucky Break (36 page)

But how to prove it?

I beat Brandy to the Golden Fleece.
 
A few whales wandered among the toys that we’d give away at the party, so I joined them, drooling just the same.
 
A Ferrari 458 Speciale whetted my greed, but the Porsche Boxter Spyder won my heart.
 
Brand-new on the market, I’d pulled teeth getting one for the party.
 
Normally a Porsche purist, 911 or nothing, this car punched all my buttons.

“Nice car, yes?” said a voice next to me.

Mr. Cho.
 
I wasn’t sure how I felt about standing this close to the man.
 
The last person I’d seen in his company was now in the hospital.
 
“I’m sure you can think of a better opening line than that.”

He seemed a bit taken aback at having a female speak to him so frankly.
 
“Your father, he is okay.
 
I spoke with him.”

“Really? When?”
 
I didn’t try to cover the sarcastic tone.
 
The guy hit me the wrong way in every way.
 

“Ten minutes ago, no more.
 
He told me you had just left.”

Okay, maybe he had talked to the Big Boss.
 
“Care to share?”

“He told me you could help me.”
 
Mr. Cho looked uncomfortable.

“I’m sure he didn’t tell you whether I would or not.”

He gave me a fleeting smile.
 
“He said you wouldn’t.”

“More accurately, I’m sure he said I wouldn’t want to.”
 
I angled a look at him as I crossed my arms.
 
“To be honest, I don’t know enough to have a beef with you.
 
So, why don’t you come clean with me, then I’ll decide?”

“So, you will help me?”

“Depends on what you have to say and what it is you want.”

“I want my daughter back.”

Not what I expected.
 
And he’d said perhaps the only thing that could’ve opened my mind a crack.
 
I opened the door to the Porsche.
 
“Get in.
 
Let’s talk.”

He climbed in the passenger side; I took the wheel.
 
It was a tight fit.
 
My kind of car—one I had to wear.
 
“Did you order the hit on my father?” I asked when we were both settled and the doors shut.
 
I didn’t expect honesty, but I figured going on the offensive was a decent strategy.

“No.
 
Why would I want him dead?”

“Holt Box?”

“I didn’t know until I arrived here that Mr. Box had agreed to re-launch his career here.”

“How did you find that out?”

“Everyone knows.” His shoulder against mine moved in a shrug.
 
“It is no secret.”

Even I’d heard the scuttlebutt.
 
“You came for your daughter?
 
You expect me to believe that?”
 
I did, actually, but I didn’t think I needed to show all my cards at once.

“I don’t care what you believe.
 
It matters not to me.”
 
He paused, apparently deciding to make nice.
 
“Kimberly and I have not been close.
 
Her mother, she did not want me to have influence on her and did not want people to know she is my daughter.
 
I agreed.
 
My enemies are powerful.”

Miss Minnie’s life’s work had been the study of men.
 
I’d be a fool to doubt her assessment of Mr. Cho’s character or his situation.
 
“Is Kimberly your only child with Miss Minnie?”

“I know only what she tells me.”

“Your life depends on knowing things.”
 
I gripped the steering wheel tight, imagining.
 
“If experience is the best teacher, then you and my father are more alike than you think.”

“I want Kimberly.”

“Why?”

“She needs to know her father.”

I didn’t like the way he said that.
 
In fact, I didn’t like much about him at all.
 
Maybe his taste in cars, but that was it.
 
“I just can’t shake the feeling that you, my father, Holt Box, Teddie, me, we’re all pieces on a board, pawns to be used to take the king.”

“What are you saying?”

“Somebody is playing us.”
 
I angled a look at him.
 
“Is it you?”

“What do I stand to gain?”

I shook my head slowly as I thought.
 
“I don’t know.
 
Why did you come here?”

“I told you, to get my daughter back.”

“And Holt Box?
 
What motivation was he?
 
Enough for murder?”

“He went back on his word, he stole my daughter, and,” he paused, looking a bit uncomfortable., “it is not good for business to let these things happen.”

“We have lawyers, the law and the courts.
 
You have Sam.”

He didn’t seem concerned that I knew.
 
“Sam has worked for me, yes.”

“Is he working for you now?”

He focused on the car as he fingered the leather, the woodwork, the fine detailing.
 
“This is a precision machine.
 
It is built for one purpose, and it is brilliant at that one thing.
 
Sam, he was built for killing, and he is very good at it.
 
A machine.
 
But I am not directing him.”

“Even if you were, I can’t touch you.
 
Not unless China revokes your diplomatic privilege, which they won’t do.
 
You run the money pipeline that feeds them.”

“Even the men who define my world have their limits.
 
I am not here to kill anyone.”

“And we’re back to the first question: why are you here?”

“I am here to make things right; to get my daughter.”

“Did you order the hit on Holt Box?”

“No, but no one will believe me.
 
And I will not deny that whoever ordered his killing did me a very large favor.”

Saving face.
 
With Holt Box’s death Mr. Cho looked like a man who took care of his business.
 
