The Misfortune Cookie ed-6

by Laura Resnick

  “What are you doing here, anyhow?” Lucky asked him. “I thought this was your game night.”

  “I think I’m coming down with a cold. So I left early and came back here to get some paperwork to do at home, in case I’m not well enough to come in tomorrow.” He added to me and Max, “I don’t want to sneeze and cough on the bereaved.”

  “Indeed, no,” said Max.

  I glanced at the clock on the wall and said, “Oops, I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to meet Ted at Lily’s shop soon.” I hadn’t been there before, but I had the address, and it was an easy walk from here.

  “Ah, Lily Yee?” Mr. Chen smiled fondly. “Please give her my regards.”

  “Of course.”

  “Shall I accompany you, Esther?” Max said. “If Lily is there, it might be an opportunity for me to pursue my inquiries.”

  “Good idea,” Lucky said briskly. “And I’ll pursue mine.”

  Observing the spring in Max’s step as he gathered his things and started donning his heavy coat, I realized, without surprise, that he was looking forward to seeing Lily again. I hoped he would actually remember to pursue relevant inquiries when speaking to her . . . But I knew how hard it could be to hold a train of thought when you’re fatally attracted to the person you’re speaking with, so I vowed to refrain from quizzing him on the results of the conversation.

  When Max picked up Nelli’s pink leash, Lucky said, “Uh, Doc, maybe you could leave her here?”

  “Here?” Max repeated.

  “Here?” blurted Mr. Chen.

  “I could use the company,” Lucky said. “It gets pretty quiet in here at night.”

  “Ah. Yes,” I said. “I guess it would.” What with no one else in the building being alive, and all. “And a dog is a good companion.”

  “Also a good ally when confronting Evil,” said Max. “Brave, stalwart, valiant, and true.”

  Nelli wagged her tail and drooled a little.

  Max added to Lucky, “I am sure Nelli would be delighted to keep you company, my dear fellow. But, er, she does need to go outside from time to time, you know.”

  Lucky looked at Nathan Chen, who sighed and gave in.

  “Remember?” he said to Lucky. “We almost never use it, but if you go down through the basement and then back up the stairs on the other side of the cellar, there’s a door that leads to the alley that’s behind Kwong’s Carry-Out. It’s not scenic or fragrant, but it will probably serve your purpose.”

  “No CCTV cameras back there?” Lucky asked.

  “No.”

  “That’ll do, then.”

  “Well, then, Nelli,” Max said to his familiar, “you’ll be keeping Lucky company for a while.”

  Lucky said, “We should call John and ask him to drop off some dog chow on his way home tonight.”

  “He’ll be out late,” said his father. “He and Bill Wu are rehearsing tonight.”

  “Right, the lion dance.” Lucky said, “Well, I’ll be up late, too, so whenever he gets here is fine.”

  “Come on, Max,” I urged. “Ted’s expecting me soon.” Punctuality is one of the key components of professionalism for actors, and I am religious about it.

  Nelli seemed a little surprised not to accompany us when we left, but since she was very fond of Lucky, she made no objection. And she had her juicy bone, after all, which seemed to be her priority anyhow.

  The brutal wind that had been whipping through Chinatown all day had finally died down, but it was bitterly cold tonight. Despite the chill, though, the streets of this neighborhood were as busy as ever. Red banners and bright gold good luck symbols hung in windows and around doorways, waiting to welcome the New Year the following week. Shoppers were examining produce on the market tables that were set up outside of small greengrocers. The restaurants we passed were all crowded with noisy diners, and the bright lights and bustling crowds imbued the cold night with energy and cheer.

  Feeling refreshed by our lively surroundings, I realized how tedious it must be for Lucky to be cooped up in the funeral home all the time. I wondered if John, who was skilled with hair and makeup, could create a disguise for him—one that would conceal his identity well enough for him to get out and about, as long as he was careful. If nothing else, at least he could take Nelli for a walk each day, which would suit them both. I decided to mention it to John next time I saw him . . .

