the cousin. “Is your relation in the Chen family line?”
“Yes. My mother, Mei-lin, was Chen Kai-rong’s sister. But Ms. Chin, this is not the time for reminiscence. We have more urgent matters before us.”
“The jewelry.” I nodded. “You haven’t been offered it?”
“No.”
“But you want to find it before it’s sold.”
Mr. Chen answered that one. “Yes, of course. Anything that was my mother’s is precious to us.” Again the smile. It faded and he said, “However, the piece not pictured here . . . the Shanghai Moon . . . you’ve heard nothing?”
“No. I’m sorry. If it was your mother’s, I understand how much it must mean to you.”
He nodded. The hungry look was gone from his eyes, replaced by a stoic disappointment.
“My cousin has been searching for the Shanghai Moon all his life,” Mr. Zhang said.
“When it disappeared, what—” I was stopped by a tiny shake of Mr. Zhang’s head. He cut his eyes toward hiscousin, who, with an air of resignation, was pouring tea.
What was Mr. Zhang telling me? Not to ask any more questions in front of Mr. Chen? What could that mean? Nothing in that story could be news to Mr. Chen. Mr. Zhang shot a look at the phone on the desk. Got it: He’d call me later. Well, okay, for now. I had his card, too.
“Gentlemen,” I said, “whether or not what happened to my associate and the police officer has anything to do with the Shanghai Moon, it still may have to do with the rest of this jewelry. If you hear from Wong Pan, or anyone else who wants to talk about these pieces, will you let me know?”
“Yes, of course,” said Mr. Zhang, and Mr. Chen nodded. “But there is still another matter.”
“What’s that?”
“The heirs.”
“What about them?”
“You say you don’t know who they are.”
“I don’t know their names. They’re grandchildren of Rosalie’s uncle, Horst Peretz.”
Mr. Chen lifted his eyes to me. “Ms. Chin, are you familiar with Jewish naming practices?”
I shook my head.
“My father chose my Chinese name. My mother gave me a European one. Horst Chen Lao-li. An odd name, is it not? Ms. Chin, Jewish people do not name babies for living relatives, in case the Angel of Death, coming to collect the elder, should make an error. When my mother named me for her uncle Horst, she knew he was gone. She gave me his name so he would be remembered. There was none other to remember him: He died childless.”
It took me a moment to process this. “Then who are these clients?”
“Whoever they are, they are not who they claim to be,” said Mr. Zhang. “That in itself is worrisome, wouldn’t you say?”
14
I called Alice as I headed back to my office but only got her voice mail.
Come on, Alice, pick up! Your clients are bogus!
Could this be what Joel had meant by “fishy”? But how would he have known? I left a message to call me, then switched directions for the subway, to go up to the Waldorf and bang on the door myself. Before I’d gone two blocks, my phone rang the
Wonder Woman
song.
“Lydia, we were right.”
“We’re always right. About what?”
“A few days ago a pay phone a block from Wong Pan’s hotel made a call to the Waldorf.”
“To the Waldorf?
Wong Pan
called
Alice
? But she never said anything. She wasn’t even positive he was in New York.”
“The call was short. He might have tried, didn’t get her, and hung up. The point is, he knows where to find her.”
“If it was him. All you have is a pay phone calling the Waldorf.”
Mary ignored my magical thinking. “I’m here, but she’s not. Have you heard from her?”
“Here, the Waldorf? You’re there? And she’s not? Now you’re worrying me. I just called and got voice mail. I was about to go up there. Was that pay-phone call before the Chinese cop was killed or after?”
“His death can’t be pinned down that exactly, but it was probably within a few hours. Let me know right away if you hear from her.”
“I will. And
“Yes. My mother, Mei-lin, was Chen Kai-rong’s sister. But Ms. Chin, this is not the time for reminiscence. We have more urgent matters before us.”
“The jewelry.” I nodded. “You haven’t been offered it?”
“No.”
“But you want to find it before it’s sold.”
Mr. Chen answered that one. “Yes, of course. Anything that was my mother’s is precious to us.” Again the smile. It faded and he said, “However, the piece not pictured here . . . the Shanghai Moon . . . you’ve heard nothing?”
“No. I’m sorry. If it was your mother’s, I understand how much it must mean to you.”
He nodded. The hungry look was gone from his eyes, replaced by a stoic disappointment.
“My cousin has been searching for the Shanghai Moon all his life,” Mr. Zhang said.
“When it disappeared, what—” I was stopped by a tiny shake of Mr. Zhang’s head. He cut his eyes toward hiscousin, who, with an air of resignation, was pouring tea.
What was Mr. Zhang telling me? Not to ask any more questions in front of Mr. Chen? What could that mean? Nothing in that story could be news to Mr. Chen. Mr. Zhang shot a look at the phone on the desk. Got it: He’d call me later. Well, okay, for now. I had his card, too.
“Gentlemen,” I said, “whether or not what happened to my associate and the police officer has anything to do with the Shanghai Moon, it still may have to do with the rest of this jewelry. If you hear from Wong Pan, or anyone else who wants to talk about these pieces, will you let me know?”
“Yes, of course,” said Mr. Zhang, and Mr. Chen nodded. “But there is still another matter.”
“What’s that?”
“The heirs.”
“What about them?”
“You say you don’t know who they are.”
“I don’t know their names. They’re grandchildren of Rosalie’s uncle, Horst Peretz.”
Mr. Chen lifted his eyes to me. “Ms. Chin, are you familiar with Jewish naming practices?”
I shook my head.
“My father chose my Chinese name. My mother gave me a European one. Horst Chen Lao-li. An odd name, is it not? Ms. Chin, Jewish people do not name babies for living relatives, in case the Angel of Death, coming to collect the elder, should make an error. When my mother named me for her uncle Horst, she knew he was gone. She gave me his name so he would be remembered. There was none other to remember him: He died childless.”
It took me a moment to process this. “Then who are these clients?”
“Whoever they are, they are not who they claim to be,” said Mr. Zhang. “That in itself is worrisome, wouldn’t you say?”
14
I called Alice as I headed back to my office but only got her voice mail.
Come on, Alice, pick up! Your clients are bogus!
Could this be what Joel had meant by “fishy”? But how would he have known? I left a message to call me, then switched directions for the subway, to go up to the Waldorf and bang on the door myself. Before I’d gone two blocks, my phone rang the
Wonder Woman
song.
“Lydia, we were right.”
“We’re always right. About what?”
“A few days ago a pay phone a block from Wong Pan’s hotel made a call to the Waldorf.”
“To the Waldorf?
Wong Pan
called
Alice
? But she never said anything. She wasn’t even positive he was in New York.”
“The call was short. He might have tried, didn’t get her, and hung up. The point is, he knows where to find her.”
“If it was him. All you have is a pay phone calling the Waldorf.”
Mary ignored my magical thinking. “I’m here, but she’s not. Have you heard from her?”
“Here, the Waldorf? You’re there? And she’s not? Now you’re worrying me. I just called and got voice mail. I was about to go up there. Was that pay-phone call before the Chinese cop was killed or after?”
“His death can’t be pinned down that exactly, but it was probably within a few hours. Let me know right away if you hear from her.”
“I will. And
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