The children thundered out with a chorus of yippees and yays. Mei saw that Cullen’s eyes followed both of them indulgently and lovingly.
Turning again to his guest, he said, “I apologize for my children’s interruption. I’ve noted your translation. Thank you for your assistance. I believe that concludes our business, Lieutenant.” He stood, clearly dismissing her.
Despite her curiosity, Mei rose as well. She’d love to know what was contained in the other pages stacked in the folder Archer had shut. She also wondered vaguely about the whereabouts of the twins’ mother. Did Cullen have his kids all the time? It didn’t matter—although, he’d begun to ask about her life. Regardless, Mei sensed that her host had clammed up as soon as he’d learned about her relationship to Michael Ling and Ling Limited.
She extended her right hand, shifting the almost-empty cup she still held. Fumbling, Archer barely brushed her knuckles with his fingers.
“I understand your children are waiting for you,” she said. “In a way, I’m sorry we don’t have longer to discuss this case. Puzzles of this nature intrigue me.”
“I appreciate your willingness to drop your work and interpret for me. However, I haven’t got time to fill you in on the mostly boring details I’ve gathered to date.”
Mei Lu pasted on a false smile, and reached beneath his arm to set her cup solidly back in its saucer. “There’s a Chinese proverb my father’s fond of. ‘Never talk business before the third cup of tea.’ I’m generally too impatient to practice it, myself.”
“I’m afraid you’ve lost me.” Cullen wore a similar forced smile.
“Loosely translated it means, accept the first cup of tea in friendship when it’s offered. But if you aren’t offered another, it’s time to leave.”
Mei Lu turned then and left the room. She avoided various toys still scattered in the hallway, thinking what a waste this was of her first morning as a lieutenant. At the entry, she found herself glancing back at Archer’s office and again caught her breath as she looked at the man who’d stepped into the hall. Presumably he wanted to ensure she did leave his home—without filching one of his expensive vases. Mei was overwhelmed by the feeling that it was just as well she wasn’t going to be faced with seeing this jarringly handsome but patently distrustful man a second time. Still, Cullen Archer caused butterflies in her stomach.
His twins dashed out from where they’d been playing under the curved stairs. “Bye, policewoman,” Belinda called, waving madly. “Come again when you can stay and have lunch with us.”
“I’ll shut the door so I can make sure Mopsy doesn’t sneak out,” Bobby Archer declared, sounding adult and clearly not echoing his sister’s generous sentiment.
Mei Lu recognized in the boy’s eyes a coolness very similar to what she’d seen in his dad’s. Maybe Bobby resented the divorce and felt the need to protect his mother’s interests. She hurried out, wondering if the boy had perceived her fleeting attention. But that was impossible—wasn’t it?
She sensed movement at Archer’s office window and knew he’d gone back to monitor her departure. To Mei Lu’s relief her car started without a hitch. The last thing she needed now was the humiliation of being stuck in his driveway.
CHAPTER TWO
AFTER RETURNING TO THE PRECINCT, Mei plunged straight into writing an official report on her meeting. Chewing thoughtfully on the end of her pen, she tore up her first draft, and began again in her small, neat penmanship. What had she learned about the smuggling ring? Nothing useful. But Catherine was a stickler for reports. Comprehensive ones. Mei decided she should also include a few personal impressions such as the fact that Cullen Archer apparently liked playing the lone cowboy.
Most cops hated filing reports more than any other part of their job. Especially the men. Mei didn’t understand their objections, or their propensity for delay. She felt that writing a report while the information was still fresh—instead of bitching about it—would make their lives less stressful. But then, some cops thrived on stress.
Coffee, doughnuts and stress. And, in some cases, cigarettes.
“Well, well. I thought the chief said we wouldn’t have the pleasure of the China doll’s company today.”
Mei gnashed her teeth before looking up, knowing she’d find Captain Sheldon Murdock behind that booming observation. And talk about cigarette odor—his suits always reeked. Even now the smell preceded him into her cubicle. Still, that might be the least offensive thing about the captain, who was the only negative aspect of her promotion. Her former commander had been decent and respectful of his staff.
“Good day, Captain. As you see, I’m definitely here now.” Discreetly, Mei Lu slid a blank sheet of paper over what she’d written. Shel Murdock was a blabbermouth. It was widely known that he expended a lot of effort attempting to pick up information from underlings—information he fed to higher-ups as his own. This was a practice the previous chief had encouraged, but Mei knew Catherine deplored it, as did most younger cops. Filched evidence often contained half-truths and gave rise to rumors, which fueled distrust among peers, who should be able to rely on one another without hesitation.
“What’s that you’re hiding, sweet thang?” Murdock drawled, propping his wide butt on Mei Lu’s desk. He leaned closer, actually trying to tug away the sheet covering her report.
Mei anchored it with her elbow. She stared coolly up into Murdock’s eyes. “Sir, please call me Lieutenant Ling or just plain Lieutenant. I’ve worked hard to achieve my rank.”
“Oooh, guys, listen to her. Chilly Lilly!” The captain slid off Mei’s desk and made a mocking gesture with his hand.
“Better back off, Cap’n,” muttered the sergeant. “She’s one of the chief’s special chicks. Call her anything you want at O’Malley’s when we’re having a beer after work. In-house or at official sites she’s Lieutenant Ling. Remember how fast Jake Haslett got busted back to patrol for a little teasing he did.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Murdock hitched up his pants. “So, Lew…tenant,” he said, drawing it out. “Since you’re here, does that mean I can assign you cases in our regular rotation?”
“After I finish this report and deliver it upstairs to the chief as she requested. Then I’ll be ready to take the next case that comes in.” She emphasized next to let Captain Murdock know she didn’t want him shoving all the crappy, already-worked-to-death cases off on her like someone across the hall had tried when she first joined the white-collar crimes division. Mei was wiser now.
“Cap’n, you’d better ask old Iron Pants, er…Chief Tanner, before you assign the lieutenant. I took her call this morning. The chief said to consider Ling on special assignment until further notice.” Sergeant Chuck Marshall stood and handed Murdock a sheaf of messages. He indicated one, presumably Catherine’s.
Silence fell over the office. Only the department clerk kept typing. Her earphones were in place.
“Look, guys,” Mei said, rapping her pen sharply on her desk. She resented that this byplay was still happening at this stage of her career. She especially resented what wasn’t a slip of Marshall’s tongue. Usually she fired back at anyone who tacked rude monikers on Catherine. Today, though, Mei simply wanted to get on with her task. “I’ve worked with most of you in the past,” she said evenly. “Nothing’s changed except that I’ve received a promotion. I didn’t stand on that dais alone on Friday. Yet I don’t hear you giving Lieutenant Herrera a hard time.”
A few people, those who were good cops, returned to work. Others didn’t hide their animosity. Murdock hesitated a fraction longer, then stomped into his office and slammed the door.
Ignoring the men who continued to glare, Mei calmly gathered up her notes. It was time to find a more secure corner in which to finish her report. Mei didn’t consider her