Hardboiled Crime Four-Pack

by Jack Bunker

  * * *

  I drove down Mariposa looking for the address. Yun had told me it was a small Mexican-style house with a red tile roof. I saw it right off—it stood out on a block of drab wooden houses. I found a parking space half a block away and walked up to the door. The sitter—a middle-aged Korean woman—must have been watching from the window. She had the front door open before I made it halfway up her walk. I felt exposed and hunched my shoulders. I wanted to do this quick and get out of here.

  Mi-Cha and Tae-Yong came through the door, looking cute and well-scrubbed.

  “Where’s Mommy?” asked Mi-Cha.

  “She’s out there working hard,” I said. “You get to ride with me today.”

  The Korean woman gave me a half bow and said, “Thank you.”

  “It’s not a problem. Hope your emergency works out.”

  The Korean woman bowed again and disappeared inside.

  I took Tae-Yong by the hand. Mi-Cha walked by my side.

  Just to make conversation, I asked, “What did you guys do today?”

  Mi-Cha said, “Ate papaya.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “And we got to watch one show,” said Mi-Cha.

  “Oh, yeah, what was that?”

  That’s when I felt the blow against the side of my head. I let go of Tae-Yong’s hand as I fell against a wrought-iron fence. The second punch hit me in the kidney. I swung my head around to see my attackers and got slammed in the jaw. There were at least two of them.

  Mi-Cha screamed.

  The fence was the only thing keeping me up. I gripped it with both hands as another punch rocked into my kidney. I pushed back and whirled around and saw my attackers—two young Korean guys. I glanced at Mi-Cha as they moved in on me—she was holding on to her brother, tears streaming down both their faces. I moved to my right, trying to put some distance between me and the kids.

  The two Koreans came in together—they were good at this. I got my fists up and got a kick in my thigh for my trouble. My leg went numb. They moved in and went to work, taking me apart. As I hit the ground I had the comforting thought: if they were going to kill me, they would have shot me.

  If I was in a boxing ring the ref would have stopped the fight. Instead it went a few beats too long—literally. When they were done I was huddled on the sidewalk, my cheek pressed against the grit, watching them walk away, turning the corner. They were smart not parking on the same street. It didn’t matter all that much. No way was I going to chase them.

  I looked back at the babysitter’s house. I thought I saw a curtain move, but I wasn’t sure. I wondered if she’d set me up.

  Mi-Cha tugged on my sleeve. “Wes…Wes…”

  I got up to a sitting position. There were sharp pains darting through my torso. I touched my face and felt blood at the corner of my mouth.

  When I stood up I could feel my left leg was still numb. But I figured I could make it to the car.

  Tae-Yong was bawling.

  Mi-Cha said, “I want Mommy.”

  “Kids,” I said. “Don’t be afraid. No one’s going to hurt you. We’re going home.”

  I hugged Tae-Yong with one arm. “Everything’s going to be OK.”

  The boy let out a few deep sobs and calmed down a bit.

  “Mi-Cha,” I said. “Take your brother’s hand. We have to walk down to that green car.”

  My disguise had been knocked from my head into the gutter.

  I pointed and said to Mi-Cha, “Hand me the hat and sunglasses—they belong to your mom.”

  She snatched them up and gave them to me. I kept one hand on the wrought-iron fence and hobbled alongside the kids, heading toward the Jeep Cherokee.

  Then I saw them coming back.

  It took them half the effort this time, putting me down on the ground. Maybe I even passed out for a few seconds. A kick to the head was the worst of it.

  When I got off the cement, weaving on my knees, the kids had stopped crying. Mi-Cha pointed at my face, looking scared to hell.

  My hand went to my brow and came away awash in blood.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Green tea ice cream wasn’t half-bad. There was a grit to it that reminded me of the sidewalk against my cheek.

  I sat propped up on the couch, watching a Disney film, something about a redheaded Scottish girl called Brave. I could hardly keep my mind on it, but the kids and Soo Jin seemed to be enjoying themselves.

