by Vivien Chien
I snorted. “Yeah, right, I doubt he’d be okay with the way we got this information. And he’s not my boyfriend.”
“I don’t know why you can’t admit that you like him. It’s so obvious,” Megan teased as she put the leftover pizza in the refrigerator.
“That’s simple … because I don’t like him.”
“Right, you keep telling yourself that.”
“Why are you making this into a thing?”
She put her hands on her hips and stood over me. “Because you need to stop moping over good ole what’s-his-name and just move on already. There are other fish swimming around…”
“You’re starting to sound like my mother,” I mumbled.
“Well, maybe she’s right this time, Lana.” Megan moved to the couch, leaning forward and eying me with concern. “You don’t want to hear it, but you need to. It’s time you stop feeling sorry for yourself and live your life again.”
I threw my hands up. “I thought that’s what I was doing.”
“No, you go to work, come home, and sit in front of this TV watching Netflix all night.” She pointed accusingly at the television. “How is that living? And how many times have I invited you to the bar and you never show. I swear if this murder hadn’t happened, you’d never have come up there to talk to me.”
I stood up. “I just don’t feel like it right now, okay? Plus, we’re kind of busy with this whole murder thing.” I pointed to the backpack.
“Well, you better start to feel like it,” she commanded. “Because this isn’t cutting it anymore, Lana. I’ve let you mope around the house all these months, and maybe that’s my own mistake, but I’m not going to sit here and watch my best friend be miserable every day.”
“Where is this coming from?”
“I’m concerned about you,” she answered. “If not Detective Trudeau, go out with Ian then,” she challenged.
I gawked at her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She threw her hands up. “Of course you don’t. Because no one is a good idea, are they?”
Taking a deep breath, I replied, “No, because he’s on my suspect list.”
“How convenient.”
“Look, I don’t feel like talking about this right now. I think it’s best if we just—”
“Ignore it?” Megan asked.
I glared at her. “I was going to say get some sleep.”
“Same difference.”
“I’m fine, and I don’t need anybody telling me how to live my life. Now I’m going to bed, and that’s the end of it.” I stomped to my room with Kikko following close behind. I gave the door a healthy slam and flopped onto my bed.
I couldn’t believe her. Here we were in the middle of a murder investigation, and she was talking about me going out on dates. There wasn’t any time for that and I wasn’t interested in either party anyway. And that’s what I continued to tell myself until I fell asleep.
CHAPTER
26
I woke up grumpy, most likely due to the fact that Megan had given me the tenth degree the night before. It also might have had something to do with the fact that I had had trouble sleeping and had woken up several times. I couldn’t stop thinking about the contents of the drawer and whether they would be of any use in helping us solve the great mystery of who murdered Thomas Feng.
When I opened the door to my bedroom, I found a note wedged underneath. It read: I’m sorry.
I found a Post-it and scribbled, Ditto, and stuck it on her door. We never bickered for long.
I went through the motions of my morning routine, finding myself preoccupied while applying my makeup and amazed to see that I’d gotten it on in all the right places.
In a daze, I walked the dog. The weather was mild so I let her sniff here and there for extended periods of time. Even though I knew I should rush, I couldn’t shake the feeling of absolute preoccupation. There was something about the photos that was bugging me. Well, there was something about all of it that was bugging me.
The rest of the morning continued this way, and I hoped that the restaurant would be empty most of the day.
The Mahjong Matrons came in promptly at nine and sat at their usual table by the main window. Without having to ask, I brought over their pot of oolong tea and placed it in the center of the table. “Shall I get you ladies the usual?”
All four of the women nodded in unison.
“When is Peter coming back to work?” Opal inquired. “He has been gone for some time now.”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I haven’t talked to him much lately.”
“If you speak with him,” Helen said. “Please tell him we miss his cooking.”
I smiled and headed back to the kitchen where Lou was organizing his utensils. I handed him the order slip without saying anything.
He looked down and read the order. “The Mahjong Matrons strike again!” he exclaimed in an announcer’s voice.
“Uh-huh…” I rolled my eyes.
Lou watched me, the grill sizzling below him, the only noise in the kitchen. “Can I ask you something?” he said, sounding unsure of himself.
“Um, okay.”
“You don’t like me very much, do you?” He scratched the back of his neck. “Have I done something to offend you?”
“No. Why would you think that?”
He rubbed the bottom of his lip. “It just seems that way, I suppose. I know that I can be overly chipper at times, but I’m just trying to keep things upbeat. It’s the best way to get through the day, you know?”
If there was one thing I was a sucker for, it was a guy who looked vulnerable, and Lou was tugging on my heart strings. I started to feel bad for all the times that I’d dismissed him or gotten snippy with him.
I put on a reassuring smile and said, “Don’t worry; I’ve just been preoccupied lately, and it’s affecting my mood. It has nothing to do with you.”
