Fatal Fried Rice

by Vivien Chien

  He paused his questioning to think some more.

  I eyed the smothered fries in front of me and worried about them being left untouched for too long. If the cheese hardened before I got a chance to eat some, Megan wasn’t going to be the only person I would be mad at in the bar.

  Adam drummed his fingers on the bar top. “At least you have that going for you, I guess. If they can’t actually find any forensic evidence against you, that will make it much harder for them to pin it on you.”

  “I got the impression that he was trying to insinuate I would think of that because we’re dating, and I know things about police work that others may not know.”

  Adam scowled. “Doesn’t matter, that only counts as speculation.”

  I let out a heavy sigh. “Look, let’s not worry about it tonight. Now you’re all up to date on my shenanigans, and you always like to let things marinate in your brain to make better sense of them. So, tonight can be the night to marinate. We can worry about this tomorrow.”

  Behind us I heard a commotion as the door opened and what I can only describe as a “gaggle of girls” walked in. The cluster of early twenty-somethings were all scantily clad in mini-skirts, high heels, and crop tops that seemed better suited for July than September.

  I watched them gather at the registration table to pay and collect name tags before heading to the group of tables that had been set up for the evening.

  Turning back around, I noticed that Adam had not joined me in people watching, but was instead staring at the bar, obviously deep in thought. I feared that I had lost him to “detective mode,” and sometimes when that happened it was hard to get him back.

  Gently, I nudged the empty plate in front of him to get his attention. He glanced up at me, his eyes softening as he studied my face.

  I gave him a wry smile, jerking my head in the direction of the tables that were filling up fast. “Eat your wings, it’s about to get interesting in here.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Adam spent the night, and when we woke up the next morning, it was the first time in a while that we didn’t have to rush off to meet some type of obligation. We lay in bed for an extra hour, relaxing and listening to the wind rattle the trees outside my window before I absolutely had to get out of bed for coffee.

  I wasn’t the only one anxious to get the day started. Kikko was also becoming restless waiting for one of us to let her out for morning tinkle time. Adam offered to take her while I prepared the coffee and toasted some bagels.

  Upon returning, Kikko scuttled into the kitchen, no doubt smelling the toasted bread. She let out a few whines as I carried the plates to our seats at the table.

  Adam drank his coffee black, and the minute the mug was put in front of him he took a long sip. “Too many beers last night,” he commented as he set the mug down. “Probably could have done without those last two.”

  I added some cream and sugar to my cup. “Well, who can blame you losing count with all that chaos going on last night?”

  He laughed, picking up a slice of his bagel. “And those two girls fighting over that guy with the leather pants on? I mean, come on … let’s get real here.”

  I giggled. “I’m getting you a pair of those pants for Christmas.”

  “You’ll be sorry when I wear them to Sunday dim sum with your family,” he teased.

  “You wouldn’t dare.” I kicked him playfully under the table. “My mother would have your head on a platter.”

  “But, Mrs. Lee, your daughter bought these for me. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

  “You stop.” I laughed.

  The door to Megan’s room creaked open, and a messy bun of blonde hair poked out. “Hey, can you guys keep it down out there? Some of us didn’t get to bed until four a.m.”

  “Sorry,” I said, stifling a giggle. “We’re just messing around.”

  Megan shut the door, and I heard a muffled, “There better be a bagel out there for me when I get back up.”

  Adam smirked at the now empty hallway before turning his attention back to me. In a lower voice, he asked. “So, what are your plans for today?”

  I finished chewing my bagel. “Well despite your extreme protests, I have to go back to Lucky Lotus today. My dry cleaning has to be picked up before she closes today at five.”

  He grunted into his coffee.

  “What do you have going on? I’m surprised you’re not working.”

  “The chief gave me the day off. We’re kind of at a stalemate while we wait for some results to come back from the lab.”

  “How is your case coming in general?” I asked. I knew I wouldn’t get much information about what he was working on, but I still liked to show that I cared about what was going on in his life.

  “It’s coming along slow. The circumstances are sketchy, so I can’t say I’m entirely surprised by that.”

  “Do you get discouraged when things don’t move faster?”

  “Sometimes, but you have to remind yourself to be patient. If things move along too quickly that can be a sign a piece of evidence was missed somewhere along the way.”

  If there was one thing that I needed work on outside of my poker face, it was being patient. Often, I found myself moving along faster than I should with things because I wanted results and I wanted them yesterday.

  “Do you want to come with me to the dry cleaner?” I asked. Originally, I hadn’t thought it would be a good idea to have someone with me. The last thing I wanted Joyce to feel was ganged up on while I questioned her, but it might be handy having a professional along for the ride.

  He leaned back in his chair. “I better not, dollface. If she happened to bring up at any point that another department’s detective was snooping around on an active case, it could cause problems. Especially considering that you’re my girlfriend and Bishop’s already trying to make that connection without any help from us.”

  “Good point,” I replied. I hadn’t thought about how it might come back to bite us on the butt at a later date. “Wanna meet up later then? Maybe we could go to a movie or something. You know, do normal-people things.”