  Yun sat next to me, looking worried every time she glanced at my face. I had a purple bruise on my jaw, and I was black and blue over both kidneys. The cut had been along my hairline, and while the blood had flowed plenty, it was really no more than a scrape. The inside of my mouth was torn up, which is probably why the green tea ice cream tasted so good.

  When I’d gotten home and the kids had been reassured that the sky wasn’t falling, I’d raided Yun’s medicine cabinet and doubled down on extra-strength Excedrin. The pain was now just a whisper.

  The Dokos had sent a message. Even though no words were exchanged, it was easy to figure out what they were saying. We’ll fuck you up, and then we’ll fuck you up—until you back away from Soo Jin and go about your business.

  One thought kept bothering me.

  I asked Yun, “How well do you know your babysitter?”

  “Just a little. Why?”

  “The beating I took went down too smooth. I don’t think Navy SEALs could have executed it any better.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “I think I was set up…”

  “She wouldn’t do that.”

  “What’s her last name?”

  “It’s not Doko.”

  “I feel like going over there and shaking the truth out of her.”

  “That would be stupid. If she did set you up and she tells you, what are you going to do? You can’t go to the police. You already know it’s the crazy Doko family making your life miserable. So what are you gonna do? Beat up an old lady?”

  “She’s not that old.”

  Yun laughed. “Motherfucker…”

  “Why did these assholes shoot at me one day and beat me up the next? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “This whole thing is crazy,” replied Yun. “Blood feuds are crazy. It’s fuckin’ medieval. It’s enough to make me wish I wasn’t Korean.”

  “Do you think those two who kicked my ass will put two and two together and figure I’m living here with you? Why else would I be picking up your kids?”

  “I think it was just bad luck that those guys saw you. I was wrong to ask you to pick up the kids.”

  “You weren’t wrong. I go crazy doing nothing all day. I was glad I could help.”

  “I’m not going to ask you again.”

  “Do me a favor. We should have thought of this before. Fire the babysitter. Keep the kids home. Soo Jin can take care of them.”

  Yun turned this over in her mind. “It will save me some money.”

  I said, “Soo Jin.”

  She turned around, still smiling at what she was watching on TV.

  “Do you mind taking care of the kids?”

  “When?”

  “Every day.”

  Soo Jin said, “I don’t mind.” She turned back to the show.

  It occurred to me that this blood feud had stunted Soo Jin’s development. Maybe a part of Soo Jin’s mind didn’t want to admit she was a grown woman. I couldn’t blame her, really. Passing through puberty and coming out the other side had meant a string of suitors getting whacked. It was enough to make anyone regress into a childhood trance of ice cream and cartoons.

  I stared at the TV screen, where Scottish lords in kilts were knocking each other around like they were the Three Stooges.

  Mi-Cha poked Tae-Yong in the shoulder with a finger.

  Tae-Yong reached out and laid a clumsy slap on the side of Mi-Cha’s face.

  * * *

  Yun was fast asleep, her hand flung back over her head, her right nipple pointing at the ceiling. It was
way past midnight and I still couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was a delayed reaction, but I felt close to tears, thinking of the beating I’d taken. I was angry, too—but mostly I felt a sense of shame. They had kicked my ass. I hadn’t backed down, I hadn’t begged for mercy, but I also hadn’t landed a punch. If I’d had my gun with me, I wondered if I would have used it. A film loop kept playing in my head, of me drawing my pistol—seeing the surprised looks on the Korean dudes’ faces—and then blowing them backward into the street.

  Also, with the house quiet and everyone sleeping, a thought kept tunneling into my brain: if the babysitter is in on this, then she knows I’m connected with Yun in some way, since I picked up her kids. What’s stopping them from bursting through the door? They’d tried shooting me, they’d beaten me—what’s next: torture? These were the kind of night thoughts that made me sweat into the pillow with my eyes wide open.

  I got up and padded into the kitchen, dressed in boxers and a white T-shirt. I prepared a bowl of cornflakes with bananas sliced into it and sat at the kitchen table in the dark. I ate the cornflakes, thinking I had no one to blame but myself. All things come to he who waits. Well, I hadn’t waited—I’d pushed myself to the front of the line. I’d gotten my car wash and a whole lot more I hadn’t asked for. I’d been greedy and I’d been stubborn.

