Changes (30 page)

Shaking off the pain and anger and fear, I realized I had become perhaps a bit overconfident as well.  Ang Su Chan circled, pacing, looking for an opening.  His right arm hung uselessly; his eyes flitted around, huge and panicked, wild.

Ang made snarling whines of pain between his teeth as he struggled to breathe.  Blood and saliva trailed from his lip and fell to the ground to freeze. 

His feet shifted, rooting.

His stance deepened, solidified.

In the madness of his eyes, I saw Mei Ling.

And in Mei Ling, I saw Grace.

Cold and blue.

Lifeless.

So small, tiny fingers and toes.

Those eyes, just like her mother’s…

It would be so easy.  No more pain.  No more guilt.

All I had to do was nothing.

The man before me moved, his fist shooting out like an arrow.  Something in it glittered in the dim light.

I regained my center and shifted, sitting back on my left leg.  I avoided the incoming attack by inches. 

In that timeless time I thought of nothing – not Mei Ling, not Grace, not winning or losing or living or dying.

There was only the game: this dance, this moment.

The palms of my hands connected to his arms, one in front of his elbow, and the other on his tricep.  I felt the
chi
of his attack, the black surge of anger and hatred fired toward me through that arm.  I turned my waist; my arms followed the motion, palms sliding in opposite directions down the length of Ang’s arm, redirecting – reversing – the flow of poisonous intent back upon its wielder.  Ang Su Chan’s eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat.

And He fell. 

Snowflakes lit upon his open eyes, melted, and trickled to the ground.  A small, thin-bladed knife glinted from the palm of his hand.

I called Knox.

96

There would be no need for an in depth investigation.  It was a clear cut case of self defense.  That a 68 year old man would have a massive heart attack in the midst of a fight was not suspicious.

I kept it together okay until Knox told me that they’d found Tracy.

In the back of Ang’s station wagon.

Alive. 

And pissed.

Ang hadn’t wanted to hurt her, not really.  She’d been simply bait.

Unwilling bait.

At least she hadn’t made it easy on him.

97

On the drive from the police station to the hotel, my muscles began to tighten and lock up.  It was to be expected; my body had absorbed more abuse that month than the previous ten years combined.  The pain at least kept my mind off of things.

Killing an old man, murderer though he was, did not make me feel like a tough guy.  It did not make me feel very smart either, considering I still didn’t know the why of everything.

A small voice in the back of my head seemed to suggest that I did, but it was the same voice that suggested I’d like the movie Moulin Rouge, so I didn’t take it very seriously.

I parked and took my time getting out of the car.  Tracy helped as much as she could, but she was pretty battered herself. 

We needed a vacation.

On the way to the room, every minute of every year of my life weighed on the muscles of my back and legs; each cut, bruise, burn and scrape sang; the lanced wounds on my forearms throbbed.

After promising myself that I’d cut down, all I could think about at that moment was a tall, stiff drink.  We got into the elevator, pressed the button for our floor, and, when the doors closed, leaned against the mirrored walls for support.  Talking took energy we didn’t have.

My ankle wouldn’t accept my full weight; my cheek and jaw felt like an overcooked sausage.  Ang hadn’t managed to strike any specific acupuncture points, but the effects of his rage were impressive.  The elevator doors opened, and together we limped down the hall to our room. 

Once inside, we helped each other undress.  I inspected Tracy’s bruises, gave myself a quick once-over and, convinced neither of us had been "Death Touch-ed," went to bed.

Just before dozing off, I realized something.

A drink would’ve been nice, but the only thing I really needed was her.

98

Sometimes life takes on a certain quality, a lucidity and clarity that encompasses and surpasses and crosswires the senses together. Moments we know will be cherished memories even as we live them.

That night, at the hotel, was such a time.

To hold and be held, silently, and to relish the silence as much as the touch… tracing the planes and lines of the one I know so well and yet hardly at all… night deepening, reaching its apex, and receding… drowsing through the dawn, entwined together as though fused…

…even the peach fuzz gargoyle thing coiled upon my head…

Moments in time, captured forever.

