“Cho Jin, the Asian assailant, is Korean,” said Annie to Rowena on Sunday afternoon. “And he isn’t connected with the Chinese nationals in any way that we can figure out.”
“So why would he want to shoot you?” asked Rowena, sipping her glass of claret. The Avon suitcase lay opened between them on the couch. Her black and white Sheltie cross named Sugar and Annie’s golden retriever, Chuckles, sniffed each other’s behinds then tussled in a corner. “I mean, unless he’s working as a contract killer, Annie, and there’s a price on your pretty head.”
“I don’t think so,” Annie said. She shushed the scampering dogs. “He appears to have been on his own. Unless we’re getting close to something that Auntie was involved in with Vernon, who Mark and I think is the real culprit in the case.”
“Could the
