by Vivien Chien
Nancy and I worked the dining room in a rhythm we had nailed down to perfection. We never found ourselves running into or stumbling over each other when things got hectic. Sometimes working in the food industry felt like an art form.
Things finally started to slow down around one o’clock, and my stomach was protesting loudly at the lack of food in my system. Before heading into my office to get the money out of the safe, I asked Peter to grill some teriyaki sticks for me to take on the road.
I let Peter and Nancy know that I had to run an additional errand while I was out at the bank, and since that wasn’t very unusual, neither questioned what it was that I was going to do. Not having any connections to Margo was also helpful, as I didn’t think either one of them would suspect I would get involved in this case. Really, it was a great cover. My only hope was that it stayed that way until I figured out who the killer really was.
* * *
Lucky Lotus Cleaners was on the east side of Cleveland, where most of the Asian businesses reside in the city. When the original owner of Asia Village, Thomas Feng, built the Asian shopping mall on the west side, his move was intentional. Though many had discouraged him at the time to stray from the already established locations that had been set up by previous generations of immigrants, Thomas felt it was important to expand the radius. He wanted to offer the same Asian products to people who might be unwilling to travel, though it wasn’t all that far. Most Clevelanders, especially the older community, tend to stay on their side of town.
Within twenty minutes I was pulling my car into the small and extremely cracked parking lot of the Han family business. The sign outside was old and faded with a barely visible pink lotus blossom flourishing next to green block letters that read: LUCKY LOTUS CLEANERS.
I turned off the engine and stared at the dilapidated building, wondering what the heck I was going to say to Margo’s sister. I shifted in the driver’s seat to look in the back at the two dress shirts I’d brought along with me as a cover story. This morning, I’d grabbed them right before leaving the house, thinking it would be a good idea that I didn’t show up empty-handed. The only problem was I didn’t know how I was going segue into the topic of her recently deceased sister. Truth was, I had been feeling so scattered and anxious that I wasn’t thinking as clearly as I should have been. And now, my mind was drawing a blank on any possible conversation starters, making me feel as if this whole thing was a big mistake.
Prepared or not, I knew I couldn’t drag this out any longer. I was losing time. Without giving myself the opportunity to back out, I opened the car door and forced my foot to plant itself firmly on the ground. I was going in no matter what. Opening the back door of my car, I reached for the shirts and held onto them as if they were life support.
I was trying to find the positives of this, and one thing on my side was that there were no other cars in the parking lot. I didn’t know what that meant as far as how their business was doing, but I also didn’t know how busy a dry-cleaning company was supposed to be. In all my lifetime, I had never once utilized a dry cleaner.
Approaching the entrance, I could see a middle-aged Asian woman with cropped hair tending to something at the counter I couldn’t see. Her head was bent down so I wasn’t able to see her face, but hopefully this would be Margo’s sister and not some random employee.
When I opened the door, the woman lifted her head and smiled cordially. “Hello. How can I help you?” She glanced down at the shirts I had in my hand.
Feeling a little awkward, I walked up to the counter, and placed the shirts down in front of me. “Was I supposed to put them on hangers? I’ve never done this before.”
The name tag on her shirt read JOYCE. She laughed pleasantly. “I have hangers here that I can use. Will this be all?”
“Yes, just these two shirts.”
She smoothed out the shirts and grabbed two hangers from the metal rod that hung behind her. It was filled with blouses, pants, and dresses covered in plastic. “I can have these ready for you by tomorrow,” she told me. She slipped a hanger through the collar of the first top.
“Oh great, that’s faster than I thought.”
“We haven’t been too busy lately. I had to close a few days this week, and I will be closing again next week. You came in at the perfect time.”
My stomach fluttered; this was my chance. “Oh really, how come? Are you going on vacation?”
The smile from her face disappeared and she frowned, shaking her head. “I wish that were what I was doing. But there has been a death in the family.”
“Oh no, I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.
“Thank you. It has been a great shock to our family.” Joyce moved the first shirt off to the side and put the other hanger through the next collar. “Life can be so short for some people.”
I didn’t know what to say in return. I felt insensitive even being there and trying to pump this woman for information when she was clearly hurting. What had I been thinking?
Most likely, she took my silence as discomfort, which to be fair was accurate. But probably not the discomfort she assumed I was feeling. She sighed. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to be too personal with you.”
“No, not at all,” I said, trying to assure her the best I could. “It’s terrible to lose a family member. I’m surprised you’re even open at all.”
She moved the second blouse on top of the first and looked up at me, tears welling in her eyes. “I had to keep myself busy. So, I opened for a few days while we wait for the funeral. Otherwise, I would just sit at home and cry. And I know that will not help bring my sister back.”
“I can understand wanting to keep busy. I’m the same way.”
“Next week I will be closed for maybe two weeks. Maybe more. I’m not sure. So please be sure to pick up your things tomorrow, otherwise it will have to wait until I reopen.”
