by Vivien Chien
“And this man you claim to have seen after the class was over … you don’t know if he was in your actual class or not?”
A breath caught in my throat. “Claim to have seen.” I didn’t like the sound of that. “No, I’m not entirely sure about him. I didn’t pay too much attention to who else was in the class at the time.”
“I see.” He let out an exaggerated breath and stood from his seat.
I wasn’t entirely sure why, but I felt like I had better stand too. “Do you need me to come down to the police station tonight?”
He sized me up, not at all trying to hide the fact that he was. “Not at this time. Although, we may want to speak with you in the next couple of days, so make sure you’re available.”
“Yes, Detective, I’ll be sure to do that. You also have my business card if you can’t reach me by cell phone.”
He gave me a curt nod, and turned to leave. No “Goodbye”; no “Thank you for your time”; no nothing.
Instead of letting it get to me, I decided to shrug it off for the moment. Not everyone was going to be as nice as the officers and detectives I was used to dealing with. I made my way back out of the school wondering what had happened with the janitor. I thought maybe I’d see him on my way out, but there was no sign of him anywhere.
As I stepped out into the cool evening, I took a breath of fresh air and savored it like someone who’d just been released from a long prison sentence. Now with the light breeze that wafted through, I realized that I’d been sweating considerably, and parts of my clothing were sticking to my body. Especially my jeans.
Getting into the car, I pulled out my phone, put it on speaker, and dialed Adam’s phone number. I had a sinking feeling he was not going to be happy about this new predicament.
CHAPTER 5
Adam’s car was already parked in the lot of my apartment complex when I arrived home. I checked for Megan’s car and noticed she was home as well. I shut the engine off, grabbed my tote bag, and headed inside, taking deep breaths all along the way. I was still feeling shaken up and had driven home with the windows down on the freeway attempting to blast a sense of normalcy back into myself. It hadn’t really worked.
When I opened the door, Kikko rushed at me, snorting and wiggling her curly tail as she pawed at my ankles. I bent down and gave her a scratch between her ears, happy to see that smooshy little face after the night I’d had.
Even more relief washed over me when I saw Megan and Adam sitting at the kitchen table with beers in hand. By the look of his clothing—black undershirt and ratty jeans—I could tell that he’d come over in a hurry. The fact that his reddish-brown hair was also tousled and sticking up in clumps on the sides of his head gave it away completely.
They both rose from their seats, and Adam came rushing over to give me a bear hug. My head only comes up to his chest, and I felt the definition of his muscles as he smashed me against his body.
He kissed the top of my head. “What on earth am I going to do with you, Lana Lee? You can’t even take a cooking class without getting into some kind of trouble.” He released me from his embrace and stared into my eyes. “Are you okay?”
I studied his face. His forest green eyes were filled with worry, and his full lips were curved down in a pout. I hated knowing that I was the cause of his upset. Tears threatened to form, so I bit my lower lip and gave him a head nod.
“Come sit down.” He put an arm around my lower back and led me to the kitchen table where Megan was standing, hands on hips.
“My god, woman. Are you all right?” Her eyebrows scrunched together as she looked me over. “You’re pale as a sheet.”
“I feel like throwing up,” I admitted. “Why did I have to go back for that stupid grocery list?”
“Well, have a seat and calm your nerves,” she said, pointing at the chair across from hers. “You’re probably going to need some of this.” She slid an unopened bottle of Crown Royal across the table, and followed it with a shot glass. “This should calm your nerves a little bit.”
I sat down at the table, and stared at the empty shot glass. My mind was on hyperdrive thinking about what I’d seen and what I imagined had happened before I’d gotten there. How could this happen?
Adam broke the seal on the bottle of Canadian whiskey, poured some into the shot glass, and set it near my hand. “Drink this. And then when you’re ready, tell us what happened tonight.”