  Adam laughed as he finished off his bagel. “Sure, let’s meet up later and do normal-people things. It’s been a while.”

  * * *

  I got myself dressed and ready to head over to Lucky Lotus after Adam went back to his place to handle a few chores he’d neglected through the week. Megan was still asleep, and I didn’t want to wake her up again, so I left a sticky note on her door telling her where I was going.

  Traffic wasn’t too heavy for a Saturday, but I was relieved I didn’t have to contend with on-street parking because there still wasn’t a space in sight. I found the parking lot to Lucky Lotus fairly unoccupied. There were only two other cars there.

  I dawdled in the car a little bit to give the customers some time to pay up and leave. When a man walked out with an armful of suits, I opened my car door and headed in.

  I should have waited a little longer, because when I got inside a woman who had come to pick up her clothes was fumbling around in her purse. She turned to look at me as I walked in and gave an apologetic smile. “You can go ahead. I can’t seem to find my pick-up ticket.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” I said. “I’m not in a rush.”

  “No really, it’s all right. I’m not in a rush either and I don’t want to hold anyone up because the inside of my purse looks like a tornado. You go on, young lady.”

  What do you do when someone counters your kindness with more kindness? I couldn’t refuse her, especially in this situation. It would seem weird. I thought about also pretending to have lost my ticket, but that appeared a little too contrived.

  Joyce recognized me from the day before and smiled, ushering me to step up to the counter. “Hello again.”

  I was stuck. I moved ahead of the woman in front of me and returned Joyce’s smile. “Hi, how are you today?” I handed her the ticket I’d had in my back pocket.

  “I’m man
aging,” she replied. She held up the ticket to inspect the numbers. “Just give me a minute.”

  She flipped through the bagged clothing items on the rack behind her and pulled out my two shirts, showing them to me for confirmation.

  I nodded and she began the process of ringing me up.

  After I’d paid, I noticed the other woman still hadn’t found her ticket. What the heck was this lady’s problem?

  Feeling discouraged, and with no real reason to hang around, I said goodbye to Joyce and headed out the door. Just as I stepped out onto the sidewalk, I heard the woman behind me say, “Aha! Here it is.”

  I mumbled a curse under my breath and continued on to my car. What was I going to do now? This was my last chance before Joyce took off of work for a week, maybe two, and how would I get to her then? It’s not like I could just show up at the funeral. How tacky would that be?

  I unlocked my car, tossed the freshly pressed shirts into the back seat, and flopped down onto the driver’s seat. Maybe no one else would come and I’d just have to wait for this lady to leave. It wouldn’t take that long for the woman to pay up and be on her way, right?

  Ten whole minutes passed, and the lady still hadn’t come out. My foot began to tap as I waited—very impatiently—for something to happen. Plus, I had to pee, and I couldn’t sit here for much longer. I watched the apron of the driveway, slightly nervous that someone would pull in at any moment and I’d have to wait even longer.

  Finally, a minute later, the woman walked out in no particular hurry. I lunged myself out of the car and headed back into the building. The woman gave me a curious glance as I passed her, but didn’t say anything though her mouth began to open.

  When I got back inside, Joyce was nowhere to be seen.

  “Hello?” I called out.

  A few seconds later, Joyce popped her head out from the back room. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone had come back in. I didn’t hear the door chimes.”

  “Sorry to bother you,” I said.

  “No bother at all. Did you leave anything behind? I gave your credit card back, right?”

  “Oh yes, that’s not the problem.”

  She came into full view and approached the counter. “What can I help you with?”

  “This may sound like a strange question, but do you happen to be related to Margo Han?”

  Joyce lost a little color in her face. “Why are you asking? Are you a reporter? I’ve already told the newspaper I won’t be a part of any articles on this murder investigation.”

  “Oh no!” I said, holding up my hands. “No, no, I’m not a reporter at all.”

  “Then how would you know that Margo is my sister?”

  “It’s a total coincidence,” I lied. “I was in her cooking class and found out she was murdered this week. Then yesterday when you mentioned that your sister had passed away and it was a shock to your family, I thought wouldn’t it be weird if we knew the same person?”

  She eyed me with suspicion. “You were in her class?”

  “Yes, she even offered to help me with private classes. I manage my family’s restaurant and I get teased a lot because I can’t cook Chinese food to save my life.” I was hoping this little bit of information would show her that I was friendly and no one to be concerned about.

  Joyce still didn’t seem totally convinced by this odd occurrence, but her shoulders visibly relaxed. “It’s a tragedy about what happened to her. She was an amazing woman. You would have been lucky to have learned to cook from her.”

  “She seemed like a really nice person. I can’t imagine her having any enemies. Can you think of anyone who would want to harm her?” I tried my best to keep my voice light and conversational, like I was just asking for my own curiosity.

  Luckily, she didn’t appear offended by my question. “No one that I can think of. The police asked me the same thing—if there was anyone I knew of who was causing problems in her life before this happened. I would have told them immediately, but there really wasn’t. At least not anything she mentioned to me.”

