Mandarin Yellow (Socrates Cheng mysteries)

by Steven M. Roth

  Jade pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and looked at it. “The note said, ‘Tell that sonofabitch he’s been 86ed until further notice, which won’t happen as long as I work here. Boxer.” Jade folded her note and handed it to Socrates.

  “What’s that mean to be 86ed?” Jade asked.

  “It means I’ve humiliated myself, made a major ass of myself, is what, and I’ve been banned from The Guards. The word will spread from bar to bar all over Georgetown. Everyone I know will know about it. If I try to come into The Guards again, they’ll immediately call the cops and I’ll be arrested, no questions asked.” He paused, then added, “If you like bars, it’s like having bar leprosy.”

  “Oh,” Jade said, “is that all? Well, that’s all right. You know I don’t like bars anyway.”

  SOCRATES WAS STILL buzzed the next morning, Tuesday, when he set out to find Brandon’s killer. He started with Linda Fong.

  He walked into the gallery at 11:30. He intended to establish some ground rules this time and, if necessary, have it out with Fong once and for all. He was determined, among other things, that she would retract the misleading statement she’d made to the police about him.

  Socrates looked around inside the entrance while his eyes adjusted to the soft interior light. What he saw when his vision cleared stopped him cold and caused him to forget all about the purpose for his visit.

  He saw Jade.

  She and Fong were deeply involved in conversation. Neither woman seemed to have heard him enter. Or so he thought.

  In a delayed reaction to the jingle of the door’s overhead bell, Jade and Fong broke off their conversation and slowly turned, in tandem like Busby Berkeley dancers, to face the entrance.

  “Oh, Socrates,” Jade said, as her eyes met Socrates’ eyes. She smiled briefly, then turned her head away, back toward Fong.

  Socrates quick-stepped across the showroom to the alcove. He never took his eyes off Jade as he crossed to her.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said. “I didn’t even know you two knew each other.” He tilted his head toward Linda Fong as he spoke to Jade.

  “We don’t,” Jade said, “not really. I mean, we’ve met before, but only briefly, when my father helped Ms. Fong obtain her job here. He knew Ms. Fong from when she worked at the Chinese Embassy as the assistant to the former cultural attaché.”

  “What are you doing here, Jade?”

  “Talking to Ms. Fong, if you must know,” she said, an edge now in her voice. She glanced quickly in the direction of the acting director, then, just as quickly, darted her eyes back to Socrates. “What about you, Socrates? Are you here checking up on me?”

  Socrates looked over at Fong, nodded once to acknowledge her, then said to Jade, “You know why I’m here. For Brandon and your father.” He waited for Jade to say something. When she didn’t, he continued. “You still haven’t said what you’re here talking to her about.”

  Jade’s face flushed. She grabbed her pocketbook from the desk, placed the folded sheet of paper she’d been holding into it, and turned her back to Socrates. She said to Linda Fong, in a voice Socrates could barely hear, “Thank you for your help. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow night.”

  Jade turned back to Socrates.

  “I know you’re upset, Socrates, and you’re not yourself because of Brandon so I’ll overlook your bad manners. But I don’t have to explain myself to you or anybody else.

  “Just because you’re working for my father now doesn’t mean I’m answerable to you or that you can tell me where to go or not go or who to talk to or not talk to. Even my father can’t do that anymore.” She nodded abruptly.

  “I’m leaving now, Socrates,” she said, “and I want you to know I don’t appreciate your attitude, not even after what you’ve been through. I have every right to be anywhere I want, including here.” She paused, stared at Socrates, then said, “I’ll talk to you later.” She walked around him, strode quickly to the door, and exited the gallery.

  Linda Fong looked at Socrates and laughed out loud.

  Socrates bolted from the gallery and hurried after Jade, catching up with her half a block up P Street.

  “I’m sorry, Jade,” he said. “I know you have the right to be anywhere you want. It’s just I was surprised to see you, is all. I didn’t expect to see you again today once we parted this morning, let alone here.”

