The Mystery of Revenge (5 page)

“I’ve told you more than a thousand times,” Yi-yun said, lifting her eyebrows in annoyance, “we can’t raise a child in a one-bedroom apartment.” Fang Chen could be so persistent sometimes. At age twenty-two, Yi-yun wasn’t ready to be a mother
yet.

“But a child would keep you busy,” Fang Chen tried to persuade her. “You’ll fall in love all over
again.”

“No,” Yi-yun said firmly. “We can’t have a child right now. I’m not ready for anything but a
dog.”

Fang Chen sighed. He really didn’t like the idea of keeping a dog in a tiny apartment, but he didn’t want to argue with his wife, not right now. In a few days, he decided to mention Jim and June again. It worked. Yi-yun agreed to invite them for dinner on the condition that Fang Chen would help her in the
kitchen.

June ended up volunteering to help her, so the two of them left their husbands in the living room
talking.

“It’s so nice to take a break and visit the two of you,” June said
sweetly.

“What have you been doing during the week at home?” Yi-yun asked inquisitively. She warmed up to June, who was a very attractive and stylish housewife, almost
immediately.

“Oh, I play mah-jongg with my friends two or three days a week,” June said, “have high tea with them in downtown Boston once a month, and see a movie or go to Chinatown for dim sum once a
week.”

“Wow, you’re busy!” she looked at June enviously. “I, on the other hand, am so bored that we are thinking about getting a
dog.”

“Oh, no,” June said with widened eyes. “Just think about those stray hairs! You definitely don’t want dog hairs all over, on your bed and sofa,” she said with distaste, remembering what her husband had told her about Fang Chen’s request. Fang Chen asked Jim to rescue him from Yi-yun’s whim, and June was good to her promise. “Why don’t you join us,” she said while passing the vinegar to Yi-yun for salad dressing, “the next time I see my
girlfriends?”

“Can I?” Yi-yun asked
eagerly.

“Sure! Fang and Jim are best friends, and I think we should be best friends as well. Don’t you
think?”

“You are absolutely right,” Yi-yun said gratefully. “Thank you, June.”

Chapter 5

Paul Winderman leaned back in his chair, studying the suspect. Some women might find him handsome, long and soft eyelashes silhouetting a pair of sensitive and pale blue eyes, a small straight nose, and a weak chin. But to Paul Winderman, the suspect looked rather weasel-like, not a guy he would call handsome; on the other hand, he didn’t look fit the profile of a killer. A man like Tom Meyers might be easily infuriated, with a lot of yapping and barking, but wouldn’t bite. But from what evidence they had gathered, the wretch could be a merciless
killer.

“You do admit you have a gun,” he
said.

“Yes,” Tom Meyers answered in a small voice. He had physically shrunken since he was brought in to be
interrogated.

“What type of a gun do you
own?”

“A small handgun,” he said, nervously looking up at the
detective.

“Is it a .22 caliber
revolver?”

“I don’t know,” he said and dropped his eyes
again.

“Where is it
now?”

“How would I know?” he looked up at Winderman with pitifully scared eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. “It was there before I left. It was always there inside my drawer. I’ve never used it in my
life!”

“If you’ve never used it in your life, why do you own
it?”

He lowered his eyes. “My father wanted me to have it. He owns several and thought I might need one in a big city.” Sitting on the edge of the chair, he twisted
nervously.

Paul already knew that he was from Arizona, and his father and grandfather were ranchers. Sometimes, it amazed him to see how offspring could be so different from their parents. Who would think a cattle rancher could produce a pianist. Of course it was the wife who had owned a piano and who loved music, so the son started playing. Paul Winderman frowned. His own father was a cop and so were his two uncles. He couldn’t imagine what he would be if not a
cop.

“So you left for the tour without taking your gun, and for some reason, you also left your girlfriend with bruises all over her arms,” Winderman said sarcastically. “In case you didn’t know, our lab has matched your hands with the bruises on her
arms.”

Tom Meyers was visibly shaken and slumped further into the chair. Yes, those would be the bruises he left when he grabbed her arms and shook her. Her skin was so delicate that she got bruises even when carrying heavy bags on her forearms. His heart skipped a beat when he remembered the feel of her soft
skin.

It was utter madness. Just the day before his grand tour, she dropped the bomb. Because she was pregnant, she wanted him to marry her. Was she crazy? How could he marry her? He was just getting started. He couldn’t have a wife and a kid to slow him down. Yes, he loved making love to her. When he felt the need, he couldn’t wait, with all the passion, the emotions, and the sensitivities that made a great musician. He needed a muse, not a wife, but she didn’t understand. She wanted to ruin him, with a kid and marriage. His face turned red with
resentment.

Winderman looked at him searchingly. He was quite sure there was no love lost between the suspect and his deceased girlfriend. Maybe he never even loved her, the sick bastard. Maybe he had just used her, milking her like a
cow.

