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Wedding Woes

Page 6

by JJ Chow


  After picking up the lighter from the ground, Orchid issued directions as she lit each of their sticks: “I’ll go first. Then Sandy and so on, down the line. Say your petition out loud, so the goddess can hear.”

  Wouldn’t Guanyin be able to listen no matter what? Winston wasn’t even sure what to say when it got to his turn. As he waited for the others to speak, the powerful fumes from the incense made his eyes water.

  Orchid marched out first to the statue. “Oh, great Guanyin, grant my request. May Ming find rest. Let him still go on peaceful vacations in the otherworldly realm, like those we’d originally planned for our golden years.” She bowed three times and positioned her burning stick in the cup of dirt.

  Sandy said, “Let Ming not be a hungry ghost.” Was she worried the patriarch would come back and wreak havoc on the rest of the family? Perhaps she was as superstitious as her mom.

  Evan spoke next. “May there be fair wages in the beyond.” Was that a dig at the substandard compensation his father had given his employees?

  Lyle strode up but didn’t say anything. Instead, he bowed and placed his stick next to the others. Winston wondered if Lyle’s head had been in the clouds, or if he truly had nothing to say. He noticed a slight frown appear on Orchid’s face.

  Then Viv contributed her thoughts. “May your mercies fall on our family.” Her words sounded muffled, and Winston bet she’d snuck a cube of bubble gum into her mouth.

  Tal stood for a few moments staring at the statue before speaking. “Let both Ba and Fort find peace.” His hands shook as he added his stick in with the rest.

  This was the first time Fort had been mentioned, and Winston wondered at the significance. Was the rest of the family unable—or unwilling—to mourn for the eldest son?

  Next, Bright said, “Ashes to ashes.” He refused to bow but added his stick to the growing pile.

  Strange. The Chan family showed very unusual reactions to grief. Some of their cries to the goddess didn’t even sound that sorrowful.

  Bright poked him in the shoulder. “Your turn.”

  Winston gulped. He walked with slow steps to the statue and tried to think of something proper to say. “May the Chan family get resolution.” He did the customary bows while stifling a sneeze that threatened to explode as he breathed in the fumes. He lined his stick with the others, a bundle of eight altogether.

  That “lucky” number again. Although Orchid now felt her family was cursed and had to light incense. It certainly seemed unlucky to lose two family members within the span of one day. Double bad luck, Winston thought. Or maybe a double homicide.

  CHAPTER 18

  ON THE MOTEL BLACKTOP with the incense fumes spiraling up in smoky wisps, Winston saw the Chan family with new eyes. He took a deep breath. Start with the first death and go from there. Use logic to find the killer—or killers.

  Who would want the old man dead? He knew that at least half the family didn’t even refer to Ming as their father. Maybe if he could get inside their rooms somehow and investigate there, he’d find more clues.

  The rooms were so close, but how could he gain access to them? A little pressure in his bladder provided him with an idea.

  “I need to use the restroom,” he told Orchid. “Really bad.” He even did a little jig for added effect.

  Orchid looked askance at him, like he was about to go right in front of her. “Come on then,” she said.

  He jogged with her over to room eight. As she started unlocking the door, Winston realized that Tal and Bright waited right behind them. The other Chans, however, headed next door, to room number nine. Curses! They had two units. No way would he be able to look through both without arousing suspicion.

  Winston entered the motel room and caught a noseful of muscle rub. He saw belongings scattered everywhere. For a moment, Winston wondered if someone had already searched the place.

  Orchid shook her head in disgust. “Boys.”

  Ack. They needed some serious maid service to come by. Winston tried to take a mental picture of the entire room because he knew he couldn’t physically sift through all those dirty clothes and tattered suitcases.

  “Bathroom’s over there,” Orchid said as she tried to tidy up. By this time, Tal and Bright had also entered the room, and they both made a beeline for the queen-sized bed.

  “Shoes off,” Orchid said. “Use the flip-flops we packed.”

  Then she turned her attention to Winston with a puzzled look on her face. He’d better go use the facilities before she started questioning him on the spot.

