“Doing well, thank you, for which I’m grateful. His son is on his way here.”

“And your brother?”

“Also recovering nicely. He’ll be going home soon, I believe.”

Then came an awkward silence while Mr. Zhang waited politely to hear the reason for our visit and I mentally tried out and trashed a number of openings. Bill gave me a look that asked, Want me to do it? I shook my head. These old Chinese men were my problem.

“It may be,” I told Mr. Zhang, “that your brother won’t be going home. The district attorney is planning to arrest him.”

“Arrest him? For what?”

“They think he was part of the conspiracy with Alice Fairchild and Wong Pan. That together they hired the White Eagles. Then he double-crossed the others, stole your million dollars, and was planning to blame the gang.”

Mr. Zhang’s round face turned pale. “Oh, but that’s nonsense. My brother, the White Eagles? It’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe, but they’re going to charge him.”

“He’s my brother. I won’t have him arrested. I don’t care what he did.”

“They don’t either. It’s a pressure tactic. They want him to give them the White Eagles.”

“I’ll say there was no theft. I’ll say I told him he could have the money.”

“It’s not the money that matters. It’s the conspiracy.”

“They cannot do this!”

Bill, with all the authority of a large white man, said, “Yes, they can.”

I gave Mr. Zhang a moment to worry. “But here’s the thing. He told us he didn’t take the money. And we believe him.”

“It makes no difference whether he did or didn’t,” Mr. Zhang tried stoutly once more.

I hated this. I gave Bill back that look: Yes, you do it.

“I’m sorry,” Bill said, quiet, respectful, “but you’re wrong. What matters is that he didn’t. Because when all he does is tell the truth, even under threat of prison, when all he says is he got a locked briefcase from you and when it was opened it was full of newspaper, they’ll begin to doubt their theory. Then they’ll start looking around for the real conspirator.”

Out the window, summer twilight was falling. In here, hospital fluorescents notwithstanding, it seemed already dark.

“There never was a million dollars in that briefcase, was there?” Bill asked, though we all knew the question was rhetorical. “Or maybe there was, but not by the time your brother got it. Maybe when you got it from Chen. Your brother told us most of the money behind this hunt was yours, but most isn’t all. This money was your cousin’s. And you’re the one who stole it.”

Mr. Zhang’s eyes widened in what looked like true surprise. “No! Certainly not. Steal from Lao-li? I would never do that.”

“It’s the only way it makes sense,” Bill said, “if your brother didn’t take it. Are you saying he did?”

Slowly, Mr. Zhang shook his head. “No. No, he did not.”

“Well, there’s only one thing left,” I elbowed back in. It wasn’t fair to make Bill do it all. “If your brother didn’t take it and you didn’t take it, Mr. Chen must have stolen the money from you.”

There it was, the heart of the matter, the theory Bill and I had worked out on the street corner, the theory I hated so much. One of these close, loving cousins was swindling the other.

And as had happened so often in this case, it turned out we were right.

And wrong.

“No,” said Mr. Zhang. “Lao-li would no more steal from me than I from him.”

“Sir,” Bill said, “even if we believe you, the police won’t. That newspaper’s going to eat at them. They won’t stop until they find out where it came from and where the million dollars went. One of the three of you knows.”

An orderly rolled a tinkling cart down the corridor, passing us just as Bill said “million dollars.” He raised his eyebrows and grinned. Mr. Zhang abruptly stood. “Come with me.”

We got on the elevator, but we weren’t alone there, so it wasn’t until we were outside in the damp twilight that Mr. Zhang said angrily, “The million dollars went nowhere. There was no million dollars.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said flatly. “How were you going to buy the Shanghai Moon?”

“We were not going to buy the Shanghai Moon. Wong Pan didn’t have it.”

“That’s clear now, but you couldn’t have been so sure before.”

Mr. Zhang gave no answer.

“You were taking a big risk,” Bill said. “Losing what you’ve been after for so long.”

“There was no risk. My brother would have known whatever Wong Pan presented him with for what it was-a fraud.”

“Your brother hadn’t seen the gem since he was a boy.”

“He’s a man of fine eye. He wouldn’t need to be able to recognize the Shanghai Moon to know that Wong Pan was attempting to pass off, at best, some other gem, and more likely a worthless piece of glass.”

I said, “But what if he wasn’t?”

“He was.”

“Then why go through the charade?” Bill asked. “Why send your brother to the meeting at all, if you were so sure?”

“I was sure. My cousin wasn’t.”

“Why not just tell him your reasons?”

“Oh,” he said, almost too softly to hear. “I have.”

“No,” I snapped. “No, I don’t buy it. You’ve been hunting this gem for forty years, racing around the world. An offer as promising as this comes along and you’re absolutely sure it’s not worth following up? Then you go through a whole dangerous farce just to humor your cousin? I don’t believe it.”

“However, it’s the truth.”

Wham. I’d had it. Why was I arguing with this old man? So much love, so much loss wrapped around this jewel across sixty years, and these guys were screwing with each other over money? “Okay. You know what? It’s not my problem. Joel’s killer’s been found, Rosalie’s jewelry’s been found. We’re done. Good-bye, Mr. Zhang. Maybe you’ll be lucky and the police will forget about the missing million dollars. But don’t count on it.”

I’d stepped from the curb and raised my arm for a cab when I heard, “No, Ms. Chin, please.”

The taxi sped away again as I turned. “What?”

Mr. Zhang drew a breath. “I have no right to ask for your help, but I must. This investigation cannot continue. This is a private matter, involving only my brother, my cousin, and myself. We must be allowed to settle it.”

“A private matter? Two people dead, fake passports, stolen jewelry, missing money, gangsters shooting up the streets? Oh, no, this investigation is going to continue. The next thing they’ll do is subpoena your bank records, yours and Mr. Chen’s. They’ll find out whose money it was and who was cheating whom.” Would you look at that? The world’s falling apart and Lydia Chin finally gets her grammar right.

“You can’t let them do that.”

“I can’t stop them.”

“My cousin is a sick man! Knowing that money wasn’t there could prove dangerous! Thinking I was cheating him-!”

“But you were.”

“Not in the way you think.” Mr. Zhang’s accustomed calm had vaporized. His voice was hot and his eyes pleaded.

“But you were.” I heard the sorrow in my own words. Right up until this moment I’d been waiting for another explanation, one that would make all this make sense and these old men still turn out to be the close and caring family they appeared.

Bill spoke, probably because he knew I couldn’t. “Mr. Zhang? Even if we knew the truth, I’m not sure there’s anything we could do. But without it…”

Mr. Zhang shook his head desperately. He stepped from the curb and flagged down a cab. I expected him to get in and speed away, but he held the door, all anger and impatience. We got in with him and in silence drove back to Chinatown.