I did as he said, and drank the contents of the glass without thinking twice. The amber liquid burned my inner cheeks and warmed my chest as it slid down my throat. I puckered my lips, and then after another deep breath began my story.
When I was finished, the three of us sat and stared at the table in silence.
Adam was the first to speak. “That Bishop guy is a total bastard.” His eyes narrowed as he fixated on a coffee stain on the otherwise clean table. “I’ve never liked him. Not only have I heard some real crazy stories about him, but I’ve had a few run-ins with him myself. Has some kind of Napoleon complex.”
“Yeah, I kind of got that impression myself,” I replied.
Megan rested her chin in her hands. “So, what now?”
Adam turned to her, incredulous. “What do you mean by that?”
Megan lifted her head. “Well, it’s obvious to me that he’s going to try and pin this whole thing on Lana. We can’t just sit here and let that happen. Lest you forget, we’re women of action.”
I groaned, but said nothing.
“Oh no,” Adam said, shaking his head. “Let’s just leave this to the police. If need be, we’ll get Lana a lawyer. If you tamper with a Parma police investigation and get caught, I can’t help you.”
“A lawyer?” I shrieked. “I don’t have money for a lawyer.”
He turned to me, putting his hand over mine. “Don’t worry about that right now. I’ll help you if it comes to that.”
I stole a glance at Megan who winked in return. Without anything needing to be said, I knew she meant that we’d talk in private later.
“Okay…” I responded. “I just think…”
“Think what?” Adam’s eyes widened. “You’re going to somehow fix this on your own?”
“It’s not that outlandish,” I grumbled.
“Lana, it’s not a good idea. There are literally no witnesses aside from you, and you found the body. You took a class on how to cook Chinese food and you are the manager of a Chinese restaurant. It doesn’t look good for you so far.”
“Yeah, but what about fingerprints?” I asked, feeling myself becoming defiant. “They won’t find mine on the murder weapon.”
“Well, one, if the killer was smart, there won’t be any fingerprints to find on the murder weapon aside from this Margo Han’s, assuming it was hers to begin with. On top of that, you guys were working with a lot of oil while cooking. It’s very possible that there isn’t a decent print to be found anyhow.”
“Oh,” was my reply. “I didn’t think about oil being a factor.”
“And, may I also remind you that your boyfriend is a detective.”
“Yeah? So?”
“That’s not really going to help you in this situation. If I know Bishop, he’s going to think you have experience in covering up crimes.”
I gaped. “That’s even more reason I should figure this thing out. I’m like a sitting duck.” I knew I should shut my mouth, but I couldn’t help myself.
That thought became even more loud and clear as I noticed his jaw starting to clench. It was typically the first sign of his agitation beginning to form.
Megan seemed to notice as well and interjected. “Okay, okay, kids. Let’s do this instead. Emotions are running high, and everything just happened a couple of hours ago. Why don’t we all chill out? I’ll order us a pizza and we can veg out for the rest of the night. Hell, maybe we can even pretend for a few hours that this whole thing didn’t happen.”
Adam and I glanced at each other, and nodded in agreement.
“Fin
e,” I said. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore anyway.
* * *
The next morning, I woke up a little earlier than usual to see Adam off to work. After I kissed him goodbye and he’d walked out the front door, I heard Megan come out into the living room. When I turned, she was standing in the hallway with her arms crossed over her chest, staring at me with determination on her face.
“So, we’re getting all up in this case, aren’t we?”
My chin dropped to my chest, and I sulked to the kitchen to prepare some coffee for the both of us. Kikko followed behind me, and seemingly sensing my unease, let out a whine of discontent. “I don’t see how we can’t get involved. I mean, you’re absolutely right, it does look like they might try to pin this on me. Or at the very least, I’m going to be a suspect in their investigation.”
“Do you think there are any security cameras that could help your case? After you guys went to bed last night, I was thinking there’s a slight possibility that maybe they’ll rule you out with some basic detective work.”
