Free Snake Eye by William C. Dietz Page B

winter day, and could only be described as beautiful. A quality that made her perfect for the viewing room. “Hello!” Dexter said as he extended his hand. “My name is Jack Dexter. I own the Bayview.”
    “Chow,” the other man responded economically, giving the businessman’s hand a single rather unenthusiastic pump. “ Joe Chow .”
    The name was delivered with a very slight emphasis—as if Dexter should be familiar with it. The ex-naval officer wasn’t but that didn’t stop him from pretending to be. “Yes! Of course! You’re here to look at unit 6A.”
    Since Chow hadn’t seen fit to introduce his beautiful companion Dexter assumed they weren’t married. Even though she was dressed like a street whore the woman was surprisingly asexual. The businessman thought it best to be courteous and extended his hand. “I’m Jack Dexter, and you are?”
    “She doesn’t speak English,” Chow stated brusquely.
    “Yes, well, please take a seat,” Dexter responded awkwardly. “I have some literature for you to take a look at…plus a lease if you’re interested.”
    Both guests had taken their seats by the time Dexter made it around to the other side of the desk. The woman lit a cigarette, only to have it appropriated by Chow, forcing her to light another. Dexter didn’t like smokers, but knew $2,500 per month was steep, and that people with that sort of money didn’t want to hear the word “no.” He opened a drawer, removed the candy dish that he’d been meaning to fill, and pushed it across the desk.
    The girl’s skirt was so short that it barely hit mid-thigh when she was standing and went even higher when she sat. The ex-officer caught a glimpse of red panties as she crossed her legs and looked up to discover that Chow was grinning. “She looks good, doesn’t she?” the snakehead observed.
    It was a strange thing to say, and since the girl’s expression remained the same, Dexter assumed that she hadn’t understood. “Yes,” the ex-naval officer admitted uncomfortably, “she does. Here’s a copy of the floor plan, a copy of our standard lease, and a list of the building’s amenities. We have underground parking by the way—that’s a big plus downtown.”
    Chow exhaled a column of smoke but left the paperwork untouched. “No offense—but why stare at a floor plan if we can see the apartment?”
    “Why indeed,” Dexter said agreeably. “Let’s go up and take a look.”
    The businessman followed his prospective tenants out into the lobby and pushed the elevator button. There was a chime as the polished metal doors parted. “It requires a key card to enter the building after 6:00 p.m.,” Dexter explained. “And you need the same device to operate the elevator. We have cameras on every floor—and they are monitored around the clock.”
    “That’s good,” Chow allowed, as he dropped his cigarette onto the elevator’s highly polished floor and stepped on it. “We had a burglary at my present apartment. They broke the door down…. We’re looking for something more secure.”
    “You won’t have that sort of problem here,” Dexter assured him. “Our doors are made of metal—and they’re fireproof to boot.”
    Chow uttered what might have been a grunt of approval as the elevator came to a smooth stop and the doors parted to reveal a marble-topped table that bore a handsome flower arrangement. The snakehead exited first, followed by Ling, and then Dexter. While it was true that the young woman’s knowledge of English was less than perfect, she had been honing herlinguistic skills by watching daytime television, and was momentarily hopeful. Ling hated the Chinatown apartment and hoped Chow would move into something better.
    Two doors were visible—one at each end of the short hall. “That’s 6A,” Dexter said, pointing to the right. “It has a wonderful view of the bay.”
    “Who lives in the other apartment?” Chow wanted to know.
    “ I do,” the businessman replied,