“Bobbie’s brother, Jay?” Denise asked.
“Yes,” Lane said.
“Only ever saw him at the kids’ birthday parties. Usually up until the point his sister said something nasty and he left.” Denise watched Harper as he moved into the living room.
Lane waited.
Harper looked at Lane and shook his head to indicate there was no one else in the apartment.
“Jay was a nice kid. Real short attention span.
Maybe that’s why Cole and Kaylie always hung off of him. When he was around, Cole would talk nonstop whenever Bobbie left the room. Jay sure had a knack for bringin’ Cole out of his shell. Kaylie adored him too. Charles wished Jay would come around more often,” Denise said.
“We’d like to talk with Jay,” Lane said.
“No idea where he lives. Bobbie had no idea either.
She used to interrogate him about it every time they met. But he never would tell her where he lived,”
Denise said.
“Have you got any idea where Cole might be?”
Lane asked.
Denise said, “Been up all night thinking about it.
Just hope he doesn’t turn up like his sister and father.” She shuddered and her head dropped. Denise leaned away from the door frame and stood straight. “I’ve got to get to work. As you can see, unfortunately, Cole’s not here.”
They killed two hours checking over details downtown. At 11:15 AM they walked to Chinatown and found The Lucky Elephant Restaurant. It was about a block from the river and just across the street from the red-bricked federal building. The sun was bright. Lane and Harper passed a few people who were wearing shorts and T-shirts. The joggers headed down the sidewalk toward the trails along the river.
A bell sounded as they opened the door of The Lucky Elephant Restaurant. They stepped inside and looked around. Four tables were filled with office workers who’d decided on an early lunch.
In the corner, a white-haired man waved to them. He sat with his back to the wall. He stood. He wore a red golf shirt and black jeans.
Lane noted the man’s table offered him the best vantage point in the room.
Lane and Harper approached and stopped across the table from the white-haired man. He offered his hand first to Lane, “Mr. Lane and Mr. Harper, I’m Lam Tran. Most people call me Uncle Tran.” After shaking Harper’s hand, Uncle Tran said, “Please sit.”
Harper looked at Lane. The older detective raised his eyebrows and thought, Just go with it.
Lane noted Uncle Tran had an accent, but his English was very good. Instinctively, Lane knew he was sizing up an extremely intelligent man. Lane pulled out a chair and said, “News certainly travels fast.”
“Canadian cities are still quite small by Asian standards. News certainly does travel fast,” Uncle Tran said.
A waiter arrived, set down two menus and poured water for Uncle Tran, Lane, and Harper.
“Today, I’d suggest the curried beef with mixed vegetables,” Uncle Tran said.
“Sounds very nice,” Lane said.
Harper studied the menu. “Me too.”
“We’ve been told you’re a saint,” Lane took a sip of water.
“An exaggeration,” Uncle Tran smiled.
Lane had made a point of sitting across from Uncle Tran so he could watch the man’s eyes. “I’m impressed with the way you knew us even before we introduced ourselves.”
Uncle Tran looked directly back at Lane.
“Wherever you are, it helps to have friends.”
Lane thought, It was probably Steve who let Tran know we were looking for him. I wonder if Harper knows.
Harper smiled, “We would like to get in touch with Jay Krocker.”
“You get right to the point. It’s the best approach. I will pass on a message to him if you wish,” Uncle Tran said.
Lane thought, Think carefully about this.
The waiter arrived with three plates and a large red plastic container of steamed rice.
Uncle Tran picked up his chopsticks, chose a piece of beef and dipped it into the curry sauce. He put the morsel in his mouth and closed his eyes with pleasure.
“That was quick service.” Harper tried to pick up the chopsticks, then put them down and reached for a fork.
Lane used chopsticks to select a morsel of red pepper along with a piece of beef and put them in his mouth. The curry was sweet and hot, the beef tender, and the pepper crisp. He had never tasted curry like this in his life. He chewed and said, “Magnificent.”
Uncle Tran smiled, “It is quite delicious. Hard to get a curry dish this wonderful in the west.”
Harper coughed. Lane and Uncle Tran looked at him. Harper’s face was red. He reached for a glass of water.
“Wait.” Uncle Tran reached for the rice and spooned some onto Harper’s plate. “Eat some rice. It will ease the discomfort.”
Harper shoveled steamed rice into his mouth. His face turned pink. “Thanks. Man, that’s hot!”
“You may wish for something milder,” Uncle Tran said.
“Maybe,” Harper said.
Uncle Tran motioned for the waiter. “You like chicken?”
“Yes,” Harper said.
Uncle Tran said, “Number 53,” to the waiter, and then to Harper, “I apologize.”
Harper took a gulp of water, swallowed, then sucked some ice into his mouth. Tears ran down his cheeks.
Lane smiled and ate another mouthful of vegetables and beef. It’s really wonderful, he thought. Sweat broke out on his forehead. His nose began to run.
“We’d like to meet Jay face to face,” Harper said.
“Is he to be charged with a crime?” Uncle Tran chewed thoughtfully.
He isn’t sweating at all, Lane thought. “We have questions related to a murder investigation.”
“Is Jay accused of murder?” Uncle Tran looked right at Lane.
“No, but he may be able to help us solve one,” Lane said.
Uncle Tran scooped some rice into the curry sauce at the edge of his plate. “This Jay is a good boy. He protected my nephew, Tony, when their boss was being a bully. Jay went back to help my niece, Rosie, when everyone else ran away. You know this also. I will pass on your message to Jay, but whether or not he will meet you face to face, this is his decision.”
Lane took his card out and slid it across the table to Uncle Tran. “It is important he gets in touch with us.”
“I understand,” Uncle Tran said.
Harper took the call as they walked along Seventh Avenue. The C-Train rumbled by. He had to cup his left hand over his ear to hear the caller. “Hello.”
“The DNA canine results are in.” The voice was deep and utterly toneless.
“Who is this?” Harper asked.
“Colin Weaver. You requested a match on the canine hairs found on the child’s clothing-one Kaylie Reddie, deceased-with the samples from the dog from Dr. Ellen Dent’s office.”
“That’s right.” Harper looked at Lane and mouthed the words, “Doctor Fibre.”
The C-Train moved on. Harper was able to remove his hand from his ear.
Weaver said, “Dr. Ellen Dent was correct. The samples are a match. They come from the same animal. I’ll forward a copy of the report to you.”
“Thanks,” Harper said.
Weaver muttered something unintelligible, and the line went dead.
Harper said, “Dr. Dent’s dog and the samples from Kaylie’s clothes are a match.”
Lane said, “Good, we’re finally getting somewhere.”
BOBBIE: Good afternoon. It’s Bobbie on the ride home. This is a personal appeal to my listeners. Please look at the pictures of my son in the newspapers and on TV. I warned the police this might happen. Now, I’m relying on you to find my only surviving child. I’m hoping to find a way to raise a reward for my son’s safe return. The police say they are looking for my son. I choose to put my son’s life in your hands.