  I’d talked to Manuel earlier. Warsaw Wash was humming along. There were no suspicious characters lurking about. Manuel told me he’d been paying the crew, ordering supplies, and making daily deposits in the bank. He’d joked that I should go to Hawaii or something, that he had everything under control. What Manuel didn’t realize was that I liked working. I liked marking my day with nine hours of toil topped with some hard-earned leisure.

  I had an idea. I looked at the clock: it was almost three. I’d have to wait until at least eight o’clock in the morning before I made the call.

  I put the bowl in the sink and ran some water over it. Heading back to bed, I hoped I could put a few hours between me and the morning.

  * * *

  Eight o’clock found me standing in the kitchen with my cell phone in my hand. I’d been up since six, taking a shower, tidying up the kitchen, putting the kettle on for coffee.

  The kids were up, and Soo Jin was getting them interested in drawing with crayons on sheets of computer paper. I was glad to see that Mi-Cha and Tae-Yong weren’t hitting each other. Neither one of them had mentioned what happened yesterday.

  Yun sat at the kitchen table, a pack of Parliaments in front of her. Her brow creased every time she looked at my bruises and scrapes.

  I punched numbers into my phone and listened.

  Jules picked up, and his pissed-off voice asked, “Hello?”

  “It’s me, Wes.”

  “Oh. You all right?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Not too bad, considering.”

  “If you’re going to ask me to intervene with these guys again, please don’t. They’re a bunch of serious assholes. They’re starting to annoy me.”

  “No, don’t worry about that. I think we’re way past the negotiation stage. If I had a white flag I’d be waving it about right now.”

  “You’re starting to make sense.”

  “This is what I wanted to ask you. Remember you said I could walk away from the deal, that you’d return my down payment?”

  “Offer still stands.”

  “What about this. You return my down payment, but you let me keep Warsaw Wash.”

  There was a moment of silence on the phone. Then Jules said, “That doesn’t make sense.”

  I dug in with my pitch. “I’d make accelerated payments on the mortgage. You’d get all your money. I could walk away from this marriage and then just work my balls off paying you back.”

  There was a pause on the phone, then Jules said, “Wes. I like you. I’ve grown to consider you almost like a son over the years. But you’re missing the big picture. I sold my business for a reason. I needed a cash infusion. I also needed to be with my wife more. She’s not doing well at all. When I told you I’d return your down payment that was on the condition that I turn around and sell Warsaw Wash to someone else.”

  “Yeah, yeah, no, no,” I said, backpedaling, feeling like an idiot. “I hear you. I was thinking you might have some room to negotiate.”

  “I’m not in the position to give nothing away,” replied Jules. “You got to face facts here. These Koreans are not like you and me. Asians, they got long, long memories. You know what the Chinese premier said about the French Revolution of 1789? It was the early seventies and he was talking to Nixon. They asked the premier what he thought of the Revolution, and he said, ‘It’s too early to tell.’ Two hundred years later and it was too early to tell. You’re dealing with two-ton motherfuckers here. I’m gonna repeat the advice I gave you before. Return the money and run, don’t walk, away.”

  “Jules, I got to tell you, I’m on the fence. I’m not sure which way to jump.”

  “You better make up your mind soon,” said Jules, sounding impatient. “These fuckers are serious sons of bitches. Listen, I gotta go.”

  I stuck my phone back in my pocket and put the flame under the pot to boil more water.

  Yun blew smoke over her shoulder and asked, “How do you feel? You lost a lot of blood yesterday.”

  That struck me funny. I laughed and said, “Not enough.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  Luckily I didn’t have to wait too long at the clinic for my hemochromatosis treatment. I hadn’t gotten through the one article in Redbook that looked interesting—“How to Catch a Cheater”—before they called me back to Room 6.

  Royal came into the room and did a double take when he saw my bruised jaw and bandaged brow. “What in hell happened to you?”