  Which turned out to be five minutes later, since he was inside Yee & Sons Trading Company when we arrived there.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked in surprise, smiling at him as Max and I entered the shop.

  He smiled, too. “I wanted to talk to Ted, so I stopped by here on my way to go rehearse with Bill.” John greeted Max, then said, “Dad called my cell a few minutes ago and told me you were on your way here. He says Dr. Zadok is leaving his trusty steed with us for a few days, and I have to go pick up some food for her.”

  “You’ll need a lot of food,” I warned him.

  “I figured.”

  “Hello, Miss Yee, how nice to see you again.” Max removed his furry cap as he greeted Susan, who was behind the cash register of the store. “This is still a family business, I see. Do you work here full-time?”

  “I help out as much as I can,” she said. “But I’m at school a lot.”

  “Susan’s a grad student in architecture,” said John.

  I was a little surprised by how humble the shop was, since the Yees were a prominent family. Although clean and cheerful, it was a tiny storefront, and when I looked around at the stock, it was all just cheap souvenirs, the sort of tacky junk I would never waste my hard-earned money on. Susan was a student, and Ted was an impoverished indie filmmaker, so Lily and her offspring presumably relied on the income from the store. Did this place really support them?

  “As an architect,” Max asked Susan, “do you take an interest in feng shui? I notice the door is slightly tilted, and a mirror faces it. Are these deliberate choices, or happenstance?”

  “If I’m not being tested on something or assigned it as a project, then I don’t have time to take an interest in it,” Susan said. “I have a heavy course load.”

  She certainly found time to harangue her brother in public, though, I thought.

  “Ah.” Max nodded politely. “No doubt your mother appreciates your help here.”

  “No doubt,” said Susan, obviously not in a friendly mood tonight. I saw an open textbook behind the cash register, along with a notebook, a big cup of coffee, and some pens and highlighters, and I realized she probably wanted to get back to her studying.

  So I asked, “Is Ted here? He’s expecting me.”

  “Yeah, he’s around. He said you’d be trying on some of the dresses we’ve got here. For his film.” She rolled her eyes when she said the final word. Then she looked toward the back of the shop and bellowed at the top of her lungs, “Ted! Esther and John are here! Ted! TED!”

  I winced at her volume.

  There was a pause, and then we heard very faintly, from somewhere in the distance, “Send them up!”

  “Up where?” I asked Susan.

  She pointed to the back of the shop. “Go around the corner, past the shelves, make a left, go up the stairs there, make a sharp right, up more stairs, double back, and you’ll find him.”

  “Oh, good,” said John. “As long as it’s simple.”

  She added, “Shout for Ted if you get lost.”

  “Is your mother here, by any chance?” asked Max.

  “My mother?” she said in surprise. “Yeah, somewhere. She’s doing inventory. I haven’t seen her for a couple of hours. Maybe Ted knows where she is.”

  Susan sat down and started reading her textbook, which I took as a clear indication that she wanted us to go away now. So we did.

  At the back of the shop, we went around the corner, into another room, and walked past a bunch of shelves featuring beautiful Chinese dolls, the kind the look like court ladies from an imperial dynasty. I was puzzled by why this
merchandise, so much nicer than the stuff I’d already seen, wasn’t in the front of the store—or even in the window. My perplexity deepened as we made a left and found ourselves in a section of the shop stocked with a fine array of religious carvings, statues, and little altars. This was quality stuff, a whole different level of merchandise than the cheap trinkets in the front of the store. I began to realize how deceptive the humble storefront was—and how capable this place probably was of supporting the Yee family, after all.

  Looking around, John said, “I’m sure this stuff used to be in the front of the store. And the cheap stock that’s there now used to be in the basement.” He shrugged. “I suppose Mrs. Yee decided to shake things up a little.”

  Recalling the obsession that Fenster & Co. had with thieves, I said, “I wonder if the reshuffle had something to do with shoplifters? It’s pretty easy to walk out of a store with something that’s shelved only four feet from the door. Maybe Lily decided it was good business to use the front of the store for the cheapest stuff.”

