by Vivien Chien
“What does your boyfriend think?” Helen asked, sipping her tea.
I knew they were trying to pump me for information. Anything I told the Matrons would spread around the plaza in a matter of minutes. “He hasn’t told me anything,” I said plainly.
“He should talk to that Stella Chung girl … she was arguing with Mr. Pan the day before the contest. I could not hear what they were discussing though,” Helen offered.
Pearl clucked her tongue. “Everybody knows that Joel Liu is the guilty one. He was very disrespectful to Mr. Pan at the contest.”
Opal gazed out the window as the others bickered. Barely above a whisper, she said, “I think it is Mr. Shen. He will do anything to make Asia Village look bad.”
The other three erupted with disagreements at the Mr. Shen insinuation.
Pearl held up a hand to silence the other two. When they were quiet, Pearl turned to her sister. “This makes no sense, they are very good friends, why would you think this?”
Opal continued to focus on the activity outside the restaurant window. “Ever since Mr. Pan picked Ray last year, their friendship is not the same. Mr. Shen feels jealous, and angry. You can see it in his eyes.”
While they discussed who was the most likely suspect, a group of businesswomen walked in and signaled me from the podium. I left the Matrons to their speculations while I took care of our new guests.
One thing was certain. Mr. Pan was not a well-liked man, so the enemy count was going to be high. But if I had to include people who were supposed to be his friends on top of that … well, that would make this case even more difficult to solve.
* * *
When Nancy showed up for the day, I escaped to my mother’s office, which was really becoming mine since she’d promoted me to manager. I had a few reservations about changing anything in the office in case this whole situation turned out to be a fluke. But, aside from random check-ins, my mother was virtually nonexistent in the family business.
And though this wasn’t exactly where I saw my life going, I was actually enjoying myself. It felt nice to run something … call the shots … be the big boss lady instead of constantly taking orders from everyone else.
While I went through the sales slips from the previous evening, I thought about what the Mahjong Matrons had told me. I needed a plan of attack. I didn’t even know what I thought yet. My thoughts were still so unorganized. What I did know was that I needed to check out Stella. And, of course, Joel Liu was at the top of my list. But what about one of the other contestants? Did I need to look at them more closely too? If any of them had received poor reviews from Norman, they could also be a potential suspect. How would I ever begin to narrow this down?
Opal mentioned that Mr. Shen could be a possibility. Had their friendship really taken a turn for the worse after last year’s contest? I didn’t know much about their personal interactions, so it was hard for me to have any solid thoughts on that.
I made some mental notes of potential subjects and wished I had the notebook I kept hidden under my mattress with me now. The notebook first came into existence when I was investigating the particulars of Mr. Feng’s death. Writing things down helped keep my thoughts straight and eased the sense of overwhelming anxiety that took control of my brain as I rummaged through the various possibilities and suspects.
As I finished up with the sales slips, there was a knock at the door.
Ian poked his head in. “I’m holding an emergency board meeting at six P.M. We’ll meet in the community center.”
“Oh, is it finished?”
“Not quite, but we need a private space.”
“Okay, I’ll be there. It’s not like I had anything better to do tonight.” The sarcasm in my tone came out a little strong.
“Lana, this is serious business. We have to rescue this noodle contest and we’re out a judge. We have to find someone new and get the contest back on track before too much time passes.”
“Maybe the contest should be canceled for the year.” I hated to admit that, but at this point maybe going on with the contest would only bring negative attention to the plaza.
“How can you say that?” He gawked at me. “Lana, this contest is in the hands of Asia Village. And me. It will not fail under my watch.”
“I said I’d be there, Ian, don’t worry.”
He took a deep breath. “Good, I need your support. If the others argue with me, I need you to back me up. We have to stick together in this. People like you; they’ll listen to you.”
“Okay, okay.” I came from around the desk and ushered him out of my office. “I’ll see you at six.”
“Sharp,” he added before walking away.
* * *
To kill some time before the meeting, I headed over to Modern Scroll, the plaza’s bookstore, and my own personal slice of heaven. As I walked through the door, I took a deep breath, inhaling the intoxicating smell of paper, and a smile spread over my lips. Sometimes I thought maybe I should have opened a bookstore of my own.
I perused the mystery section, sliding out paperbacks to glance at their covers. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Cindy, the bookshop owner, was watching me with amusement.
She adjusted her thick-rimmed glasses and came around the counter. “Do you know, you are the happiest person I’ve ever seen in a bookstore? It gets me every time.”
I laughed as I put a Louise Penny book back in place. “I can’t help myself … it’s the best place on earth.”
“You were just in here the other day … did you finish those books already?”
“Not even close. But I have some time to kill before a board meeting, so I thought I’d swing by.”
“Uh-oh, another board meeting, huh?” She swept a lock of hair behind her ear. “Let me guess, Ian is spazzing out about the noodle contest and needs to meet with everyone pronto.”
“Of course he is. He’s more concerned about the noodle contest than he is about what happened to Norman Pan.”
