Robot Revenge
Page 1
Table of Contents
Robot Revenge (Winston Wong Cozy Mysteries, #2)
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PRAISE for Seniors Sleuth
(Book 1 in the Winston Wong mystery series)
“Seniors Sleuth is a delightful whodunit filled with colorful senior citizens, numerous red herrings, and even a little dash of romance for our earnest rookie investigator, Winston Wong. A charming cozy debut that will keep you guessing until the very end.”
—Sarah M. Chen, author of “Canyon Ladies” in the Sisters in Crime/LA's anthology, LAdies Night
“J.J. Chow entices mystery readers with her fledgling ‘senior’ detective. Winston Wong finds himself sought out by aging baby-boomers because of a typo in his Pennysaver ad. Luckily his first client has a stunning granddaughter and he needs the money. What follows is more than Winston bargained for—a murder investigation at the Sweet Breeze Care Facility. Winston’s love of video games aids him in pursuing the truth about Joseph Sawyer’s death and the author’s clear, precise prose puts the reader into the story fast and carries through to the end.”
—Gay Degani, author of the literary suspense, What Came Before
“Winston Wong is not your conventional private detective. For a start, he’s a video game nerd and on the wrong side of forty with very few prospects on the romance front. Not only that, Winston’s first case investigating the demise of a ninety-year-old man looks like a non-starter. But Winston is determined to make a success of his new career and soon discovers that it’s not just death that roams the corridors of Sweet Breeze retirement home.
“Chow’s work in geriatric welfare provides an intriguing backdrop that she skillfully weaves into her clever plot. Seniors Sleuth is written with warmth, humor, and an eccentric cast of characters and, most of all, a loveable hero. It’s a breath of fresh air to what I hope will become a continuing series.”
—Hannah Dennison, author of the Honeychurch Hall mysteries and the Vicky Hill mysteries
“Winston Wong, a slacker game developer in the middle of Silicon Valley, is a completely charming rookie sleuth. His modern high-tech world intersects the old, as Winston finds himself embroiled in a suspicious death at a senior home. J.J. Chow adds a fresh, original voice to the mystery genre! I can’t wait to read more of Winston’s adventures.”
—Naomi Hirahara, Edgar Award-winning author of the Mas Arai and Officer Ellie Rush mysteries
“Seniors Sleuth is a charming, humorous novel with an intriguing storyline wrapped with endearing characters. It’s a total enjoyment to read.”
—Lois Lavrisa, bestselling award-winning author
of Dying for Dinner Rolls
ROBOT
REVENGE
a Winston Wong mystery
J.J. Chow
Copyright © 2018 by Jennifer J. Chow
www.jenniferjchow.com
All rights reserved. Thank you for purchasing an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover design by Heena Thombre
Edited by Linda G. Hatton
ALSO BY J.J. CHOW
Seniors Sleuth (Winston Wong Cozy Mystery, Book 1)
The 228 Legacy
Dragonfly Dreams
FOR STEVE,
the Sherlock to my Watson IRL.
CHAPTER 1
WINSTON REACHED INSIDE the small red velvet bag and pulled out its precious contents. One by one, he laid out the jewel-toned dice, arranging them by size: the regular six-sided ones all the way to up to the twenty-faced icosahedrons. He didn’t know what he’d need for this evening’s date night.
The doorbell rang right on time, and he jumped up to let Kristy in. She’d changed out of her usual working scrubs and into something more comfortable—a soft knit turtleneck with gray slacks. They’d been dating a while, but he still couldn’t believe his good luck on meeting her at the Sweet Breeze senior home during his first case.
Kristy smiled at him, her deep-brown eyes gazing into his. “Well, are you going to let me in?”
“Sorry.” Winston moved aside. “Still getting used to our D&D nights.”
“What’s the adventure this time?” she asked as she stepped into the living room. He’d hidden the usual clutter in the “storage” bedroom and even wiped down the glass-top coffee table for her visit.
“I need to consult the book,” he confessed as he closed the front door. He’d played lots of Dungeons & Dragons as a kid, but he still needed to follow the manual to make up a quest. His older sister, Marcy, had been the Dungeon Master during his childhood.
The tea kettle whistled in the kitchen, and Winston hurried to get it. He’d made some pumpkin spice chai in honor of the fall season. Even though it was autumn, he’d left the kitchen door propped open to bring in the breeze. It was a warm evening—or maybe he was just uber excited.
When he returned to the room, he carried in some chipped mugs—freebies from the video game companies he’d tested for. Kristy was already settled on the couch and had rearranged the throw pillows. Actually, she’d bought him the new velvet cushions to make sitting more comfortable. She patted the empty space next to her.
He set the cups down and grinned at Kristy. To think: if he hadn’t started investigating the death at the senior home, he’d never have met her.
She took a sip of her drink. “Mmm, cinnamon.”
“I thought you might like it,” he said. Although she was usually more of a coffee drinker.
