Sinner's Gin (Sinners, #1)

“Why? You know one?”


“Funny,” Sanchez snapped back. “Get your ass over to Shing’s restaurant. We got some strange things going on, partner mine. Figured you’d want in on the action….” He paused, then Kane heard him guffaw. “Unless you got some of your own action going on over there with the rock star.”

“Fuck off, Kel,” Kane replied without heat. “I left him at the door with orders to crawl into bed. I’ll be right there. Don’t start anything without me.”

The admonishment obviously came too late. By the time Kane pulled up to the alley behind the restaurant, the back door was open and clogged with uniforms standing guard over several overstuffed black trash bags. A few feet away, a skinny, middle-aged Chinese man Kane recognized as Bradley Shing stood, arguing heatedly with a placid Sanchez and Connie Lau, another inspector from their station. His partner looked serene, a far cry from the taut face he’d had on when trying to breach Miki’s defenses. From the looks of things, Shing wasn’t getting his way.

Kane parked behind Sanchez’s black Porsche Boxster, angling the SUV so he blocked any traffic from coming down the alleyway. A couple of patrol cars were across the other side of the alley, boxing in the restaurant. After activating the blue light flashers tucked up on the seam of his rear windows, Kane climbed out and headed over to inspect the bags. Sanchez broke off from the tirade and tucked his hands into the waistband of his gray trousers, pulling his jacket back to expose the badge he wore on his belt.

“Funny time to be cleaning house,” Kane said, toeing one of the bags. “Anyone take a peek to see what’s in it?”

“Not yet,” Sanchez admitted. “There’s a transport coming to take them in. I want some space to spread out what Mr. Shing there thought he couldn’t wait until morning to toss out.”

“Who saw him toss the stuff?” Kane spotted someone he knew from his brother’s class, and he smiled, nodding to one of the uniforms standing by the open door.

“I did.” Sanchez shrugged when Kane shot him a look. “I discovered, after a long night of tracking down a murderer, I was hungry for some Chinese food. So while I sat behind the restaurant for an hour or so, deciding what I wanted to order, Mr. Shing came out and threw some trash bags into the dumpster over there.”

“Which you had to retrieve, of course.”

“Of course.” Sanchez had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Actually, I caught a patrol coming by and snagged one of them to climb in.”

“Dude, abuse of authority.” Kane clucked at him, grinning.

“These are new pants.” Sanchez tugged at his trousers’ pockets. “If you think I was going to get gau yuk all over a pair of new Pradas, you’re fucking insane.”

“You’re an embarrassment to cops everywhere, Sanchez,” Kane drawled. “Casey come across with the warrant yet?”

“Yeah, right after I called you. I was about to head in, but I thought I’d wait for your sorry ass. I’m tired of showing you up to the Loo.” Sanchez nodded briefly at Shing, who was trying to get around Lau. She maneuvered in, blocking him off. “There’s a couple of guys in the front closing the place down. Place is open until two in the morning, so there’s some stragglers. Martinez is in there. He said he’d take the kitchen staff’s statements. I already jotted down what Shing wanted to share with me.”

“Let me guess.” Kane eyed the irate man pacing off a circle as Lau warned him to calm down. “Fuck you and oh… fuck you?”

“Spot on,” Sanchez agreed. “Funny behavior for a grieving son.”

“It’s all clear, sir.” A fresh-faced blonde woman dressed in SFPD blues popped out the back door and nodded at Sanchez. “I’ll wait for the transport.”

“Thanks,” Sanchez said, flashing the young woman a brilliant smile. “Good job.”

Kane shook his head and entered the restaurant, ducking to avoid the clusters of garlic strings dangling near the door. A strong wave of spices assailed him as soon as he cleared the doorway. Mingled in with anise and curries, an undertone of cabbage, onions, and garlic lingered alongside dishwashing liquid and fresh meats. Martinez, a beefy man recently transferred in from another station, waved absently at Kane and turned back to the loosely gathered line of men clustered near the sinks.

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