Death by Dumpling

by Vivien Chien

  The Rolling Stones blared through the speakers and laughter and chatter flowed through the bar.

  Megan set a glass in front of me; the contents were bright red. “It’s an Aries Flame Thrower,” she said. “Tastes like cherries.”

  I took the glass from her. “Thanks…”

  “So … Kimmy Tran at Peter’s house, huh? That’s not weird or anything.” She leaned against the bar.

  “I know he was about to tell me something,” I said. “And she ruined it.”

  “Well, you’ll have to try again,” Megan replied. “Maybe he’ll show on Saturday, after all.”

  I stabbed the ice cubes with my straw. “If he’ll even confide in me…”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, it’s not like we’ve investigated a murder before or anything. That’s why I got you that book. Did you even look at it?” she asked.

  I sighed. “I skimmed through it, but I didn’t read it thoroughly or anything.”

  “Well, maybe you need to. It might help.”

  “I just don’t know if we should even be doing this. I mean, we’re not professionals, we don’t know how to look into things. We’re just a couple of girls.”

  “People don’t have to be professionals to solve mysteries. You should know that from all the books you read.”

  “I don’t know, maybe…”

  “What don’t you know?” a voice said from behind me.

  When I turned to see who it was, Trudeau sat down on the stool next to me and folded his hands on the bar. He looked between the two of us.

  Megan turned around, walked over to the cooler and grabbed a bottle of beer.

  “Let me guess,” Trudeau started, “you’re getting into some kind of trouble, aren’t you?”

  “Why do you assume I’m up to something?” I asked.

  “Because you look guilty,” he said with a crooked smile.

  “Well, you’re wrong. I’m just sitting here minding my own business.”

  Megan came back with his beer and set it down in front of him. “Did you want any food tonight?”

  He shook his head. “Not right now, thanks.”

  Megan slid a look at me, and turned around, leaving me and Trudeau to talk.

  “So,” he said, taking a sip of his beer, “here again, huh? That’s two weeks in a row I’ve run into you.”

  “Rough day.” I sipped my drink. “I thought I’d come in, have a drink, and visit with Megan.”

  “You want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “Not really.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes as I contemplated whether to tell Trudeau that I had stopped to see Peter and that Kimmy had showed up. But I didn’t know what it meant yet. More importantly, I didn’t want to get reprimanded.

  “Whatever’s wrong with you, it’s written all over your face.”

  With a sigh, I admitted, “It’s this whole thing with the dumplings…”

  He leaned back. “Are you upset because of what I told you about Peter earlier today?”

  I nodded. “It’s hard a thing to swallow.”

  “I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better, but these are the facts.” He spun his beer bottle on the bar top.

  “What if there’s something else?”

  He stared at me for a minute. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. What if there’s something we don’t know about … like a checkered past.”

  He sipped his beer. “Generally, these things aren’t like the movies.”

  “I’m not saying that, I’m just saying … what if Peter is the one who was meant to be framed, and I got caught in the middle?”

  “I’ve considered that,” he replied. “But there’s nothing to indicate there was another party involved.”

  “What if I could find you something?”

  He turned on the stool to face me. “No, don’t even think about it. You stay out of this.”

  “But what if I could help you? I have a lot of people that I could talk to at the plaza. They’d probably be more willing to talk with me anyway.” Judging by his initial reaction, I figured it was best not to tell him that I had already started questioning people.

  “That may be true,” he said. “However, you shouldn’t, and I don’t suggest that you do. Leave this to me and my team.”

  “Are you even looking into anyone else?” I asked.

  “We’re looking into a few leads, yes.”

  “Who?”

  “So, this is what’s on your mind?” he asked, ignoring my question.

  “Yes, isn’t that enough?”

  “Nothing about a certain suitor?” He looked away from me, focusing on the other end of the bar.

  “What?”

  “Never mind…” he said.

  A butterfly fumbled around in my stomach. “Why would you ask me that?”

