Hardboiled Crime Four-Pack

by Jack Bunker

“I’ve been married five times,” answered Soo Jin. “Always to Korean men. They call me an old maid. But I am really an old widow.”

  “These husbands were all killed?”

  “Yes. By the Doko family. My father thought they would never bring the blood feud all the way from Busan to Koreatown. But it wasn’t true. Now I’m the last woman in the family young enough to have a child. They are erasing my family.”

  Soo Jin took a sip of champagne. I killed what was in my glass and refilled it to the brim.

  “None of these husbands gave you a child?”

  “They didn’t live long enough.”

  “But you’re not a virgin?”

  Soo Jin blushed and looked away, not answering.

  I heard a siren from the street and the sound of police copters overhead. On the radio, the singer was going on about “perro” this and “perro” that. Even not speaking much Spanish it was easy to figure what he was singing about, some kind of doggy-style reference. I got up and looked out the window and saw two cop cars hurtling past, red lights flashing.

  I asked, “You allergic to candles?”

  “No.”

  The previous tenant had left behind some tall candles in glass jars embossed with pictures of the Virgin Mary. I’d put them away under the sink. I got them out now and lit them up with a kitchen match. The candles lent the room a warm glow, but I saw Soo Jin tremble a little.

  I poured another glass of champagne. The combination of Jimador, Tecates, and Freixenet was playing with my vision. “Do you think they’re going to kill me?”

  “The Doko family sees success very close now,” said Soo Jin. “If they could, they would kill me. I’m sure they light Buddhist joss sticks hoping I get sick or have an accident. Killing you would make things difficult for them. I think first they will try to scare you.”

  I remembered Yun, my fingers on the smooth skin of her back, and I said to Soo Jin, “Are you my wife?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you cold?”

  “A little.”

  I closed the window, even though the night was warm. I switched off the lamp in the corner. The room was now only illuminated by the pale light from the street and the meager glow from the candles, their Virgin Mary images animated by flickering flames.

  I undid the buttons of my shirt.

  Soo Jin watched me and then bent to take off her shoes. I watched as she slipped the blouse from her shoulders and pulled her pants down from her slim hips. She wore a white bra and panties that looked a size too big. Her hands bent around her back and she undid her bra, laying it on top of her blouse and pants. She was lovely, pale, and luminescent in the candlelight. The nipples of her breasts were so dark they were almost black.

  I took off all of my clothes and walked over to the side of the bed, already erect. I bent and gently pulled her panties down her legs and placed them with her other clothes. I’d only kissed her once and had only held her in a brief wedding dance.

  Soo Jin lay back, her legs slightly open, her eyes closed. She was my wife. My fingers trailed along her thigh. I kissed and caressed her, and nature took its course. She parted her legs wider, and I slipped inside.

  It was like fucking a ghost.

  She lay there without moving, her eyes closed as I took my pleasure, grinding away. My hands clasped her shoulders, and I felt as though she were disappearing into the bed. There had been too much fear. Too many dead husbands. She was dead inside.

  I stopped in midstroke—hung there. But it was too late—a red pulse carried me over the edge, and I came inside her.

  I felt ugly, like a beast.

  I got up, my mouth dry from the champagne. I could feel a headache coming on.

  Soo Jin’s eyes opened.

  I looked down at her, lying there on the bed.

  I said, “I’m sorry.”

  I walked away, uncomfortable being naked. I pulled out the folding bed and got under the covers. Lay down with my face to the wall.

  But I couldn’t sleep.

  FOURTEEN

  My thumb scratched at the label on my bottle of Hite, digging a trail from top to bottom. I thought about Soo Jin alone in the apartment, and I wondered what she was thinking. She was no virgin. Even so, I felt as though I had violated her. It wasn’t rape. It wasn’t sex with a minor. Soo Jin was a woman made of glass. Not that she broke easily or that she was pure. It was more like she was clean and empty like a fresh-from-the-box test tube. Making love to her made me feel like a piece of meat, stinking with blood and hair.

