Diamond Head by Charles Knief Read Free Book Online

said. If he’s in the book, he’s bound to have a name that ends in an A.”

 
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    7
    I parked in a dirt lot on the eastern edge of Chinatown and nodded to the attendant leaning against the stone wall of an adjacent building. Chawlie would be waiting for me, even though it wasn’t yet midnight. His intelligence network would have reported my arrival long before I walked the three short blocks to the restaurant he used as his headquarters.
    Chawlie wasn’t in his normal place and the plastic chairs in front of the restaurant were vacant. A soft young man in a dark suit and tie and a white-on-white dress shirt stood more or less at attention, watching my approach. His smile was uncertain, reminding me of a politician three weeks from election and ten points down on the polls.
    â€œMr. Caine! So good to see you tonight!” He pumped my hand vigorously. “I am Mr. Choy. How are you feeling?” His English was California Standard. I guessed Stanford or Berkeley.
    â€œNobody shot me.”
    â€œI am certain Uncle will be happy to hear that,” said Mr. Choy, his smile strained. “Please come this way. Uncle is waiting for you.”
    He led me across the bright dining area to a pair of carved mahogany doors. The doors and the frame formed the top nine
tenths of a circle, finished in a dark stain that contrasted with the otherwise brightly painted and lighted restaurant.
    â€œPlease enter, Mr. Caine,” said Choy, extending his left hand toward the portal in the fashion of the best hotelier, his head inclined in a neat little bow that could have been either cultural or the result of training in his profession. I entered a darkened room and stood in the doorway to allow my pupils time to adjust.
    â€œSo. Nobody shoot you. That is good. And you are early to pay a debt. That too is good! Come and sit.” Chawlie was sitting behind a low table attended by two young women, one of whom was my visitor of the previous night. She had the same haughty look she sported aboard Duchess . The other girl kept her eyes down, demurely avoiding my gaze as I crammed my legs under the table.
    â€œYou are an honorable man, John Caine.”
    â€œWe had a contract,” I said, reaching into my backpack for the money. Chawlie held up his hand.
    â€œA mere favor,” said Chawlie. “It isn’t necessary to pay me yet.” Knowing Chawlie, I began to comprehend that this conversation would take me places I hadn’t planned on going.
    â€œI thought about the favor you asked of me,” he continued. “Instead of cash payment I would like a small favor from you.”
    â€œYou know I will do anything within reason for an old friend,” I replied, understanding an offer when I heard one. Other thoughts flashed through my mind in rapid succession, one following another in an undeniable progression: Chawlie had kept a copy of the file. And he had read it. And he had found something of interest. Possibilities swarmed.
    â€œThere is a man mentioned in the police file,” said Chawlie. “This man I would like to know about.”
    I nodded, waiting for what would follow. If Chawlie wanted me to commit myself on anything he was to be disappointed.
    â€œThis man. His name is Thompson.”
    It clicked. Carter Allen Thompson was the name of Mary
MacGruder’s former boyfriend, the owner of the last address she claimed. He had been interviewed by the police and told them he hadn’t seen her for some time, that she had lived with him, but moved out a month before, leaving him no clue to where she’d gone. It was Thompson who provided the first hint of drug abuse. He was already on my call list, and after talking to Louise I wanted to know more about him.
    â€œWhat is it you wish to know about Mr. Thompson?”
    â€œThompson and I had business dealings in the past. They were not satisfactory.” Chawlie rose from the table, carefully disentangling