Free The Blue Dragon by Ronald Tierney Page B

we’d finally maneuvered our soaked bodies into his apartment. Inside, the sound of rain crashing against the windows was muffled some, but we could still hear the wind as the storm continued to rage.
    “The will?” Emmerich said. He looked confused.
    “Mrs. Ho’s.”
    His face went blank. His never prove it was aimed at the murder of Ted Zheng.
    “A little foxglove. Digitalis. In small doses with her evening tea. Not enough to kill her. Enough to drive her mad, however. Enough to fool her into signing a will. What did she think she was signing? A lease maybe? A petition? Could have been anything.”
    Emmerich was quiet. His eyes looked like glass.
    “And you killed Ted Zheng because he was either blackmailing you over her death or maybe because he found out and just didn’t like it.”
    “Even if all that were so, Mr. Strand, you could not prove what you say.”
    “Mrs. Ho’s body can be exhumed and tested. I guarantee you, they can find trace chemicals these days.”
    “Even if that were true, there is no way I can be singled out. I think you are venturing entirely beyond your capacity.”
    His narrow smile accompanied a bitter but triumphant stare.
    “Mr. Emmerich?” I was about to steal victory from him.
    He looked at me, his head high, eyes peering down, the cold smile still on his face.
    “How did your wife die?” I asked.
    Only his eyes gave him away. I went on.
    “The key here, Mr. Emmerich, is the exhumation of your wife. I’d be willing to bet—and you aren’t a betting man, are you, Mr. Emmerich?—that substantial traces of digitalis will be found in your wife’s remains as well.”
    He was quiet. Very quiet.
    “What we have, Mr. Emmerich, is all we need in a murder investigation. Means. Motive. Opportunity. Weapon. And bodies. Three of them.”
    The rain stopped. The wind stopped. It was strangely quiet.
    Emmerich stood in the middle of his apartment, dripping water on the floor. I went into the bathroom and grabbed a towel. I helped him change and dry off before I called the police.
    “I don’t want my wife’s body exhumed. Oh, please don’t.”
    “It’s not up to me. But I doubt if they’ll need to if you confess.”
    He looked around his apartment. He looked forlorn. Lost. Suddenly, he pulled himself together. He looked at me angrily.
    “How was I supposed to live?” he asked.
    Wallace Emmerich was docile when the police came. Foolishly, perhaps, and despite the reading of his rights, he made a complete statement. I stayed to listen because there was one important question left to answer.
    Why, precisely, was Ted Zheng killed? Ted had put the pieces together as well. The discovery of the will. Ted had wanted to verify his suspicions with Wallace Emmerich. Emmerich baited him to the basement to show him proof that the elevator death was an accident. That’s where and when Emmerich had struck him with a lead pipe.

TWELVE
    A month, perhaps more, passed before I realized I still had the key to apartment 3A. Maybe it was only an excuse to go to Chinatown. I’m not sure. Besides returning the key, I really had no other reason to go to that part of the city.
    This time, my trip down the Saturn Street Steps was in the sunshine. Out in front of me was the blue sky. Absolutely clear. The jacaranda trees were in bloom with their royal-blue flowers. Below them, a bed of flowers also exploded with blue blossoms. What a wondrous day! I thought. It was summer now.
    The narrow street where the Blue Dragon lived was lit by the noon sun too. And there was Ray Leu, standing outside saying goodbye to an elderly Chinese couple.
    Ray shook his head in disbelief. He laughed.
    “Mr. Chan. Mr. Private Detective. You did good job, eh?”
    “I have that key,” I said, fishing it out of my pocket. “For 3A.”
    Ray nodded. “The Wens. Gone now.”
    “Really.”
    He shook his head. “Much change. You know Mr. Emmerich is gone. Sandy Ferris is gone. Mr. Chinn’s boyfriend…pfft. All white people