He grinned. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
As I headed back out into the dining area, Ian walked into the restaurant. He did a quick scan of the room until his eyes settled on me, and he smiled, sticking his hands in his pockets. Per usual, he was dressed well, in an Italian-cut pin-striped suit. The black suit fit his body as if it were specially made for him and I didn’t doubt that it was. The top button of his crisp, white shirt was undone, and he looked more casual without his tie.
The Mahjong Matrons had been chatting loudly when he’d walked in, but when they noticed him, they immediately stopped talking, and you could sense in their postures that they were ready to get a little eavesdropping in along with their breakfast.
“Good morning, Miss Lee,” Ian chirped, bowing his head ever so slightly. “It is a pleasure to see such beauty in the morning.”
I could hear one of the matrons giggle. Trying to hide my annoyance, I plastered on “the smile” and said, “How can I help you this morning, Ian?”
“Well, first, I’d like to get some breakfast to go, and then I’d like to discuss some business with you, if you have a minute.”
“Sure, what would you like to eat? I’ll place your order and then we can talk for a few minutes until your food is ready.”
He told me what he wanted and I made my way back into the kitchen, handing Lou the order slip.
When I came back out, Ian was sitting at one of the two-seaters near the kitchen entrance. He stood from his chair when I came over and pulled out the chair opposite him, extending a hand. “Please sit with me.”
I sat in the chair, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see the matrons watching us from their table. I’m sure this was going to feed the gossip mill.
Ian cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior at the memorial the other day.”
“Your behavior?” I asked, thinking back to the memorial and my interactions with him. Nothing came to mind.
He looked down at his polished dress shoes. “Yes, I am so embarrassed about my speech.”
&
nbsp; Oh, THAT! I thought to myself but didn’t say out loud. Instead I appeared dumbfounded … for his sake. “Oh? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Well, that makes one person,” he replied with nervous laughter. “Apparently, a lot of people commented on it after the memorial.”
“They did?” I said, this time with genuine surprise. And here I’d thought that everyone was going to talk about Donna passing out at the table. “What did they say?”
He avoided eye contact while he answered. “Mostly, they gave the feedback to my father and told him that I wasn’t ready to run the plaza on my own.”
“But Donna technically will be helping you with everything, won’t she?”
He looked at me for a split second from beneath hooded eyelids and it reminded me of every evil villain in every Chinese movie I’ve ever seen. “She will be helping in a very limited capacity. Her name is on the paperwork for appearances. Basically, this is my show to run, as of today.”
Though his voice was quiet, the aggressiveness seeped through and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I tried to shake it off, but it wasn’t working. Instead, I stood, almost knocking the chair over in the process. I grabbed it just in time. “Um, excuse me for a minute, I have to get food out to the ladies.”
The food for the matrons was ready. I strategically placed everything on a large tray, hoping to make it out in one trip.
With my packed tray, I headed over to the Mahjong Matrons who were all giving me the same look. That “go get him” look that women give each other. I pretended like I didn’t notice and placed their food on the table.
As the women dug into their breakfast, I made my way back over to Ian who had been watching all of my movements. “Your food is just about ready, too,” I said, hoping he’d hurry up with what he had to say.
“Right, so, as I was saying, I didn’t want you to think poorly of my character and have it potentially affect your decision to have dinner with me,” he blurted out in one long breath.
I stood looking down at him, awkwardly holding the serving tray against my chest. “I’m not sure if this is the right time…” I muttered. It was never pleasant telling someone no and this was no exception. Even though I thought his motives might be suspicious, I hated to reject someone.
He nodded, contemplating what I’d just said. “But you haven’t completely ruled it out?”
What was with the menfolk this morning? I sighed. “It’s not something I see happening in the foreseeable future.”
Ian slapped the table with excitement. “Well, all right then. Best news I’ve heard in days.”
My eyes widened. “I’m sorry?”
“Well, it’s just that you said the ‘foreseeable’ future, and since the future can’t be seen, that means that you haven’t declined my dinner invitation.”
“But—”
“Besides, we have a lot of work to get done around the plaza and maybe you’re right, it’s not the best time,” he said, more to himself than me. “After the debacle at the memorial, I need to regain the trust of this plaza. It’s even more crucial now that this committee I’m organizing sets the right tone.”
Speechless, I turned around and went back into the kitchen to get his food. I didn’t know what it would take to drop a hint to this guy, but maybe subtlety was the wrong approach. I’d have to think on that one.
After I had cashed him out and sent him on his way, I went to check on the Matrons again. They had just finished their breakfast, plates and bowls with remnants of Chinese omelet and rice porridge pushed off to the side. They chatted with excitement over their tea. The lid to the pot was left open, signaling they needed a refill.
Pearl beamed. “You know, he’s a good boy in his heart, but maybe not a good businessman.” She looked at me, waiting for my response.
“What’s wrong with him as a businessman?”
Helen answered for the group. “We heard he had a lot of money trouble in Chicago, and his father had to come rescue him. His family was so embarrassed. That’s why he got a job with Thomas. Thomas was the only one who would take him.”
“Where did you hear this?” I asked Helen.
“When you play mahjong, people talk, sometimes they talk too much,” Wendy explained.
