by Vivien Chien
CHAPTER
19
Sunday morning, while I was out to dim sum with my family, the text notification chime on my phone went off repeatedly. I’d forgotten to turn off the sound. My mother imposed a strict rule about no phones at the dinner table, especially on Sundays during our quality family time.
She glared at me from the other side of the table. “Lana … turn off your phone.”
“Okay, geez, sorry,” I said, reaching under the table for my purse. It was a miracle we’d been able to hear it over the noise in the restaurant.
When I gave the screen a quick glance, I noticed that it was Ian. There were three missed calls that we hadn’t heard and five text messages. Something must be going on.
“What is so important today?”
I glanced up. My mother, looking impatient, waited for an explanation.
“I’m not sure. It’s Ian…”
My mother brightened.
Though she had stopped harassing me—for the time being—about my involvement with Ian, she held out hope. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Adam, she actually liked him quite a bit. But, as far as marriage quality went, she thought Ian was the better pick. I tried telling her several times that it would never happen, but she wasn’t giving up any time soon.
“He must need you,” my mother said. “What is it about?”
I opened up the messages and read what I had missed. “I guess he wants everyone to meet about the contest today. He said he has an important announcement to make.”
My sister snorted. “That man thinks that everything he has to say is important.”
My grandmother asked what was going on, and my mother quickly relayed it to her.
“What time do you need to meet with Ian?” my father asked, chewing on a pea pod.
“I guess in a half hour. We’re meeting at the Bamboo Lounge.” I groaned. I hadn’t anticipated going back there so soon.
If I left now, I would be able to make it just in time. I glanced down at my plate. It was still half full. My stomach rumbled.
“You better go,” my mother said, shooing me with her chopsticks. “It is for business, so it’s okay.”
I pointed at my plate. “What about my food?”
“Mommy will eat it for you.” She extended her hand for the plate. “You go … Lou can make you something to eat after the meeting.”
Before I handed her my plate, I grabbed my spring roll. “Fine, but this is coming with me.”
Twenty-five minutes later, I arrived at the plaza, hungry and slightly crabby. As I passed Shanghai Donuts, I inhaled the sweet smell of dough baking. I made a mental note to stop by soon and get a few pastries to cheer myself up.
I took a peek through the doors of Ho-Lee Noodle House and noticed that Nancy and Vanessa were busy serving tables. Because I was short on time, I decided not to stop by until after the meeting ended.
A little bit of apprehension filled me as I grabbed the bamboo handle to enter the lounge. The last thing that Penny said to me was she wanted me out of her sight. I was keeping my fingers crossed she would at least be able to keep up appearances if she hadn’t decided to forgive me yet.
It was a little worrisome how defensive she’d become when she thought I was insinuating that she or Joel had something to do with Stella Chung’s death. But then again, wasn’t that exactly what I was doing? If it were me in her shoes, I probably would have reacted the same way.
I was the last to arrive. The restaurant itself was empty, and Penny stood behind the bar, wiping down the counter. She eyed me when I walked in. “The police released the party room this morning, everyone’s in there.”
“Thanks,” I said, inching up toward the bar. “Penny … about yesterday…”
She held up her hand that was clutching the dish towel. “Please, I can’t talk about this with you right now, okay? Can we just drop it?”
“Sure, okay.”
I headed into the party room, and stopped at the threshold. As I took in the room for the first time since the day of the party, you’d have thought I expected the room to announce that someone had been murdered in there. Before stepping in, I surveyed the room, checking for noticeable changes, but I saw nothing.
The night of the party flashed into my mind, and I remembered where I had last seen Norman seated. He’d been so smug that night, telling me how I should do things … how my hair should be …
Who would have guessed that he’d die that night?
When I snapped out of it, I noticed that everyone was staring at me. Peter was the first to speak. “Boss, you okay over there?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied.
He’d saved me a seat, and gestured to the empty chair.
I mumbled a quick “hello” to the room and sat down, hanging my purse on the back of my chair. The heat rose in my cheeks. I really hated it when everyone was staring at me.
As I settled into my seat, Ian stood up. He clasped his hands together. “Now that we’re all here, I wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve put up with so far. I know that getting through this contest has been a piece of work. And I can assure you that it will be worth it in the end. We just have to get past these last few hurdles.”
“Last few hurdles?” Ray asked. “I think we have to call this contest quits, Ian.”
“Call it quits?” Ian’s voice rose an octave. “Call it quits? Oh no, sir, we most certainly will not.”
“Are you kidding me?” Ray asked, leaning forward in his seat. “The judges are clearly being targeted. We have to cancel this contest immediately. I won’t be next.”
Freddie, who was seated next to Ray, turned to face him. “Do you really think the judges are being targeted?”
“Nonsense!” Ian interjected before Ray could answer.
Ray glared at him. “Easy for you to say. You’re not one of the judges.”
The door opened and Penny stuck her head in. “Ian, is it okay if I bring the tea in now?”
Ian waved her in. “Of course.” He then turned his attention back to Ray. “Don’t put ideas into other people’s heads. You have no proof that anyone is specifically after the judges.”