So far, they had a body but no murder weapon even though the suspect admitted to own a handgun. They had already asked the local law enforcement agency in Arizona to visit the ranch to confirm if the gun was a match. As to the motive, he thought he knew. From the autopsy report, he understood the victim was five months pregnant. It could be an ugly surprise for an ambitious man who was on his way to stardom for the first time. Due to the severe decomposition of the body, they couldn’t pinpoint the time of her death. The best educated guess was between the night before and a few hours after he left for his tour. This was based on the calculated temperature of the room and the degree of decomposition of the body. The forensics couldn’t detect gunpowder anywhere on her body, which was rather puzzling. The coroner confirmed the death was caused by a single gunshot wound, and there was no stomach content of any kind. It seemed she didn’t eat anything long before she died. Also, there were no drugs or chemicals either. So Paul Winderman thought the time of death was most likely the morning before he left. If it were the previous evening, in that case she simply didn’t get a chance to eat. He cleaned his throat
purposefully.

Tom Meyers was startled to meet the detective’s piercing stare. Yes, the bruises. “We fought,” he said
reluctantly.

“Why?”

He could see the tears, then the fire in her eyes. “No, I’m not going to,” she said when he suggested abortion. “It’s our kid, and I want to keep
it.”

He grabbed her arms and shook her madly. “You have to get rid of it! I can’t have a kid. I’m telling you! I won’t allow
it!”

“But you won’t even have to hear it cry,” she said pitifully. “We will live in another apartment in the building, away from
you.”

“No, I can’t be responsible for a wife and a child right
now!”

“You don’t have to pay for us,” she replied. “I can support myself and my
baby.”

“No!” he shouted. “Don’t you understand? I can’t let you or your baby ruin my career! I’ve been working too long for it, and I won’t let you to ruin it! You’re damn sure I won’t!” he hissed, mad with rage. She cried, trying to run away from him, but he wouldn’t let
her.

“Why?” Winderman asked again, raising his
voice.

“Because she wouldn’t listen,” he whined like a spoiled kid. “I tried to reason with her, but she wouldn’t
listen!”

“So you killed her,” Winderman
said.

“No!” he screamed, wide-eyed. “I didn’t kill her! I’m not the
murderer!”

“Who did if it’s not
you?”

“Anyone could’ve done it.” He saw Paul’s face darken and stopped. “I want a lawyer,” he demanded and raised his thin voice. “You have accused me killing my girlfriend, and I want a
lawyer!”

Swearing under his breath, Paul Winderman stood up and
left.

He went back to his office and dropped into his chair. The forensics said the gun was fired only two inches away from the victim, which meant the person who shot her had to be standing very close by, almost face-to-face, before firing the shot. At first, he thought it could be an accidental killing, the shot was fired when two of them were involved in a physical fight, but after they found the pillow, he had to admit it was a planned murder. What puzzled him the most was the fact that they couldn’t find the gun residue on her body. It seemed the killer fired the shot through the pillow while pressing it tightly against her body, and probably covered her mouth
too.

That’s why the killer had to be someone she knew or was intimate with; otherwise, she wouldn’t let him come so close to her. Her body was next to the dining table, and the front door was at least fifteen feet away. Paul Winderman was almost sure they had their killer, yet in the back of his mind, he had this stubborn little doubt that wouldn’t go away. Tom Meyers was a spineless worm, a loser, a coward… but a killer? Paul Winderman needed more
evidence.

He needed to continue interviewing people, including Yi-yun Lin’s ex-husband. From what he heard, the ex-husband was the nicest guy and very devoted. Paul never believed terms like “the nicest.” Any guy could snap; when it happened, the nicest guy could be more dangerous than an average but well-balanced guy. Lots of killers he knew and brought to justice were the nicest guys in a peaceful world. Only when circumstances changed, a crime was committed. It could be a loving husband and father who killed his whole family, or could be a quiet coworker who took a hostage and killed his colleagues. Based on his twenty plus years of experience as a street cop first and then a homicide detective, a guy who loved a woman too much could be a bad thing for both of them. When the love turned into jealousy and hate, there was no turning
back.

Chapter 6

“Are you free Saturday night?” June turned to Yi-yun when they reached the door. It was late afternoon, and they had just finished afternoon tea at the Four
Seasons.

“You know I’ll be free,” Yi-yun said with a bitter smile. It was a known fact among her new friends that she was a “working
widow.”

“Sorry for asking,” June said half teasingly and half sympathetically. “Jim and I are planning to attend a piano recital Saturday night, and I thought you might like to go
too.”

“Who’s playing?” Yi-yun asked. It didn’t really matter because she would go
regardless.

“Tom Meyers, Jim’s old roommate when he first moved to Boston,” June said. She had left Singapore only after Jim was settled in with a nice one-bedroom apartment in the city. “He’s so into his music, the poor
thing!”

Yi-yun was alarmed by June’s pitiful tone. “Is he any good?” she asked. She didn’t want to sit through a recital that was so boring it would make watching sitcoms at home a better
alternative.

“Not good but great. He’s very talented, but he wants to be a concert pianist,” June said with a chuckle. “It’s really difficult these days because there’re only a few spots available for concert pianists, and he hasn’t won any major competitions to be qualified for one. Anyhow, we went to one of his recitals last summer, and it was
great.”

“Okay, I’ll go,” Yi-yun said as they bid each other good-bye at one of the Green Line subway stations along Boylston Street. It could be fun because it would be the first time she went to a concert in the United States. Fang Chen loved classic music, but undoubtedly, he would be too busy to
go.

“Invite all your friends who can go as well. He plays better when there is a full house. He’s a very proud and sensitive guy,” June said. “Typical
artist.”

To Yi-yun’s delight, Ann, Shao Mei, and Amy were all able to
go.