  The bathroom felt cramped. It barely had enough space to house the sink, toilet, and a very slim shower stall. Would there even be anything to find in here? His eyes skimmed past toothbrushes, shavers, and floss until he saw a beige toiletry bag.

  The zipper pull had a tag on it reading, “Property of Ming and Orchid Chan.” He rifled through its contents, past a mishmash of items. Cosmetics seemed to take up the top half: lipsticks, blushes, and things he couldn’t identify. One even looked like a miniature torture device. Made of metal, it had two looped handles with a vicious clamp at the end.

  Winston heard Orchid call through the door. “You okay in there?”

  “Just about done.” He flushed the toilet.

  Turning the faucet on full blast to cover the noise of his searching, he hunted double-time. Finally, at the very bottom of the bag, he found a half-filled pillbox. Ming’s name was written on it in Sharpie. The box had the days of the week stamped on it. He opened the medication compartments and snapped a quick pic with his phone. Then he placed everything back and turned off the water.

  When he opened the bathroom door, Orchid stood before him. “Was it something you ate?”

  “No, I feel fine.” He took a quick look around and noticed the room seemed more organized. Also, a suitcase lay open in the middle of the floor. “Are you guys packing up?”

  Winston spied Tal on a bed doing shoulder rolls. Next to him, Bright lay sprawled out, snoring away. The other bed, though, seemed tucked nice and neat.

  Orchid stepped into the bathroom, and her muffled voice said, “I’m going next door. Staying with the girls and swapping out Lyle.”

  Now, Winston could make up a good reason to check out the other room. “Mrs. Chan, I can carry your stuff over. Looks quite heavy.”

  “Thanks. Let me get my toiletry kit—wait, who’s been through my stuff?”

  She came out scowling, holding the beige bag in her hand.

  CHAPTER 19

  TAL FROZE IN THE MIDDLE of his shoulder exercises and said, “I didn’t touch your bag.”

  Winston knew he’d be next on Orchid’s accusation list. Wasn’t it suspicious how long he’d taken in the bathroom? He wanted to pull at his collar, give space to the sweat drops lodged against his neck, but that would confirm his guilt.

  “Must have been Bright,” Tal continued, hooking his thumb at the sleeping figure.

  Orchid looked at both of her stepsons with disgust. “Don’t go through my stuff with your man paws.”

  She placed the toiletry bag with her other belongings and zipped up the suitcase. Then she told Winston, “Go on, carry it over.”

  Winston picked up the suitcase, and it almost yanked his arm off. What had she packed? Rubbing his sore bicep, he pulled up the handle to roll it along.

  Meanwhile, Orchid opened the adjoining interior door. It’d been unlocked. The flimsy wooden partition didn’t make a sound as it swung open. Seems like the family members could cross from one side to the other with ease at any time.

  Room nine was the polar opposite of its neighbor. The suitcases were placed with care in the closet, and the place seemed barely used. Even the beds looked unslept in.

  Sandy and Viv perched on the edge of their tidy mattress, flipping through glossy magazines. Lyle lay across the bedspread, scrolling through the photos on his camera. He murmured to himself about focus and aperture. Only Evan seemed ready for bed with his flannel pajamas on.

/>   “I’m moving in,” Orchid announced, rubbing her hands together. “Finally, peace and quiet.”

  Her two daughters looked up and smiled. Winston wondered how the five of them (four adult children plus Orchid) would fit in the small room.

  “Put my luggage with the others,” Orchid commanded him, so Winston added the suitcase in with the rest.

  Orchid hovered over Lyle as he scrutinized another photo. She tapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll have to swap with me.”

  Lyle pressed the button once more before turning to his mother. “Don’t make me go over and room with them.”

  “Bright and Tal are your brothers,” Orchid said. “You young men can bond.”

  “Should have booked three rooms.” Lyle shut off the camera and slipped it into his carrying case. “We could afford it. Ming was trying to expand the business after all.”

