Chapter 1.13
Dagger arrived early at the Jasmine Garden II on lower Haight, cleaned up in the restroom, picked out a table, and was on his second pot of tea when Evelyn came in.
“It was a hit,” he told Evelyn before she had a chance to sit down.
He thought she looked tired, a little pale, probably had been through an emotional wringer losing her second boss. She’d fixed her gaze on his swelling, purple cheek from where he’d connected with the bathroom sink in the biker bar. But she didn’t ask him about it.
The waitress appeared and handed Evelyn a menu. Dagger had already studied his.
Evelyn continued to stare at him.
“I will come back,” the waitress said in heavily accented English. “I will give you some time to look over—”
“No, we’re ready.” Dagger stopped her. “Thit nuong cuon with peanut sauce, com tom rim cha, and a half order of com bat buu tom rimi for me. The lady will take a bowl of bun oc and com ga xao xa ot.” He handed the menus back. “And keep the tra nong coming. I need the caffeine.” They’d eaten here before; Dagger remembered what Evelyn had ordered the last time, saying she adored the lemon chicken.
Evelyn wrapped her fingers around the cup, and he poured her some tea. She usually put one packet of sugar in it, but not today. He studied her. She ran her index fingers around the rim and stared at the tea’s surface to avoid looking at him. Dagger couldn’t tell if she was wallowing in grief or self-pity. He wasn’t worried on either account; he knew Evelyn was tough and would get over it.
The restaurant was fairly busy for five. More than half of the patrons were senior citizens. This early, the elderly turned out in droves for the specials. Their conversations were about grandchildren, doctor visits, and the upcoming election.
There was canned music playing, soft and under the shush of conversations. He’d spent time in Thailand and Vietnam and recognized the instruments: a jakhe and a few klong jins, and the song, “Sa-Bai Sa-Bai.” Dagger didn’t like oriental restaurants that played American music. If he was eating ethnic, he wanted the whole experience.
“Evey, it didn’t have the finesse of a bullet to the back of the head, but that would have made it look like a hit.” Dagger sat back as the waitress brought their food. “Cảm ơn bạn,” he told her in Vietnamese. “Com ga xao xa ot.” He waited until she returned with another pot of tea and then retreated to visit her other tables. “They wanted to make it look like something else, like maybe Tom had crossed someone with one of his cases, or stepped on the wrong set of toes. Maybe that he’d pissed off an OT client, and hence the OT coming to tear him apart.” He ate the shrimp first, and watched as Evey played with her soup. “But they didn’t want it to look like a hit.”
When he was pretty sure she wasn’t going to actually eat, he dropped more news. “The guy in the hoodie … he’d juiced up the fey, with something that set it out of control. Got a syringe with a trace of the juice in it, and a friend at the lab is checking it out. The guy, the one holding the fey’s leash, I haven’t found him yet. But I have a good lead, Evey. He’s a ganger, hasn’t been back on the street very long, owed some people some favors.”
“So whoever he owed a favor to,” Evelyn said, “that’s who ordered the hit on Thomas.”
“My guess.” Dagger thought the peanut sauce was a little too salty. He finished the shrimp and started on the rice. “The fey’s a dead end, though, Evey. Literally.” He could tell from her arched eyebrows that she didn’t know. “Someone gave him a Christmas tree to the stomach and shifted gears about an hour and a half ago, supposedly a lifer with a full hate-on for OTs.” He’d taught Evey enough of the terminology, that it was a type of shank. “The lifer was a member of a Latin gang.”
“The same gang as the guy who held the leash.”
Evelyn always caught on fast.
“So I need to find who’s at the top of the favor-chain, Evey.”
She set her spoon down. Dagger finished his meal and asked for Evey’s to be boxed up with a couple of extra beef rolls and a large to-go cup of tea. He’d stop by the alley and drop the meal on Sadie, should make her predisposed to him if he ever needed to chat again.
“This favor-chain,” Evelyn broached. “You’ll follow it right?” She paused and picked up the teacup again. It was empty, but it kept her hands occupied. “I can’t pay you much, Dagger. Whatever money the firm had, that’s going to Thomas’s sister. Even though he was young, he’d had the foresight to draft a will, and he left everything to her. Nothing goes to his father, they didn’t get along. A ghost, he can’t own property. Whatever money there is—”
“This one’s on the house, Evey.”
She brightened just a little.
“But know that I don’t make a practice of working gratis. Not even for you.”
“You’re going back to it now, right? Tracking the favor-chain?”
“Can’t work tonight, Evey. Not even for you. Not for Thomas the Friendly Ghost.” It was another full moon.
“Dagger, you have to. This is important. His sister is coming by tomorrow. I want to tell her something. The detective, she’s good, Dagger, but she doesn’t have your resources. You have to—”
“Back off, Evey.”
The waitress returned with his to-go box and large Styrofoam cup of tea.
He stood and fixed his eyes on Evelyn, showing a darkness he usually reserved for people like the ones he’d beaten up at the biker bar. “I’m not on the case tonight, understand? Leave it at that. Not happening. Other plans. I’ll be back on it in the morning. Late in the morning.” He’d turn off his cell phone for good measure.
The moon would be full, so he anticipated another rough night.