“No problem, I’ll be back tomorrow.”
She handed me two green tickets. “You can pick them up any time after noon. I’ll be open until five and you can pay when you pick up your things.”
I took the tickets from her and smiled. “Thank you, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nodded, picked up my shirts and disappeared behind the metal rack. I stood there for a minute staring at the tickets before turning to leave. I had no idea what I was going to do, but I had less than twenty-four hours to figure it out.
* * *
I remained preoccupied for the rest of the workday. It had slowed down considerably, and I attributed that to the nice weather we were having that afternoon. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was spring.
When I got home that evening, Megan was already gone for the night. We hardly got to spend any time together on the weekends unless I went up to the bar for a visit. Which usually I did. But you couldn’t really consider it “hanging out” when you were interrupted every five minutes.
It had been hours since I’d even checked my cell phone and I’d completely forgotten to update Megan after leaving the cleaners.
After I walked Kikko around the apartment complex, allowing her to sniff every bush and tree stump at her leisure, I reviewed the text messages I’d missed from earlier that day. There was one from Anna May checking in and asking if I was behaving myself. I responded with the eye-roll emoji and left it at that.
The next one was, of course, from Megan wanting to know why she hadn’t heard from me. I waited to respond on that one.
And the last one was from Adam, who had sent me five messages wanting to know if I was free in the evening, why I hadn’t answered, and whether he needed to send the cavalry. At this point, I was surprised the police department wasn’t already knocking on my door.
I quickly texted back to tell him I was free, and included three kissy-face emojis. Within a minute, he responded and told me he’d be by in an hour to pick me up. I confirmed and then rushed to the bathroom for a quick shower and to get myself dressed.
Maybe a night out
would be exactly what I needed to clear my head. It had been a long week, and I could definitely use a night of relaxing … and a few cocktails to help that along.
CHAPTER 15
There was no question that Adam and I would be going to the Zodiac that evening. It had become something of a typical Friday night tradition. I’d still never responded to Megan because I’d been so busy getting ready for Adam to pick me up. So, when we walked in, she was mildly surprised to see us there.
“Oh man, you guys should have told me you were coming in tonight,” she said, greeting us at our seats. “I would have told you not to bother.”
Adam hopped onto the stool next to mine. “Why’s that? Sick of our faces already?”
She snorted. “No, silly, we’re doing a speed-dating event here tonight. In about an hour it’s going to get ridiculously packed. Didn’t think you guys would wanna deal with something like that after a long day of working.”
Adam turned around and assessed the bar. “Really? That kind of thing is still popular with all these dating apps there are now?”
“You’d be surprised,” Megan said. “It’s brought a lot of business to the bar. At first, we just did it as a one-time deal, but people loved it so much and we actually had a lot of customers ask us to hold more events. Since then, we’ve been working with the dating service to hold biweekly get-togethers. I’d say over sixty percent of the people who participate go home with someone that night.”
“It might be fun to watch,” I replied. “I’ve never seen one before.”
Adam returned my comment with a side-eye. “Uh-huh. Fun to watch.”
“What?” I batted his arm playfully. “It’s not like I want to participate or something.”
Megan giggled. “Okay kids, I’ll grab your drinks.”
“I just don’t want you to get any crazy ideas.” He grinned and put an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close and kissing my cheek. “I haven’t been around much these past two weeks and if I leave you unattended too long, you tend to go stir crazy.”
I gave him a theatrical eye roll. “Ohmigod, I am not that bad. And, trust me when I say that you have nothing to worry about. You’re stuck with me, Trudeau.”
Megan returned with a whiskey and Coke for me, and a Great Lakes beer for Adam. She promised she’d be back in a few after she finished helping adjust the tables around the room for the upcoming event.
Adam’s eyes drifted to the row of televisions above the bar. Three of the six TVs were on sport channels, two were on news programs, and the sixth one might have been an infomercial program or just a painfully long commercial about hearing aids. “So, what have you been up to this week?” He sipped his beer, never breaking focus on the TV tuned to News Channel 5. It made me wonder if he was waiting for something specific to air.
I hadn’t told him about what happened with Detective Bishop earlier in the week. In some ways, I was slightly surprised he hadn’t found out through the grapevine somehow. I knew that I had to tell him. Not just because we had promised each other to be one hundred percent forthcoming in situations like these, but because he really would find out anyway. Better that he heard it straight from the horse’s mouth.
My pause caused him to turn his attention away from the TV. “Lana? Did you hear me?”
I took a deep breath and began telling the story about Detective Bishop’s impromptu interrogation at Ho-Lee Noodle House and that it had come to an abrupt halt when Anna May and Henry had barged in to save the day.
His jaw muscles tensed, and he started to shake his head in disapproval. “That guy’s got some nerve comin’ at you like that. If I wasn’t worried about making things worse for you, I’d have a word or two with him off the clock.”