I filled the coffeepot with water and poured it into the machine’s reservoir. “I don’t know, honestly. I couldn’t even tell you if there were cameras in the building. The parking lot is a free-for-all, so it’s not like I had to talk to an attendant who could vouch for me or anything. Then I thought about maybe traffic cameras, but I don’t think there’s one until you get to Pearl Road. So, there’s no record there either since I didn’t make it that far.”
She seemed to contemplate this, nodding her head repeatedly as her eyes moved side to side. “We’ll find something. Don’t worry, we’re going to figure this out. We always do, right?”
After I pressed BREW, I joined her at the table. “Yeah, but how many times can you come out of something like this unscathed before you run out of luck?” I asked.
“Well, if you’re a cat, then nine. Nine times,” she joked.
I forced a laugh. “You know what I mean.”
“Chin up, buttercup. Adam may not be on board right now, but maybe he’ll change his mind at some point. And even if he doesn’t, who cares, you’ll always have me.”
I smirked. “Best friends forever.”
Megan leaned back in her chair and smiled wide. “Ride or die, baby.”
CHAPTER 6
Asia Village is my home away from home. I probably spend more time in the Asian shopping plaza than anywhere else. Thankfully, we have it all under one roof. If you need to pick up the latest psychological thriller by Jennifer Hillier, you can swing by the Modern Scroll, the plaza’s bookstore. Or maybe you’re searching for a birthday gift for your aunt Linda who happens to like fine porcelain vases. No problem, you can head to Chin’s Gifts and even have it gift wrapped and everything. On your way out, you may be inclined to stop into Shanghai Donuts and grab a dozen sweet treats for you and your coworkers … or just yourself, depending on if you like to share.
On top of that, you can sing your heart out at our karaoke bar, the Bamboo Lounge, grab a few cosmetics items from the Ivory Doll, or even stock up on herbal supplements at Wild Sage where you will be greeted by the wise Mr. Zhang who may or may not be celebrating a centennial.
Of course, you may also be tempted to have lunch at Ho-Lee Noodle House. And that’s where you’d find me. At least five days a week, I’m tucked away in the restaurant, managing the books, ordering supplies, and filling in as a waitress when needed.
We keep our staff small and we’re all like family. Aside from me and my sister, Anna May—who fills in from time to time between law school obligations. My mother’s best friend, Nancy Huang, is our split-shift server. Her son, Peter, is our head chef, and as previously mentioned, one of my very close friends. Lou handles our nights and weekends kitchen duty, and Vanessa Wen—the teenager who keeps me on my toes—is a night hostess and waitress. My parents, of course, come in and help at random times. You never know when either of them will pop in.
Since my grandmother from Taiwan came to stay with us, my mother has been coming in less and less, which is how I ended up taking over all the managerial duties. It definitely wasn’t planned, I can tell you that.
I pulled into the plaza’s parking lot, driving through the wrought-iron gate with its golden dragons greeting me as they did every morning. The sun sparkled on their metallic scales, which wrapped around brightly painted red poles.
Asia Village’s façade was designed to mimic pagoda-style buildings, and the effect it created was a little town all of its own. When you walked inside the enclosed shopping center, you were greeted by a courtyard covered in cobblestone floors and a sky-light ceiling adorned with hanging paper lanterns and twinkle lights. In the center of the plaza was a large koi pond complete with footbridge and fish food machines to feed our aquatic friends. Wooden benches were sprinkled around the perimeter of the pond, and many people lounged to enjoy the scenery or chat with friends. It was an especially popular place to hang out during the city’s colder months … which, truth be told, were about nine months out of the year nowadays.
I walked into the plaza, passing the hair salon, Asian Accents, the only place I trusted with my hair, and then passed Wild Sage herbal shop and spotted Mr. Zhang sweeping the sales floor. I smiled brightly at him as he lifted his head, and he returned the gesture with a toothy grin of his own. Next, I passed China Cinema and Song, an Asian entertainment store where you could find just about anything that had to do with Bruce Lee, Yo-Yo Ma, Teresa Tang, and Gong Li. My friend Kimmy Tran and her parents run the shop and have been friends with my family since well before Kimmy and I were born.
