Violent Spring Read Online Free PDF

Tiger,” Monk said under his breath. He opened the door to the sauna and welcomed the satin cloud that swallowed his body.
    Pak Ju Li sat rigid in the angular Eastlake staring at nothing. Kenny Yu sat next to him, taking in Monk’s office. Jill had tastefully appointed it with a couch of supple indigo Italian leather, the low-slung Eastlakes, wood grain file cabinets—which were empty, Monk kept the files elsewhere—and a massive colonial-style desk for her lover. On one wall hung several masks Monk had collected in his travels in the Merchant Marines. The folk art of Senegal, New Hebrides, Guadeloupe, Thailand, Greece and Madagascar.
    On another wall were several black and white photos in simple frames. One of them depicted Monk’s deceased father in his Army sergeant’s uniform. He was a big man in the top like his son, and he stood before a bar made of corrugated metal and leftover wood from packing crates. Over the entrance was a hand-lettered sign in Hangul and English, a mischievous grin splitting his face. Another photo showed Monk’s last ship, the cargo transporter Achilles.
    Kenny Yu turned his attention to the private eye sitting across from him at the large desk. “What do you say to our proposition, Mr. Monk? Will you search for the murderer of Bong Kim Suh?”
    Monk, who had been reading the file folder they’d brought him, looked at the two men. “This information on Suh seems sketchy.”
    â€œWhat does that mean, ‘sketchy’?” Li demanded.
    â€œI mean that what you have here,” Monk said, pointing at the file, “tells me little about the man. Most of the information here deals with facts and figures about his business on Pico, the Hi-Life Liquor and Minimart. The date when he purchased it, its revenues and so forth.”
    â€œYes,” Li said, neither a question nor a declaration.
    Monk fixed Li with a blank look. “It would be helpful if you had information on his likes, his hobbies, hell, you don’t even have a home address for him. Was he into tall blonde women, short Latinas, what? Or was he gay?”
    Li visibly blanched.
    â€œOr for that matter, what he did before he came to America in ’82.”
    â€œI can’t see why that would be relevant,” Li said. “He was murdered here, the killer is from here. Probably someone from the neighborhood.”
    He stopped talking, but Monk said nothing. Li said, “Ours is a professional association, not a social club. Suh’s life outside of his store was not known to us.”
    â€œBut his murder was odd,” Yu added.
    â€œThree shots to the rear of his head. Thirty-two-caliber screw-turn brass bullets.” Monk paused, reading more of the firearms identification from the criminalist’s report the Merchants Group had obtained. That alone impressed him; it wasn’t everyone who could get the cops to release that report to civilians. “There was also the presence of grease on the entrance wounds found on the skull.”
    â€œWhat does that signify?” Kenny Yu asked.
    â€œIt means the killer used one of those hi-tech suppressors on his gun. Silencers they call them in the movies. They use an all-weather grease in one of the baffles of the thing that along with O-rings help to dampen the noise a gun makes when fired. That is definitely not the weapon of choice of a street thug.”
    Irritation set Li’s face. “Are you saying that the Daltons or the Swans couldn’t get ahold of one of these silencer devices?”
    â€œOh, I’m sure it’d be very easy for them to.”
    â€œThen what’s your point?”
    â€œWhy don’t you have more information about someone who was a member of your association? You’re sending me down the mine shaft with a penlight.”
    Kenny Yu gave Li a sideways look. The president of the Merchants Group said nothing, then rose from his chair. He gathered the file from