A Case of Two Cities

was a guard with a phone sitting in a booth at the entrance. Visitors had to be announced before being admitted. But the guard apparently recognized Tian and waved him through without asking him to do anything. They drove through the entrance, turning into a driveway lined with tall palm trees. After making two or three turns, Tian pointed to a secluded section and whispered, “Here is Xing’s house.”
     
    It was a majestic mansion looming through the dusk, with a marble arch towering over its door, and a couple of stone lions squatting in front of the entrance, which reminded Chen of the celebrated bronze ones on the Bund.
     
    “Four or five million dollars at least,” Tian said, estimating in his businessman’s way, “Xing’s house.”
     
    They saw a stolid man in black sitting on a rattan chair on the porch, resting his feet on a white plastic chair, drinking from a bottle of beer. It was not Xing. That Chen could tell.
     
    “Possibly a bodyguard,” Tian said, slowing down as he made a show of looking for the house number.
     
    The guard looked up in alert, putting the beer down, but the car did not stop, rolling out of sight.
     
    “We’ll come back,” Tian said. “Xing has connection with local triads. Those tangs and bangs are capable of doing anything.”
     
    “Do you mean Xing belongs to the secret society in Los Angeles?”
     
    “I’m not sure, but with his money, he could have easily rented those thugs for protection.”
     
    “Money can make devils pull round the mill like blindfolded mules,” Chen said. “Is Xing still doing business here?”
     
    “No, not that I’ve heard of. He’d better stay low. The money he has plundered will let his next three generations wallow in obscene luxury.”
     
    “Has his case made a big buzz here?”
     
    “It did, but Chinese people here don’t care much about the politics back home—thousands of miles away in the Forbidden City. Look at this white five-storied mansion next to Xing’s. It belongs to the son of a politburo member. Little Tiger, that’s his nickname, I think.”
     
    “What is he doing here?”
     
    “He’s barely in his twenties. Instead of studying, he’s been partying everywhere, drinking, dancing, and mah-jonging night and day. He has a large import and export company—at least under his name.”
     
    “You know a lot of people.”
     
    “The Chinese community here is like a small world. Folks keep bumping against one another.”
     
    In the midst of gathering dusk, they were driving round to Xing’s house again.
     
    “I’ll ask for directions,” Tian said, pulling up before Chen could stop him. “You stay in the car.”
     
    Tian apparently knew some residents here. The black-clothed guard stood up and pointed in one direction. Tian went on with his questioning, as if still lost. The door behind them opened. A white-haired woman appeared with a string of large beads in her hand. The guard said something to her, and the door closed again. But in swift glance, Chen saw the hallway inside enveloped in incense. Then the door of the white mansion opened again, and a young man came out. The guard bowed to the young man respectfully as Tian moved back to the car.
     
    “Sorry, I’ve got nothing for you,” Tian said, sitting beside Chen. “The guy would not even say whether Xing is at home. I didn’t want to sound too inquisitive. No point stirring a sleeping snake.”
     
    “No,” Chen said. “I really appreciate all your effort. So the old woman must be Xing’s mother.”
     
    “Yes, Xing is a filial son. When he first came here, he often appeared in his mother’s company. I have seen her picture in the local Chinese newspapers too.”
     
    “Is the old woman a Buddhist?”
     
    “I think so. I have read something about it, but I’m not sure.”
     
    “That’s interesting.”
     
    “Why?”
     
    “Oh, my mother also believes in Buddhism,” Chen said. “Is that young man Little Tiger—the next-door neighbor to Xing?”
     
    “Yes. Perhaps more than a next-door neighbor. Tell you what. I may be able to find out more. My company has ads in most of the Chinese newspapers here. The editors owe me some favors.”
     
    “No, I don’t think it’s a good idea to contact those people. Xing may be well connected here.”
     
    Warmed with his first detective experience, however, Tian continued to make suggestions on the way back. Some of his ideas might be worth trying; others were totally