This was home, here with her; this was peace.

When at last we rose, we reached a decision. I gathered our things while Tracy snuck Tito out to the car. I paid our bill and turned in the room keys.

They weren’t necessary anymore.

99

The next week or so consisted of attempts –- some successful, others not so much -– to return to normal life. Tracy returned to work, at first picking up only a few shifts until she was ready. I cleaned up the shop, checked my machine, and dutifully called back the patients who apparently thought I’d died.

I had no patients.  Really, though, that was okay. I wasn’t in the headspace to be much help to anyone anyway.

Then there was the apartment.  I’d missed it, of course, but now…

I never thought I’d miss Tito.

As for the case, Knox and Janik were still working hard to put together the pieces and figure out the missing bits. I left them to it.  As far as I was concerned, my part in it all was finished.

Mostly.

100

The ceremony took place outside, in the sun. 68 degrees in January. Even for California weather, it was exceptional.  Massive sticks of incense burned at points around the area; a thick musky sandalwood that clung to the nostrils long after the smoke was gone. The priest paced around the perimeter, chanting mantras and waving a blessed mirror about. He wore a flatboard hat that Tracy said made her think he was graduating from high school.

I stood near Tony Lau and Daniel D’Avila; their suits made me feel woefully underdressed. Tracy insisted that I looked perfectly respectable in black Dockers, a wine-colored shirt and black jacket, but I just felt shabby.

So far, it was just the five of us; no one else had shown up yet.  Tony glanced over at me and gestured slightly. He turned away and walked to the railing overlooking a small pond. I followed. We both leaned against the rail and looked out at the water.

"I don’t know why you’ve insisted on this.  I would’ve been more than happy to pay--" he said.

"It’s just something I’d like to do," I said.

He flashed me a look that said he didn’t understand.

That was okay.

Looking down again, he said, "It was an accident, you know…just… well, it’s amazing what tequila can do…"  He laughed bitterly. 

"It was her birthday. Daniel went home. We all figured it would be good for me to be seen out with women… We were talking and drinking and it got late and there was more drinking… I guess a part of me wondered if father was right… I don’t even really remember it. Just flashes, really. Horrible, clumsy flashes. For all the hurt it caused, you’d think it would be clearer. It should be, y’know? I should have to feel it…just like he did."

"Daniel," I said.

"He never complained. Never said a word. He knew… but he just wanted the best for me, you know?"

I nodded.

"I still can’t believe the one time she and I…" he shook his head, there were tears in his eyes.

"Fathers everywhere have had that same feeling, believe me."

He looked up again and said, "You have done so much for us, for her, you shouldn’t have to do this… please…"

I shook my head.  "Tony.  I want to."

Mourners began filtering in, finding seats near the gravesite.

"Looks like it’s almost time," I said.

He nodded and together we went back to our seats.  I scanned the crowd. There was no one I knew. Yet.

The priest chanted some more.

Tracy put a hand on my wrist, leaned in, and whispered, "What’s he saying?"

"He’s explaining to the gods that the grave is consecrated, the body is cleansed, and the offerings are in place. He’s asking that they welcome her home now."

"Oh," she said, her eyes moist and shining, "…Baby too?"

"Baby too," I said quietly.

She nodded.  I offered her a tissue. She took it and wiped her eyes.  Traditionally, the bodies would be displayed; time had made that impossible. The casket stood before us – a small, grim reminder of the horrors of the world and the chance of redemption. 

I wasn’t sure of what I believed, but if Mei Ling’s spirit was around then perhaps she could yet find the peace she deserved.

Perhaps we all could.

He arrived just as Tony rose to say a few words.  I recognized him immediately. Aside from the grey at his temples, he looked just as he had the last time I’d seen him.  He stood far to the back of the gathering, well away from the rest of us.