  Jade slowed her pace and looked at Socrates. She continued walking, but with less persistence now. “You never answered me, Socrates. Were you checking up on me for my father?”

  “Of course, not. If I was spying, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see you, would I?” Socrates took a deep breath. “Please stand still a minute. I can’t talk to you when you’re walking away like this.”

  Jade slowed her pace again, but did not stop walking.

  Socrates said, “I was there to put pressure on Fong about the burglary and Brandon’s murder, to see if she would talk to me.”

  He put his hand on Jade’s elbow, and stopped walking. “I also wanted to convince her to take back her lie she told the police about me.” He waited for Jade to say something, but she remained silent.

  “Come on, Jade,” he said. “Let’s not argue. I was surprised to see you there, nothing else.” He took her hand. “I don’t want to fight. This was just a stupid misunderstanding.”

  Jade beat a rapid tattoo with her foot. She frowned briefly, seemed to think over what Socrates had just said, then let go of her anger, smiled and nodded. She looked at Socrates with softened eyes.

  “All right,” Jade said. “If you must know, I went to see Fong for you, two times in fact, to ask her to cooperate with you. I know how frustrated you’ve been with the investigation, and now with Brandon and all . . . .”

  Socrates narrowed his eyes. “Why would she agree to help me if she hardly knows you, Jade?”

  “Because she would like my help in return. Or, rather, she wants my father’s help. So I offered a trade. If she cooperates with you, I’ll have Youngest Brother approach our father with a good word for her, telling him Fong helped him by helping you with your investigation.”

  “What did you mean when you said you’d see her tomorrow night? What’s going on?”

  Jade sighed. She was frustrated by Socrates’ continued grilling of her. “There’s a reception at the gallery tomorrow after it closes. Fong is giving it. She says it’s in memory of the late director and to celebrate her own promotion to the position of acting director.”

  Jade leaned in close to Socrates and whispered from the corner of her mouth, “If you ask me, she probably wants to use the occasion to remind influential folks that she’s available to permanently fill the director’s vacant slot. It’s good politics.”

  “You’re going?” Socrates said.

  Jade nodded. “I am. So are my father and brothers, and people from the Embassy. Several community leaders, too.”

  Socrates said nothing. His eyes remained fixed on Jade’s eyes.

  “The event is limited to local community Chinese who support the gallery and to others who can influence the choice of the new permanent director.” She stroked her finger across Socrates’ cheek. “I assume Linda Fong put together the invitation list. There won’t be any outsiders as far as I know so I can’t bring you as my escort.”

  Socrates stiffened and pulled away.

  “Oh, dear! I’m sorry, Socrates.” Jade blushed. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out. You’re not an outsider, you know that, not as far as I’m concerned.”

  Socrates let it pass. “I’m surprised you’re going since your father and brothers will be there.”

  “That’s exactly what we were talking about when you barged in on us — if it would make me and my family uncomfortable to all be at the gallery at the same time. But between you and me, I think Fong was having second thoughts about how my father might respond seeing me there, worried he would adversely associate my presence at the reception with her. I thin
k she hoped I would offer to bow out and not come tomorrow night.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Why should I? I still have to live my life even if my father doesn’t want to admit I have one to live.” As she finished explaining this, Jade leaned over and kissed Socrates’ cheek. “I have to go now, Sweetie,” she said. “I have things to do before tomorrow. We’ll talk later. Call me tonight — late.” She turned and walked away before Socrates could respond.

  SOCRATES WATCHED JADE disappear around the corner. He turned back to face the gallery, now two blocks away from where he and Jade had stopped walking. He no longer was in the mood to deal with Linda Fong, especially not right after she’d laughed at him when Jade walked out. He didn’t trust himself to maintain his composure with the woman, and did not want to further antagonize her by saying something that might momentarily be satisfying, but in the long run would be self-defeating. He would have his showdown with Fong, he was sure of that, but it would be on another day, on his terms. Right now, he had something else to do, something that would likely prove to be more productive than engaging in verbal jousting with the acting director.