“How did you sign Holt Box?
 
As far as we knew here, he was retired on the farm, hanging with the wife and kids.”

“Kimberly brought me the deal,” he began.

Mental note: fire Kimberly.
 
I touched the controls, and marveled at all the whistles and bells.

“Your property expansion is still in the construction phase, and he wanted a place soon for his big comeback.
 
And he wanted it to be China.
 
The Chinese people are in love with everything American, and country music is quite popular.
 
I made him a very good deal.
 
He seemed quite taken with it.”
 
He spoke with British intonation, and his word choice and cadence matched.
 
I always found that odd, the non-British sounding like the British.
 
Of course, he wasn’t American either, so who was he supposed to speak English like?
 
Clearly I hadn’t thought it through.

“In addition to being quite taken with your daughter.”
 
I gripped the steering wheel, wondering what it would be like to hit the road in one of these.
 
My car would bring a good price in trade; it was a classic.

His face darkened.
 
“Yes.
 
They met here in Vegas, became good friends.”

That’s why I didn’t sleep with friends—well, except for the Teddie thing, which proved my point. Kimberly and I were the poster children for the pitfalls of friends with benefits.

“She wanted to help him.
 
I hadn’t seen her in ages.
 
I enjoyed negotiating with her.
 
She’s a remarkable young woman.”

Too bad it took him this long to figure that out.
 
“Yes, that’s why we hired her.”

“She can be trusted,” he said, like a true businessman, and a father trying to repair his daughter’s image.

“In this country, we believe in innocence until guilt is proven.
 
So you sign the deal with Holt Box.
 
Then what happens?”
 
I looked out the side window at all the other cars lined up to give away.
 
Several Ferraris, the requisite Bentley that made me curl my lip, a few Lambos.
 
They wouldn’t miss the Porsche, would they?

“Next thing I know, a man comes to me, tells me Mr. Box has shamed my daughter and then has walked out on the deal and fled the country.
 
And, worse, your father is the one behind it.”
 
He stopped there.

I stopped pretending and paid attention.
 
I knew a clam-up when I heard one.
 

“Who?”

He weighed his words.
 
“Sam.”

I could see he was coming around to my theory.
 
“And you got angry and decided to get even.”

“No.
 
I did not.
 
You must believe me when I tell you I did not ask for him to shoot your father, even though in my country it is how business is done.”

“I don’t have to believe anything,” I spat.
 
“Besides, what I believe doesn’t matter.
 
It’s all in what we can prove.
 
You can go back home with no resolution, no consequences.
 
But my friend will be charged with murder and tried for it.
 
His life for a crime he didn’t commit.”

“What do you need?”

“I need Sam.”
 
I turned toward him and pressed my back against the door so I could watch him.
 
“Can you get in touch with him?”

“Not directly.
 
He changes phones, always untraceable.
 
I usually get the word out I’d like to talk with him, and he gets in touch with me.”

“Might be worth a try.
 
There’s money in this somewhere for him, and, according to you, he isn’t on your payroll.”
 
I waited for Mr. Cho’s confirmation, then continued.
 
“See if you can find him, but, remember, you’re not in China anymore.”
 

“And then?”
 
He looked at me as if I didn’t matter.

A chill chased through me.
 
“I don’t know.
 
Twenty paces at dawn?
 
I need Sam in order to free an innocent man who will pay for Sam’s crime if I fail.”

“You don’t know what you are asking.”
 
A hint of warning cooled his tone.

Teddie.

“A dance with the Devil, I fear.”
 
I pulled out my phone and scrolled through some newspaper articles on the
Review-Journal
site until I found the one I wanted.
 
“Does the name Irv Gittings ring a bell?”

Mr. Cho frowned.
 
“No.”

I shoved my phone under his nose.
 
“Does this help jog your memory?”

He pursed his lips and shook his head.
 
“No.
 
Who is he?”

I sighed as I shoved my phone back into my pocket—hard to do with my head touching the roof of the tiny car.
 
“I think he’s the guy behind all of this.
 
Only one problem, though.”

“And that is?”

“I can’t prove it.”

Mr. Cho had left me with my thoughts.
 
I realized he’d agreed to nothing.
 
Of course, so had I.
 
Was it possible to agree to nothing?
 
Brandy had rescued me from that tortured conundrum and was now reaching the end of her spiel when Romeo called.
 
I nodded to Brandy.
 
“Great job.”
 
Then I answered the call.
 
“Tell me you’ve broken the case, Irv Gittings is either dead or behind bars, and the balance of the universe has been restored.”

“Well, not quite, but you might like this.”

I didn’t think there was anything that came close.
 
“What?”

“The fire chief called. I’m on my way to meet the arson investigators at your place.
 
Want to come?”

He sounded like he was inviting me to the prom.
 
“Do I get dinner and a corsage?”

“What?”

“Never mind.
 
Want to pick me up, or should I meet you there?”

“I’ll swing by.
 
Meet me out front.”