Authors: Louise Hendricksen
“When the Khmer Rouge started their killing spree in Cambodia, Keo's superior planned to
use the temple's jewels to insure his and his family's safety. Taun Keo found out about
the head conservator's plans, took the Jewels, and disappeared with his infant
daughter."
“Mai?"
“Yes. The Khmer Rouge shot the head conservator, sent his wife to a work camp, and
conscripted his two young sons into the army. My contact thinks the sons may now be in
the States."
“To get revenge for what Mai's father did?"
“Yes, and to recover the jewels."
“Others have been murdered, Nathan."
“Who?"
Amy gave him a quick report on what had happened in the investigation since she had last
spoke to him and finished with, “And now we're at an impasse."
“Tell me about this Victor Samphan."
“He works nights at the athletic club and runs the Hanuman Janitorial Service during the
day."
“Did you say Hanuman?"
“Yes."
“Spell it"
Amy recited the letters of the word slowly.
“That's odd,” he said, half to himself. “Who are their customers?"
“Mostly Asian businesses, I think. Although I heard the athletic club uses them, so maybe
some of the other Caucasian-run firms employ them too. Why?"
“The
yavana
are making the Asian merchants pay protection money, right?"
“Yes, they threaten to bum their shops if they don't."
“Amy, everywhere I went in that town I met fearful people."
“If somebody threatened to bum down my business, I'd be scared too."
“Every old-country Cambodian knows that a hanuman is a venomous snake. It lives in the
trees, is swift as lightning, and has a nasty habit of dropping on its victims when they
least expect it."
“Strange to name a cleaning service after a poisonous snake,” Amy said. “Do you think
it's possible that the two men that had the vendetta against Mai's father are behind the
extortion scheme too?"
“You said Mai's father was killed about six months ago. This protection racket has been
going on for at least that long. The Pham brothers would need money. I know they're not
registered as aliens, I checked. They're probably using fake I-D.'s and aliases, but
that gets risky when it comes to owning a vehicle or getting a job."
“So they get a high-stakes gambler like Victor Samphan in debt to them and use him as a
front."
“They will do whatever it takes. These men have been trained to infiltrate, to
intimidate, to torture, to kill. Eliminating a human being means no more to them than
squashing a worm."
Amy shivered. “Apparently, they thought Mai's father still had the jewels."
“And that's the reason they tortured his daughter."
“Poor Mai. Why didn't she just give them what they wanted?"
“She probably figured they would still rape and murder her whether she told them or
not."
Amy let out her breath, but it didn't relieve the heaviness in her chest. “Hue Quoy told
me Mai's father helped all of the Asians in one way or another. Even Victor Samphan said
Mr. Pran loaned money to those who needed it. Do you suppose he sold the jewels to help
out his fellow countrymen?"
“That wouldn't be easy. Some of the finest rubies and sapphires in the world come from
Cambodia. Mai's father would have to have had illicit connections in the gem community
in order to sell the large stones he took. According to the CIA, a ten-karat top quality
ruby can sell for more than two hundred thousand dollars a karat To add to his problems,
the sale of a large, perfect gem would cause a noticeable ripple in the gem market."
“So it's likely the gems are still hidden somewhere?”
“From what I saw at the Nguyen house, the Pham brothers think so."
Amy massaged tense muscles in her neck. The news put a different slant on the case, but
still didn't tell them who the guilty parties were. “Thank you for calling, Nathan.
You've been very helpful."
“Be careful, Amy, these men are dangerous."
“I will.” She moistened her throat. “How ... is Angela?” she asked.
He drew in a breath and exhaled noisily. “Sick. Very sick. She has cirrhosis of the
liver."
Amy sat up straighter in her chair. “But how,"
Nathan sighed. “The doctor says she's been drinking since she was in her early teens. She
kept it under control, she was never noticeably drunk. I didn't even know she had a
problem until she got sick."
He let out another sigh. “I went through the apartment. There were bottles of vodka under
the dirty laundry, behind the canned goods in the kitchen, in her dresser drawers, and
who knows where else."