  “Well, then there probably wasn’t. I mean, I know I tell my sister everything.” I lied again.

  She tilted her head back and forth. “We really weren’t all that close when it came to things like that. If she was having problems at work or something, she might not have said anything right away.”

  “What about guy problems?” I asked. “My sister and I always gab about boys.”

  Her eyebrows crunched together, and I held my breath wondering if she was starting to think my questions were a little strange. But instead she said, “I don’t know if she’d talk to me about that either. I know she had been seeing someone casually a while back, but she hadn’t brought him up recently.”

  I decided to push on, wondering if this might be the man who’d sent the flowers Margo had thrown away. “Did you ever get to meet the guy?”

  “No, she never brought him around. I thought I’d meet him at some point, but it never happened. I don’t even think I know his name, to be honest with you.”

  That feeling of disappointment was bubbling back up. This woman knew just about as much as I did. Which was a big fat nothing.

  The door chimed behind us as a man walked in. Just as well, I wasn’t going to learn anything significant here anyways. I was about to turn around and say goodbye to Joyce, but then I realized the man who walked in was Detective Bishop.

  Busted.

  CHAPTER 17

  “Miss Lee,” Detective Bishop stated with satisfaction. “Interesting to see you here today.”

  I stepped off to the side so I didn’t have my back to Joyce. I could feel her staring at me, probably waiting for some type of answer as to why the detective knew me by name.

  “Hello, Detective. I was just picking up some dry cleaning,” I said plainly.

  He looked at my hands, which were empty of proof, and then raised an eyebrow at Joyce for confirmation.

  She gave a solemn nod, but did not speak.

  “What a coincidence that you use this dry cleaner. On your report, you listed that you live in North Olmsted. Isn’t this a little out of your way? I’d think it would be an inconvenience for you to drive out here just to drop off and pick up a few items of clothing.”

  “I was in the neighborhood yesterday and dropped off some shirts I had in my car that needed to be dry-cleaned.”

  “What brought you out this way?” he asked.

  “Tink Hall,” I replied, coolly, rattling off the name of a nearby Asian grocery. “I come out this way a lot actually.”

  “I see,” he replied, taking a step toward me. “And it just so happens that you use the dry cleaner of your cooking teacher’s family? Now that’s a small world.”

  Before I could try and defend myself, Joyce interjected. “The Asian community is fairly small, Detective Bishop. It’s really not that unusual.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You might think differently about that, Ms. Han, if you knew that Lana here was the one who found your sister’s body.”

  Both Joyce and I gasped. For different reasons, obviously. I was appalled at the way he talked about Margo’s body being found in such a cavalier manner to a family member. An immediate family member, no less.

  Joyce gawked at me as if I’d sprouted two heads. I wanted to explain, but I knew that I couldn’t do that in front of Bishop. If he knew that I was snooping around, he’d probably try to arrest me right on the spot.

  I didn’t know where to go with this. It was the second time today that I felt trapped in my circumstances and I didn’t like it. That’s when I realized I had a card to play. “Do you plan on asking me any further questions? Because my lawyer requested that he be present for any interrogations. I can give him a call right now if that’s the case.”

  The detective’s cheeks reddened. “No, that won’t be necessary. I don’t have anything further to ask you at this time.”

  “Fine, then if you don’t mind, I was actually on my way out.” I tur
ned to Joyce and tried to apologize with my eyes. “I hope everything goes all right next week. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Joyce gave me a nod, but did not thank me or say anything further. I couldn’t tell if that was because the detective was in the room with us or because she was that disgusted with my presence. I couldn’t imagine what was going on in her mind right now. If it were me, I would be thinking all sorts of crazy things.

  I spun on my heel, trying to pull up an air of indignation, but as I’ve mentioned, my poker face isn’t very good. Curtly, I said, “Detective.” And then headed out the door.

  Halfway through the parking lot, I got that nervous jitter in the pit of my stomach that was telling me to run. But I knew that Bishop was watching me from inside. I was right, too, because right before I got into my car, he stuck his head out the door and yelled. “Miss Lee! Don’t forget, I’ve got an eye on you.”

  To anyone listening, it would have sounded like a friendly reminder, but I knew enough about him to hear it for what it was: a threat.

  * * *

  When I got home, my first thought was to plant myself on the couch and throw blankets over my head. But Megan was finally up, and she was occupying the sofa with Kikko at her side. She had her laptop out and seemed to be enthralled by whatever was on the screen.

  “Took you long enough,” she said, not looking up. “I have to go into work in a few hours, you know. If we’re gonna work on this case at all, it needs to be now, missy.”

  “Ugh.” I hung my keys on the hook, and rubbed my temple.

  She glanced in my direction. “What’s your problem? Did you pick up your dry cleaning?”

  “Crap, I left it in the car.” I shook my head. “Whatever, it can stay there.” I trudged to the couch, feeling a temper tantrum coming on. “Today did not go well.”

  “What happened? You and Trudeau were all laughs this morning.” She set the laptop on the coffee table, and I could see she was viewing our county’s clerk of courts website.