“Ah, a cozy night in.”
And that’s when the doorbell rang. Winston scowled. He hated solicitors. “Ignore it.”
She shrugged. “Okay. For the game, I think I’ll be an elf.”
Somebody knocked with loud raps at the door. Over and over again. Who would be so rude?
Then a voice traveled through the door: “Winston, open up. I know you’re in there. The light’s on and your Accord’s in the driveway. You know, it’s better to park in the garage for safety.”
Winston groaned. “Marcy?” He sprang over to the door and unlocked it. Yep, there standing on the front step with luggage in tow was his older sister. “What are you doing here?”
“Can’t I visit my favorite brother?” She tweaked his ear.
“Your only one,” he grumbled. In a brief fantasy, Winston considered closing the door on her. But he couldn’t. She was family—and, after all, she legally owned the house.
Kristy came over to the entryway, and the two women hugged each other. “Good to see you again,” Kristy said. “Too bad you couldn’t
stay longer last time because of your job.”
Marcy ambled into the living room and shrugged out of her suit jacket while glancing at the coffee table and the dice. “Ooh, D&D. Let me settle in, and then I’ll be the DM.”
Behind Marcy’s back, Winston shook his head at Kristy, but it was too late.
“We would love that,” Kristy told Marcy.
Had his sister just crashed his D&D date? And Winston hated when Marcy was Dungeon Master because his characters all inevitably died quick deaths.
Marcy tapped him on the shoulder. “Is the guest room all set up? You promised . . .” Sure enough, after she’d had to sleep on the futon during her last visit, Winston cleared out enough space in the extra room for a twin bed. There were still boxes of papers documenting his dot-com losses, gaming paraphernalia, and the extra junk he’d “tidied up” from the living room, but Marcy was petite. She could go around the mess.
He led her down the hall, pausing before the guest room. He didn’t want to turn the handle and show her the setup. She shoved him out of the way, opened the door, and grimaced. “Isn’t this a fire hazard?” Marcy asked.
Winston waved her complaint away. “So, are you here for a conference?”
She click-clacked into the bedroom with her high heels and dodged a tower of boxes, but turned around to look at him. “No.”
“Oh.” Typically she came for one of her fancy herbology conventions. “When do you need to go back to England?”
“I bought an open ticket.”
“But why?”
“I need to unpack,” Marcy said. She closed the room’s door in his face, and he was left staring at the wooden barrier, worry gnawing at his chest.
CHAPTER 2
AFTER A WEEK OF TRYING to get his sister to open up, Winston was at his wit’s end. She wouldn’t talk to him—or Kristy—about her problems. Maybe it was the syndrome of being a big sis, always needing to act like the mature jie jie.
Marcy sometimes kept busy, but she seemed less driven than before. She did videoconference with her colleagues on occasion, but the time difference meant she had a flipped schedule.
When Winston spotted his sister lounging on the futon with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s in her hand one afternoon, he knew he should step in.
“Phish Food.” Marcy raised a spoon at him in greeting. “More like food for the soul.”
“Maybe you’d like to take a walk,” he suggested. If she’d go out the door, she’d breathe in the fresh air. Get better. Then maybe Winston could also revive his own life. Have Kristy drop by like before. Perhaps schedule another, more successful, D&D tryst.
“Nah,” Marcy said. She settled into her cushion. “Look at what I’m wearing.”
Sweats. Her usual around-the-clock business attire had disappeared. A sure sign of something wrong. No wonder Kristy had insisted he spend alone time with Marcy, quality family time to figure out what was going on.
“At least go and get the mail,” he said.
She furrowed her brow. “Isn’t it Sunday?”
“No. Saturday.”
“Oh, my favorite show’s on today.” She picked up the remote and turned on the TV.
Who was this couch potato in front of him? What had happened to his overachieving older sis? Winston went outside to clear his head and trotted over to the unit of metal postal boxes in the middle of his residential street and retrieved the mail. Mostly, the usual spam. But also a flyer from the local neighborhood watch.
A meeting to be held in a couple of days just around the corner from his house. He’d seen that cul-de-sac before, the neighborhood watch sign a prominent orange warning to would-be villains. This gathering would be perfect for Marcy. She was forever trying to poke her nose into other people’s business—or as she called it, “improve things.”
He jogged back and thrust the flyer in his sister’s face. “Found something perfect for you!”
She sped-read it. (No wonder she’d done so well in her English classes.) “A neighborhood meeting? I don’t think so . . .”
“You’ll meet new people,” he said. “And improve the neighborhood.”
“But I don’t even live here. You do.”
“Close enough,” he said. “What was it you said the other night about safety?”
“And I was right,” she said. “Your car is missing the H.”
He spluttered. “What do you mean?”
“The emblem’s missing from the back of your Honda. Didn’t you notice?”
It wasn’t gone a few days ago. Great, now he really should go. And he’d make sure to drag his sister with him. But what would get her attention?
