She Walks the Line

The woman asked if either of them needed anything else; when both Cullen and Mei said they were fine, Freda cleared the desk and left in a rattle of dishes.

“Your children are lucky you’re so easygoing,” Mei Lu remarked in the ensuing silence.

“Yes. Well, kids lose enough stability when parents part ways.”

“From the little I saw of them, they seem remarkably happy and well-adjusted.”

Cullen shifted in his chair, acting almost flustered by the compliment. Mei wondered if fatherhood was an area the coolly competent Mr. Archer had reservations about. If so, she’d find that hard to believe.

Cullen rearranged his features quickly. “Two of the homicide detectives last night were also present when the first courier was found. To date they’ve turned up no leads. Both men said trying to get information out of witnesses near the nightclub parking lot was like hitting a brick wall. Witnesses either don’t speak English or pretend they don’t. I hate to say this in front of another of Houston’s finest, but I felt solving these murders isn’t a high priority.”

Mei returned her teacup to its saucer. “Do you consider the officers derelict in duty, or have they truly exhausted every lead?”

“I wasn’t at the first site initially. I joined the case several days later. I can’t fault how the team swept the dock for clues last night. They were thorough. I saw one officer walk along the row of parked cars and take down the license numbers of two that still had warm engines. He planned to pay the owners visits this morning to see if they saw or heard anything significant.”

“It sounds to me as if they plan to work the case.”

Cullen let out a breath. “You’re right. I’m just a man who likes speedy results. It’s difficult to accept that if people saw a man killed before their eyes, they’d stonewall the cops.”

“Sometimes cops are the last ones witnesses want to speak with.”

“I know. But I’m sure you know that in the past our police department—or I should qualify and say some cops in the city have been as underhanded as the crooks.”

Mei stiffened automatically. It was an accusation of long standing, one she’d heard Catherine gripe about often enough. “On a force our size, there are bound to be a few bad apples.” Mei found herself quoting the chief. “Chief Tanner cleaned house after she came on board. She outright fired officers proven to be on the take. She reprimanded and demoted others.”

“Hey, I’m not accusing your chief. I occasionally run into the city manager at community events, and he says she’s tough. Yet murder is on the rise.”

“And Homicide is a division that’s spread thin. I have a good friend who works in the Chicano section. That’s another area of the city where witnesses clam up and suddenly become deaf and blind. I’ll be glad to ask Crista for some tips on how she interrogates. She has a high degree of success.”

Cullen opened his folder and turned to a new page in his notebook. “All right. That would be good. I’d like us to go around to the nightclub and talk to people who might’ve seen our first courier before he was killed. How many dialects are you conversant in?”

“I’m fluent in Mandarin and passable in Cantonese.”

“That’s great. I told you I spent some time trying to work a case in Guangdong province. I took a crash course in Cantonese. The taped kind, of course. I learned little and retained less. Luckily, I found that the Asians I came in contact with were very tolerant of my frequent goofs.”

Mei laughed. “Our language is one of the more difficult. So few foreigners make an effort, and they were probably pleased you did.” The knot in her stomach loosened a bit as they talked. She’d been so sure the first thing out of Cullen’s mouth would have to do with her father.

“They understood my pathetic attempts far more easily than I was able to decipher what they said. Maybe I have a bad ear, but many of the words sound alike to me.”

“It’s not you at all. Chinese is a tonal language. Words have different pitch patterns, but none of the emotional rise and fall you get in English or other European languages.” Changing the subject, she said, “I’ll be happy to go poke around the nightclub after it opens today. Just give me a list of people the homicide crew interviewed. If nothing else, the bartender may be able to provide some other leads. Is the bar open all day, or only nights? Where is it located?”

Cullen absently read off the address. “Doug Whitsell said they open at noon.” He glanced up and narrowed his eyes as he watched Mei jotting it down in her notebook. “Listen, I don’t want you going into that part of town alone. Not even in daylight. It’s too dangerous.”

At first Mei thought he was teasing. But the minute she stopped writing and looked up, she realized he was dead serious. “Cullen.” His name rolled easily off her tongue. Too easily. “The address you gave me is two blocks north of the market where I do my grocery shopping.”

“Impossible. I’ve been there, remember. This area is run down. According to the lead investigator, it’s a high-crime neighborhood.”

Mei pursed her lips. “Honestly! Now you sound exactly like my parents.”

He seemed taken aback by her vehemence. “Let’s forget the nightclub for a moment and discuss your parents. Your father, anyway.”

