I started with the victim’s parents. The greeting was in Chinese. I spoke English slowly. “Mrs. Zheng, my name is Peter Strand.” A flow of Chinese words. I couldn’t be sure, of course, but there seemed to be anger or frustration in the tone. “My name is Peter Strand,” I said even more slowly and caught myself speaking louder. I knew better. This time there was a short burst of Chinese, and then she hung up. The next logical call went to the girlfriend, Sandy Ferris. An answering machine picked up. The message wasn’t personalized. It was the factory-made voice asking me to leave a message. I did. Next on the list was the prime troublemaker, Wallace Emmerich. He answered. “My name is Peter Strand.” “Yes, yes. I found the piece of paper under my door,”