While the two men went back and forth, Penny made her way around the table silently. She filled the teacups for each person, and placed a kettle at either end of the long banquet table. When she was finished, she went to the door, but before she could close the door behind her, Ray stopped her.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he yelled from his chair. “Bring me a Yamazaki, will you? This meeting calls for some whiskey.”
She stiffened—I imagine from him calling her sweetheart—but she said nothing, only nodding and shutting the door a little too loudly.
Ray turned back around. “You’re being pigheaded about this, Ian. Anyone can see that this contest has become a danger. The whole thing should be called off.”
Walter Shen, who was seated on the other side of Peter, spoke up. “I agree with Ray … I think this contest has reached its limits. Do not carry on for the sheer sake of saving face. We know that the plaza is in trouble and you are trying to fix it.”
“The plaza is not in trouble,” Ian said sharply. “And you’ll do well to remember that.”
Walter bristled. “Young man, I have known your father for a long time and I know he is a hard man. But you do not have to do this to prove anything to him. There are other ways to fix your business.”
Ian took a deep breath. “This has nothing to do with my father.”
Penny returned with a highball half filled with whiskey. Ray winked at her as she set it down on the table.
“The food will be out shortly,” she said, directing her statement to Ian.
Ian nodded and Penny left.
There was going to be food? Things were starting to look up.
“I think it’s time to let the others speak,” Ian said, holding his head. “What do the rest of you think?”
Everyone turned to look at each other, but no one said anyt
hing.
Stanley Gao swirled the tea in his cup, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Freddie traced an imaginary pattern on his cloth napkin and appeared to be somewhere else. Peter tapped his foot anxiously.
I hated to do it, but if no one was going to speak up, then I would. I cleared my throat and held up a hand.
Ian perked up. “Yes, Lana … what do you think about all this?”
“Why don’t we postpone it for the time being?” I suggested. “None of us are going anywhere anyway. We can wait until the police have figured out what happened. Then once they catch whoever it is that did this, we can resume the contest.”
“That’s assuming the police will ever figure it out,” Ray said, tipping his whiskey glass at me. “And if you ask me, they don’t have much of a shot. They haven’t even cracked into what happened with Norman yet.”
“But they will,” I said, giving him an icy stare. “Especially with Adam heading the case. He always figures it out.”
“Not always, sweetheart,” Ray retorted.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, leaning over the table. I was sick of Ray Jin and his smug attitude.
“If you don’t know, honey, you better ask him. Looks like he doesn’t tell you everything.”
Freddie perked up, now paying attention to the conversation again. He pointed a finger at me. “Wait, are you and Detective—”
Ian clapped his hands once. “Okay, that’s enough. We’re getting a little off topic here. Let’s not worry about what Adam Trudeau has or hasn’t told Lana. What they discuss is none of our … business.” He slid a look at me before addressing the rest of the table. “Now, I think that Lana has come up with the perfect idea. We postpone the contest until the police have sorted out this whole mess. In the meantime, I can find another judge. Two if I have to,” he said, directing the last bit at Ray.
Penny returned with a cart filled with appetizers. Ian adjourned the meeting while Penny filled the lazy Susan with food. I decided to slip away to the ladies’ room.
When I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I did a double take. My face was bright red. I patted my cheeks. I must have been more worked up about what Ray said than I realized.
I wet a paper towel and applied it to the sides of my neck, fanning my face with my free hand. Poker face … still a work in progress.
After cooling myself down and once my complexion began to resemble that of a normal person, I headed back to the table. People were already filling their plates and my stomach rumbled again as my eyes skimmed over the appetizers.
I scooped a little mapo tofu onto my plate along with a teriyaki stick and a scallion pancake.
While we ate, everyone participated in idle chatter, talking about anything but the contest. Walter and Ray talked about different recipes they had come across while Freddie and Ian talked about memories from their Chicago days. Peter and I sat in silence. I was too concerned with my food. And, even though I was grateful there was something to eat, it wasn’t enough to satisfy my hunger. I wondered what my chances were of having Peter follow me to the restaurant and cooking up some noodles for me before he went home. Of course, Lou was working and I’m sure he’d be happy to whip up something for me, but it just wouldn’t be the same.
Once everyone was finished eating and the appetizer plates were empty, Penny returned with the cart and cleared off the table.
Ian stood, looking self-satisfied. “So it’s settled, we will resume the contest once the murderer has been found. Until that time, Freddie and I will scout for a suitable judge.”
Ray drained the remaining whiskey from his glass. “If I were you, Freddie, I’d stay out of the way. Helping Ian is just putting another person’s life in danger.”
Ian blanched. “Ray! That is enough.”
“What?” Ray laughed. “The man should know what kind of responsibility rests in his hands. If you want to be reckless, that’s one thing, but don’t put that on someone else’s shoulders.”
“Once the murderer is caught, the whole thing will be behind us. There will be no one to come after the judges as you’re insinuating.”