  “Ian Sung is a suspect of ours. I thought you should know…”

  “Oh.” My shoulders slumped.

  He scrunched his eyebrows. “Disappointed?”

  I was. But not for the reasons he thought. “No, I haven’t given him an answer yet…”

  “What are you waiting for?” He slid his beer bottle away from him, and signaled Megan for another.

  “I don’t know.”

  Megan came over, popped the top off a beer bottle, and slid it toward Trudeau. She glanced at my drink and took the glass out of my hand, refilling it. She left without saying anything to either of us.

  I sipped my drink and cringed. Megan had made this one extra strong. “I had a bad breakup and I’m not sure that I’m ready to date again.”

  “How long ago?” he asked.

  “It’s almost been a year … it was right before Christmas.”

  Trudeau winced. “Ouch, that’s a rough time of year.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.” I leaned an elbow on the bar. “I was Christmas shopping for that jerk, and I ran into him shopping … with his other girlfriend.”

  Trudeau was silent.

  I glanced at him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to start a sob story. I’m fine really, just a tad bitter.”

  He took a deep breath. “I can see why.”

  “So, yeah, I’m just a little wary of going out with anybody right now.”

  He tilted his beer bottle. “Well, we’re not all bad guys.” He turned to me. “Who knows, maybe the right guy will come along and convince you otherwise.”

  His words hung between us, and for a brief moment there was nothing else. No music, no people, nothing. His hand, so close to my leg, rested on his knee and I could feel the space that separated us.

  “How about you?” I asked, breaking the silence. “Are you—”

  “No, it’s just me,” Trudeau responded. He kept his focus on the bar top in front of him. “I’ve found the people I care about tend to go away.”

  “Maybe we have something in common after all.”

  He smirked to himself. “I should leave you to the rest of your night … you’ve had a long day.” He stood up from his seat and tipped his beer bottle. “In the meantime, try to stay out of trouble.”

  CHAPTER

  19

  The memorial for Thomas was scheduled to start at 5 P.M. and I was running late. I checked my cell phone, 5:13 P.M. Great, I’d never hear the end of it from my mother.

  The memorial was being held at Li Wah’s, which was part of the plaza located on the east side of Cleveland. Donna had told my mother she’d picked Li Wah’s so Asia Village could close for the day. Signs had been posted at the entrances that we were CLOSED IN HONOR OF THOMAS FENG. Everyone from Asia Village was expected to attend.

  I parked my car in the lot right outside the restaurant and scurried into the building, my heels clacking against the pavement.

  At the entrance to the restaurant, a hostess stood on either side in white button-up shirts and black vests. They wore pleasant smiles and passed out pamphlets to the guests walking in. I took one as I crossed the threshold, givin
g it a quick glance. It was a program of the speakers for that evening. On the front cover, a regal photograph of Thomas stared back at you. Underneath the photo it read in both Chinese and English, In Loving Memory. The back of the pamphlet listed a menu that was split into four courses.

  The place was packed as I stepped in and surveyed the area. Li-Wah’s had a floating wall that they removed for large events and it opened up the restaurant to twice its regular size. Everyone who was anyone in the Asian community was in attendance. I saw the directors of the Asian community relations boards, everyone from Asia Village, and even the mayor of Cleveland.

  I spotted my family sitting at our special reserved table toward the back of the room. My mother made eye contact and waved me over. “Lanaaaa!!” she yelled from across the room. A few people stopped and looked at me. The eye roll that followed was out of my control.

  She continued to wave at me until I was about three feet from the table. She was seated on the side farthest from me next to my dad. She came around and looked at me, giving me a once-over. With my heels on—I’d gone with a classic black patent leather—I was towering over her. “You look too skinny,” she said, scrutinizing me. “Are you eating at home?”

  “Yes, I’m eating, Mom.”

