by JJ Chow
Marcy abandoned the balloons and leaned forward. “What did you discover?” Winston knew she’d been a great asset during the Magnolia case, and he realized how alive she’d acted as she helped him investigate.
He pulled out his cell phone and found the picture of the weekly pillbox. “Ming’s medicine.”
Kristy asked for the phone. She zoomed in on the image.
“What do you see?” Winston asked.
She looked at it for a few moments. With her brow scrunched, she said, “This doesn’t make much sense.”
Marcy piped up. “Is something off?”
“Weird,” Kristy said. “I’m familiar with this medication, and these bright red pills are duplicates of a powerful drug.” She pointed at a time slot filled with pills of the same color.
Winston squinted to read the small letters on the tablets. They all bore the same name.
Looking over his shoulder, Marcy said, “Three of the exact tablets in one day? What’s wrong with that?”
“These aren’t common pills,” Kristy said. “They’re powerful prescription blood thinners meant to be taken on a precise schedule. Patients have to take one a day.”
Winston scratched his head. “How come Ming has three in that plastic compartment then?”
Kristy nodded. “I think they got moved, and he ended up skipping a few doses. But without the medicine, blood clots could form—and lead to a severe heart attack.”
CHAPTER 22
WHO HAD ACCESS TO THOSE dangerous red pills? Winston snapped his fingers. “It must have been Vivian. She was supposed to organize the meds last.”
“The Chans’ youngest daughter?” Kristy said. “She smelled like innocence.”
Or a cloying rose scent masking something more sinister, Winston thought.
Kristy bit her lip, and Marcy said, “No need to concern yourself, Ms. Bride. It’s off to bed. Big day tomorrow. You’ll need to look fresh and rested.”
Marcy led Kristy around the balloon spill on the floor. As Kristy passed him, Winston pulled his fiancée into a quick hug and whispered, “Sweet dreams, love.”
“I’ll try,” Kristy said, “but I’m so worried about the Chan family. I wish they had some sort of resolution. It seems wrong to enjoy our celebration while they’re still suffering.”
Winston wanted to be the one tucking Kristy into bed. But, of course, he couldn’t spy Kristy’s bridal gown prior to the wedding. Bad luck. Anyway, he’d have his own chance to escort her tomorrow night . . .
Marcy soon reappeared, and her huge yawn brought him out of his daydreams. She started counting the blown-up balloons aloud.
“There’s probably enough,” Winston said.
Marcy scrunched her nose in disbelief.
“Time to sleep, sis. You staying the night?”
“I think I will. Let me text Gary and let him know.” She whipped out her phone and punched a few keys.
Mere seconds later, a ping sounded. Winston caught a glimpse of a kiss emoji before Marcy tucked the phone away.
“I’ll take a quick catnap,” she said, stretching across the couch. “Get some energy to blow up more balloons. Better to have plenty on hand.”
“Just sleep. We can hack together something in the morning,” Winston said. Rummaging in the linen closet, he found a quilt and draped it over his sister.
Glad I have Marcy as a sister—instead of someone like that conniving Viv. He must have said it out loud, though, because she thanked him for his compliment in Cantonese: do jeh.
She snuggled under the covers and continued, “Too much sibling rivalry in that family. Like at rehearsal dinner.”
“What’s that, Marcy?” Then he remembered the hubbub at Sambal. The heated conversation in Cantonese. “What were they arguing about?”
Marcy positioned a throw pillow under her head. “Ming’s very specific written will. He’d set aside some money for his wife, but none of the inheritance goes to the daughters, only the sons.”
Old-school thinking. Females got less than a byte; they ended up with nothing because boys were “worth more” than girls. But it did create a motive for Viv to take out her stepdad. “I need to find her,” Winston said. “Bring her to the police before she escapes.”
“You need more evidence,” Marcy said, stifling a yawn. Her eyes started closing, and she murmured, “Go to bed, Winston. The Chans will be here in the morning. Takes time to figure out funeral details.”