I took Tracy’s hand, squeezed it, and excused myself from the services.  As I worked my way over, I saw him notice me. He immediately looked away.  When I was close enough, I said, "I believe I have something of yours."

He didn’t pay any attention. Just when I was about to repeat myself, he said, "I am not interested."

"Are you sure?" I said, taking the photos from my jacket pocket. "They’re a memorial too, in a way."

He stopped, stared at the pictures and slowly raised his eyes to meet mine.

"I retrieved them from a man named Ang Su Chan. I believe you knew him?"

"No," he said, turning to leave.

"Oh come on, Zhao… you expect me to believe you’d trust a complete stranger to murder your daughter?"

He stopped.

"Is this the part where you do the whole denial thing? Because then I go through how the killer had intimate family photos of your daughter and you and your wife… presumably because Mei Ling is the spitting image of Mrs. Zhao… and how funny that all is. Then you give a weak explanation and I tell you how my cop friends traced a $50,000 deposit into Ang’s account back to your bank. So let’s just cut out the middle man, alright? You did it. We both know it. I just can’t, for the life of me, figure out why."

Pei Jin Zhao stared at me with disgust.  I stared back, giving him a taste of the ole I’m-rubber-you’re-glue look.

"The Eight Tigers are an evil organization," he said.

I blinked.  "And?" I said.

"Ang Su Chan sought revenge… his niece was one of Lau’s little whores."

"Jimmy Yi Lau brought her to America," I said.

"Yes. She died of heroin overdose within a year."

"So?"

"He came after me," Zhao said, straightening his jacket.

"Why?"

"I was once the head of the Tigers’ prostitution interests in North America."

"What happened?"

"I was given a second chance… to repent, to live again," he said.

"How so?"

"Through the holy blood of our Lord, Jesus Christ."

I stared at him for a long time. Part of me wanted to laugh, the other part wanted to throw up.

I kept it cool, though.

"So you saw the light. Then what?" I said.

"I resigned and begged Jimmy to do the same. We cannot oppress our own people and call it freedom."

"He turned you down."

Zhao nodded sadly. "He was a pagan."

"Right."

"Years passed, but he came to me – in my home – as if I were still his partner in filth. He offered me money… money… for my daughter to marry his damned sodomite son. Naturally, I refused and sent him away."

"Naturally."

Something darkened in his features, as if a shadow overtook him.  "You cannot know what it is like to be a father… to have a… disobedient child. A pagan…  She went to that gangster and she took his goddamned money just like the whore of Babylon! I ask you, what is a father supposed to do?"

"Talk to her, get some family counseling, maybe try the whole tough love deal… I can think of a lot of options… none of them involve murder."

"As I said, you cannot know what it is like."

I took a deep breath and said, "So Ang comes after you. What then?"

"He sought redemption, but would not give up his pagan ways. I explained that I was no longer with the Tigers.  He and I both sought to destroy their evil organization."

"And you gave up your former friends and your own kid."

"Let pagans kill pagans. It means nothing to the Lord," he said.

"And you think Jesus is cool with you paying and orchestrating murders."

He smiled beatifically and said, "I am forgiven of all my trespasses. All that I have done and will ever do. You too can know His love…"

And he reached out for my shoulder like a mentor, or a brother, a best friend.

I don’t know exactly why, but something inside me knew that I couldn’t let him touch me, as if that one small act would mean something horrible, something I could never take back.  Without thinking, I shifted my weight away and turned to avoid his touch.  Simultaneously, I reached out and slapped his chest with the fingertips of my left hand.

Pei Jin Zhao sat down hard and looked up at me with genuine shock.  "Do not fear Him, brother. He accepts all! He forgives all! But reject him and you face the fires of hell. The wages of sin is death, brother!"

I threw several of the photos of Mei Ling onto his lap and said, "Remember that, then, and remember her… every day for the rest of your pathetic life. And, for your sake, I hope to hell that your ‘heavenly father’ is a better dad than you ever were, you fucking piece of shit."