Amy felt a stab of pain in her chest. “Perhaps that's why she didn't want to start a
family."
“I will probably never know,
Mihewi
."
“Is she,” Amy wet her lips, “at home now?”
“The doctor says she must stop drinking or she will die. She'll remain at a treatment
center until they feel she can function without alcohol.” He paused for a moment. When
he spoke again, he sounded bone-weary. “The doctor could not tell me how long that will
take."
“I'm sorry, Nathan."
“Don't waste your sympathy on me,” he said in a harsh voice. “I don't deserve it” They
hung up shortly after that.
Although her conversation with Nathan had drained her, Amy doggedly
attacked the bookcase, trying to get her mind off the concern she felt for him. She
dusted and rearranged as she proceeded from one shelf to the next, upsetting a photo
album in the process. As she started to transfer the album to a closed cupboard, a
number of pictures spilled out onto the floor.
Swearing under her breath, Amy got down on her hands and knees. The first picture she
picked up was one she'd taken at Mai and Cam's wedding.
She studied the smiling couple. They stood in Mai's garden, their hands linked, their
eyes shining. Behind them, silhouetted against the sky, was the topiary castle and
dragon Mai's father had created for his beloved daughter.
The dragon!
Mai's father might have suggested the ceremony take place in the
topiary garden so Mai would always have her wedding pictures to remind her.
Amy ran to the closet, took Mai's storybook from her coat pocket, and sat down to read
part of the tale again:
"You must cut open my stomach,” the dragon said in a faint voice. “No, no,” Mai cried,
but her friend persisted until she did as he asked. “Draw out my emerald green
eyes,” he said. “My ruby red heart and the white, hot heat of my breath."
Amy stopped and stared at the photo again. Could Mai's father have had a twofold purpose
in writing the story?
She flipped back to the first page and read again,
For Mai to keep always.
She
leafed through the book again until another sentence caught her eye.
Return these
cherished objects to my father in the East when peace is restored to our land
.
He'd said something similar in the sealed letter Jed had taken from Chantou's safety
deposit box. Hurrying to the office, Amy opened the case file, took out their copy of
the letter, and reread the part that seemed inconsistent with the general purpose of his
message.
When Kampuchea is free of the nightmare and Buddha can once again look upon beauty.
Then I beseech you to remember your favorite childhood game and restore the
Enlightened One's sight.
She heard the foyer door bang shut and B.J. walked into the office. “Still at it?” he
said. “I thought you were going to clean house."
She regarded him with a triumphant smile. “We have to go to Wheeler. I know what those
men are looking for. Dad.” Her smile broadened. “And I know where to find it."
“Look.” Sheriff Boyce leaned across his desk and pointed his finger at
B.J. and Amy. “I hauled in Victor Samphan because you two got a wild hair and what did
it get me? Now you come in here talking about fairy stories."
Amy reined in her growing impatience. “Central Intelligence suspects that,” She halted,
thinking she heard a noise in the corridor and glanced down the hallway. When the sound
wasn't repeated, she continued. “The CIA thinks the Pham brothers have come to the
United States to find the temple jewels, the loss of which got their father killed."
“Temple jewels!” Sheriff Boyce flung up his hands. “Good God, what next?” He thrust out
his beefy jaw. “So where do you suggest I find these jewel hunters?"
Amy ignored his heavy sarcasm. “They're probably using assumed names, so I don't, . Yes,
I do, actually. Remember the apartment house where Dr. Nguyen and Chea Le were supposed
to have gone? The manager's name is Pham! He's probably a relative. That would explain
why he helped frame Cam."
Boyce folded his arms across his chest “I don't happen to think he was framed.
Missy."
“Sheriff, Amy thinks she knows where the jewels are hidden,” B.J. said in a conciliatory
tone. “We'd like you to come along."
Amy scooted forward on her chair. “Then you can see for yourself how all the pieces fit
together."
“No way am I going to be a part of this screw-loose scheme. I'd be the laughingstock of
the town."