His sister conked out. Winston tucked the quilt around her. It was nice to be the responsible one for a change.
She’d had her turn, always being the reliable Wong. In fact, Marcy had organized the burial details for their parents. He had shown up to everything without any idea of the cost or the work involved.
As his sister’s breathing slowed, Winston found his mind slipping a little into dreamland. Should he follow Marcy’s advice? He could go home and crawl into his cozy bed. Surely, the Chans would still be around in the morning tying up loose ends.
He checked his watch. Just before midnight. What he wouldn’t do for a soft down pillow at this hour.
But something niggled at the back of his mind. Evidence. He needed more concrete links to Viv as the killer. And the more time that went by, the fewer clues might remain.
Should he truly investigate at this late hour? Leads could reveal themselves after he had a good night’s rest. Clear thinking could lead to greater insight.
Meanwhile, he knew Kristy might be tossing and turning with concern. Maybe he couldn’t provide her with complete peace of mind tonight, but he could solve the case before their wedding.
Winston wandered over to the kitchen faucet. He splashed cold water on his face. Drying himself with a nearby dish towel, he rubbed hard at his cheeks to wake himself up.
One more stop tonight before he called it quits. He needed to go back to the exact scene of Ming’s death.
CHAPTER 23
WHEN WINSTON DROVE over to Alex’s place, he noticed the lights were off in the main house. Oh well. He didn’t need to bother his friend anyway. He’d be in and out in a jiffy.
Winston moved through the clearing and wound his way to the Mystery Shack. He noticed the door didn’t have a lock on it. Perhaps Alex didn’t think there was anything worth stealing in there. After all, it was a crazy sculpture of a building surrounded by trees.
He went inside and tried to find a light switch. No dice. Figured. Probably no electricity or running water in the shack either. Winston wished he had a nifty tool holder like Batman’s utility belt. He settled for pulling out his phone and using the flashlight function.
A strong stench of muscle rub combined with a stuffy floral rose scent pervaded the air. He decided to leave the door open. Not wanting to miss any leads, he combed every room in the shack, using circular search paths.
First, he went around the outer edge, walking the perimeter. Then he made tighter and tighter circles. He found nothing incriminating, only dirt and dust balls in every space he looked.
He ended up back in the middle of the main room, gazing at the staircase leading to nowhere. Why would anyone even want to climb those treacherous steps? But maybe Mr. Chan had wanted to get his full money’s worth and see the drop-off.
Winston started ascending the staircase. The steps sure were slippery. Had Alex superwaxed them? Winston wanted to grab onto a banister, but none existed. Mincing his way up, he snailed it to the top of the staircase. At the peak, Winston gulped.
There was a pitch-black gulf before him. What would a tumble from this height feel like? He really didn’t want to know.
He sidestepped along the top ledge—and felt something jab his ankle. He swung his phone’s light toward the pricking sensation. A glint of gold flashed at him. It was a pin of some sort.
Winston picked up the item before scooting on his butt back down the steps. Better to examine it on the secure bottom step.
The pin was crafted in the shape of a rose with golden petals, leaves, and a stem
. It had to be worth a pretty penny. And he remembered seeing the same brooch before—secured to Viv’s shirt.
Tap, tap, tap. He heard footsteps approaching and quickly pocketed the jewelry. Or perhaps he could hold it aloft to defend himself? But that tiny pin would never be sharp enough to injure someone for real.
Understanding that the flashlight app might give away his location, he shut it off. But it was too late. He’d been found out.
A bright beam of light flashed straight into his eyes. He brought his arms up in what he imagined was a karate chop pose. He’d never even taken martial arts, but maybe the attacker would be fooled.
The dark figure behind the flashlight seemed quite slim. A woman? Viv?
A narrow ladylike hand held up something that looked dangerous. It glinted in the flashlight like a dagger. But smaller. The sharpest nail file he’d ever seen.
