I looked around the room, like a trapped animal. I even wondered if I could run up the stairs and successfully make that jump across to the next building, if I hitched my skirts high enough. But even as thoughts of flight went through my head, Daniel came bounding up the stairs, around the screen, and into the room.
“What’s going on in here, Kear?” he demanded. “Some idiot comes rushing into headquarters babbling about dead Chinamen and tong wars starting again, and then one of your men arrives to request the police doctor and photographer and fingerprint kit, so I thought I’d better come down and take a look for myself.”
“It’s okay, Sullivan. It’s all under control,” Captain Kear said.
“That’s not what it sounded like from downstairs,” Daniel said. “It sounded like chaos to me.”
“It’s just a routine Chinatown murder. Nothing unusual. Besides, it’s Sixth Precinct business and I’m handling it.” Captain Kear gave Daniel a long, hard stare.
“Then why were they babbling about tong wars starting up again?” Daniel asked. He looked around the room. “If this thing is going to get out of hand, we need to stop it right now and if you need extra men to do that—”
He stopped in midsentence. “What in God’s name are you doing here?” he demanded.
“You know Miss Murphy?” Captain Kear asked.
“Know her? In two weeks’ time she’s going to be my wife.”
“Well, I’m damned. You omitted to mention that little fact, Miss Murphy. A husband-and-wife detective team—how convenient.” Captain Kear grinned. “So is she going to help you solve your cases, Sullivan?”
“Miss Murphy has told you she’s an investigator?” Daniel asked.
“She has. In fact she was working for the man who has just been killed.”
“Working for him?” Daniel was now glaring at me.
“Daniel, that’s not how it sounds,” I began, but he held up a warning hand. “We’ll discuss this later, Molly. So who was this man?”
“Lee Sing Tai. I take it you’ve heard of him.”
“Lee Sing Tai—oh, Mr. Lee and I are well acquainted. Protection racket, drugs, prostitution, and the On Leong tong. Not a very nice man, was he, our Mr. Lee? I’m just surprised he lived as long as he did. So someone finally put a bullet through him, did they?”
“Pushed him off his own roof, actually,” Captain Kear said.
“And how did anyone manage to get into his house to throw him off the roof?” Daniel demanded. “Don’t these On Leong types usually keep a pack of bodyguards around?”
“I’ve sent someone to find the bodyguards,” Captain Kear said, “but these two are the servants that have just been brought in. They’d run off before I got here.”
“Run off before their master was killed or after?” Daniel asked, looking at the still-trembling men.
“Well?” Captain Kear barked. “You heard the policeman. What have you two got to say for yourselves? Do you realize that by running off I’m going to think that you killed your master?”
This was duly translated and a great wail came from the houseboy.
“I no do this terrible thing,” he said in English. “It must be demon who do it. How he get in master’s house? I sleep on my mat in hallway, same as always. Nobody come past me. This I swear.”
“And your master slept on the roof?” Captain Kear asked.
“On hot nights.”
“Why didn’t you sleep up there beside him?”
“He no like me beside him. He say he need me to guard hallway—like watchdog,” the boy said. “I swear nobody got into master’s house. All doors were locked, same as always.”
“And what about you?” Daniel pointed at the cook. “Who are you?”
“This man is the cook,” the interpreter said after the cook had given a long speech with much hand waving. “He says he sleeps in little space behind kitchen. Far from front of house. He does not hear anything all night. This morning he gets up and starts to make breakfast when houseboy comes and says that master is dead and policemen are coming. They are frightened that policemen will think they did this terrible thing, so they run off.”
“Not very bright, was it?” Daniel said drily. “By that very act you make yourselves appear guilty. And who are these other people?”
“I Mr. Lee’s son,” Bobby said. “And this his number one wife.”
“Paper son,” Captain Kear corrected. “Bobby Lee. You may have come across that name too.”
“Ah, yes, Bobby Lee. Familiar name from the last tong war. You’ve been out of the picture for a while, haven’t you, Bobby?”
“I run Father’s factory in Brooklyn,” Bobby said. “I do what Father want, like good son.”
“I’m sure you do.” Daniel smirked, then pointed at the other men who had now moved off to one side, hoping to slip around the screen unnoticed. “And what about these two? Are they the bodyguards?”
“They are On Leong men. They found the cook and houseboy for us.”