  “Maybe so,” said John.

  It seemed a shame, though, given how much nicer most of Lily’s merchandise was than you’d guess upon looking in the window. A lot of people must walk right past this place who would come in and browse if they had any idea what nice stuff lay further inside, where passersby couldn’t see it. Well, maybe Yee’s had a reputation that ensured people came inside, anyhow.

  “Oh! Wrong way, I guess,” John said in surprise as we turned a corner and found a staircase that was going down rather than up. “I must’ve got turned around.”

  “Understandable,” said Max. “I’m feeling rather disoriented.”

  “Let’s double back and try going in the other direction,” I suggested.

  As we did so, John said, “They’ve really changed things a lot since the last time I was here. Everything’s in a different place.” He laughed wryly and added, “It seems like even the walls and stairs have moved.”

  “How long ago were you here?”

  “Two or three years, I guess. I hadn’t really seen Ted for a while before he asked me a few months ago if I’d work on his film. We lost touch when he was touring with the band, and ever since he got back, I’m always in class or in the lab.”

  “He was in a band?”

  “Before he was a filmmaker, he was a bass player,” said John. “That didn’t really work out, though, and his mother had to send him money to get home from Kansas or someplace like that.”

  “And what did he do before the band?” I asked, suspecting that Ted may have been through several professions by now.

  “He tried art school for a while, but . . . well, you know.”

  I had a feeling I did know. However, although I didn’t think Ted had much talent, he did have a lot of enthusiasm for filmmaking, and he had invested tremendous commitment and energy in ABC. So maybe he’d stick with this career choice. It made no difference to me, though, just as long as he at least stuck with it until this film was finished or the money ran out—whichever came first. I wondered how Ted’s meeting had gone this evening with his potential new backer.

  We made a sharp right—and found ourselves facing a wall of carved masks, rather than a staircase.

  “Ted?” I called, recalling Susan’s advice. “Ted!”

  “Up here!” he responded, his voice still pretty faint. “Find the stairs!”

  “Find the stairs?” I muttered. “Well, thanks for that helpful tip.”

  “This place is astonishing,” said Max. “One really can’t tell from the street how big it is.”

  “Enormous is more like it,” I said, looking down a very long aisle in hope of seeing some stairs.

  “Oh, yeah, it’s a big store,” said John. “Well-known, too. I guess Yee’s has been here for at least fifty years.”

  Although a fairly regular shopper in Chinatown, I had never been to Yee & Sons before. But I came to this neighborhood to buy food and practical goods at cheap prices, not art and souvenirs, so this wasn’t the sort of place I usually went into.

  As I turned down a shorter aisle, then went around another corner, still without seeing a staircase, I noticed that another reason this wasn’t the sort of place I shopped was that most of the stock was well out of my price range. Some of it might even be out of Max’s price range, I realized, as I eyed an elaborate antique couch from (according to its label) nineteenth-century Hong Kong which cost tens of thousands of dollars.

  This whole section of the store was a crowded jumble of gorgeous traditional furniture, most of it very high-end stuff like that couch. Carved wooden screens, hand-painted porcelain vases big enough to hide Nelli in, chairs with elaborately embroidered cushions, heavy desks, large cabinets painted with classical Chinese scenes . . .

  “Wow, this place is amazing,” I murmured.

  No one replied, and when I turned to look at my companions, I discovered I was alone.

  “Max?” I called.

  “Over here!” he called from somewhere on my left. “I didn’t realize we had gotten separated!”

  “John?” I called.

  “Oh, there you are,” he said behind me.

  I turned around in surprise as he approached me. “I thought you were that way,” I said, jerking a thumb behind me.

  “And I thought you were that way.” He nodded in the direction he had just come from. “Man, this place is really confusing, isn’t it?”

  I said, “I suppose the idea is, the harder it is to find your way back out once you’re inside, the more likely you are to give in and buy something.”

  John smiled at that, then he glanced at his watch. “I need to meet Bill pretty soon, so we really need to find Ted.”