Mulling that over, I took their empty dishes and teapot. So, it was very possible that Ian wasn’t the successful businessman that he claimed to be. He hid it well behind a pretty face and sharp suits. Was it possible that the speech-giving Ian was a more accurate portrayal of who he was?
Something was still bothering me that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Until I shook that, I wasn’t going to be able to give this new information any of my real attention. I refilled the teapot and returned to the Matrons. I wondered what else I could learn from them.
* * *
“I figured it out!” I blurted to Megan, making her practically jump off the couch.
“Oh my God, Lana!” Megan hissed. “I almost spilled this entire bottle of nail polish all over Kikko!”
Kikko looked up at the sound of her name and sniffed the air with a snort. No doubt hating the smell of the nail polish fumes.
“I figured out what’s been bothering me.” I had my investigation notebook in my lap and had been filling in all the new information and my thoughts on everything we’d found, including my new intel from the Mahjong Matrons. “I almost forgot about the key.”
“The unknown key we found in the drawer?” Megan asked, inspecting her nails.
“No, the key that we used to open the locked drawer,” I said. “That is what’s been bothering me this entire time. Not the pictures.”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“You found it in Ian’s desk.”
“So?”
“So, why would Ian have the key to Mr. Feng’s special locked drawer? The one with all kinds of secret information tucked away for safekeeping.”
Megan delicately applied nail polish to her ring finger and shrugged. “It had a false bottom; doesn’t mean that Ian ever figured that out. I mean, he’s a good-looking guy and all, but from what you’ve told me, he doesn’t sound too bright.”
I wasn’t convinced. “The papers that were in there were all old bills, probably prior to anything that he would be involved in. So why would he even be interested in those? And why did he keep the key and not give everything to Donna?”
Megan contemplated this by painting her pinkie nail. “Hm, good point. I’m off tomorrow, and I planned on doing some research on our good friend Donna. Want me to look into him too?”
“I think that’s an excellent idea. Maybe check on Mr. An too. Then I think we’ll have covered everyone.”
“You got it.”
I looked back at my notebook. It was filling up pretty fast. Somewhere in this mess, the answer had to be staring me in the face.
CHAPTER
27
After work the next day, I set out to my parents’ house in pursuit of old pictures. My mother kept everything, so I knew she’d have old photos lying around somewhere. Meanwhile, Megan was hot on the Internet search, digging up anything she could find on our remaining potential suspects.
When I got to my parents’ house, my mother was gone, probably out with Esther somewhere, and my dad was lounging in his favorite chair with the remote in his hands. He was flipping through stations when I walked in.
“We have about a hundred channels, and there’s never a damn thing to watch,” my dad said as he turned to face me. “What brings you by, goober?”
“I was wondering if I could look through some of your old photos.”
“Oh, yeah?” My dad turned the TV off and stood up with newfound energy. He loved it when I wanted to look at their old things. “Well, let me lead the way.” He hurried down the hallway to the spare bedroom, which was Anna May’s old bedroom.
From a bookshelf in the corner, my dad removed a few photo albums and plopped them down on the bed. “How far do you want to go back?” he asked with
enthusiasm.
I sat down on the bed and flipped the cover on the first one. “I was looking for stuff from when you and Mom were young.”
“Oh, really?” He rubbed his hands together. “Well, in that case…” He took the albums off the bed and stacked them back on the shelf. From a different shelf, he selected four albums, setting them on the bed in front of me, and then grabbed a large tin with a flower design on the lid and placed it next to the albums. “These ones in the tin are the ones we haven’t organized yet. I always say I’m going to do it on the weekends but…”
“I know, all those channels to flip through,” I joked.
My dad chuckled. “Do you want anything to eat while you’re here? Your mom has some fried noodles in the fridge I can heat up for you.”
I already found myself preoccupied with the albums. Since they were organized by year, I decided to leave the tin for last. “Maybe later, Dad.”
“All right,” he replied, hovering over me.
“Dad…”
“Yeah?”
“What are you doing?”
“Maybe I should stay and look through them with you so I can explain stuff if you have questions.”
I sighed, knowing that my dad would turn this into an all-night event. But the look on his face made it impossible to say no. I scooted over on the bed so my dad could sit beside me, looking at the albums over my shoulder.
The first album was from when they were in college. There were a lot of pictures of them on campus and my dad stopped on every page to point out the locations and buildings that were in the background. A couple of cookout pictures showed up with my grandparents from my dad’s side.
“Wasn’t your mother beautiful?” my dad said, cooing at the pictures. “The minute I saw her, I knew she was the one.”
We continued on to the next album, which was mostly wedding and honeymoon pictures. My parents had done a two-week vacation, spending one week in Taiwan and another week in Hawaii. The pictures were gorgeous and I looked a little longer than necessary, almost forgetting my mission. I hadn’t been to Taiwan since I was little girl and I wanted to experience it with my adult eyes, to appreciate the history and the heritage. But the money was never right. And my parents, though they wanted to, couldn’t spring for the trip for me or my sister. One day, Lana, one day.