The shop right next to my family’s restaurant is one of my personal favorites—Shanghai Donuts. Sweet smells of frosting and dough were already wafting out into the plaza as I made my way past to Ho-Lee Noodle House. My stomach growled as I thought about the doughnut holes I would be devouring once the plaza opened.
Inside the darkened dining room of our beloved restaurant, I moved through the maze of tables without worrying that I would bump my knee on a table or chair. I could walk this room blindfolded if I had to. The light switches—placed inconveniently if you asked me—were against the back wall near the kitchen.
Flicking them all on at once, the red and black décor-filled room was brought to life. The soft yellow lighting highlighted the sparingly used gold decorations that were meant to complete the traditional Chinese design that my parents chose a little over three decades ago.
My mother’s current method of making me jump through hoops was to have me redesign the restaurant while somehow still keeping our original style intact. I had presented her with a few ideas that she had not taken to. In hindsight, I realized I should have followed the old adage “Act now, ask for forgiveness later.” But alas, I was trying to be a good daughter, and thought if I showed her my ideas, she’d give me the go-ahead. It did not go as planned.
I made my way into the kitchen and headed to a second pair of swinging doors that led to the back room, which was used as a community break room. Off to the left was a door that looked like it led to a broom closet. That was my office.
Opening the flimsy wooden door, I turned on the light in the small room I considered home base and let out a sigh. Sometimes my life felt like the movie Groundhog Day—Bill Murray and me just living that same day on repeat.
I set my purse down on the wooden desk that was once my mother’s, and riffled through a few notes I had left for myself. Wednesdays can be kind of slow for me at the restaurant, and I needed to find a way to keep myself entertained and occupied so I didn’t think about the events of the previous evening too much. I didn’t know how much time I had before things started to escalate with the police department and their investigation, and I needed a little break to gather my thoughts and sort things out. I had essentially been with Adam and Megan the entire time since I’d left the learning center, and I needed some alone time to truly process what was going on inside my head.
I checked the time on my cell pho
ne, and saw that I had about fifteen minutes before Peter would show up for his shift. Heading back out into the dining room, I decided to go about my duties as usual. Maybe doing commonplace things would bring some normalcy back into my life.
I stopped by each table and booth to make sure the place settings were all perfect. Cloth napkins, silverware, and chopsticks were all present, along with bottles of soy sauce, salt and pepper shakers, sugar canisters, and alternative sweetener packets.
At the hostess station, I skimmed through the menus to make sure they were all wiped down—which they were—and that the cash register had been reset to its till of fifty dollars in coins and small bills—which it had.
I hopped onto the stool and stared out into the plaza, noting the darkened shop of Yi’s Tea and Bakery that stood directly across from our restaurant on the other side of the koi pond. The shop had been closed for a few weeks, and the rest of us Asia Villagers were unclear on if and when it would reopen.
I tried to think about anything else. But, of course, my mind couldn’t stay away from Margo Han’s murder. I wondered if she knew her assailant. Clearly, they’d stabbed her in the back. Literally. They’d been up close and personal. From the brief moments I’d been in the room with her dead body, I hadn’t picked up on the sense that there’d been much of a struggle. Aside from the scattered ingredients that had spilled to the floor—which could have been a result of Margo unintentionally hitting the bowl of leftovers with her arm as she fell forward—the rest of the room hadn’t been disturbed. But they couldn’t have snuck up on her. There was only one way to get in and out of the room, and you’d see the person coming. So, what exactly had happened in there? I couldn’t make sense of it.
If the man I’d seen as I was leaving the class was in fact a student, what reason would he have to kill her? Did he know her previously? Was he even a student? Could he have been another instructor for a different class? I couldn’t remember him.