by Anne R. Tan
7
Cat and Mouse
After updating her grandma about the arm twisting to get involved in the investigation, Raina called it a night. There wasn’t much they could do other than rehash old news and circle treacherous topics.
Raina tossed and turned all night. Her dreams ranged from a glowing tome that drifted toward her like a holy book and dodging uniformed men. After discovering her childhood home had a sophisticated video surveillance system, she was more worried than reassured.
Having “beware of dog” signs and a doghouse when there was no dog were endearing and eccentric, but having actual surveillance bordered on paranoia. Or had Raina grown soft to the dangers of urban living?
She got up at six thirty to start breakfast for everyone. On her way downstairs, she peeked into her little brother’s room to find him snoring like a chainsaw. At least he was in his own bed last night.
By the time the kitchen filled with the scents of brewing coffee and fresh waffles, a flurry of activity upstairs—running water and banging cabinets—broke the stillness of the morning.
Win flew into the room with his backpack slung over one shoulder, and she held up a waffle and his travel cup full of hot chocolate. He stuffed the waffle in his mouth and left the house, banging the front door closed. Maybe things hadn’t changed much around here after all.
As Raina refilled her mug, Po Po came into the room, thumping her cane and carrying a small backpack with a canteen attached to her waist. Her mane of silvery white hair was in a loose braid over the shoulder. Mountain granny ready to conquer the hills of San Francisco.
Raina eyed her grandma’s accessories. It was no secret her grandma liked to play dress-up, but she forgot the point of a disguise—blending into a crowd.
“Where’s your outfit, Rainy?” Po Po asked.
“Not planning to use one.”
Po Po tapped on her cell phone. “Someone is still watching the house. We will not leave without a tail.”
“I don’t think a disguise would help. Why don’t you call Mr. Clark and see if we could leave through his front door?” Mr. Clark’s house faced the opposite street that ran parallel to theirs. “We can climb over the storage shed and drop into his yard.”
Po Po brightened at the idea. “We could be like Rambo dropping in on enemy territory. I need to get my camo. Be back in a jiffy. I will also wake up Melody.”
“Wait—”
Her grandma ran up the stairs and disappeared from view.
Raina tiptoed into the living room and peered out the window. A black Fiat parked across from the house. The driver had the seat leaned all the way back as if he had been outside for a while. She bit her lip, studying him, but she couldn’t make out the face in the dim interior of the car.
Something was off. The SFPD wouldn’t have the manpower to post someone to watch a person of interest on a twenty-four-hour surveillance. She didn’t want to alarm her family by bringing this up. The man pulled out a pair of binoculars, and Raina jerked back from the window.
She headed back to the kitchen to find Mom resting her chin on her hand, eyes closed. She swayed on the stool but seemed to catch her balance whenever she appeared close to tipping over.
Po Po hung up her cell phone. “I miss slamming a phone receiver. Tapping on a screen just doesn’t have the same effect.”
“I guess Mr. Clark hasn’t forgiven you for killing his tree, huh?” Raina asked.
“He said we are forbidden”—Po Po made air quotes with her fingers around the last word—”to go into his yard even if he were dying of a heart attack.” She made a show of preparing a cup of tea. “I didn’t do it on purpose. It was not my fault the demons wanted to play in our backyard. I offered to pay for a replacement. Geez, the man is just too sensitive.”
Mom cracked an eyelid to give Raina a significant look. After Ah Gong’s death, Po Po went through a period where she thought she saw supernatural things. Salting the dirt around the forty-five-year-old tree planted by the now deceased Mrs. Clark appeared to be tame in comparison to some of the things she did.
“Clark leaves the house at nine o’clock on the dot every morning for the library so he can read the day’s newspaper. Then he’s at Subway for lunch.” Po Po glanced at the lucky cat clock on the kitchen wall. “We just need to wait him out.”
