Fatal Fried Rice

by Vivien Chien

  Asia Village was quiet when I arrived, and I took a couple deep breaths on the way to the restaurant to calm myself. I felt jittery even though I’d barely had any coffee that morning.

  I went through my usual morning routine of prepping the restaurant, greeting Peter when he arrived, and getting the Mahjong Matrons situated when they walked through the restaurant doors.

  Nicole wouldn’t be starting her shift until two o’clock, so I had to go almost the entire day before finding out if she even knew anything important to begin with. I could very possibly be waiting on a big fat nothing.

  And naturally, because I was waiting for something to happen, the day dragged on with little to no excitement to keep me occupied. At that point, I would have even taken a customer complaint to get things moving. Talk about feeling desperate.

  Nancy arrived at eleven, and I disappeared into my office until the lunch rush so I could prep the bank deposit to take with me later that day. Per usual, I would use the bank deposit drop-off as a way to leave the restaurant without being questioned by anyone.

  I made a couple quick notes to myself about things I wanted to order for the restaurant at the beginning of the following week before heading back out to the dining room. To my utter dismay, there was nothing “rush-like” about lunchtime. Only a few businessmen came in and their orders were pretty light. This day was crawling.

  Finally, it was ten minutes until two, and as I scurried back into the office to get my things, I debated whether it would be annoying to show up right as Nicole did. I already knew that the stylists didn’t get their first appointment until about a half hour into their shift unless there were overflow issues. Jasmine always preferred her workers to get situated when they arrived, so they were less likely to feel rushed and mess up somebody’s hair. And since it was business hours on a weekday, it wasn’t likely there would be any overflow to contend with.

  I practically jogged out of the restaurant, yelling to Peter and Nancy that I would be back soon. They each gave me a curious look as I passed, but neither made any comment about my clearly anxious behavior.

  I took another deep breath as I exited the restaurant and warned myself to calm down, so I didn’t seem like a complete wacko as I walked into the salon.

  But on my way, as I was passing China Cinema and Song, Kimmy Tran stepped out from her store and stood right in front of me. “Lana Lee!” she bellowed.

  Even though I’d noticed her out of the corner of my eye, she’d startled me anyhow. I jumped a little, sucking in a gasp.

  Kimmy laughed, her chubby cheeks rising with amusement. “You are too easy to scare!”

  I groaned. “Kimmy, you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”

  She shook a finger at me. “You need to calm down, Lee. How much coffee have you had today?”

  Pursing my lips at her, I refused to answer.

  She put her hands on her hips and jutted out her chin. “Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.”

  “Okay, well I’ll see you later then,” I said, attempting to express just how agitated I was with her.

  “Wait a minute. What are you up to?”

  “Nothing,” I replied. “Why would you think I was up to something?”

  “You have that look on your face. I know that face … I’ve seen it plenty. Now spill.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. I started to inch away in the direction of the salon.

  “I don’t know why you bother hiding these things from me. It’s becoming insulting. You know I’m going to find out anyhow.”

  “Well, when you find out, you let me know.” I waved and turned away before she could say anything else. She was right though. It was only a matter of time before someone ratted me out for snooping around. I just hoped it was later rather than sooner.

  CHAPTER 10

  I stepped into the salon and felt heat rise up my neck. The pressure was on because I felt like I had something to prove. Me and my big mouth had gone on quite a bit the night before with Megan about how I knew this meeting with Nicole was going to be just what we needed to get the ball rolling. Needless to say, I was reluctant to hear her say the words “I told you so.” She loved to say it too much.

  Nicole is not hard to pick out of a crowd. There aren’t many Asians running around Cleveland with bleach blonde hair. I don’t know how the girl did it, but she made it work. And I always say, if you can rock it, flaunt it.

  I waved to Yuna, who was chatting with a customer who was cashing out. She gave me a wink and nudged her head in the direction of Nicole’s workstation.

  The fashion-forward stylist was slouched in her cutting chair, flipping casually through a hair magazine when I walked up. She tilted her head upward and smiled, and then did a double take when she realized it was me who had come to see her.

  “Well, if isn’t Miss Lana Lee,” she said with a wide grin. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

  “I know, we always seem to miss each other,” I replied, feeling the muscles in my body relax. Nicole and I had known each other a long time. We didn’t talk much, but there was a comfort level there that I’d forgotten existed. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  “What brings you by? I know it can’t be to let me cut your hair,” she joked. “Because Jasmine would have both our heads on a platter.”

  “True story,” I said with a laugh. “No, I actually came to ask about one of your clients, if you have a few minutes to spare.” I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one was around.

  She closed her magazine and straightened in the chair. “Oh yeah? Are you, you know…?” She gave me an exaggerated wink.

  “Possibly.” I felt the palms of my hands begin to sweat. My previous stints in detective work were no secret around the plaza, but I always tried my best to keep a low profile whenever possible.

  “Cool. I kind of have an idea on who you might be here about.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “It’s not every day that one of your clients is murdered.”