Mei tried to control her nerves. It was clear that Cullen intended to say more. But his office door banged open and two excited children came thundering in, shouting and trying to see who could gain their father’s attention first.

“Daddy, Daddy.” The twins ran past Mei’s chair. Instead of grappling a white rabbit as they had on her previous visit, they were now in a tug-of-war over a portable phone.

“It’s Mom!” Belinda screeched loudest, but her brother succeeded in wresting the instrument out of his sister’s hands.

“She’s calling from way far away,” Bobby declared importantly. “Freda said Bangkok.”

“Yes, and Freda said Mom wants to talk to you before Bobby and me get to say a word.” Cullen’s daughter slipped anxiously between the desk and her father’s chair and somehow managed to drape herself over his arm. “Hi, police lady!”

Bobby, too, said hello, and Mei smiled at them both.

When she looked at Cullen again, he had the phone pasted to one ear.

“Jana?”

Mei shut her notebook and stood, fully prepared to give the family privacy.

“What’s so important that you have to speak with me before you talk to the twins? You missed calling from your last stopover.” Cullen combed his fingers through Belinda’s over-long bangs and gazed at his son, who raptly awaited news.

Teetering on the balls of her feet, Mei wasn’t sure if she should leave or stay. Ultimately she decided to return her teapot and cup to the Archer kitchen. She’d almost reached the door when she heard Cullen say explosively, “You want me to wire how much? I know what a pearl and jade necklace is likely to cost. Why not pay with one of your credit cards?”

Mei let the door close on his next comment, but she thought it sounded as if he was questioning how she could max out three cards. There was no mistaking his fury when he virtually bellowed, “All of them? Dammit, Jana, what kind of junk did you buy?” As quickly as he’d flared up, he appeared to calm down, and he promised to phone his banker on his cell while she spoke with the twins.

Mei actually might have lingered at the door to eavesdrop longer had Freda not bustled out of a room at the end of the hall.

“Ms. Ling. Er…Lieutenant. Have you come looking for more tea?”

“No. I figured while Mr. Archer’s on the phone with his wife, I’d return my dishes to the kitchen and perhaps find the bathroom.”

“Ex-wife.” The housekeeper stared over Mei’s shoulder at the door behind which they could hear the children’s excited chatter. “It’s a crying shame that woman can reach out from across the world and turn this household upside down.” Freda relieved Mei of the dishes and pointed her toward a bathroom.

“Will he be long?” Mei asked before the woman rushed off.

Freda shrugged. “Hard to say. Ms. Jana was clearly in a state about something. I’m sorry the kids broke up your meeting. I answered down here, and they happened to pick up on the upstairs extension. They’ve been waiting for their mother’s call for days. They expected to hear this weekend, and they’ve moped since Friday.”

“Um, well, their father may need some extra time with them. I’ll just run back to headquarters and check my morning messages. Could you tell Cullen, uh, Mr. Archer that I need to talk to Chief Tanner so I’m clear on how much time she wants me to devote to this case?” Truthfully, Mei needed to ask how Catherine thought she should handle the situation with her father. She couldn’t barge into his gallery, introduce Cullen Archer as an insurance investigator helping Interpol, and watch Cullen start throwing out questions about smuggled Chinese artifacts. Good Chinese daughters didn’t act that way. Not even if the daughter was a cop. Such discourse moved slowly in her culture and rarely involved women. Westerners didn’t understand that there was an order to things, a process to work through to answer even the simplest questions.

Mei felt comfortable explaining that to Catherine. Not to Cullen Archer.

Normally Mei Lu didn’t hesitate when it came to dealing with influential men. Actually, she’d dealt well with many of them when she ran the Hong Kong gallery.

So, admit it’s this particular man. He only had to look at her with those gray eyes and her stomach turned cartwheels.

Mei knew if she was going to continue to work with Cullen, it was a reaction she needed to quash. Besides, it was a reaction that made no sense. Ask anybody who knew her well. Mei Lu Ling didn’t lose her composure over men.

“Suit yourself, dear,” Freda was saying. She still held Mei’s teapot and cup. “I’ll give Mr. Cullen your message. Can’t say as I blame you for hitting the road. Ordinarily you can’t find a more affable man. But after weeks of phone calls from ‘her nibs,’ he’s a bear. Ah, there I go, running off at the mouth again. Sorry. I should keep my thoughts on that subject to myself. It’s not as if Mr. Cullen doesn’t frequently remind me—and himself—that Ms. Jana is the mother of his children.”