“Or Mom could go to Hudson's? If she wraps a scarf around her head and uses my car, the police can follow her instead,” Raina said. It would be safe enough if her mom went straight to her boyfriend's house.
“You know this trick will only work once, right?” Po Po asked.
“It’s a bad idea,” Mom said. She yawned, exposing her silver fillings. “I had a late night.”
Raina handed her a mug of coffee, but ignored her comment. She addressed her grandma. “Who said anything about coming back? We could crash at Cassie’s tonight, and this would give you an opportunity to put the screws on Benson. I’m sure there’s something he could tell us about the journal.”
“No one would be happy with this plan,” Po Po said with an impish smile on her face. “I think it’s brilliant.”
“What journal?” Mom asked.
“Don’t worry about it, Melody,” Po Po said.
Thirty minutes later, Mom plodded with her head down the two blocks toward Raina’s car. She was unhappy about the situation, but she knew which side of the rice bowl she needed to be at. Raina watched the black Fiat pull away from the curb and into traffic. Sure enough, he followed Mom until both vehicles disappeared from sight.
Raina high-fived Po Po and opened the front door. A familiar unmarked vehicle turned into view. Smith! She stepped back inside the house and shut the door.
“I thought we were leaving,” Po Po said.
“Change in plan,” Raina said, strolling over to the big picture window. She peered through the curtains in time to see Smith pulling into a parking spot. “We’ll have to leave from the back.”
As they headed out the back door, they could hear the doorbell ringing. Po Po’s canteen got stuck on the fence while she slid into Mr. Clark’s backyard and she left it there like a calling card.
“He will have a cow when he sees the canteen,” Po Po said smugly.
Raina ignored the comment and hustled them onto the Muni for Chinatown. As the bus rounded the corner, she could see Smith peering inside the bay window. She had no idea what Smith wanted, but she figured it was best to avoid any interview with the SFPD until they figured out what was going on.
She didn’t want to worry her grandma with her concerns for the man who followed her mom. An unknown player in this game of cat and mouse couldn’t be a good thing.
* * *
The line for the Golden Gate Bakery wrapped around the block, blocking the entrance to the herbalist shop. Faded red lettering with missing letters on the dirty yellow awning read “Gol Y k Cho.” The establishment might have been in business for the last fifty years, but like most Chinese businesses, the owners sure didn't spend money on upgrades from what Raina could see on the outside.
Po Po surveyed the line with a frown. “Why don't I get in line to get us some dan tats? You go talk to the herbalist without me.”
“We just had breakfast,” Raina said.
“But it’s my favorite egg tart.”
“You had a box yesterday. Besides, I want you to do the talking.”
“Why? Because I'm old? I'll have you know, I'm only sixty-five years old.”
“Yes, I know. And tomorrow, you'll be fifty. It's not your age I need, but your smooth Chinese kinship voice. Call the owner big brother, say Martin recommended the shop, and ask for what they normally give Martin.”
Po Po looked longingly at the people coming out of the bakery with their pink boxes of goodies. “How do you know the owner isn't younger than me? I don't want to go in there. The smell reminds me of my grandmother and her smelly Chinese medicine. I didn't go across an ocean just to go backwards.”
As the youngest daugh
ter of the third wife, whose father went on to have a fourth wife and finally had the much-longed-for son, Po Po's childhood wavered between snubbed and forgotten. She couldn't shake the dust of China from her shoes fast enough.
“Po Po, you could sell water to a fish. That’s how good you are. Now go find out the ingredients for the sleeping draughts Uncle Martin took each night,” Raina said.
At their entrance, the strand of ancient Chinese coins above the door chimed. Sure enough, the shop had a blend of dried herbs and musty dead animals. Not appetizing, but they weren’t here for a meal.
A young man about Raina's age glanced up from behind the counter. “How may I help you?”
“We're here to talk to the herbalist,” Po Po said.
“Herb Wang, at your service. Yes, I know, my dad had a sense of humor.”
