The Killing Hands (19 page)

By the time Hana arrives twenty minutes later we've managed English conversations with ten people out of our twenty-eight. All of them are extremely distressed by the news that Mee Kim is missing, and they all comment on how wonderful and generous she is. Their concern is genuine, and I can tell the community relies on her. She teaches their children Korean and teaches them English.

“What's up?” Hana climbs in the backseat.

“We've managed to get ahold of ten people over the phone who had enough English to communicate with us. I don't think Mee is staying with any of them, but two of the women said that she's good friends with Sun Lee and Soon-Yi Park from her last class. Apparently it's the advanced class, and sometimes they all go out for a late lunch straight after the lesson.”

Hana nods. “Let's start with those two names.”

“They'll obviously speak quite good English, but there's no answer at their homes and we don't have cell or current work numbers for them.”

“Okay. Well, what about her beginner students? Was there anyone you called that didn't have much English?”

“Yup. I've made notes next to each number.” Ramos hands his sheet back to Hana. “
NA
means no answer and
NE
means no or not much English.”

She starts dialing the first number while Ramos and I sit twiddling our thumbs. Hana speaks in Korean, leaving me and Ramos in the dark. After a couple of minutes she hangs up. “Okay, I've got another two women she's friendly with from a beginner class—Hae Koo and Mi-na Moon. Hae Koo's on this list with an
NE
next to her. Do you have Mi-na Moon?” Hana asks me.

“Yup. Only a home number listed and it rang out.”

“I'll try Sun Lee and Soon-Yi Park again.”

There's still no answer at Sun Lee's home, but when Hana dials Soon-Yi Park, she starts speaking in Korean.

“We're going to Sycamore Avenue. It's only a few blocks away. Mrs. Park saw Mee this morning.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Let's see what she's got to say in person.” She buckles up. “Get back onto Wilshire, heading east, and then take a right at South L.A. Brea Avenue.”

Five minutes later Hana tells me to take a right onto Pickford Street and then a left onto Sycamore. She scans the numbers as I drive slowly down the street. “Two doors down,” Hana says.

I roll the car forward two houses and pull in.

“This is it.” Hana undoes her seat belt. “Let's go.”

Once we're out of the car, Hana buttons up her suit jacket and runs her fingers through her hair before repositioning her hairclip. Like Mee's house, the small lawn is neat and recently trimmed, as are the two small garden beds that contain mostly succulents. Good to see the owners are embracing native plants, in line with California's dry weather.

We're not even halfway up the concrete path when the front door opens. A woman in her mid-forties stands at the door, her round face tense. Rosy cheeks contrast milky skin, dark brown eyes and shoulder-length dark brown hair. She beckons us inside, rosebud lip pursed. She says something in rapid Korean to Hana, who nods and gives a brief answer back.

“She just said how worried she is about Mee,” Hana relays.

Once we're inside, Hana introduces us, talking to Mrs. Park in Korean, and to me and Ramos in English. We shake hands with her briefly and she brings out a pot of coffee—obviously made while she was waiting for us. She pours four coffees and sets them out in front of us.

“Thank you,” I say.

Mrs. Park gives a small nod before launching into something in Korean.

Hana turns to us. “Mrs. Park says she knew something was wrong with Mee, but that Mee insisted she'd had a burst pipe at her house and needed to stay somewhere just for the night.”

I nod. “What time did she leave this morning?”

Again, Hana talks to Mrs. Park in Korean and waits for the response before turning back to us. “About ten-fifteen. And
she knew that was also strange, because Mee teaches and should have left for work much earlier. But Mee told her she was taking the day off to sort out the problems with her plumbing.”

Mrs. Park says something to Hana.

“She said she knew Mee was lying. That she's a very poor liar.”

I smile. “It's not a bad quality.”

Hana translates for me and Mrs. Park nods her agreement. She looks at her hands, twisting in her lap, and says something else, but the sentence is forced.

“What did she say?” I don't give Hana a chance to translate before my curiosity gets the better of me.

“She asked if Mee was in a lot of trouble.”

“I see.” I resist the urge to nod my head, in case Mrs. Park thinks I'm saying yes. “Tell her we're concerned for Mee Kim's safety. That she's been pulled into something, but that it's not her fault.”

Hana translates and once she's done I continue. “If she can help us, we can find Mee Kim and protect her. Does she have any idea, where Mee Kim was going? Where she might be now?”

Again, I wait while Hana and Mrs. Park converse in Korean.

“The only thing Mee told her was that she was going back to her house. But Mrs. Park knew that was a lie. She pushed her about it, asked if there was anything she could do, but Mee said not to worry, that everything was fine.”

I sigh. I realize Mee is trying to protect Mrs. Park, but she could be risking her own life in the process. If the Yakuza catches up to her before we do…

“Ask her what she thinks of Mee,” Ramos says. “You know, what's she like?”

Hana nods and repeats the question in Korean. The response is long, but Hana shortens it for us. “Mrs. Park just gave the most glowing report you could possibly imagine. Hardworking, caring, kind, beautiful, generous.”

Ramos nods. “So I'm guessing Mrs. Park doesn't think Mee Kim is a blackmailer or involved in the Yakuza herself.”

Hana smiles. “I'm guessing it's a no on that one.” She turns to me. “I'm going to ask her about the classes. If Mee turned to Mrs. Park, maybe she'll turn to one of her other students. Someone else she's close to.”

I nod and wait while Hana asks the question. After a few minutes of back and forth, Hana turns to us. “She suggests we talk to Sun Lee and Mi-na Moon.”

When we're back in the car, Hana makes some more phone calls before we consider home visits for everyone.

