Читать книгу She Walks the Line - Roz Fox Denny - Страница 10

MEI LU FOUND A PARKING PLACE in the precinct’s always-busy garage. One thing she loved about the main police station was the amount of activity going on day and night. Men and women rushed in and out of the historic building, some in uniform, others in street clothes, a few in disguise. If their disguises were good, no one except close friends recognized them. The ones easily seen through provided fun for weeks.

Police work, the nitty-gritty part of keeping a city the size of Houston safe from crazies, derelicts and all-around bad folks, took an emotional toll on the psyches of everyone on the force. Laughter was the best cure. Everything, from the smallest oddity to the most bizarre occurrence became fair game to pass around from department to department. After the weeks at the academy, during which Mei Lu took such a drubbing over her deficiency in martial arts, she was careful to avoid being the butt of their jokes.

As a result, no matter how harried or hurried, she sauntered through the building, occasionally stopping to chat, but leaving in her wake an aura of calm efficiency. At least that was her objective.

Cops on all the floors used to stare at her anyway. Partly because at the time she went through the academy, Mei was one of only three Asian Americans with the Houston PD, and the only Asian female. Gradually, no doubt due to the recent influx of Asian immigrants, department numbers had begun to reflect the recent diversity.

Chief Tanner, always big on women walking their own path, used to give Mei Lu pep talks about how she had a golden opportunity to be a model cop. So what if she happened to be Chinese? Except that her minority status had made her the go-to authority anytime there was a disturbance in the Asian quarter. And she didn’t always feel like an authority. At times she felt quite removed.

It was Crista who helped her see and come to accept that there would always be cops to whom race mattered a lot. Everyone could name them. Crista confronted them, while Mei did her best to steer clear. It was increasingly evident, however, that as the Asian community expanded, unrest rose among those cops who’d rather everyone of color simply went away.

As she sat outside Catherine’s office waiting for the chief to wind up a mid-morning meeting, she considered the various things that could trigger an upsurge of racial violence in the city. Reports of a suspected rapist at large, or a serial killer, or gang activity. She worried that if news of this smuggling operation broke or, worse, became widely known, patrols would triple along Bellaire. Families in Mei’s neighborhood, law-abiding for the most part, would be subtly harassed.

Suddenly, Catherine’s door burst open and two men in suits and ties stormed past, causing Mei to glance up and forget the concerns running through her head. The shorter of the chief’s visitors had a red face and bulbous nose. He was chunky around the middle. The other, taller and leaner, had a pasty complexion. He sported a bushy mustache that made his angry eyes overpower a weak chin.

Mei wondered who they were and what Catherine had said to annoy them. Because they clearly were annoyed, as evidenced by their grim expressions and choppy strides. Their body language said they couldn’t wait to put this experience behind them.

“Lieutenant,” Catherine’s assistant, Annette, said after hanging up her phone. “The chief asks if you can give her five minutes to make a couple of callbacks. Then she has ten minutes to spare. I forgot, she’s due to address a Kiwanis luncheon today, and we’ve already rescheduled it once.”

“I don’t want to rush her. I can come back this afternoon.” In fact, she’d like an excuse to not have to see Archer again today.

“Not good, either.” Annette frowned. “She goes from the luncheon straight to a groundbreaking ceremony for the new detention center they’re going to build near the intersection of the Brazoria and Galveston County lines. The folks in charge have planned a whole host of events. I doubt she’ll make it back here today.”

Rising slowly, Mei crossed to stand in front of the administrative assistant’s desk, which beat shouting across a noisy room. “I didn’t realize the chief had so many duties outside of police stuff.”

“No one tells you these things before you take the job, either,” Catherine remarked from her doorway. Screwing up her face, she flung the back of her hand to her forehead in a “woe is me” gesture.

Mei and two of the office clerks shared a chuckle.

“Come in.” Catherine gestured to Mei Lu. “I assume Annette told you I’m pressed for time. Now that I think of it, what are you doing here? As of last night, I thought you were on special assignment with…what’s his name?”

“Cullen Archer,” Mei said with a sigh as she slipped past Catherine.

“Is the man a problem?” Catherine turned away from her visitor and began sorting papers and loading them into a worn briefcase. “Yes? No?” Pausing, Catherine turned and fixed Mei Lu with searing blue eyes.

“He’s a little overbearing—” Mei stopped abruptly, feeling a flush creep along her neck. “That’s unfair of me.” Mei clasped her hands tight around her ever-present notebook. “He was thoughtful enough to buy me Lapsang tea. Oh, he said I shouldn’t go alone to the nightclub where the first courier was killed, but he probably spoke out of concern for my welfare rather than any real chauvinism.”

“So then, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you two nosing around the club?”

Mei shook her head. “I don’t know.” Swallowing hard, she felt the beginnings of another flush. “No…I do know,” she said decisively.

“Then spit it out. This isn’t like you, Mei Lu. I’ve rarely seen you act wishy-washy.”

“It has to do with my family. Cullen, uh—he said to call him that—is bent on starting our investigation at Ling Limited.”

“Goodness, Mei Lu.” Catherine frowned. “Surely Interpol doesn’t think…I mean, you don’t suspect your father in any way…?”

“No,” Mei shot back quickly. “But…you know my relationship with my folks. I…can’t march into my father’s office acting like the cop they never wanted me to be.”

“A cop is what you are, Mei Lu,” Catherine said with no softness in her tone. “It’s the career you chose. You took an oath to uphold the law, which transcends all other loyalties, even filial. You know the rules about recusing yourself if evidence should ever point to anyone in your family.”

“It won’t. But of course I understand.” Mei edged toward the door. “My greater concern revolves around how Archer and I could differ over investigating anyone in the Asian community. Not specifically my family. I’m unsure how to enlighten Cullen, since it’s essentially his case. I know if we barge in throwing our weight around, expecting normal interrogative techniques to work, people will close ranks and give us nothing.”

Catherine pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m fully aware yours is a culture that demands treading carefully.”

Mei released the breath she’d been holding. “And lightly. And slowly.” She’d known all along that Catherine would understand what she was trying to say.

“Tell Archer straight out. If the man is sensitive enough to buy you Chinese tea, Mei Lu, trust him to be open to suggestions that come from your experience.”

Mei nodded dutifully. It wasn’t what she’d hoped for. She really wanted Catherine to take her off the case. But she couldn’t admit part of her reason was that Cullen Archer made her feel more a woman and less a cop.

“Chief, I know you have no one else in the department to translate Chinese, but… Shoot, I’ve never been so uncertain about how to proceed.” Mei hit on something she could admit. “On the other hand, I’ve never worked with anyone from Interpol.”

Catherine eyed her young lieutenant long and hard. “I hope that’s all it is,” she said, collecting her cell phone before walking to the wall to turn off her lights.

As the chief drew nearer, Mei noticed lines around her mouth that she didn’t recall seeing there before. And come to think of it, Catherine didn’t seem her usual cheerful self. “Is everything all right with you?” Mei asked, taking care to lower her voice. “Did those two men you met with upset you?”

Catherine dropped her ring of keys, knelt and scooped them up just as fast. “What makes you ask?” They walked out of her office, and with a sure hand, the older woman locked her door.

“I thought their movements appeared angry when they passed me.”

“Did they say anything?”

“No. Nothing. The way they were dressed—well, I wondered if they were lawyers. Maybe part of the team going after Myron Addison?” The thought had only now occurred to her. Mei knew it was a dicey case. Myron was a sixteen-year police veteran accused of transporting drugs across the border. He’d been off duty at the time, and he was hollering setup. The papers were having a field day. The story seemed to grow more legs every day.