“I’m not surprised. That man wasn’t well liked.”
“Everybody keeps saying that, but he’s still a human being. And the suspect list is long, for sure. The only saving grace is that it’s somewhat limited to whoever was at the Bamboo Lounge that night.”
Cindy looked at me sideways. “What are you up to, Lana?”
I blushed. “Just checking into a few things is all. No big deal.”
She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “If you want my opinion, my money’s on that Stella woman … she’s been slinking around this plaza like nobody’s business.”
That was twice that someone had suggested Stella was up to something. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
A customer ambled up to the counter, looking around for help. Cindy called out to them she’d be right there.
Before walking away, she turned to me. “Good luck, whatever you find … just remember … be careful.”
As I was leaving the store, Freddie was coming in. His black T-shirt fit him like a glove, and the soft jersey material moved effortlessly with his body instead of restricting his movements.
A smile appeared on his face as he noticed me. “Hey, Lana, how are you?”
We stepped off to the side of the entrance to let a group of women pass by.
“I’m doing okay. Getting ready to head over to the community center for a meeting,” I explained. “Will you be there?”
He shook his head. “Not this time. I will be in the future, but Ian asked me to stay back this time.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, he said something about not wanting to expose me to the Yi sisters yet.”
I laughed. “He’s right. Best to ease you in.”
“I’ve heard stories.” He chuckled. “So, I figured I’d kill some time in the bookstore. No better place, right? I love it here.”
My heart thudded. He was attractive and loved the bookstore? “It’s my favorite place to be. I come here at least once a week if not more.”
&nbs
p; “Same. Michael Connelly has a new book out, so I thought I’d check that out then just browse.”
“You like Michael Connelly?” I asked. I couldn’t hide my surprise.
“Oh sure, love the guy. I’m more into sci-fi really, but I love a good thriller every now and then.”
“I would never have guessed,” I admitted.
He winked. “I’ve got plenty of surprises up my sleeve.”
I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, and I hoped that it wasn’t noticeable. “Well, uh, I better get going. I’ll never hear the end of it from Ian if I’m late.”
“Right,” he said with a smirk. “Don’t want to hold you up. I’ll be seein’ ya.”
As I walked over to the community center, I told myself it was no big deal that he was into books. We had something in common … so what?
CHAPTER
9
This was the first time I’d been in the community center since before they began construction. The whole interior of the space had been gutted so they could start from scratch. The previous interior had been an alarming shade of bright white muddled with scuff marks from chairs rubbing up against the wall or shuffling tables back and forth. Now, the walls were a light almond color and paintings by local Asian artists would be hung up instead of the ratty posters that decorated the walls before. The stained gray carpeting that had covered the floors for over a decade had been removed, and a nice ceramic tile had been laid down in its place.
A large table was set up in the back of the room for the mahjong tournaments that would begin once the renovations were complete. Most of the board members were already there and sitting around the table making idle chitchat. Ian was nowhere to be seen.
Kimmy waved me over and patted the empty chair next to her. “Over here, Lee.”
I said hello to the group and took my seat next to Kimmy.
“Why’s your face all red?”
“Huh?” My hands flew up to my cheeks. “Oh, I was rushing over here from the bookstore … I lost track of time.”
A few minutes later, Ian showed up carrying a stack of papers and looking flustered. His forehead glistened with sweat and he was taking deeper breaths than normal. With his free hand, he adjusted his tie and approached the group, clearing his throat to get everybody’s attention. “Sorry I’m late. I was talking with Freddie Yuan earlier and going over some details for the next portion of the noodle competition. We got sidetracked and I almost forgot to print out these packets for the meeting.” He waved the papers he was still holding on to.
June Yi, co-owner of Yi’s Bakery, was the meaner of the two sisters. In all the years that I’d known her, I had yet to hear a nice thing come out of her mouth. “Freddie Yuan? Why are you discussing the noodle contest with him?” Her salt-and-pepper hair shook around her face as she rattled her head in disapproval. The bobby pin securing her long bangs started to loosen and she reached for it, putting it back in its place.
This must have been what Freddie was referring to when I talked with him earlier, I thought to myself. Ian probably didn’t want him to witness the Yi sisters reacting to the news.
Ian tapped the pile of papers on the table and addressed the group instead of replying directly to June. “I’ve decided that Freddie will be the perfect stand-in judge for the noodle contest.”
The Yi sisters exchanged shocked glances and murmured to each other. June whipped her head back around to face Ian. “Mr. Sung, I think this is most inappropriate.”
“What’s the big deal?” Kimmy asked before Ian could answer.
June clucked her tongue, giving Kimmy a glare that would rival Medusa. “He has no experience. What will people say?”
“They won’t say anything because no one cares,” Kimmy spat.
I nudged her under the table. “I’m sure that people will understand.” It was the best generic answer I could come up with to back up Ian as he requested. I wasn’t entirely sure what he was thinking by asking Freddie Yuan to be a judge, and it did sorta make me feel uncomfortable, but not for the same reasons as the Yi sisters.
