Red Jade Read Free Page B

card that your father had left here.”
    Jack remembered. He believed that Pa, in his disdain and anger over his son becoming a running dog cop, had discarded his NYPD detective’s card. So this murder-suicide case had come his way through his dead father’s actions.
    Gong removed a driver’s license from his wallet, handing it over to Jack.
    “Ah jai ,” he whispered. “My son.”
    “This is against nature,” Fong said. “We are not meant to survive our children.”
    Jack nodded quietly in agreement. Bitterness and anger choked their voices, two old heads shaking in disbelief: How can this be? Their eyes searched desperately in the middle distance for answers.
    The license was expired, but recent enough. The male shooter had been Harry Gong, thirty-four years old, five feet nine inches in height. He had an address at Grand Street, toward the northern edge of Chinatown.
    He looked more like a student than a gangbanger.
    There was a pronounced silence in the empty meeting hall, then each of the fathers spoke in turn, spilling out the story of how he reached this … end of the world.
    “They’d been together five years. Husband and wife,” said Gong.
    “They have two young children. Two and three years old,” added Fong.
    “A happy family …”
    Jack took a deep shaolin boxer’s breath through his nose. He hated cases where children were involved; those situations gouged at his toughness, fractured the hard shell he’d built around his cop’s heart.
    He let the men continue in their odd Chinese cadence.
    “Then they separated, this year.”
    “She had a depression. The kind young mothers get.”
    “He was afraid for the children.”
    “They had bruises.”
    “She moved back to her old studio apartment.”
    “He hoped the situation would get better.”
    “Then she got a job in a bakery.”
    “After a few months, she asked for a separation.”
    “And he agreed, reluctantly.”
    Neither man had shed a tear but Jack could sense the sadness and anger just beneath the grim masks of their faces.
    “She seemed better, and visited the children.”
    “The doctor at the clinic said these things take time.”
    “My son continued working long hours. Kay toy , waiting tables. At the Wong Sing. He was even more stressed, more nervous than before.”
    “Our wives and cousins took care of the children.”
    They paused as if to catch their breaths, Jack sensing the darkening of their tale.
    “My daughter changed jobs, worked in a karaoke club. Fewer hours and more money.”
    “My son found out. He didn’t like her working until four in the morning. It wasn’t a job for a woman her age.”
    “She refused to quit.”
    “He felt he’d lost face. One day he was angry, the next day sad.”
    “But she said the money was good. And the job was like freedom . It made her feel better about herself.”
    “But he couldn’t accept the idea of the club. Drinking and singing all night. The kind of people who went there …”
    “She denied any involvements. She said she was only saving for her future and the children’s future.”
    “They had a big argument.”
    “Several weeks ago.”
    “He begged her to quit.”
    “But she refused again.”
    “Did he threaten her?” Jack interrupted.
    “It wasn’t his nature,” Gong answered.
    “He kept it all inside,” from Fong.
    “Did they get help? Seek counseling?” Jack asked.
    “They’re both grown-ups, both thirty-something years old.”
    “We felt they would work it out.”
    “And you never saw this coming?” Jack challenged.
    Both men shook their heads. No, no never, was followed by uneasy silence.
    Seizing the moment, Jack slipped in a question, catching them off guard. “Where did he get the gun?”
    Another dead pause, then both men answered in unison, “We don’t know.”
    Jack let the moment drift, looking for some effect, but was met with only their gnarled stone faces.
    “I didn’t see any sign of forced entry,” Jack offered.
    “He had a