  Orchid wagged her finger at her son. “This is a family company. You know Ming’s motto: Stay together, Succeed together. That’s why we don’t lock the partition.”

  Lyle grumbled but swung the camera bag over his shoulder.

  “Besides, two rooms are cheaper than three,” Orchid said. “And this space will now be a girls-only zone.”

  “What about Evan?” Lyle pointed at his brother, who sat cross-legged against the wall.

  “He can go as well. Oh, too late.” Orchid sighed.

  Winston watched as Evan closed his eyes. The young man’s breathing became soft and even. Could he actually sleep seated against the wall?

  “Move,” Orchid said again, giving Lyle a slight push.

  Lyle gathered his belongings from the closet and trudged over to the adjoining door. “I’m your blood son,” he said as he moved into the next room and slammed the partition shut.

  Orchid turned to Winston. “Thanks for your help.” She suppressed a yawn. “Have a nice rest of the night.”

  As Winston said goodbye, he heard thumping coming from room eight. Indistinct but unhappy voices could be heard through the thin wall.

  He wondered about the division in the family and how deep it ran. After all, the original room assignments had been organized by family line: Orchid and Ming with his biological sons on one side, and Orchid’s kids in the other. Had the Chan family ever melded into a happy Brady Bunch? Or was it all a facade that was starting to crumble?

  CHAPTER 20

  WINSTON DRUMMED HIS fingers against his chin in the parking lot. Should he go straight home? But even if he did, he knew the double deaths would bother him, making sleep impossible. He wanted to follow up on his only lead.

  Pulling out his cell phone, he checked the time and texted Kristy.

  Winston: You still awake, Kristy?

  Kristy: Yes, you back home?

  Winston: Not yet. Think I could swing by your place? Want to show you something.

  Kristy: Okay . . . But no peeking at the dress.

  Winston: Won’t. Cross my heart.

  Kristy: FYI, Marcy’s here.

  Winston groaned and almost changed his mind. Did he really need more big-sis time tonight? Although she was holding onto his car . . . And what if there were a murderer (or two) on the loose?

  Time would be of the essence.

  Be there soon, he texted.

  He added a heart emoji, grinning at the phone like an idiot. She couldn’t see his head-over-heels face, but maybe she’d feel his love over the pixels.

  Winston called for an Uber. Ten minutes away. He started heading to the front of the Motel 9 so the driver might spot him better. While walking, he heard a car start up from behind him.

  However, instead of passing him, the car seemed to follow Winston. Who was this jerk of a driver? Maybe it was a crazed teenager. Instead of cruising the streets, the youth nowadays tried to play chicken with hard-working citizens.

  The car behind him wasn’t focused on lurking behind like a silent threat. Winston heard the vehicle rev.

  He sprinted toward any kind of protection. Maybe that line of bushes on the side would work.

  Minutes later, he felt the heat of an engine near his back. He dove for cover in the row of plants.

  The front quarter panel of the car still managed to nudge him. How many points was a hit-and-run worth in this insane game?

  From the corner of his eye, he saw another vehicle pause near Motel 9’s entrance. Winston scrambled out of the bush. He jumped up and down, waving his arms to attract the newcomer’s attention. Any kind of help would be welcome.

  The crazy driver of the van, a mere shadow in the seat with the vehicle’s headlights off, stopped pursuing him. Soon, the car dashed toward the exit and sped out of sight.

  The second vehicle eased toward Winston. Checking his app, Winston realized the license plate matched that of his scheduled ride. His Uber driver had shown up and saved him.

  Winston glanced to where the road rager had gone. “Could you wait here a minute while I check something out?” he asked the driver.

  “No way, man. Do you know this neighborhood? Bet I’m the only driver willing to even come this way.”

  Sighing, Winston got into the Uber. His hands trembled. “Did you get a good look at the other driver?”

  His Uber savior shook his head. “Too dark. Couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman.”

  “I wonder if I should report what happened.” But Winston didn’t really want to get a teen into trouble with the law.