Raina snorted. “Our fathers must be related. I’m Raina Sun. My brother is Winter Sun, and my sis—”
“Where’s your father?” Po Po cut in. “You’re too young.”
“I studied under my father’s tutelage for decades and graduated from Xuzhou University with a degree in traditional Chinese medicine,” Herb said good-naturedly as if he had to recite his credentials regularly. “Ma’am, how may I help you?”
“First, I’m not a ma’am. That would be my grandmother. Second, I would still like to speak with your father.”
“If you wish, but you’ll have to come back in a month. He is touring our suppliers’ facilities in China.”
“Then who is seeing to your patients in the meantime?”
“Ma’am, I am.”
Raina could see the steam rising from Po Po’s head. “Herb, maybe you could help us,” she cut in before her grandma had a chance to insult the herbalist. “We’re family friends of Martin Eng’s. I know he had been a patient here for many decades.”
Herb’s smile disappeared. “I’m sorry to read about his death on Facebook. Maybe I’m just old-fashioned, but I can’t believe his family would choose to announce his death this way.”
“That would be Mrs. Keane, his next-door neighbor,” Po Po said. “Apparently the lady is under the delusion that she is his surviving widow.”
Herb cleared his throat. “Are you here to settle his tab?” He pulled a box from underneath the counter and started to rifle through the folders. “Normally, we don’t extend credit to our patients, but Mr. Eng had been with us for decades.” He pulled a sheet out and slid it across the counter. “The total is one hundred fifty dollars. This is already pro-rated for the month.”
So much for patient confidentiality. Raina leaned forward to study the paper. The six line items all listed “Sleeping Draught #6” in the product description. “So Uncle Martin spent seven hundred and fifty dollars each month for his sleeping draughts?” Geez, she was in the wrong profession.
Herb shrugged. “Supply and demand. It works, and he was willing to pay.”
“What’s in it? Crack?” Po Po asked.
“That would be privileged information.” He tapped on the bill. “Cash or credit card? We don’t take personal checks.”
“Is there any possibility Uncle Martin might have overdosed on your herbal teas?” Raina asked.
“No.”
“How can you be so sure? Every medication has a potential side effects warning label,” Po Po said. “Don’t you know anything about drug interaction?”
“You’re not here to pay his bill,” Herb said, finally catching on. He snatched the paper from the counter. “I can’t discuss my patient’s treatment plan with you.”
“You worry about confidentiality now?” Po Po asked.
Herb stiffened and his voice became terse. “I need to get back to my inventorying.”
“Okay. Thank you for your time,” Raina said. Po Po opened her mouth, but Raina continued, “I’m sure the police would love to know Uncle Martin took a sleeping draught every night. This isn’t exactly something that would show up on a medical record from his doctor.” She turned and walked to the shop door without waiting for her grandmother.
As she reached for the handle, Herb called out, “Wait!”
Bingo!
Raina pivoted slowly. “Yes?”
Herb’s eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Why would the police be interested in his herbal supplement?”
“The man died in his sleep. Of course the police will check to make sure there was no foul play or an overdose.”
He stared at her for another long moment. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he worked through his decision. “I swear if this gets out, I will find you.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Raina said.
Po Po crossed her heart and leaned forward with an eager expression.
“Sleeping Draught #6 is nothing more than the Sleepy Time tea they sell at the supermarket. We make our own blend with the same ingredients and add a drop of peppermint oil.”
The silence that greeted his confession was deafening.
“Well, I guess you’re lucky someone hasn’t complained to the authorities about your snake oil business practices,” Raina said, turning to leave. The possibility of foul play was getting stronger by the minute.
8
Bite Me
Afterwards, they had a late lunch and walked over to Joley Mok’s shop. The shop was closed, so they went next door and waited for Uncle Martin’s business rival to return. The milk tea shop was crowded—gyrating teenyboppers, bright lights, and loud music.