  “Okay, well good, I can skip the backstory then. What can you tell me about her?” I don’t know why, but it felt like both of us were avoiding saying her name out loud.

  “Not much really. She was pretty standard procedure as far as haircuts go. She’d get her hair trimmed every four weeks, even if it didn’t look like it needed it. And everything she talked about was pretty much surface stuff. She never got into the nitty-gritty with me.”

  “Did she talk about her family at all?”

  Nicole took a moment to think. “Not in-depth, but I do know that she had an older sister. I think she ran the family business or something. I wanna say it’s called Lucky Lotus Cleaners.”

  Point for me. At least my assumption about the sibling running the family business was correct. “How about a love interest? From what the Matrons told me she wasn’t involved with anyone. But I did hear from someone else that she received flowers a couple months back.”

  “Oh, she had a boyfriend for sure.” Nicole said with a smirk. “Well, at least someone she wanted to be with.… What the extent of the relationship was, I can’t really say.”

  I thought about her throwing the flowers in the garbage. If it was someone she wanted to be with, that didn’t seem like an appropriate response. “But did she say she had a boyfriend? Or are you just guessing?”

  “She never called him by a title. She always called him her friend,” Nicole replied, holding up her hands and using her fingers to make air quotes. “However, that’s absolutely what he was whether she wanted to admit it or not.”

  “How can you be sure about that? Maybe they were platonic?” I wanted clear confirmation that it came out of Margo’s mouth versus speculation.

  “Well, no one can really be sure of anything, can they? But you know as well as I do that a woman just knows about this sort of thing. And I could definitely feel it. The little she talked about him, you could tell she was super invested in h
im. But she struck me as a timid woman who wasn’t going to speak up for the things she wanted in life. Just the tone in her voice—she’d get soft if he happened to come up in a story she was telling me.”

  “She never mentioned a name?” I asked.

  “Nope, always her friend. She’d tell me they went to a movie or went out for dinner. She liked to cook for him too. She’d mention a lot of times how she’d prep meals for him to take home. I guess he was not a genius in the kitchen.”

  “Did you get the impression that he was Asian?” I didn’t know if that mattered, but I felt like it would at least help me eliminate some of the people who’d end up on my list of suspects.

  “I don’t think so. From time to time she said how her family didn’t approve of mixed relationships. They were pretty old-fashioned from what she said. The two topics were never mentioned at the same time. But it left me with the impression that maybe that’s why she was keeping things in her personal life quiet. Honestly, it’s hard to say which scenario I believe. One of them didn’t want to seal the deal, that’s all I know for sure.”

  I started making mental notes of angles I wanted to explore. If her family was close-minded, then it could have been a factor in her intimate relationships. Also, a possibility that she’d rejected someone and inadvertently offended them.

  Nicole observed me while I collected my thoughts. “What do you think happened?”

  I sighed. “At this point, I have no idea really. I didn’t know her in the slightest. Tuesday night was the first night I’d ever met her.”

  “How did you guys meet anyways? She doesn’t come around here too often.”

  Blushing, I said, “I was taking her cooking class. Please don’t tell anyone.”

  Nicole’s hand flew up to her mouth to stifle a laugh. When she composed herself, she gave me that look people give you when they think you’re being ridiculous—it often comes with a tilt of the head and pursed lips. “Lana, just let Peter teach you. He’s not going to make fun of you or something. Is that what you’re worried about?”

  “It’s not that, I guess. I don’t know, I really wanted to surprise all of them. Especially Anna May.”

  Nicole chuckled. “I can understand that. Your sister is a little … well, no offense, she’s kind of a know-it-all.”

  I laughed. “Believe me, I know that fact firsthand.”

  “So now what? I’m guessing the class is cancelled?”

  My shoulders dropped. “Now I put learning to cook on the back burner … again.”

  “Cheer up, Lana,” Nicole said, flashing a bright smile. “One of these days you’ll learn to sauté with the best of them.”

  * * *

  Before leaving Nicole to begin her shift, I asked her to let me know if she thought of anything else that might be significant. She promised she would, and I left feeling mildly productive.

  Hoping that no one from Ho-Lee Noodle House noticed me leave the salon, I scurried out the main doors and headed for my car. I’d been at the salon for about twenty minutes, and if I was lucky, going to the bank wouldn’t take too long.

  On the way there I thought about what Nicole had said concerning Margo having a boyfriend and that maybe it had been a secret relationship. My own sister, Anna May, was entertaining a “private” relationship at the moment. As liberal as I tend to be about most things, matters of the heart was not one of them.

  Normally I attributed those types of relationships to some type of deceit. That maybe she’d been a mistress, or maybe the guy was dating multiple women on the side. But hiding an interracial relationship would not have dawned on me.

  My parents, as old-fashioned as they were, had always been open-minded in that department. Neither one had discouraged me from dating—or not dating—a specific type of person. And though I knew those feelings of prejudice still resided in society today, they were usually not at the forefront of mind. I suppose that was the idealist in me.