  “Well, if you do change your mind, I did notice one thing. The vehicle’s color. That was one dirty-looking gray van.”

  “Are you sure?” Winston asked.

  “Yeah.” The driver clucked his tongue. “But what people do for kicks around here.”

  Winston couldn’t stop shaking. A van? Could it have been the Chans’ vehicle? Something he’d driven only hours before?

  It made sense. He had been snooping. And he must have made one of the Chans very angry to get such a nasty warning.

  What had he gotten himself into? He’d nearly died right before his wedding. What if they went after Kristy next? He’d have to make sure he was one step ahead of the killer.

  CHAPTER 21

  WINSTON GOT TO KRISTY’S place safe and sound. He saw his Accord parked in the driveway. “Good old Grayskull,” he whispered, giving the He-Man-nicknamed automobile a gentle pat on the trunk before ringing the doorbell.

  Kristy welcomed him in with a loving hug. “How’s my hero?”

  “Tired . . . and glad to be alive.”

  “What do you mean?” In the foyer, she held Winston at arm’s length and examined him. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, I jumped out of the way of danger,” he said even as Kristy shook her head over the scratches on his legs from jumping into the bushes. They stung, but he wouldn’t admit it.

  He explained to her about how a crazy driver had tried to mow him down. Inserting some humor, he claimed he’d superheroed his way out by flying into the shrubbery.

  After he finished his story, he heard a giant pop from farther inside the apartment. He flung his arm across Kristy to protect her.

  Then he understood the noise. He noticed Marcy on the couch blowing up balloons—and sometimes bursting them.

  The whole living room was covered in purple and white balloons. In fact, Winston couldn’t even spot the carpet underneath all of the air-filled latex spheres.

  “What exactly are you doing?” he asked Marcy.

  She took in a huge inhale and filled up a white balloon. “Duh. Recreating your arch, Sherlock.”

  Ah, the curve of balloons that had graced the entryway to the wedding. “Where’s the helium?” he asked.

  “All I could find at this hour was . . . ” She pointed to the bags of latex balloons balancing on the couch arm.

  Marcy was going to blow all those up by herself? “Wow, that’s a lot of work. Thanks, sis,” he said, settling onto the couch.

  Kristy came over with a first aid kit. She adjusted the cushions around Winston and said, “Res
t.” She dabbed his wounds with antibiotic ointment before bandaging them up. “Let me grab you a Coke.”

  When she left, Marcy said, “I overheard you talking. What’s this about you almost getting run over?”

  “An unidentified driver back at the Chans’ motel.” He grabbed an uninflated balloon from an open bag.

  Marcy’s eyes narrowed as she considered her brother. “Were you snooping around again?”

  He held his hands up. The balloon hung loose between his fingers. “Investigating is the more accurate term.”

  “But didn’t the old patriarch have a heart attack?”

  Kristy returned with his drink right as Winston answered, “Yes . . . but Fort also died in the hospital.”

  “He did?” Marcy gasped. Guess she hadn’t heard the news because his sister let go out of the balloon she was blowing up. Whoosh. It rocketed out of her hand.

  “Again, I wish I’d noticed his symptoms sooner at the restaurant,” Kristy said. Her face had gone pale, and she started tilting the glass in her hand, so Winston placed it on the nearby coffee table.

  He hugged Kristy and murmured in her ear.

  “Two deaths in the same family.” Marcy took an uninflated balloon and twisted it in her hands. “What an unlikely coincidence.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Winston said.

  Kristy’s eyes widened at Winston. “It’s too dangerous. Perhaps you shouldn’t investigate anymore. Let the police handle things.” She snuggled next to him on the couch and rested her head on his shoulder.

  Winston blew up a purple balloon and didn’t answer her. Should he quit? But someone was already onto him.

  He was next on the hit list, and he didn’t even know the identity of the culprit. He had to continue searching to protect himself and—he glanced at Kristy and Marcy—the women closest to his heart.

  He tied the balloon and handed it to his sister. “I might’ve have found something interesting in their motel room that could shed light on Ming’s sudden death.”

 

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