'We have a deal,' he said, and they all shook hands.
He trusted their handshakes as much as he trusted their slanty eyes.
But, oddly, Herrera started wondering in Spanish the same things the Ba brothers began wondering in Chinese.
Out loud and in English, Herrera said, 'Why is he setting me up?'
Out loud, and in his own brand of English, Zang said, 'Why use-ah two Chinese?'
They pondered this together.
It was obvious to all of them that Herrera was indeed being set up. At least to take a beating. And even though he had to admit that ten thousand dollars was a good price for getting roughed up - in this city, prizefighters had taken dives for less - he still wondered why. And why did the two men beating him up have to be Chinese?
Because . . .
Well . . .
They all looked at each other.
And then Herrera said, 'Because something Chinese has to be coming down!'
'Ah, ah,' Zing said.
Herrera was grateful he hadn't said, 'Ah so.'
'You want to go partners?' he asked.
The Ba brothers looked at him inscrutably. Fuckin' Chinks, he thought.
'You want to go in business together?'
'Ah, biz'liss, biz'liss,' Zing said, grinning.
This they understood. Money. Fingers flying over the abacuses in their heads.
'Find out why he wants me hurt,' Herrera said.
Everyone smiled.
Herrera figured the Ba brothers were smiling because maybe they'd stumbled on a way to become big players instead of handsome goons. Herrera was smiling because he was thinking he could maybe get out of this city not only alive but also rich.
Smiling, they shook hands all over again.
Eleven days later, the twins came back to him.
Frowning.
On Christmas Eve, no less.
No respect at all.
They were beginning to have misgivings about this new partnership. They had been to see Hamilton again, and he had paid them the agreed-upon fifty percent down payment for the job. But they were supposed to receive the remaining four thousand when they made delivery of the dope-cash Herrera would be carrying three nights from now.
'Now we no bling-ah cash, we no catchee monee!' Zang shouted.
"We lose-ah monee aw-relly!' Zing shouted.
'No, no,' Herrera said patiently, 'we can make money.'
'Oh yeah how?' Zing asked.
The way he said it, it sounded like a Column B choice on a Chinese menu.
'If we can figure it out,' Herrera said. 'The deal.'
The twins looked at him sourly and handsomely.
Fuckin' Chinks, Herrera thought.
'Did he say anything about why? he asked patiently.
'He say we tell you Henny say hello.'
A throw-away line.
'Henny?' Herrera asked.
'Henny Shoe.'
Was what it sounded like.
He realized they were talking about Henry Tsu.
What they were saying was that when they beat him up on the twenty-seventh, they were supposed to give him Henry Tsu's regards, which would make it look as if two Chinks from Henry's big Chinatown gang had stolen Hamilton's money.
Ah so, he thought, and realized he was going native.
* * * *
15
Sunday was not a day of rest.
Not for the weary, anyway.
Jamie Bonnem of the Seattle PD was trying to sound patient and accommodating but he came over as merely irritated. He did not like getting called at home so early on a Sunday morning. Early for him, anyway. For Carella it was already ten o'clock. Besides, his case was still cold and Carella's call only reminded him of that bleak fact.
'Yes,' he said brusquely, 'we talked to the Gillette kid. We also talked to the other old boyfriend. Ain't that standard where you work?'
'It's standard here, yes,' Carella said pleasantly. 'How'd they check out?'
'We're still working Gillette.'
'Meaning?'
'He's got no real alibi for where he was on the night of the murder.'
'Where does he say he was?'
'Home reading. You know any twenty-year-old kid stays home reading at night? Eddie Gillette was home reading.'
'Does he live alone?'
'With his parents.'
'Where were they?'
'At the movies.'
'Did you ask him where he was on New Year's Eve?'
'We asked both of them where they were on New Year's Eve. Because if this is tied to your kid kill . . .'
'It may be.'
'The point ain't lost, Carella. We haven't been eliminating anyone just 'cause he was here in Seattle that night, but on the other hand, if somebody tells us he was roaming the Eastern seaboard . . .'
'What'd Gillette tell you?'
'He was right there on your turf.'
'Here? Carella said, and leaned in closer to the mouthpiece.
'Visiting his grandmother for the holidays.'
'Did you follow up on that?'
'No, I went out to take a pee,' Bonnem said. 'You might want to check Grandma yourself, her name is Victoria Gillette, she lives in Bethtown, is there such a place as Bethtown?'
'There is such a place,' Carella said.
'I talked to her on the phone, and she corroborated Gillette's story.'
'Which was what?'
'That they went to the theater together on New Year's Eve.'
'Gillette and Grandma?'
'Grandma is only sixty-two years old. And living with a dentist. The three of them went to see a revival of ... what does this say? I can't even read my own notes.'
Carella waited.
'Whatever,' Bonnem said. 'The dentist corroborates. The three of them went to see whatever the hell this is, Charlie's Something, and afterward they went out in the street with the crowd, and walked over to a hotel called the Elizabeth, is there such a hotel?'
'There is such a hotel,' Carella said.
'To the Raleigh Room there, where Grandma and the dentist danced and Eddie tried to pick up a blonde in a red dress. All this according to Eddie and Grandma and the dentist, too, whose name is Arthur Rothstein. We do not have a name for the blonde in the red dress,' Bonnem said drily, 'because Gillette struck out.'