  Most days I liked myself. Tonight, not so much.

  Min Jee handed me the microphone, and I looked up at the TV screen as my song began to play, a song the Silver Fox—Charlie Rich—made famous, about loving his woman behind closed doors.

  When the song ended I handed the mic back to Min Jee.

  She was looking at me funny—in fact, no one had given me a straight look since I came into the Saja Room. When I entered, the place was full—now it was half-empty.

  Kwan was sitting three stools down, a full meal and a glass of soju in front of him.

  I said, “Hello down there…”

  Kwan looked up from his plate of barbecued ribs. “I should be eating in one of the booths.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if they come in with a shotgun, I won’t be in their range of fire.”

  I killed the bottle of Hite and waved for another. I said to Kwan, “You’d cry like a baby if I was gone.”

  Kwan gave me a sour look. “For about one day.”

  I got up and moved down next to him, so I wouldn’t have to shout. “I have a feeling I’m bad for business.”

  Kwan dug a plastic toothpick out of his shirt pocket. “You should strike a deal with Ms. Tam. Maybe she would pay you not to drink here.”

  I looked over at Ms. Tam, where she sat in a high-backed stool behind the far end of the bar. Her face was impassive. She hadn’t said a word to me about the wedding or Soo Jin.

  I said to Kwan, “Are you serious?”

  Kwan stopped his maneuvers with the toothpick. “About what?”

  “That I’m bad for business?”

  Kwan shrugged. “Ask her.”

  Ms. Tam blew smoke out her nose as she watched me walk toward her.

  She asked, “How is Soo Jin?”

  “She doesn’t talk much.”

  “She never did,” said Ms. Tam. “Even less, now.”

  “I guess she’s all right. She brought dinner home tonight. She’s sleeping now.”

  Ms. Tam stared at her half-empty bar. “People are scared.”

  “I’ve had a car following me, trying to intimidate me. An orange Jeep Rubicon.”

  “Doko family. One of the sons owns that car.”

  “They know where I live, where I work. I’m worried.”

  “The Doko know you were in my bar when they murdered Dae-Hyun. I think they wonder why you’re not scared. Maybe they think you have plans of your own.”

  “Plus, I’m white.”

  Ms. Tam nodded. “You’re white. They are gathering information about you. They’re afraid you come from a powerful family.”

  I thought of my father sitting on his stained couch, watching cable news, a PB in his hand.

  Ms. Tam smiled. “We know different.”

  “Indeed we do.”

  Ms. Tam’s eyes went reflexively to Min Jee as she handled a customer’s cash.

  I waited until I had her attention and asked, “Can you help me out with something?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I want to arrange a sit-down with the top guys in the Doko clan. I want to do it before they find out I’m a working-class grunt with no juice anywhere. Can you get a message to them?”

  “What are you going to propose?”

  “That we all get along, that we stop the bullshit. From what I’ve heard the Nang family is hanging on by a thread. The Doko won the game.”

  “This is a blood feud,” said Ms. Tam. “
There’s no stopping. Maybe if you promise never to have sex with Soo Jin and to never give her a baby, maybe then they’ll let you be. But why should they believe you?”

  Something must have shown on my face because Ms. Tam said, “Oh. Too late.”

  “I think once was enough for both of us.”

  Ms. Tam said, “Maybe you’ll fall in love with Soo Jin. Give her a blue-eyed baby boy.”

  “Can you set up this meeting?”

  Ms. Tam reached behind the bar for a pen and a slip of paper. “Write your number on this. They’ll call you if they want to talk.”

  I asked, “I got to wait on them?”

  Ms. Tam didn’t even bother answering me.

  I walked back to the bathroom to take a piss before I walked home. When I was standing at the urinal the door pushed open. A tall Korean guy came in, dressed in a black shirt with a silver dragon over the pocket. He gave me a sidelong glance and then leaned over the small sink, staring into the mirror. I felt compelled to get out of the bathroom fast—I’d never seen this guy before—but I was in mid piss and committed to finish.