  “I got jumped.”

  “A nice boy like you? Who would do that to you?”

  “Not everyone shares your opinion.”

  “Did the police catch them?”

  My silence was answer enough. Royal glanced at his wrist watch. “I’ve got a few extra minutes. Let’s take a look under that bandage.”

  Royal got the bandage off and began cleaning the wound. “That’s not too bad,” he said. “That’s gonna heal good. You in pain?”

  “No, not anymore.”

  “You cut anywhere else?”

  “No, but they did a job on my kidneys.”

  “Are you peeing blood?”

  “No.”

  “Lift your shirt. Let me take a look at your back.”

  Royal let out a low whistle when he saw the bruises. His fingers probed and prodded. The way he touched me made me uncomfortable. It was more a caress than an examination.

  “You’re gonna have to keep an eye on that,” said Royal. “You start peeing blood or feeling more pain, you get your ass down to the emergency room.”

  “Got it.”

  “Did you see the guys who did this to you?”

  “A couple of Koreans.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought that,” said Royal. “My first guess would have been Mexicans or brothers. Or some of the white trash we have around here. But not Koreans. They don’t usually cause this kind of trouble.”

  “Let’s just say that Koreatown is still waters running deep.”

  Royal arched an eyebrow. “Good-looking and a poet, too. My, my.”

  I couldn’t help laughing at Royal’s silly flirting.

  “Don’t get mad at me, Wes. But did you give them a reason?”

  “In their minds, maybe. Not in mine.”

  “I’ve been working this clinic for five years. I know a lot of people. Why don’t you tell me what’s going down. Maybe I can help figure things out.”

  I thought about it for a second or two. Why should I tell Royal my problems? For all I knew he would treat it as some kind of soap opera. Then I thought—fuck it—I need a second opinion.

  Royal hung on every word as I told him the whole story—the blood feud, my marriage to Soo Jin, the murders, how unshakeable
Shin was. At the mention of Shin, Royal’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “That’s the man behind this? Shin Doko?”

  “You know who he is?”

  “He comes to this clinic,” replied Royal. “He’s not one of my patients. But I heard a lot about him from the other nurses. He causes a lot of heartburn every time he comes in.”

  “Jesus—he comes in here often? I don’t want him seeing me.”

  “I saw him earlier this week. You got nothing to worry about. Comes in for leukemia treatments.”

  “Leukemia’s like a death sentence, right?”

  “Leukemia is a bitch,” said Royal. “Your bone marrow starts making all these white blood cells. Mr. Doko is in almost constant pain. We have to keep pumping him full of blood to keep up the count on his red blood cells. He’s gonna be dead in five years, Lord have mercy.”

  I felt a sudden dizziness, thinking of sitting in the same building as Shin, with them drawing blood out of me and pumping blood into him. This was how the world was supposed to work—people helping each other—not the murdering and mayhem.

  I shook my head to clear it. “Weird. Shin and I are caught up in a blood feud, and we’re both going to the same clinic for our fucked-up blood.”

  “The Lord is a mysterious player,” said Royal.

  THIRTY

  When I was finished with Royal I drove the few blocks to Warsaw Wash. I took a slow drive by, gratified that cars were lined up for a scrub. I didn’t dare go in and instead drove on toward Olympic. I knew I should head back to Yun’s and keep a low profile, but I was enjoying the feeling of freedom. As I drove, my mind kept circling the knowledge that Shin and I shared the same clinic. How could I make this work for me? Did it create common ground between both of us? Was it a situation I could manipulate to my own advantage? I thought of Shin sitting in one of those examination rooms with his shirt off, a vulnerable old man. He was the key to all my grief; if I could only turn him.

  I hung a left on Olympic and cruised past K-Town’s mix of barbecue joints and shopping malls. It was getting close to noon, and the sidewalks were filling with workers heading to lunch. Just when I’d decided I’d pushed my luck enough—that it was time to make tracks for Yun’s house—I saw Kwan walking along the sidewalk. I pulled up next to him and lowered the window. “Kwan!”