“If this neighborhood’s not safe,” he said, “doesn’t that affect the property value? Your real estate investment?”
She thought about it and blanched. “You’re right. I need to make sure I have enough cash flow for retirement . . . and other emergencies.”
“It’s decided then,” Winston said. He figured they’d be in and out of the meeting in ten minutes. After all, how much trouble could a friendly neighborhood meeting be?
CHAPTER 3
MAGNOLIA LANE WAS TRUE to its name. It featured huge trees that would boast deep green foliage and palm-sized flowers in spring, but late October didn’t show off their glory. Instead, semi-bare branches pointed at the gray sky with accusing fingers. Winston looked around and soon spotted a bright-orange sign advertising the neighborhood watch group—and near it, a cluster of concerned citizens seated in a circle.
He also noticed a few empty folding chairs waiting for visitors to fill them. Winston glanced back at Marcy, who was lagging a few steps behind. She usually took the initiative with things, but she stared hard at the ground, a move Winston was familiar with, having used it in school to avoid being called on.
“Come on.” Winston took his sister’s hand and tugged her the short distance over to his conscientious neighbors.
There were five people already seated: three men and two women. One of the ladies popped up like a whack-a-mole to greet them.
“Hi, I’m Heather.” She held out her hand with high expectations. A smile as big as her teased auburn hair spread over her face.
Marcy didn’t make a move forward, but Heather gripped her hand anyway.
Winston shook Heather’s hand and introduced himself as a seniors’ sleuth, even mentioning his business number, 555-S-SLEUTH. He received a few curious looks from the other neighbors, but Heather soon got everyone settled.
She looked back and forth between Marcy and Winston. “It’s so wonderful to have you both here. We hardly get any couples, Mr. and Mrs. Wong.”
Winston’s jaw dropped open. At his side, he heard Marcy let out a giggle. It was the first positive response she’d had in a week.
“Um . . .” He was about to correct Happy Heather when a strident ringing sounded in the air.
An old man, maybe about seventy, held up his brass alarm clock and stopped the noise. “Time’s up. No more chitchat.” He glared at Heather through his monocle. (Winston couldn’t believe the old man actually owned the single lens, like a real-life Colonel Mustard from an old version of Clue.) “Sit down, Heather.”
After she complied, the old man said, “Now onto business. We—”
Heather interrupted. “Bill, shouldn’t we go around and introduce ourselves?” She nodded at Marcy and Winston. “We have guests.”
“The schedule,” Bill said, peering at the clock’s face.
A slender, tall woman spoke up. “How about we go around and speak for five seconds each?” She tapped at her fitness smartwatch. “I can time us.”
The man on her right made an elegant gesture with his palm in her direction. “Ladies first. Why don’t you start?”
The woman looked up from her watch and addressed Marcy and Winston. “My name’s Diana. I grew up in Singapore, so I know the educational system here isn’t challenging enough. A proud SAHM, I homeschool my child.”
The acronym wasn’t the sa
me as SAF, was it? Single Asian Female from the personal section in the papers? He must have looked quite puzzled because Diana added, “I’m a stay-at-home mom. My husband’s an international businessman and often overseas.”
The sleek man who’d spoken earlier ran his fingers through his gelled hair before talking. “I’m Ryan, a manager at Elite Bank.”
The last of the regular attendees, a gangly young man just past his teenage years mumbled his introduction. “Zack,” he said. “Solar panels.”
Then Heather burbled on. “So good to know new neighbors.”
Diana pursed her lips, tapping at her watch.
Heather continued, “Oops, time’s ticking. I love people, though. That’s why I like to organize parties.” She paused and threw her hands up with a giant flourish. “I’m an event coordinator.”
Bill spoke up again. “Are we done with this nonsense?”
Heather pointed at Bill. “And last but not least . . .”
“Bill,” the old man said. “Genius robot inventor. And captain of this block.”
Bill opened up the meeting, asking about recent happenings. Winston nudged Marcy, who proceeded to share about the theft of the H symbol off his Accord. It seemed no one else had experienced anything similar.
Bill told everyone to keep an eye out but shook his head, dismissing it as a prank. “Generation Z,” he muttered. “Z for zeroes.”
Then Bill proceeded to drone on about upcoming neighborhood happenings. Winston couldn’t concentrate, and he wondered why people weren’t falling asleep in their chairs. Maybe because the metal seats were too hard. Or perhaps they pretended to pay attention and instead let their minds wander. He thought back to his latest attempt to finish the level on Hill Climb Racing and wondered how he’d maneuver his jeep over rocky terrain.
All of a sudden, people seemed irate. Heather was standing up, her hands gesturing wildly. Diana looked around with wide doe eyes, saying, “But what about the kids?” Zack tried to edge back his chair until it threatened to fall into an azalea bush, while Ryan seemed engrossed in staring at his shiny nails. (Did the man actually paint them with clear gloss?)