  “Why did you take so long? We are all waiting for you. Ian is over there talking to his father.” She pointed across the room near the entrance to where the two men were talking. Ian was an exact replica of his father except twenty-five years younger. They wore matching black suits and crisp white shirts. Both wore plain black ties and polished dress shoes.

  “Where is Donna?” I asked, looking at the half-empty table.

  “Talking, talking, so many people to talk to,” my mother said. She shimmied back around the table and sat down.

  My father stood up to hug me. “Hey goober, you look nice tonight.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said, hugging him back. “So do you.” Suits were his second skin. I got so used to seeing him in them that when he didn’t wear one, he looked out of place. “Where’s Anna May?” I asked, skimming the room for my sister.

  “I don’t know … somewhere,” my mom said absently.

  “You better get yourself a drink and get situated.” My dad tapped his watch. “The first speech is going to start any minute now.”

  I glanced at the bar and the line forming in front of it. I headed straight over and prayed the line moved fast.

  “At least there’s an open bar,” a voice said from behind me.

  “Peter…” I turned to face him. “You came after all.”

  He looked down at his shoes. It was the first time I’d seen him without Chuck Taylors or combat boots on. In their place were shiny dress shoes that were clearly new. “Yeah, well, my mom begged me.”

  “I’m glad you came,” I said, giving his arm a supportive squeeze.

  To a casual observer, we looked like we had matched our outfits on purpose. He was dressed in a midnight-blue dress shirt that almost matched my dress and a blue and purple striped tie. His dress pants were black, and by the stiffness of the material, I had a feeling they were new too. “Hey, dude, I’m really sorry about the way I acted yesterday. I know you were only trying to help.”

  The line moved up and we moved with it.

  “I can understand why you feel the way you do. I feel it too, you know.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “If I would have just delivered the food, you wouldn’t be in this mess. I’m sorry about that too.”

  “Why didn’t you deliver the food that day?”

  He tugged on his tie. “It’s kind of a long story.”

  “Maybe if you talked about it, it would make you feel better. You know I’m always here for you.”

  Peter looked around, scanning the people in line and the tables near us. “This isn’t the place, man.”

  I glanced at the people surrounding us, and I wasn’t sure if he meant that specific place or the memorial itself. I decided not to press the subject too hard. “You know where to find me. We can talk whenever you’re ready.”

  He gave me a half smile. “Thanks, Lana.”

  “Hey guys!” Jasmine said, sidestepping a couple walking in front of her. Yuna stood behind her, waving.

  “Hi,” Peter and I said in unison.

  “Lana.” Jasmine flashed a smile, grabbing my shoulders. “Your hair is looking fantastic!”

  “Thanks! It helps to have the best stylist in the city.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Although I think you need to come in for a trim. Your ends are looking kind of dead…”

  I grabbed at the ends of my hair. “What? But I just—”

  Jasmine squeezed my shoulders and winked. “A quick trim should do it, maybe stop in tomorrow, if you’ve got the day off?” She winked again.

  “Okay … yeah, I’m off…”

  “Can’t have my clients running around with split ends.” She patted me on the shoulder. “Well, we’re off to find our seats. We’ll talk to you both later!”

  By the time they walked away, it was our turn in line. We ordered our drinks and hurried back to the table.

  Nancy and my mother were sitting next to each other and whispered excitedly to one another, no doubt gossiping about something or someone. My dad sat on the other side of my mother, people-watching. My sister was still nowhere to be found.

  I shimmied in between our table and the next, my drink threatening to spill over the sides.

  Nancy looked up at us. “Peter, come sit next to me.” She pointed at the empty chair next to hers.

  He shrugged and moved to the seat next to his mother.

  The lights flickered, signaling everyone to their seats. Ian and Donna, smiling and talking as they walked, headed in our direction. Donna whispered something to Ian and he nodded in return, taking the lead in their path to the table. His eyes fell on me and he grinned, a little too eagerly for my taste.