I rested a hand on his leg, giving him a light squeeze for reassurance. “Henry said that he’d take care of it if Bishop shows up again. I have his card and he told me to call him no matter what time of day. He’s currently trying to find out from his own sources if there’s anything I need to worry about. So, he’s definitely on top of it.”
Adam nodded. “Well, that’s good, keep your head down, and let this Henry guy take care of it. He’s got a good reputation with this sort of thing. No need to put yourself in the middle of this if you don’t have to.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, chewing on the straw in my drink.
“That didn’t sound very comforting,” Adam joked.
“Well, I am nervous about this. I mean, Henry did agree the detective’s questions were kind of specific. Seems like he thinks he’s going somewhere with this.”
Adam shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. He’s fishing around in the dark right now. I’m sure he’s doing the same thing with other students from the class. It’s not like you were the only person there that night.”
I hadn’t given too much thought about the other students from my class and whether or not the police had questioned them yet because none of them had been around. It made me wonder if Detective Bishop had interviewed Bridget already and if not, would he? If and when that time came, would my name somehow come up and what would she say about me?
“Where’d you go?” Adam asked, rubbing my arm. “You off in la-la land again?”
“What about family?” I asked abruptly. My mind had moved on to the potential interviews Detective Bishop would conduct.
“I don’t get what you mean?”
“Like interviewing the family—how does that work during such a critical time? It’s really invasive considering what they’re going through.” I was referring to my own experience with Margo’s sister, Joyce, of course, and how difficult it had been for me to even begin asking her anything.
In previous instances, I had some kind of connection to the person who had been murdered. Talking with people seemed less intrusive and rude because the situations meant something to me at a personal level that wasn’t just self-serving. But in this scenario, it felt purely selfish. I needed to solve this murder to get myself out of hot water. And was asking Adam his viewpoint on it even going to help me suss that out? People expected police to ask questions, not someone like me.
Adam tilted his head. “It can get rough sometimes, but you try to do it with tact, and that’s all you can really do. You have a job to perform, and if you let yourself get too emotionally involved, you may hurt your chances of reaching the objective. And then there are times where you suspect the family, so you don’t feel quite as bad about questioning them.”
“But you do sometimes feel bad when you ask the family questions?” I asked.
Megan returned, hearing the question that I was posing to Adam. “Oh good, I came back at the right time. What did Margo’s sister have to say when you went to see her today?”
I froze. My focus was on Megan who I was now giving the death stare to.
She looked between Adam and me, confused for a few seconds before she must have come to the realization that I had been asking a generic question.
She let out a nervous chuckle. “Oops, so I’m guessing you didn’t get to that part yet, huh?”
* * *
The awkward silence had been followed by a stream of lecturing from Adam about how this was proof I could not be left to my own devices for too long. I tried to interrupt a few times to explain that I was fueled by Detective Bishop’s questions with the assumption that my character and credibility were under fire. How could any person just sit by and take that from someone when the accusation was so horrible?
Adam wasn’t buying it. “I’m sure this has been rolling around in your head since the moment it happened. I already had to convince you that very night to not give this another thought. I should have known that you and Megan would continue scheming the next day.”
“I’ll admit that might be around fifty percent accurate.”
He smirked. “How did you come up with that percentage?”
“I was thinking about it … but casually.”
“Yeah right. You went to get your money back at the school. W
as that the only reason you went that day?”
I blushed. “I had to go anyways. It wasn’t going to hurt anything to ask a few measly questions.”
“See? I knew it. Lana…” Adam scrubbed his chin with the back of his hand. “If you don’t think I know you by now, you’re living in a dream world.”
“Exactly.”
He turned to me, seemingly confused by my answer.
I continued. “If you know me so well, then you know I can’t sit idly by and let things play out on their own. Especially when the finger might be pointed directly at me. I told you Detective Bishop even brought up the fact that you’re a cop. Don’t tell me he isn’t trying to make some kind of leap with all of this.”
Adam didn’t respond at first. He sat staring at the TV, but it was clear he was thinking about something other than the seven-day forecast that was displayed on the screen.
Megan returned for the first time since she’d dropped the bombshell about my visit to the dry cleaners. After she’d realized what was happening, she’d fluttered away to avoid being yelled at by yours truly.
In her hands she had two plates, one filled with BBQ chicken wings and the other filled with bacon and cheese-smothered fries. She didn’t say anything, but gave me an apologetic look before walking away. I suspected tonight’s order would be on the house.
Adam stared at the wings, but did not fill the empty plate that sat in front of him like he normally did. It wasn’t often that Adam wouldn’t immediately jump on whatever food was put in front of his face. “Did you touch anything in that room?”
“The classroom, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
“Earlier in the night, yeah. I was up there at her cooking station with the rest of the class. And then again when I was talking with her before I left the first time.”
“Did you touch any of the cutlery or utensils whatsoever?”
“No, we didn’t participate in any of the cooking aspects. All we did was eat the finished product. Everything she gave us was plastic and Styrofoam, and it was all thrown out after. Easy cleanup.”