“I’m friends with a cop,” Winston said. “In fact, he’s probably on his way ri—”
“Winston?” The light beam traveled up and down his body.
Hmm, the voice didn’t sound like Viv. Could it be—“Carmen?”
“Yes. What are you doing on my property?”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Investigating.”
“The Mystery Shack? In the middle of the night? I thought you were a burglar.”
“I’m looking into Mr. Chan’s death.”
Carmen put her nail file away. “Gaffey said it was an accident.”
“You believe that noob? It’s more complicated than the cop thinks. Mr. Chan and now Fort. Plus, I found something.”
Carmen yawned. “You disturbed my sleep for this? Come on.” She grabbed his arm with a pincer grip and pulled him out of the shack. “Besides, don’t you have a wedding coming up?”
Winston checked his watch. Just after one in the morning. He didn’t have much time before he needed to be back here, so he said goodnight to Carmen.
Knowing that he had a solid tie connecting Viv to the staircase made him feel better. Maybe he could squeeze in a little rest. Then he would confront her early in the morning and still make it in time for his wedding.
CHAPTER 24
WINSTON OVERSLEPT. After all that sleuthing, he didn’t even hear his alarm clock. In fact, only the insistent ringing of his cell phone woke him up.
He untangled himself from his sheets and grabbed the phone.
His sister’s voice hissed down the line. “Quick, you have to help me.”
“What’s wrong?” Winston’s insides twisted as he wondered if Marcy was in trouble. Did the car break down? Was her marriage having problems again?
“These balloons,” she said. “They’re so hard to tie down.”
Winston let out his breath. “I’ll come by soon.”
“You better. You’re pushing the time as it is.” She clicked off.
He checked the clock display. An hour before his wedding! He threw on some non-smelly clothes he found crumpled on the floor.
Did he have time to go confront Viv? No, he couldn’t be late to his own wedding. Maybe he should make her come to him. She’d want her expensive brooch back, especially since none of the Chan girls would inherit anything from Ming.
After Googling the number, he called the motel. The line rang several times before a sleepy voice picked up.
“Motel 9.” A yawn. “What can I do for you?”
“Can you connect me to room nine?”
“Sorry, there’s only this one phone here in the lobby.”
Winston thought for a second. Had the Chans left already? “Is there still a van in the lot?”
After some muffled noises, the clerk said, “Yeah. Sorta gray in color.”
“That’s it.” Winston checked the clock again and started grabbing everything he needed for his big day, especially his tux in the travel garment bag. “Okay, take down this message.”
“For room nine?”
“Yes, for Vivian.” Winston walked over to his garage. He stashed everything inside the car trunk. “Say: I found something that belongs to you in the Mystery Shack. But hurry, the wedding starts in an hour.”
The clerk yawned again, and Winston experienced static on the line. Was the bad reception on his side or over at the motel?
“Got it,” the clerk finally said.
“You sure?”
“Found item, shack, wedding.” The clerk hung up.
Winston wondered if the right message would be relayed, but he had no time to dwell on it. As it was, he would need to speed through all the yellow lights he encountered on his way to the wedding venue in order to help his sister.
BEYOND ALEX’S MANSION, at the edge of the clearing, Winston found Marcy and Gary wrestling with a spool of floral wire and balloons.
His sister flashed him a look of relief. “Thank goodness you’re here.” She thrust a pair of wire cutters at him.
Winston looked at the nearby wedding arch, which was only half-filled with purple and white balloons.
She stretched out her fingers. “It’ll be great having a fresh pair of hands.”
Her husband stood on a stepladder reaching for the peak of the arch and tying on balloons. “Marcy’s been tying these into patterned color clusters all morning long,” Gary said. “Great to have you on board, Winston.”
Winston and Marcy soon developed a system for the task at hand. He held the balloons onto the arch while Marcy tied them in place using pieces of floral wire.
They were near completion when he took a moment to peer beyond the structure. Past the display of balloons, rows of white chairs were set out, ready for future guests. Alex and Carmen must have woken up early to organize the seating.