Ian settled into the seat he’d been hovering over and folded his hands in front of him on the table. In a calm and matter-of-fact voice, he said, “I tried asking another food critic first, but no one would accept the position because of the circumstances surrounding the event so far. Understandable, I suppose. But Freddie is new to town and doesn’t have any reason to play favorites with a particular restaurant, so we know we can count on him to be fair.”
June mumbled something under her breath.
Esther raised a hand, her bracelets jingling as she waved her arm to get Ian’s attention. “What about the police? Have they found out anything about what happened to Norman?”
“No … I’m afraid not,” Ian said, looking down at his stack of papers. “Detective Trudeau hasn’t been very forthcoming with information.”
Everyone turned to me.
I held up my hands in defense. “Don’t look at me, I don’t know anything.”
Shirley Yi scooted to the edge of her seat. Even though she and June were identical, there was something about her that was a little more on the gentle side. Maybe it was the way she carried herself or the fact that she spoke in a more soothing tone. “We all know that it was Joel Liu. He has been after Norman Pan since last year’s contest. He’s been sending him nasty e-mails for months.”
I gaped. “How do you know that?”
June leaned forward, annoyed that I would dare question her sister. “Walter Shen was talking about it at the cocktail party the other day.”
Well, now that was interesting. Walter Shen just happened to mention this in front of a group of people? Was he trying to cast off suspicion about himself by throwing Joel into the proverbial fire?
“Let’s stop speculating on something we shouldn’t be worrying about anyway, and focus on getting this contest up and running again,” Ian lectured. “Now, I’ve created these packets for the revised schedule of the noodle contest.” He handed the packets out to each of the board members. “All of you have a job to complete.”
When I received my packet, I flipped through the pages, skimming the detailed outline that Ian had organized to a tee. I found my name and learned that my duty was to notify the contestants of the changes. Easy enough. It would also give me a chance to dig around for information with a solid cover story.
“The contest will resume on Friday and go through the weekend.” He turned to me. “Lana, I’ll need you to contact the contestants as soon as possible to let them know. I have extra packets for you to drop off with them if you don’t mind.”
“Sure, I’ll see if Anna May or Nancy can cover for me in the morning while I drop these off.”
“Is continuing the competition wise?” Mr. Zhang, the proprietor of Wild Sage, asked.
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”
“A man has died, and to dismiss such things is disrespectful. Bad karma will surely find you, Mr. Sung.”
Mr. Zhang, a small man with gray hair and bifocals that covered smiling eyes, was the oldest and most Zen resident of Asia Village. He owned the plaza’s herbal shop, practiced what he preached, and was no stranger to philosophical teachings and things like balance, karma, and chi. He was wise in his advanced years, and though the exact number of those years was unknown to us, I suspected the remedies and tonics he carried in his shop helped keep his age a secret.
Ian brushed off the concern. “I don’t believe in karma. And I will not let this contest fail. Everyone is watching us right now … especially in the Asian community. We need to keep up appearances and show everyone that we can persevere under difficult circumstances. I need everyone to be on board with this.”
We all looked at each other and nodded in unison … even Mr. Zhang.
“I can’t stress the importance of this contest enough. We need to make it work … no matter what it takes.”
* * *
By the time I got home that night, Megan
had left for work already. I pulled the tattered notebook out from under my mattress and plopped down on the bed, Kikko joining me with inquisitive sniffs.
I opened the book and memories from the past several months came flooding back. On the very first page I had written the words WHO KILLED THOMAS FENG? Though it had only been a couple of months ago, it felt like a lifetime had passed.
The following pages contained notes from the Yeoh investigation. I hated to recall the memories of digging into my friend’s murder. It had not been an easy time for me.
Several times I’d thought about burning the entire notebook for fear of someone finding my notes and jumping to the natural conclusion that I was a crazy person. But for whatever reason, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
With a heavy sigh, I flipped to an empty page and put pen to paper.
* * *
The next morning, I woke at my usual time for work, but instead of heading to the restaurant, I planned my route to visit the other contestants. Seeing Penny would be my last stop since she was at the plaza, so I decided to start with Walter Shen and then make my way over to the Flats for a chat with Stanley Gao at Wok and Roll.
The House of Shen was on Rockwell Avenue, which was the location of the original Chinatown. Their restaurant sat on the corner of the street and was surrounded by a row of Asian businesses that had established their roots long ago.
I parked my car in the lot adjacent to the restaurant, and jogged across the street to the entrance.
When I opened the door, the first person I saw was Jackie Shen at the hostess station. She was dressed in a traditional qipao and her hair wrapped up in an elegant bun. She looked coiffed and perfect.
Self-consciously, I ran a hand through my hair, which had fallen flat since I’d left the house.
“Finally decided to have some real Chinese food, huh?” Jackie asked.
“I’m here to see your father,” I told her. “It’s about the noodle contest.”
