“So much pain,” she whispered. “He has a dragon in his eye.” Jack felt like taking notes but knew to continue paying attention.

“Who?” he asked.

“A black snake,” she answered quickly, glad to be returning the photo.

He gave her the broken red bangle.

Ah Por ran her fingers over it, caressing it, then pressed the red jade piece between her palms, putting heat into the precious stone. She put her head down and closed her eyes.

“Aaya,” Jack heard her moan. “So much pain.” Again, Jack thought, perhaps she was confused, repeating herself. He knew better, and let her proceed.

“So much suffering,” Ah Por continued. “Merciful Buddha, forgiveness and love survives all.” She paused to catch her breath. Jack quickly gave her another five.

“What happened to the owner?” he asked.

What appeared to be a wrinkled smile, or a grimace, crossed her face.

“She has gone,” she answered, “to a choy gee lo.”

Choy gee lo? pondered Jack, Cantonese for “a rich man.” Another of her seemingly unfathomable clues.

Ah Por looked off into the middle distance, held the jade against her heart.

“Chicken-blood jade,” she murmured. “Especially lucky. Red jade represents courage and will, but…” She seemed bewildered.

“Did you find this on a say see? ” she asked. On a dead person?

Jack hesitated before answering, “No.”

“Lucky, then.” Ah Por concluded. “Forgiveness, and mercy always,” she said, “survives all.” She looked toward the other old women, and Jack took back the broken bangle, knowing he’d been dismissed. He left her at the card table, smiling and wealthier, anticipating the rest of her winter day.

Pieces of Dreams

He spent the rest of the afternoon in Sunset Park napping off his jet lag. He lay in bed and listened to the rain pelt the rooftops, doing a tap dance on his window air conditioner. He occasionally heard a chorus of car horns from Eighth Avenue, or the sirens of cop cars and ambulances.

In the darkness behind the drawn shades, he had a series of disassociated dreams. The one he vaguely remembered was the one about Ah Por, pointing to a location on a map, like she was at the head of a class.

Jack couldn’t see the map clearly but when recalling her clue, choy gee lo, a “rich man,” he thought of how “rich man” sounded like “richman” sounded like Richmond.

As in Richmond, a Chinese suburb of Vancouver.

The connection stunned him. But fatigue betrayed him again, as his dream broke up into a thousand jagged pieces, chasing him back into unconsciousness.

Wait Until Dark

It was only dinnertime but the Golden Star was already half full, a mixed-bag clientele of Chinese, black, and Puerto Ricans driven in by the cold. They were mostly spread out along the oval bar, bopping and drinking under the dim blue light. Candy Dulfer’s saxophone wailed out of the jukebox setup and most of the booths were empty, but Jack spotted Billy by the green-felt pool table in the back.

Billy was watching two Latinas shooting money ball, his apparently upbeat mood encouraged by shots of scotch and the display of cleavage leaning across the spread of colored balls.

Jack caught Billy’s attention with bottles of beer, and they moved to the end of the bar where Jack could watch the front door. They traded palms and Billy started right in, grinning like a fool.

“Caught the motherfucker in a poolroom, ha?” He laughed. “What the fuck did I say? Street always runs to street, right?”

They clanged bottles and Billy chased hot scotch with cold beer.

“And the boy tried to run?” He shook his head. “Shit, if I was the OTB shooter I’d run, too!” He drained the beer, ordered another.

“Whoa,” Jack advised. “Slow down, brother. Night’s young.”

Billy was deaf to the warning.

“You did good, brother! I knew you would.” He went on, “Another medal on your chest, kid! What kinda badge you get next? Platinum? ”

Jack grinned. “Fuck you, Billy.”

They banged bottles again, laughing.

“You know I love you, right?” Billy deadpanned.

“Fuck you again, Billy Bow.”

“I was right, though,” Billy challenged, “about you having to go out there, doing it yourself. Right?”

“You were right,” Jack admitted.

“Fuckin’ A.”

The smell of chicken wings and calamari wafted out of the kitchen. Jack checked his watch but Billy noticed Alex coming through the front door first.

“Hey, ain’t that the lawyer chick you keep getting the bok tong go for? The one with the kid?”

“Not so loud, man,” Jack shushed Billy.

“Sorry. I’m divorced. Lawyers make me nervous. But watch it, bro. Baggage.” Billy brought his attention back to the ladies at the pool table.

“Check you later,” Jack said, motioning Alex to one of the booths. She was wearing the red jacket again, the one he’d remembered in his dream.

They ordered drinks and food, and she lit up a cigarette.

“So, welcome back,” she said as they clinked glass.

Jack felt it would be better for Alex to just forget the shooting incidents, and spared her the confusing elements of the hand and the charm and the abandoned boat.

“Nothing ever came up,” he explained simply. “They haven’t found any bodies. Yet.”

“So we don’t know what happened to them?” she asked through the smoky exhale.

“Maybe we’ll never know. Also, I never told you the woman was a possible murder suspect.”

The revelation seemed to take some of the sympathy out of Alex. She shook her head, then shrugged her shoulders, knowing Jack would keep homicide details to himself.

“Okay then,” she said, ready to move on. It seemed unlike her, but Jack figured being back in New York, with her full workload, had brought her back to reality. She sipped her Cosmopolitan and eyed Jack curiously.

He pictured her from his dream again, swaying to music. Alex seemed more pensive than usual and Jack wondered if he was the cause. They shared a steak and a side of calamari. Jack could hear Billy’s laughter over the music from the jukebox.

“What’s on your mind, lady?” he asked.

She narrowed her eyes at him and he felt her lawyer persona returning as she spoke over the rim of the glass.

“I’m six months into a divorce process,” she began. “My divorce law colleagues have advised me not to get involved with anyone. No entanglements, no semblance of infidelity that could surface in court.”

He allowed her to continue, the words entanglement and infidelity buzzing in his ears.

“Can I trust you?” she asked coolly.

“Me?” He took a swig of his beer.

“You’re a cop involved in some controversial Chinatown cases. I’m in your case files. You helped me avoid a D-and-D, and people have seen us together in Seattle.”

“I don’t think there’s a problem,” he said casually.

“Not legally maybe, but ethically …” She slipped into his side of the booth, nudged him over.

“Look,” he said smiling, “I don’t think I’d want to be an entanglement, legal, ethical, or otherwise. It wouldn’t be right.”

“What’s not right is the spousal jerk’s got himself a girlfriend, living it up in Westchester. And I’m the one who’s supposed to behave?” She snuffed her cigarette, put her hand on his chest like she was feeling for the heartbeats. “You wouldn’t want to get entangled with me?” she teased. “I’m not misbehaving, am I?”

“Well, as long as you’re not disorderly,” he replied.

She laughed and he saw an opportunity to ask her about what had been nagging him.

“As long as we’re talking legal,” he said, “what do you think about ADA Bang Sing?”

Alex was surprised. “Where’s that coming from?” she asked. “Did you guys butt heads or something?”

“No,” Jack answered. “Not at all.”