Unshakeable Pursuit (Christian Romantic Suspense)

Chapter 9b

It was too early for a crowd to have gathered at China White, the upscale dance club a few blocks away from Chinatown. With parking always at a premium in San Francisco any time of the day or night, the club had a valet service at the front of the building, a former warehouse that had gotten an extensive and expensive facelift. White columns with red and gold Chinese decorations marched all along the front of the building, broken only by the front doors in the middle.

As Geoffrey had expected, there was no one at the valet station this early in the afternoon.

"There's a parking spot." Maylin pointed to a spot about a block away on the opposite side of the street.

He parallel parked the car easily. But as he got out, he again felt that uneasy prickle across his shoulder blades. He looked around, but couldn't see anything except a few ladies with grocery bags, one homeless man in a doorway, and a mother and son loaded with bakery boxes. There were lots of cars along the street, and he couldn't see inside all of them because of the glare of the sun, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

"Do you see anyone?" Maylin didn't even question his suspicion.

He shook his head. "You know what? I'm just being paranoid. Chester Wong might be trying to kill us because we saved the life of the boy who he believes killed his son. We've been chased by Asian men in suits for three days, now. It's just making me crazy."

"But we're not imagining this threat to us. Maybe we are being watched."

"Why would they watch us?" Geoffrey said. "They've been trying to kill us."

Maylin frowned, then sighed. "You're right. Maybe we're both paranoid."

They headed to the club, but instead of going in from the front door, they went around the building to the back. An open door led to what looked like a small kitchen, and they headed inside.

The staff bustled around, preparing for the club's opening in a few hours. The club apparently offered some sort of food, because Geoffrey saw people chopping vegetables and stirring sauces.

One of the staff noticed them. "Can I help you?" She had a slight Chinese accent, but not as heavy as the fake FBI agents who had come to the clinic.

"We wanted to know when your valets get in," Geoffrey said. "I wanted to ask them about a car."

"Are you police?" the waitress asked.

"No, just investigators," Geoffrey said. It was true, in a way. They were investigating Chet's death.

The waitress looked wary. "The valets are already here, but I think you should talk to the manager, before you talk to the valets."

"No problem," Geoffrey said, unperturbed.

After she went to get the manager, Maylin leaned close. "Do you really think the valets would remember Frank's father's car?"

"It was a very expensive car. And out of everyone, the valets would be most likely to remember who drove it."

"They may not."

"I know. But they might remember something. And if this doesn't pan out, we'll try to find that girl who danced with Chet."

Maylin suddenly had an intent look on her face, as if she were listening to an irregular heartbeat. Her eyes were unfocused.

He realized that some of the cooking staff were talking to each other in Chinese a few feet away. They were making dumplings, folding small spoonfuls of some meat mixture into thin dough squares. They were so fast that Geoffrey could barely follow their movements.