Po Po did a little jig while they waited for their drinks. “Gosh, I love this place. It’s like a club for teens.”
Raina grabbed their snacks and drinks and headed for a table by the window. Three teens gathered their belongings and squeezed into an already full table.
“Wow, thanks,” Po Po said, flapping her hands. “Those kids are polite.”
Or they didn’t want to sit by a granny in pink camouflage with a pimp cane. Raina glanced at the speakers next to them. Or it could be the noise.
She slurped on her Thai iced tea with honey tapioca balls. Yum. Just the way she liked it—chewy tapioca balls with a hint of sweetness in a caffeinated iced drink. While the milk tea shops were all over the place in the Bay Area, there weren’t any in Gold Springs. “What was Ah Gong doing in China in nineteen sixty-two?”
Po Po held a hand to her ear. “What?”
Raina shouted the question.
“…prove…Tai Gong…” Po Po said.
“What?”
Po Po stood, gesturing for them to go outside. As soon as they closed the shop door, Raina realized her ears were ringing.
“I said he was trying to prove himself to your Tai Gong,” Po Po shouted.
“Whoa, I can hear you perfectly fine now.”
“Sorry.”
“You were telling me about Tai Gong?”
Her grandparents immigrated to the U.S. to start their married life with the clothes on their back. No one knew the details of the rift with the Hong Kong branch of the family. Raina didn’t even know her great-grandfather’s name; everyone in the family used his formal title—Tai Gong.
“Your great-grandfather believed a stronger China was better for all Chinese people, even those of us not living in the mainland,” Po Po said. “When the policies of the Great Leap Forward welcomed Western ideas and practices, Tai Gong sent his youngest son to mainland China.”
“Did Ah Gong want to go? Weren’t the two of you engaged?” Raina asked.
“We were, but it was a different time then. You lived under your parents’ roof, so you did as you were told. Your Ah Gong didn’t feel like he had a choice.” Her grandma gave her a sideways glance. “Which I think is a pile of dung, but I was a rebel even then.”
Raina smiled. Not only was her grandma’s mother an opera singer before her elevation to third wife, she’d left her husband and opened a dance hall when the fourth wife came along. To say her grandma had unconventional ideas was an understatement. “Let me guess? It was too risky of an endeavor to send
the eldest son.”
Her grandma nodded in agreement. “Ah Gong was in Beijing working as an assistant to the Ministry of Agriculture due to his father’s connection, but later he was sent into a remote village to check on the agricultural production. I didn't hear from him for eight months.” Her voice cracked. “I never found out what happened during that time.”
“Ah Gong didn’t tell you?”
Po Po shook her head and pressed her lips into a thin line.
Raina wondered if she and her grandma had the same thought—did Ah Gong fall in love with someone else during those missing months? And was the affair written in the missing journal?
She called Joley Mok’s office but ended up in voicemail. “I don’t think we’ll catch her today. Want to go see what Mrs. Keane has to say about finding Uncle Martin’s body? She looks like a talker.”
“And something else,” Po Po mumbled under her breath.
During the bus ride, Raina texted her mom, asking for a status update. Within seconds the return message said she was at Hudson’s apartment, waiting for his return from a meeting with Smith. Immediately, three more messages came from her Mom complaining about the lack of progress. Raina didn’t even bother replying. She was just glad the man in the Fiat left her mom alone after he discovered the ruse.
By the time they got off the bus by Uncle Martin’s house, it was close to six. The streetlight cast unreliable shadows on the uneven sidewalk in front of them. Raina held onto her grandma’s elbow. The last thing she needed was for Po Po to trip and fall.
“Still afraid of the dark?” her grandma asked.
“I’m shaking in my underwear. Now we need to make this quick,” Raina whispered. “It’ll take us another hour to get to Cassie’s from here. I would like to say good-night to Lila before the baby goes to bed.”