  I kept an eye on the Korean. He did something which made me shake off and zip up—he reached under his shirt and placed a handgun on the sink. He leaned even closer to the sink and pulled his lips back, examining his purple-black gums.

  The bathroom was small, and the Korean had to shift his stance to let me get to the door. Without making way, he looked at me and said in Korean what sounded like, “Sonda bandagoo handle hand.”

  I frowned and said, “What?”

  He tucked the gun back in his pants and moved away from the door to let me by, then said, “Don’t try to cover the whole sky with the palm of your hand.”

  Ms. Tam was waiting outside the door. She pointed toward the kitchen and whispered, “Go out the back.”

  I slipped past the cook slicing vegetables and made my way toward the open door. I wasn’t sure why Ms. Tam was looking out for me.

  But I’d take all the help I could get.

  FIFTEEN

  The call came the next day, in midmorning, when Warsaw Wash was at its peak. I was surprised—the male voice on the line was young and soft, almost shy. The voice said they would meet with me at an office building on Wilshire. No way was I going to have a summit on their own turf. I told them that wouldn’t work—that there was only one place I’d meet with them.

  * * *

  The concrete tables outside Ralphs supermarket on Western were a magnet for the neighborhood homeless. They could panhandle a few bucks at the sliding doors and then go inside and buy some fried chicken at the deli counter. I’d noticed no matter what their ethnicity, they always seemed to go for the fried chicken. More often than not, after their al fresco dining experience, they’d panhandle a few more bucks and buy some booze. They couldn’t drink alcohol at the tables. They drank sprawled out on the grass on the south side of the building.

  The meeting with the Dokos was set for three o’clock. I got there a half hour early so I could commandeer one of the tables. There were a couple of reasons I liked Ralphs as a location. Number one, it was public, and there were always a lot of people around. Number two, numerous buildings looked down on the tables, including a two-story parking structure. I could weave the fiction that I had eyes on us—armed men who would shoot if they saw me getting roughed up.

  I sipped a Power-C Vitamin Water as I waited. Soo Jin had been even more quiet than usual when she was getting ready for work this morning. It was odd, having sex with her the night before and then being embarrassed to have her see me in my underwear. On the way out the door she had paused and then asked if I wanted dumplings again. I told her that would be good. I guess she got them cheap. Sooner or later I’d probably get sick of them, but for now they were fine. I’m guessing it made Soo Jin feel good to contribute in some way.

  I looked at the time on my phone. 2:47.

  A few minutes later a black Lincoln rolled into the lot, past the gatekeeper at the parking booth. For some reason—I’m not sure why—I knew this was the Doko clan. I watched the car pull into a handicapped parking space.

  A young Korean guy in a black suit got out from behind the wheel and slipped around to the passenger-side door. He bent down and carefully extracted an old dude in a charcoal-gray suit. The suit hung on the old man’s body like a scarecrow, as though he’d been measured for it when he was a heavier, more vital man.

  The old dude looked straight at me, knowing who I was right off. The afternoon sunlight was bouncing off his waxed skull.

  I stood up but remained close to the table. I didn’t want a homeless guy swooping in and stealing our spot.

  A third man got out of the car, tall and lanky for a Korean. He was dressed in a black suit, too.

  All three walked toward me, taking their time. As they got closer, I recognized the tall Korean as being the same guy who tried to intimidate me last night in the bathroom at Ms. Tam’s.

  The old guy stopped in front of me and gave me the slightest of bows. I bowed back.

  He slipped a silver case out of his suit pocket and thumbed it open. With both hands he offered me his business card. I took it and read: Shin Doko. That was it—no title, no phone number.

  I said, “Sorry. I don’t have a card. My name is Wes Norgaard.”

  “We know who you are,” said Shin.

  “Feel free to call me Wes.”

  Shin looked around. “You’re alone?”

  “I’m the only one who will be sitting down,” I said. “But I’m not alone.”

  “We thought you would have more.” He waved a dismissive hand at the youngest of the Koreans. “Wait in the car.”