  There weren’t many cars in the bank parking lot, so I hurried inside to handle my business and was back in my car less than ten minutes later.

  For a September afternoon it was unseasonably warm, and I rolled down the windows to let some air in the car. The drive back to Asia Village was more relaxing than the one to the bank, and I realized just then how much tension I had been holding onto.

  Unfortunately for me, when I returned to the restaurant, I had a visitor waiting for me that would reinstate that tension and multiply it tenfold.

  Detective Bishop had come a callin’.

  CHAPTER 11

  Upon my walking into the restaurant, Nancy, who’d been sitting on the hostess stool, sprang up with alarm on her face, eyes widening and sliding in the direction of my surprise visitor. Detective Bishop was sitting at a two-seater table near the entrance, facing the door. He had what appeared to be an untouched cup of tea in front of him. His arms were folded across his chest and he was leaning back in his chair with an air that spoke of wasted time.

  As if the detective being there wasn’t bad enough, my mother and grandmother were also there, seated at their usual booth near the kitchen. My mother was glaring intently at Detective Bishop from over her bowl of noodles.

  Trying to remain calm, I smiled good-naturedly at Nancy. If I acted like this wasn’t a big deal, then maybe my mother wouldn’t flip out and cause a scene.

  Before Nancy could say anything to me, the detective rose from his seat, adjusted his tie, and approached the lobby area where I’d slowed down my pace considerably.

  I didn’t have to pretend to be surprised to see him because I was. “Detective Bishop, nice to see you again.” Which was a lie, of course.

  “Miss Lee,” he said in response. “I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time. There are some things I’d like to discuss with you if you have a moment to spare.”

  My palms started to sweat. “Sure. We can go back to my office if you’d like to talk in there.”

  Without realizing it, my mother had walked up behind Detective Bishop, and she made a production of clearing her throat. Undaunted by my mother’s presence, the detective turned around to acknowledge her. “Hello again, Mrs. Lee.”

  My mother planted her hands on her hips. She was about two inches shorter than me, but she always seemed larger than life, at least to me. I wasn’t sure she had the same effect on our new friend. “Now my daughter is here. You tell me why you are here to see her.” Her tone was so authoritative there was no mistaking that she wasn’t asking, she was telling.

  Detective Bishop’s stance didn’t budge an ounce. “Mrs. Lee, right now I need to speak with your daughter in private.” He talked slower and louder than he had when addressing me, and it was obvious that it was in a condescending way, as if my mother couldn’t understand what he was saying.

  Points for her because she picked up on it right away. “I’m Taiwanese, I’m not stupid.”

  His jaw clenched, and he took a step back. “No one is suggesting that you’re stupid, Mrs. Lee. I simply wasn’t clear if you understood English all that well.”

  She scowled in return. “I understand more than you think.”

  He turned to me, clearly perplexed. “Miss Lee? May we speak in private? I have places I need to be.”

  I sighed heavily. “Mom, we can talk after he leaves.” Turning to Detective Bishop, I said, “Right this way, Detective.”

  My mother clucked her tongue as we walked by her. “My other daughter is a lawyer; you better be careful.”

  I heard Detective Bishop mumble something under his breath that sounded like “Yeah okay,” but I couldn’t be sure. I kept my back straight and my head held high as I led him to my office. I wasn’t going to bother with pleasantries and ask if he wanted water or anything to make him more comfortable. I was pretty sure that he would never extend the same courtesy to me.

  When we got to my office, he assessed it, taking the seat closest to the door. His demeanor told me he was unimpressed with the space, and frankly, I couldn’t bl
ame him.

  I sat in my chair, folded my hands in front of me and waited for him to speak. I had no idea what to expect.

  He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a tape recorder. “I hope you don’t mind me taping our discussion. I like to make sure that everything is above board and I have a clear record of all communications.”

  “No, that’s perfectly fine,” I said, keeping my voice flat. I knew right now it was important that I didn’t show much emotion.

  He turned the recorder on and recited a script I’m sure he’d said a hundred times, explaining who he was talking to, where he was at, and what the purpose of his visit was. He then stated that I was aware of the recording and asked me to say my name and that I accepted the conditions of our conversation.

  I complied.

  “Now, Miss Lee, you told me that you left Barton’s Adult Learning Center and returned to retrieve some type of shopping list for the class requirements. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And when you returned, the victim, Margo Han, had already been stabbed, correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you walk into the room? Or try to call out to her, seeing if she needed any help?”

  I didn’t know why he was asking me these things again. I had already made my statement and, as he’d said, written an overabundance of detail. My only guess was that he was trying to see if I was being consistent with my story. “No, I did not walk into the room. I could see everything from the doorway. I did not call out to her, but I did scream.”

  “And that’s when Mr. Robert Larkin, janitorial employee for Barton’s Adult Learning Center, came onto the scene?”

  “Yes, he must have heard me screaming and came to see what was happening.”

  “And did he enter the room and offer assistance to Margo Han?”

  “No, he stayed outside of the room, and when he realized what had happened, he called nine-one-one.”