  Behind them was my sister, her long ponytail bobbing side to side as she made her way over. They all arrived at the table at once and greetings were exchanged. Donna set her purse down next to me and was ushering Ian to sit on the opposite side of me. Before he could make it over, my sister shimmied her way past Ian and sat down between me and my father. Ian frowned at my sister.

  Anna May wrapped her arm around my shoulder as if she were going to hug me. As she leaned in, she whispered, “You owe me.”

  Ian took the only seat available, next to Peter. The look on his face told me he was not amused. He leaned forward, grinning at me. “You look lovely this evening.”

  “Yes,” Donna added with a smile. “Quite a beautiful young lady, isn’t she?”

  My sister snorted next to me.

  “Thank you,” I said, keeping my eyes focused on Donna. She was dressed in an elegant cream pantsuit that probably cost three times more than my discounted Calvin Klein. Her signature hairstyle, the classic French twist, was flawless. A dainty pearl hair stick peeked out from the side. “You look rather stunning yourself.”

  Across the room, the mayor of Cleveland stood behind a podium in a dark blue pin-striped suit. He shuffled through some note cards and then cleared his throat into the microphone. A hush fell over the room, and everyone turned in their seats to face him.

  He smiled and scanned the room, his eyes stopping on every table. “It is both an honor and a privilege to be the guest speaker tonight. Thomas Feng was a very good friend of mine, and he’ll be greatly missed, not just by the Asian community, but by everyone’s lives he touched.” He paused. “I remember when I first met Thomas…”

  All of a sudden I had that sensation that someone was staring at me. Without being too obvious, I glanced around the room. Mostly everyone around the room was looking at the mayor. He had a captive audience and I watched as the crowd nodded in unison.

  I spotted Kimmy, sitting diagonally across from me some tables over, in a strapless purple dress that clashed with her skin tone. She was seated next to her paren
ts and didn’t even try pretending she wasn’t bored. Her head was down and my guess was that she had her cell phone out underneath the table.

  Her hair, which was usually thrown together in a sloppy bun, out of carelessness, now looked intentionally styled that way. A few sparkles shimmered from her hair, and it reminded me of a girl going to the prom.

  At her table were a few people from the plaza. The Yi sisters sat next to Daniel Tran, and opposite them was Mr. An. Our eyes met and when he noticed me looking back at him he turned away.

  My sister shoved my leg with hers under the table. When I looked at her, she nodded toward my mother, who was giving me the stink eye. She nodded toward the podium.

  I turned my attention back to the mayor.

  “… and they said, ‘Don’t give him any more rice then!’”

  Everyone laughed and a few people clapped.

  “But seriously, folks, I don’t know how I would have come this far without the support of the Feng family.” He held his hand out, palm up, toward Donna. “Thank you for giving me this opportunity to speak for such a great man. Things won’t be the same without him.”

  The room applauded animatedly while the mayor gave a final wave to the audience. He returned to his seat and the other people at his table all leaned in with what was sure to be eager praise.

  One of the owners of Li Wah’s stood at the podium and alerted the crowd that appetizers would be served before the next speaker, which, according to my program, was Donna herself.

  While the mayor had been talking, it’d been enough to keep our table occupied. But now that his speech was over and there was nothing for our table to focus on, the tension among the eight of us became tangible.

  The waitress came by with rice in small bowls, passing one to each of us. As if all of us had the same thought, we acted a little too interested in our rice bowls. Other servers came over and filled our lazy Susan with dumplings, spring rolls, and Japanese-style tofu.

  I stared nervously at the dumplings.

  My dad broke the silence. “Well, look at all this food.” He spun the lazy Susan, picking something off each dish. The rest of us followed suit.

  After the guests had had time to fill themselves on appetizers and replenish their drinks, the room lights dimmed again, and Donna dabbed at her mouth with a cloth napkin. She placed it over her plate and made her way up to the podium. She stood with her chin up and her back straight, her hands placed firmly on the sides of the stand. She put on a pleasant smile for the crowd as she scanned the room, validating that all eyes were on her.