  Socrates called Bing-fa and asked to meet with him. He said he wanted to talk to him about a sensitive aspect of the investigation, and thought they should do this privately, without any of Bing-fa’s sons present. They agreed to meet at Bing-fa’s home rather than at the Golden Dragon.

  When Socrates arrived at the White Plum Blossoms apartments, he rode Bing-fa’s private elevator to the top floor where the Great Room was located.

  The elevator cab opened into a 15’ x 15’ anteroom that distinctly reflected Bing-fa’s Confucian values. The spare walls were painted dark green and were totally unadorned. An antique burgundy, hand-knotted rug, with a simple white lotus petal design, overspread the stained wood floor, exposing a one-foot wide border of dark wood surrounding the rug’s perimeter.

  The only furniture in the anteroom consisted of an eighteenth century A-shaped, five meter high rosewood cabinet and a pair of eighteenth century yoke back rosewood chairs, one on each side of the cabinet. A cricket cage dangled from the end of a brass chain attached to the ceiling in the southeast corner of the room.

  An Oriental doorkeeper, wearing a teal ankle length silk gown, stood in the archway that separated the anteroom and the Great Room. He motioned for Socrates to follow him, then turned and walked across the Great Room, over to Bing-fa who was sitting in a Jia Jing Dynasty chair.

  Bing-fa looked up as Socrates approached. He set aside the abacus that teetered on his lap, reached up and straightened his cap and collar, then stood to greet Socrates. He bowed slightly.

  “Welcome to my home. You honor me by your visit,” Bing-fa said as he smiled.

  Bing-fa led Socrates into his scholar’s studio, closed the door, and indicated that Socrates should sit. He settled into his chair across the desk from Socrates.

  Socrates thought about what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to cause problems in the Li household, but he wanted Bing-fa to know what he was up against with respect to his sons and other people. He hesitated while he gathered his thoughts. “This is awkward, Bing-fa, but . . . .”

  “Please speak frankly.” He stared at Socrates and waited.

  “The problem is with some of your sons,” Socrates said. “They’ve threatened me if I continue to help you. I assume you didn’t know.”

  Bing-fa shifted in his seat. He narrowed his eyes. “Which sons have disgraced me?” He burrowed his hands up his sleeves and crossed his arms.

  “They also broke into my home twice. Eldest Brother and your middle sons did.”

  Bing-fa frowned. “My sons will once again be instructed to give you the assistance you desire and to immediately cease threatening you or interfering with you. Rest assured, Mr. Cheng, this time they will obey me.”

  SOCRATES WALKED AWAY from the White Plum Blossoms apartment building toward Georgetown. He was reasonably satisfied Jade’s brothers had now been neutralized and now would neither harm him nor again interfere with his investigation.

  His cell phone rang. It was the IRS revenue officer in Washington, the agent now in charge of his father’s case. She wanted to meet with Socrates.

  THE NEXT MORNING, promptly at 8:15, Socrates sat across the desk from the revenue officer at the IRS’s regional headquarters office on North Capitol Street in Washington. The revenue officer, a woman named Lydia McCants, was polite, bureaucratically formal, and quite firm in her position that the IRS expected Socrates’ father to promptly pay his entire tax indebtedness, including all penalties and interest, without any compromise of the amount owed.

  Socrates responded, “I know you’ve heard it all before, Ms. McCants, and I told you I will pay the full amount my father owes. Still, I’d appreciate it if you’ll let me tell you something about my parents. Please.”

  The revenue officer frowned as if she was gauging Socrates’ level of candor by reading the lines in his face. She nodded her consent and leaned her chair back on its hind legs. She crossed her arms over her capacious breasts and looked beyond Socrates, staring at the distant intersection where two walls and the ceiling met.