Speakers were set up near the gazebo, too. Winston and Kristy had selected their song list with care. A classy selection. The bridesmaids would walk down to Pachelbel’s Canon in D, and Kristy would swoop in on the “Wedding March.”
As if he’d summoned her with his thoughts, his bride soon appeared. Her hair had been done up in elegant swirls, and the makeup she wore accentuated her beautiful cheekbones and full lips. She wore a button-down shirt and drank a celery-colored smoothie through a straw.
Kristy’s eyes twinkled as she pecked his cheek. “We’ll be husband and wife soon enough.”
“I know.” Winston gazed at her shimmering eyes and fumbled his balloon.
“Sorry, but I need to steal your sister and get ready,” Kristy said. She pointed at his Space Invaders T-shirt. “You will be wearing something more formal to get married in, right?”
“Yes, I stashed it in the main house. I’ll change”—Winston glanced at the few remaining balloons—“after I finish this arch.”
“Jazzman and Anastasia should be dropping by to prep, too.” She gave him a quick squeeze on his arm. “I can’t wait to see you decked out.”
Winston thought about the tuxedo he’d left hanging in the downstairs marble-filled bathroom of Alex’s huge house. Winston had gone all out—black and white formal. He’d even purchased silver cuff links in the shape of a deerstalker hat.
How Sherlock could figure situations out . . . Winston admired the fictional character’s smarts. “I wish I had wrapped up this case before the wedding.”
Kristy pursed her lips. The natural sheen on them made them look very kissable. “I know you have a theory, but Viv feels innocent to me.”
“Actually, I found her rose pin on the staircase. The one Ming fell off.”
Kristy used her straw to swirl the thick smoothie. “Could it be a coincidence?”
“How about the fact that she was the last Chan to touch the meds?”
“Was she really?” A shadow passed across her face, and she stopped stirring. “Remember the medicine cabinet at Sweet Breeze?”
He knew what she was thinking. For a brief period, Winston had suspected sweet Kristy of being involved in murder because she’d had access to dangerous medicine during his first big case. “But who else could it . . .”
The adjoining roo
m in the motel. Any one of the family members might have snuck in and moved the pills. He frowned. Was he back at square one?
From his peripheral vision, Winston saw Marcy place one more cluster of balloons on the arch and dust her hands off. She went to Kristy’s side. “Time to get your gown on.”
Kristy smiled and gave Winston a tender hug.
Winston waved to the two women as they headed back to Alex’s house. He wondered how Kristy could look even more gorgeous than she had the other day, when she’d worn that slim-cut emerald sheath. His heart thumped faster.
Turning back to the balloons, he concentrated on them for five more minutes. Then he put the last balloon in place and said, “Thanks for your help, Gary.”
His brother-in-law stepped off the ladder and slapped Winston on the back. “Marriage. Boy, you’re in for a wild ride.” Then he folded the stepladder and headed toward the house.
CHAPTER 25
WHILE WINSTON WATCHED Gary leave the clearing and return to the house, a familiar voice greeted him. He turned around to find Jazzman behind him. The elderly gentleman wheeled a long rectangular case.
Jazzman grinned at Winston. Dressed in an elegant velvet waistcoat, the pianist could’ve been mistaken for the man of the hour. And Jazzman was, of a sort. He’d be playing a key song during the recessional: “Chances Are.”
Jazzman shook Winston’s hand with gusto. “Huge congrats are in order.”
“Thanks. And we definitely appreciate you playing our song.”
“Of course. But could you help an old man out?” He gestured to the bag he’d been pulling.
“Is that, like, a keyboard suitcase?”
Jazzman nodded and said, “I’m not as strong as I used to be. Don’t want to hurt anything at my age.”
Winston flexed his biceps. “You’re in luck. I’ve been working out to better fit in my tux.” He grabbed the case and started wheeling it over to the gazebo. Even rolling the keyboard along strained his back a little. How had Jazzman carried it?