  “Ah-hah!” Max cried. We both turned to see him at the end of our aisle. “There you are.”

  Reunited, we all went in search of the stairs again—and this time we found them. I called Ted’s name when we reached the next floor, and he answered. But when we went in the direction of his voice, we soon found that we seemed to be getting farther away from him, rather than closer.

  “This place didn’t used to be such a maze,” John said in some exasperation. “It was always big, but I at least used to be able to find my way around.”

  We rounded another corner—and were surprised to bump into Lily Yee. Per her daughter’s comment, she appeared to be taking inventory. Dressed in dark slacks and a pretty red blouse, with her black hair in a heavy bun at her nape again, she was carrying a clipboard and wearing a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose.

  “John!” she said in surprise. “Ted didn’t mention you were coming.” Then she recognized his companions. “Hello, again! Max, how nice to see you.”

  “Hello, Lily.” Max executed a gentlemanly little bow and beamed at her. “I’m pleased to see you looking so well.”

  “Oh, nonsense,” she said with a smile. “I look a mess!”

  It would take at least thirty minutes of makeup and hairstyling for me to look that much a “mess,” so I said nothing.

  “Are you looking for Ted, er . . .” She said to me, “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

  “This is Esther Diamond,” said John. “She’s taken over the role of Alicia in Ted’s film.”

  “What? Oh.” Her face fell. “Oh. I thought . . .” She sighed. “Well, never mind.”

  I recalled that, at Benny’s wake, she had seemed to assume that Ted planned to meet me for a date, not an audition. Wishful thinking, but I could understand it. What hardworking widow with an unemployable grown son wouldn’t hope to palm him off on another woman?

  “You must be the actress who Ted said would be here tonight to try on some dresses,” she said to me.

  “Yes, but we’re having trouble finding him.”

  “This place can be a bit of a maze,” she said with a smile. “Come with me.”

  “Oh, good,” I said to John. “We have an intrepid guide to take us upriver.”

  As I expected—since it w
as her place, after all—she led us unerringly to Ted, who was in a section of the store devoted to cheongsams, kimonos, and other clothing.

  Ted, who was talking on his cell, waved to us and started wrapping up his call. “Well, I’m glad you won’t need a second surgery on the leg. And I’ll be in touch about a date to film in the apartment.”

  After he got off the phone, he greeted us all.

  Then his mother asked him, “Did you finish unpacking those statues from the new shipment?”

  “Huh? Oh, I forgot.”

  Lily’s face went very still. A lesser woman, I sensed, would have scowled at him. Speaking evenly, she said, “Ted, I really want those on the floor tomorrow. With the New Year just over a week away—”

  “Sure, I’ll get to it, Mom.”

  “When?”

  “Um . . .”

  “And I still need you to clean out that back room, too.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And don’t forget to take out the garbage tonight.”

  “Okay, Mom, don’t worry.”

  “You keep saying that, Ted, but then you don’t—” She looked at the rest of us and evidently decided not to criticize her son here and now. Instead, she said to him, “Please just make sure the things we’ve discussed get done by tomorrow.”

  “Right, Mom.” He paused. “Um . . . what were those things again?”

  With that look of resigned disappointment which I had seen before on Lily Yee’s face when speaking to her son, she said, “I will write you a list.”

  “Okay,” he said cheerfully. Ted was feckless, but good-natured.

  “Now I shall leave you with your friends and return to working on the inventory.”

  “May I assist you?” Max offered.

  “Oh, thank you, Max.” She gave him a warm smile. “That is very thoughtful. And I would enjoy your company.”

  But although he seemed pleased by her response and he smiled back, I thought his expression seemed a little melancholy. Almost regretful. I wondered if he was thinking of another woman who had lived in another era, someone who had inhabited a world that must have been very different from this one. And I had a feeling he was recognizing in his heart, that organ which is such a slow learner, that despite the resemblance which drew him to her, Lily Yee was not Li Xiuying—whoever she had been.