  “I won’t offer any excuses why my father didn’t make the employer’s payroll tax deposits. He was wrong not to, and he knows it. He’s said it to me several times this week. But if you levy against my father and take my parents’ bank account and property, you’ll wipe them out, the debt to the IRS won’t be paid because they’ll have no means to repay it, and they’ll be too old to start over. It would kill them.” He nodded at the revenue officer and paused when it became clear to him she wanted to say something.

  “That won’t happen, not if they pay what they owe,” McCants said. “I thought we settled that.”

  “We did. I’m just saying, is all.”

  The revenue officer raised her eyebrows and shuffled some papers. She looked down at the case file, then back up at Socrates. “When will the full indebtedness be paid? You can’t delay it.”

  “What I propose,” Socrates said, “is full repayment by me on my parents’ behalf, but on an installment basis. I’ll take on the legal obligation for them so the IRS has the security of my condo and my other assets for its lien. What I’ll ask in return is for the IRS to release the lien from my parents’ house and bank accounts so they can sell the house and move to Washington. I’ll also need an agreement that the Service won’t touch the sales proceeds.”

  Socrates paused for McCants’ reaction. Seeing none, he said, “My condo’s equity value alone is more than enough to protect the IRS’ debt under the lien while I’m paying it down.”

  McCants shook her head. “There’s a problem with your proposal. The Service usually won’t agree to installment payment plans in cases involving payroll taxes. That approach usually is reserved for income taxes. But if you want to go ahead on that basis anyway and take your chances, you can submit a formal request for an installment plan. Apply in writing through me.”

  Socrates considered her statement. “What happens in the meantime while the IRS considers my request?” he asked.

  “Interest and penalties will continue to accrue. Other than that, nothing will happen, not if you don’t delay submitting your proposal. I’ll put your father’s collection case in suspend status until your proposal either is accepted or rejected. In the meantime, the lien will stay in place.”

  Socrates said he would proceed that way and would file a written proposal for an installment plan sometime in the next few days. As he left the meeting, he again wondered how he would come up with the money to pay for this.

  JADE ARRIVED AT the THREE PROSPERITIES CHINA ARTS GALLERY on Wednesday evening at 5:00. She briefly stopped inside the entrance and looked around. There were approximately twenty people standing in small clusters, holding drinks and talking. She knew most of these people through her father. A few others she recognized on sight, but had never been formally introduced to.

  She had come t
o Linda Fong’s reception to fly her colors. She would be seen there by her father and brothers, and, with that courageous and defiant act, initiate the slow and arduous process of eroding, and eventually eliminating,the familial quarantine that shrouded her. Her presence at the reception would be the first step in Jade’s calculated attempt to reconcile with her father and bring about her own rehabilitation. All this, of course, without knuckling under to her father’s command that she terminate her relationship with Socrates.

  Jade cut across the room, nodding and smiling as she made her way, and crossed to the bar which had been set up near the bead-covered doorway. She decided that under the circumstances of her father’s presence she could be forgiven a temporary lapse in her Kobudo health regimen and could indulge her need for liquid fortification. She ordered a tall Stolichnaya and soda over ice.

  Jade sipped her drink and looked around the exhibit room, holding her glass to her lips as she peered over its top edge. She swept her eyes back and forth across the room.

  She saw the Twins standing across the room, huddled together in a corner, talking excitedly and gesticulating with their hands, acting as if they were the only ones present.

  That’s my Twins, Jade thought, forever and symbiotically narcissistic. She smiled at her clever, but accurate, turn of phrase.

  She saw Youngest Brother standing alone, his back against a wall, staring at her. He made no move to cross the room to her when their eyes met.

  Jade nodded once and smiled, but resisted walking over and hugging him. She didn’t know how Youngest Brother might respond to such an overt show of affection, not with their father and brothers present at the reception. She stood her ground, winked once at Bing-enlai, and smiled at him again.

  Youngest Brother smiled back and briefly bowed his head.

  He looks so sad, so forlorn, Jade thought.

  All at once Jade changed her mind and took a step toward him, but immediately yielded to reason and thought better of it. She stopped herself. She could feel her face grow warm as she blushed.