  The tall Korean helped Shin sit down as the younger one headed back to the Lincoln.

  Shin saw my look of confusion and said, “Four is an unlucky number.”

  I sat down across from Shin and the tall Korean.

  Shin said, “You wouldn’t come to us.”

  “No.”

  Shin frowned at the homeless at the tables surrounding us. “We would have privacy in my office.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” I said. “I saw what happened to Dae-Hyun in the Saja Room three nights ago.”

  The old man stuck his chin out. “And you’re still fucking with us?”

  Shin dropping the f-bomb surprised me.

  I stared at the tall Korean and then back at Shin. “Like I said, I’m not alone. I own Warsaw Wash. My staff is Mexican. They’re very loyal. Three of them are watching us right now. One of them did three tours in Iraq as a sniper. I don’t want to hurt you guys, but I’m not going to be anybody’s punching bag, either.”

  “It’s not too late,” said Shin.

  “Not too late for what?”

  “Annul the marriage.”

  “Soo Jin’s been messed with enough,” I said. “You should leave her alone.”

  “The Nang girl is damaged.”

  “Small wonder. You killed all five of her husbands.”

  The tall Korean smiled. “Perfect record.”

  I glanced up at the second level of the parking garage, as though I was making eye contact with my backup. I was hoping I didn’t look too obvious.

  “This is what I had in mind,” I said. “Soo Jin and I will provide a banquet for the Doko family. You pick the place. It will be in honor of your family and a signal that the blood feud is finished. You go back to doing whatever you do—I’m sure you got better things to do than killing people—and we go back to a peaceful life of hard work and dumplings. How about it? Works for me.”

  “Why would we do that?” said Shin. “The Nang family is almost finished. This is a feud that has lasted three centuries. You think it will end because you honor us for a day?”

  This wasn’t going well. “I’m not going to annul the marriage,” I said. “I thought maybe I show you some respect we can end this thing.”

  “You speak for the Nang family?” asked Shin.

  “No. I don’t
even know them. The only one I met is Soo Jin.”

  “You offend their honor, making offers as though you were the head of the family.”

  I was getting sick of this old dude. “Where’s the honor in terrorizing a girl?”

  “I can smell you from here,” said Shin. “It offends me.”

  “Jesus. You had to go there?” I knew the Koreans thought we stunk because of the dairy we ate.

  The tall Korean pulled his suit jacket back—enough for me to see the butt of a handgun tucked in his pants.

  I said, “What was that you told me last night, that I shouldn’t block the sky with my hand. What’d you mean by that?”

  The tall Korean said, “What’s going on is bigger than you.”

  I said, “Don’t even think of drawing that gun.”

  I stood up and backed away from the table. “You’re an old man, Shin. Give this girl a break.”

  Shin got up slowly, the tall Korean bracing him by the elbow.

  “We know you have nothing,” said Shin. “A car wash staffed with brown monkeys. A one-room apartment. A shit car. No one is going to intervene on your behalf. I gave you reasonable terms. You have until tomorrow night to annul the marriage.”

  “Hey, old man,” I said, slipping my hand around my back, as though I was carrying a gun. “Think the baby’s gonna have blue eyes?”

  SIXTEEN

  I walked the two blocks back to Warsaw Wash looking over my shoulder, wondering if Shin was crazy enough to take me out in broad daylight. I wondered what it was like to have that kind of power. Commanding a stranger to annul a marriage. Telling a guy to sit in the car because four was an unlucky number. The old man could hardly stand up straight, but he still had plenty of swagger.

  Maybe he was right—who was I to speak for the Nang family? Maybe they were sitting up nights planning how they could kill the Dokos.

  I wondered how a family could carry a grudge for three centuries. In Pittsburgh it was more a live and let live, nobody’s perfect world. People got in a rage and killed each other. If time got in the way, differences eventually faded away. People saw one another at baptisms, barbecues, corner bars—they had to get along. It was funny realizing Pittsburgh was more Zen than Busan.