Read Inspector Zhang Gets His Wish for Free Online Page A

her hand as carefully as possible.   I went and sat behind my desk and flashed them a reassuring smile.   “So how can I help you?” I asked.
    “Matt Richards at the embassy said that you might be able to find our son,” said Mr Clare, dropping back into his chair. It creaked under his weight.
    I nodded.   Matt Richards was an attaché at the US Embassy. He was an acquaintance rather than a friend, someone I bumped into from time to time on the cocktail party circuit.   He was an affable enough guy but hard to get close to. I kind of figured he was a spook, CIA or maybe DEA.   Whatever, he was cagey enough never to let his guard down with me and I never really cared enough to do any serious probing. It wasn’t the first time he’d sent along people who needed help that the embassy couldn’t – or wouldn’t - provide.
    I picked up a pen and reached for a yellow legal pad.   There were a whole host of questions that I’d need answering, but from experience I’d found that it was often better just to let them get it off their chests as quickly as possible.   “I’m listening,” I said.
    Mr Clare looked across at his wife and she nodded at him with raised eyebrows.   He was twice her size but I got the feeling that she was the one who ruled the roost in the Clare household.   “We’re Mormons,” he said, slowly. “From Salt Lake City. Utah.   I’m telling you that because I want you to know that Jon Junior is a God-fearing boy who has honoured his mother and father since the day he was born. He’s not a boy to go wandering off without telling us where He’s going and what He’s doing.”
    Mr Clare reached inside his suit jacket and slid a colour photograph across the desk. I picked it up. It was a graduation photograph, Jon Junior grinning at the camera with an all-American smile, his wheat-coloured hair sticking out from under a mortarboard, his blue eyes gleaming with triumph, a diploma in his hand.
    “Second in his class,” said Mr Clare proudly. “Scholarships all the way.   A man couldn’t ask for a better son.”
    “The apple of our eye,” said Mrs Clare, nodding in agreement.
    “How old is he?” I asked.
    “Twenty-one,” said Mr Clare.
    “Twenty-two next month,” added his wife.
    Mr Clare handed me a sheet of paper. “We have a photocopy of Jon Junior’s passport.   We also told him to photocopy all his important documents. You can never be too careful.”
    “Indeed,” I said.
    “We’ve already got his birthday present,” said Mr Clare. “A digital camera. State of the art.”
    Mrs Clare reached over and held her husband’s hand. He smiled at her with tight lips.
    “And He’s in Thailand?” I asked.
    “He came two months ago,” said Mr Clare.   “He wanted to take some time off before joining me in the family business. Janitorial supplies. Cleaning equipment. We’re one of the biggest in the state. There’s barely a hospital or school in Utah that doesn’t have our soap in its dispensers.”
    I decided it was time to cut to the chase before I got the complete Clare family history. “And when was the last time you heard from Jon Junior?” I asked.
    “Three weeks ago,” said Mr Clare. “He phoned us every week. And wrote. Letters. Postcards.”
    “Do you remember when exactly he phoned?”
    Mr Clare looked over at his wife. “March the seventh,” she said. “It was a Sunday. He always phoned on a Sunday.”
    “And when did he fly in?”
    Mr Clare looked over at his wife again. “January the sixteenth,” she said.
    “Did he apply for a visa in the States?” I asked.
    “Why does that matter?” asked Mr Clare.
    “If you apply for a tourist visa overseas then you get sixty days, which can be extended for a further thirty days,” I explained. “If you arrive without a visa, immigration will give you thirty days in which case Jon Junior will have overstayed.”
    “Is that bad?” asked Mrs Clare.
    “It’s not too serious,” I said.
    And in the