Amy stood up. “Okay, if that's the way you feel. I'm still going over to the Nguyens'
to,” She paused abruptly upon hearing the clank of a bucket in the hallway. Suddenly,
from out of her subconscious rose a face she'd seen the first time she'd visited Cam.
“Good Lord! He's here!"
Amy rushed to the office door and looked down the corridor. At the far end, a man in gray
striped coveralls jerked open a door, and darted through it. She whirled around. “Stop
that man!"
“What man? Who the hell are you talking about?” Boyce exclaimed.
“The man with the scarred face, dammit. The one you were trying to get Victor Samphan to
name. He's your janitor."
“That scrawny little gook? You gotta be kidding."
“Look outside,” Amy rushed to the window and pointed to a dilapidated gray van as it made
a tire-squealing turn onto Main Street and disappeared in the fog. “He works for the
Hanuman Janitorial Service."
“I know that. So what?"
She repeated Nathan's assertion about the extortion scheme.
Sheriff Boyce laughed. “Jesus Christ, girl, nobody's putting' the squeeze play on
anybody. If they were, I'd know about it."
Her patience snapped. “If you got off your rear end and talked to some of the Asians
you'd,"
“Now just a goddamned minute,” Sheriff Boyce rose out of his chair so fast it rolled
backwards and crashed into the wall, “No smart-mouthed woman is going to tell me how to
run my department."
“Now, Sheriff.” B.J. stood up and moved between them. “My daughter is just a little upset
This case has all of us on edge."
“Don't try to sweet-talk me, Prescott. I've had it with the both of you. Now get the hell
out of here and let me get some work done."
“You shouldn't let your temper blur your better judgement, Amy,” B.J. said as soon as
they stepped outside.
“Look who's talking.” Amy hauled herself into the passenger seat of his van and slammed
the door. “I just can't believe it. The man we're looking for has been right under our
noses all this time. Why didn't I realize it sooner?"
“Don't be so hard on yourself. Janitors are invisible.” B.J. started the engine. “We'd
better get a move on. It'll be dark soon."
When B.J. brought the van to a stop in the Nguyens' driveway, he pulled his pistol from
his shoulder holster. “Let me take a look around first. If that man overheard us talking
in the sheriff's office, they know we're here."
Amy took out her .38. In that case, we'll go together. She slung the strap of her tote
bag around her neck and clambered out of the van. Heavy leaden clouds hung low in the
sky. Tattered blankets of fog draped the shrubbery and condensation dripped from the
eaves, pinging on an overturned wheelbarrow below.
B.J. stiffened his arms and wheeled in a slow forty five-degree turn. “We could do
without this damned fog."
Each on the alert, they edged along the garage wall until they reached the rear corner.
Amy peered toward the grove of trees where the men had spied on Mai. “Surely they
wouldn't have the guts to try something in broad daylight."
“I'd sure feel a hell of a lot better if Boyce had come along for backup."
“Some backup. He'd probably shoot us all in the foot.” She crouched down. “You all
set?"
“Keep low when we get into the open, Amy. I'll cover you."
She flung an exasperated look over her shoulder. “No heroics. Dad. Let's go.” Zigzagging
in a crouched position, she headed for Mai's topiary garden.
Making it to the hedge, she pressed her body into its shelter while she took deep breaths
that smelled of thyme crushed underfoot. Webs of gray mist clung to topiary peacocks,
rabbits, and squirrels; they appeared to be floating in the air.
B.J. crouched down beside her, puffing noisily. “Gotta get rid of some of this weight. It
slows me down."
She grinned. “Hold that thought."
She pushed open the gate and hunkered down inside. The drifting mist made it difficult
for her to get her bearings. Her gaze followed the hemlock balls, urns, and cubes that
adorned the top of the hedge at regular intervals.
“Look,” she said, pointing to the far end of the plot “There's the castle and the
dragon."
Keeping close to the hedge, she assumed a half-bent stance and shuffled through tall, wet
grass. The sodden legs of her slacks flapped against her boots.
Although her back ached and she longed to straighten up, she knew it would be foolish to
risk it. She arrived at her destination, bolstered her gun, and took the tote bag strap
from around her neck.