“You're trusting everyone, I take it?” It's possible someone on the other end of the phone will lie to Hana to protect Mee.

Hana gives me a look. “You gotta be kidding me? I crosscheck everyone. Remember, I'm DEA. Everybody on drugs lies to cover their habit, their tracks. Maybe these people are respectable, upstanding citizens, but I'm not letting any fast talking get by me.”

I laugh. “You sound like Dr. House…you know, the show
House?
He says everybody lies.”

“Yeah, I watch
House
. And I have to agree with him. Certainly most people I run in to lie.”

“Maybe medicine and law enforcement have something in common—they make us jaded when it comes to human nature.”

She snorts. “Maybe.” She dials the next number, and I'm lost again as the Korean language flows from the backseat.

Hana makes her way through our lists quickly and twenty minutes later she's rubbing her hands together. “Okay, I reckon there are four people we should visit. The ones already earmarked—Sun Lee, Hae Koo and Mi-na Moon—plus one other, Na-yung Sung. Interestingly, Ms. Moon claimed she didn't know Mee very well at all, but we've had at least two people say Moon and Mee are close.”

“Everybody lies,” I quip.

“Exactly.” Hana does up her seat belt. “Okay, I grew up around here and I've worked out the best order for the four visits, so we're not backtracking. Unless you want to go straight to Moon?”

Ramos and I glance at one another. “No, let's do the fastest route. I've got kung fu tonight and I'm sure you guys have got things to do, too.” It's 3:30 p.m. now, and four stops could easily take us three hours, depending on how long we spend with each person.

Hana nods. “Okay. Our first stop is Sun Lee. And it'll make Ms. Moon our fourth stop.”

The first three visits are strikeouts and Hae Koo managed to keep us talking for forty-five minutes before it became obvious that all she had for us was gossip. By the time we get to Mi-na Moon's home, we're restless. Unlike the first three students, Moon lives in an apartment rather than a small single-family house. The cream-colored apartment complex on South Virgil Avenue is only three stories high, made of four clusters with red pitch roofs on each building and enclosed walkways that join the four sections. There's only a small amount of greenery around the building, but despite this it doesn't look like a concrete jungle. On the contrary, there's something almost beachside and tranquil about the complex. The main entrance from Virgil Avenue is framed by a large cream archway, nearly two stories high itself. A wrought iron gate provides security, although realistically it's not tall enough to keep a determined visitor or criminal out. We buzz apartment number fourteen and wait. It takes about a minute before Moon answers.

“Yes, who is it?”

“It's Special Agent Kim from the DEA. We spoke on the phone.”

“Oh. Yes. Come up.” Her voice is hesitant, surprised.

“I take it you didn't tell Moon we'd be dropping by?” I whisper.

“Nope. Thought we'd make it a surprise visit.”

The gate buzzes, releasing the lock, and Hana grabs it. “Let's see what she's got to say for herself.”

Ramos holds the door open for Hana and me, before following us up the stairs. “My wife will be expecting me home for dinner soon.”

“Dinner on the table at seven?” Hana teases.

“Pretty much. Yeah.”

“Well, we better not keep your missus waiting.” Hana takes the last step and knocks on the door. “I'm getting hungry, too. Maybe she could set another place at the table.”

Ramos seems a little taken aback, before Hana gives him a light slap on the arm. “I'm joking. I'm going out for dinner.”

“Oh.” He smiles, a little awkwardly.

“She's taking her time.” Hana knocks again.

It hits the three of us at once.

“Damn!” Ramos is the first to voice it.

We bolt down the flight of stairs, just as Mi-na Moon opens her front door. “You're too late. She's long gone,” Moon yells down the stairs at us. But I think she's lying again…I think
long gone
is all of five minutes.

At the bottom of the stairs we split up. “I'll try out the front,” I yell, running onto South Virgil Avenue.

“I'm going down.” Hana dashes toward a door marked Parking.

“That leaves me around here,” Ramos says.

Once I hit the pavement I quickly look up and down the street, searching for Mee, her car, or anything else unusual. Nothing. I check again, this time devoting more attention to the passing cars and every person. There's no sign of Mee Kim or her silver Hyundai. I push out a breath, hands on hips, before moving back into the apartment complex. Not surprisingly, I'm the first to arrive back. Rather than going up to question Mi-na Moon, I wait for the others, sitting on the bottom step.

Ramos comes back first, out of breath. “Nothing,” he says. “Couldn't find her anywhere on the grounds.” He sits on the step next to me, catching his breath.

A short while later, the door to the underground parking opens, and Hana strides out.

“Well?”

She shakes her head. “No sign of Mee, but her car's down there.”

“Really? So she's on foot now.” I stand up again, thinking
maybe it's worthwhile to keep searching the grounds and surrounding area.

“Unless she took Moon's car.” Ramos stands, too.

“Let's check in with Moon.” I lead the way back up the steps to Moon's apartment. The door is closed. “Open up, Ms. Moon. It's us.” I knock loudly on it.

She opens the door and smiles. “Told you she was gone.”

I shake my head. “Ms. Moon, I don't know what Mee told you, but she's in danger and we can help her.”

Moon's face falls ever so slightly. “Danger?”

“Yes. Why else do you think the FBI, DEA and LAPD are chasing her?” Hana crosses her arms.

“So you really are the law?”

I show Moon my ID and Hana and Ramos follow suit.

“What did Mee tell you?” Ramos asks.

“That her ex-boyfriend and some woman were trying to get money off her, and pretending to be FBI or the cops.”

“Ms. Moon, did you lend Mee your car?” Hana asks.

“Uh-huh.”