“Yeah, but in the meantime, do you really want to stick your neck out?” He slammed his glass on the table. “Whoever it is, they’re coming for us.” His eyes moved slowly around the table. “One by one … we’re all going to get picked off. Do you really want to be next?”
CHAPTER
20
I was flustered from the meeting and the things that Ray had said before we left. I was huddled in a back booth of Ho-Lee Noodle House with Peter sitting across from me. I didn’t even have to try convincing him to make me noodles, he suggested it on his own and made food for both of us. As hungry as I felt, I was finding it difficult to eat.
“Hey, man,” Peter said, looking up from his bowl. “Don’t let that guy get to you. He’s just a jerk.”
I twirled my noodles around the plate with my chopsticks. “Do you think he’s right though? Someone is going after the judges just because they’re the judges?”
He tilted his head. “Maybe … I don’t know. Norman Pan had a lot of enemies for sure. But, this Stella chick … what’s her story? She doesn’t even live here anymore. How many enemies can she really have?”
First checking to make sure no one was around, I leaned across the table and whispered, “I think there’s something weird going on with Stella, Joel, and Penny…”
Peter sighed. “Dude … tell me you are not messing around with this stuff. My nerves can’t take it. I am already way stressed about the contest.”
I looked away. “I mean, not really. There have just been a couple of things I’ve noticed in passing.”
“Yeah, right, you’re totally playing detective, aren’t you?” His voice rose in agitation.
“Keep your voice down,” I hissed, taking another glance around the restaurant. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
He shook his head. “No way, it’s absolutely a big deal. Both of them were mysteriously strangled and the last thing I need in my life is for you to end up the same way, man. Just let your boyfriend take care of it. He carries a gun and whatever.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that? You know I can’t. Not if it has anything to do with the plaza. And with Penny…”
“There’s no way she’s a killer. That chick seems pretty solid to me.”
“Yeah, well, people can surprise you. If anyone should know that, you should.”
We debated the topic while Peter finished his lunch. I decided to take mine home with me. Maybe I’d be hungry later after I’d calmed down from the rantings of Ray Jin.
We walked to the parking lot together and Peter attempted to give me a comforting speech before taking off. I told him that it helped, but I was lying.
I dug around in my purse for my car keys, and my hand brushed against something that crinkled. What the heck? When I pulled it out, I froze. In the palm of my hand was a fortune cookie.
It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.
I held on to the wrapped cookie, and continued digging for my car keys, which I finally found. Letting myself into the car, I placed the cookie on the dashboard and stared at it like it was going to do something. Best-case scenario, it would disappear into thin air.
No such luck.
I didn’t like fortune cookies to begin with. For a few reasons … one, I thought they tasted weird … and two … there was never an actual fortune inside. It was more often than not some philosophical nonsense. If I was going to get a fortune cookie, I didn’t want it to tell me how the eyes are the window to the soul. No, I wanted it to tell me that I was going to win a million dollars.
Stalling, I started the car and stared out the window, searching the parking lot for any potential suspicious characters. Was anybody following me, waiting for me to open the cookie? I checked the rearview mirror. No one behind me.
Okay … I’m just going to open the cookie. It’s only a cookie. It’s probably nothing. May
be it fell into my purse when I was at the Bamboo Lounge and I hadn’t noticed. Although I didn’t remember seeing any fortune cookies there.
I grabbed the cookie off the dashboard and ripped it open. A sliver of white paper stuck out on one side and I pulled on it slowly.
Printed on the paper was the following: The whole secret lies in confusing the enemy, so that he cannot fathom our real intent.
I shoved everything back into my purse, put the car in reverse, and hightailed it home.
* * *
Megan was sitting at the kitchen table on her laptop when I walked in. I shut the door behind me, locked it, and peered out the peephole. No one had followed me as far as I could tell.
I turned back around and leaned against the door taking deep breaths.
Megan scrunched her eyebrows. “Okay, what are you doing?”
“You’re never going to believe what happened.” I rushed to the table, set my purse down, and dug out the fortune I had received. “Look at this.”
She took the tiny paper from my hand and read it. Looking up at me, she said, “I don’t get it…”
I reached back into my purse, felt around for my cell phone and pulled it out. It didn’t seem necessary to search for the quote online, but if I was going to freak myself out over this, I at least wanted to be sure. “When I was leaving the plaza, I found this fortune in my purse … you know … just like the ones that Norman and Stella got…” I explained to her as I typed in the quote.
“Oh…” Her eyes widened. “Ohhh!”
“Yeah.” I slumped into the chair across from her and showed her my search results. It was absolutely a Sun Tzu quote. There was no getting around it. “I’m going to die. I’m next!”
She set the paper down on the table. “You’re not going to die.”
“Norman got one, and he died … Stella got one and she died … so what makes me any different?” I took the paper and carefully tucked it away in the side pocket of my purse. I didn’t want to lose it … if anything, it was evidence.
“The difference is you have me. And the two of us together are way smarter than the two of them. That Norman guy was arrogant and he didn’t think he had anything to worry about. And Stella, well, she was just plain careless. Clearly she knew something and talked to the wrong person. She should have done something about it. She probably never told Trudeau about it.”