Murder Lo Mein

by Vivien Chien

  “I can understand that completely.”

  “Come, have a seat with me.” She gestured to the first booth near the entrance. “Would you like some tea?”

  “No, I’m okay, thanks. I won’t take up much of your time, I just wanted to ask a few things about him and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Can I ask why?” She slid into one side of the booth and motioned for me to have a seat.

  I sat across from her, propping up my purse next to me. “I suppose I have some concerns about the safety of the contest. At this point, it’s not entirely clear whether or not your uncle was a target or if it’s the contest itself.”

  “Uncle Norman was a man with many enemies. I think it’s entirely possible that he was killed for his decision making in the contest. Can I say for sure that he was the intended target and that everyone else is safe now?” She shook her head. “I can’t be sure. But I will say that I wouldn’t want any part of it if I were you.”

  “Let’s say that your uncle was the target, does anyone come to mind that he might have had problems with?”

  “Is there someone you have in mind?” Tammy asked.

  I sighed. “I’m not sure. I know there were a lot of issues between him and Joel Liu from Liu’s Noodle Emporium. But I wasn’t sure if you knew of anyone who hated your uncle more.”

  “I really tried to keep away from my uncle so if there was someone threatening him, I wouldn’t have known about it. He isn’t close with my parents, so if there was anyone after him, he wouldn’t have told them either.”

  “Was there anybody he was close with at all?”

  She teetered her head back and forth. “Not that I know of. The few times we ran into each other he was always alone.”

  I sat back in my seat. This was a bust.

  She seemed to notice my disappointment. Leaning forward, she said with a gentle smile, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help. I wish I could tell you more.”

  “Oh, please don’t apologize, it was a long shot to begin with.” I started to slide out of the booth. “I should let you get back to work. Thank you for entertaining my questions.”

  She scooted out of the booth and stood with me, giving my hand another delicate shake. “If it were me in your shoes, Lana, I would have to ask myself if winning this contest was worth the risk of something else happening during the next couple of rounds. Suppose that my uncle wasn’t the target and it’s the contest this person is looking to ruin; would you really want to put yourself in that position?”

  “There’s a good team of detectives working on the case, and I have faith they wouldn’t let anything like that happen again,” I said. I didn’t know if I was trying to convince her or myself. Dismissing the thought, I pulled a business card out of my purse and handed it over. “If anything comes to mind that you might believe to be helpful, would you mind giving me a call?”

  She looked the card over and gave me a weak smile. “I don’t think that’s very likely, but yes, I’ll call you if anything comes to mind.”

  I said my good-byes and headed back to the car. As I left the parking lot, I wondered if winning the contest was worth it myself.

  * * *

  At home, I played with the dog for a little while to take my mind off the conversation I’d had with Tammy, ate cold pizza out of the box, and passed out on the couch while it was still light outside. The day had wiped me out. I didn’t wake up again until one in the morning, when I dragged myself to bed with Kikko hot on my heels.

  The sleep must have done me some good because Friday morning, I woke up feeling energized and ready to formulate a plan. It was the day the contest was going to resume, and there was a lot to prep at the restaurant. And I still needed to find time and have my talk with Penny about how she knew Joel … preferably before the contest began.

  My parents and grandmother were coming in, and Anna May was coming to help. I was hoping to slip out once they all got there.

  There was a lot of commotion at the plaza when I arrived. The stage workers, including Freddie Yuan, were back setting up curtains and putting together the cooking stations. The noise echoed through the plaza and I repressed the urge to cover my ears.

  Zipping through, I made my way to the restaurant, shutting the doors quickly behind me. Way too much commotion so early in the morning.

  The muted sounds managed to make their way into the restaurant, and I hid in the back office, organizing paperwork for as long as I could procrastinate.

  While I was prepping the dining room for the day, Peter showed up, his eyes shifting back and forth between the restaurant and the stage. “Whoa man … I just got freaked out again. I thought I’d be cool today. Round one went pretty good.”

  “You’ll be better once you start cooking.” I ushered him into the restaurant and shut the door again. “Plus my mom will be here soon, and I’m sure she’ll keep you distracted with all her nervous chatter.”

  He disappeared into the kitchen and I went about my morning routine. The menu covers were all wiped down, the place settings at the tables were perfect, and the carpet had been vacuumed.

  To my surprise, my family showed up before the Mahjong Matrons.

  My mother surveyed the restaurant and nodded with approval. “You have done a very good job. Now today, Peter will win again, and we will get even more business.”

  “I agree, she’s doing a great job, Betty,” my dad said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “She’s a natural leader, this one.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” I peeked behind him. “Where is A-ma?”

  “Oh, she’s next door at the doughnut shop talking with Ruth.”

  She said it with a hint of relief, but I could have been imagining it after our little chat from the previous day.

  After my mother went in the back to visit with Peter and give him a breakfast order, my parents settled at the booth closest to the kitchen, and surprisingly kept to themselves. It was out of character for my mother to not be flying around the restaurant giving me last-minute orders or rummaging around in her office.

  I was about to ask her what the occasion was when the Mahjong Matrons came filing into the restaurant. “Good mornings” were exchanged and the Matrons took their usual booth near the window. Instead of getting up and going to one another’s table, my mother and the Matrons yelled to each other across the restaurant.

  My dad winked at me, and I slipped into the kitchen to grab their morning tea. “The Matrons have arrived,” I told Peter as I reached for a teakettle.

  “What’s up with your mom, man?” Peter stepped away from the stove where he was preparing some eggs and scallions. “She’s like supercalm today. Do you think your dad spiked her tea or something?”

  “I don’t know, I’m wondering that too.” I finished loading the tray with teacups and the kettle. “Something is definitely up with her.”

  When I came back out with their tea, I found my grandmother standing at the table talking to them. This was the first time they were officially meeting, and I was anxious to see how it went.

  The Matrons, though very sociable, were also very selective. Since I could remember, it was always just the four of them. I thought it might be nice for my grandmother—and my mother—if she made some friends and I knew that she liked mahjong. Maybe they would pick her to be a fill-in if one of them ever got sick. Not that it had ever happened before.

  My grandmother smiled when she saw me, her silver teeth sparkling. “This…” She handed me a paper bag. “This for you.”

  I peeked inside and found four doughnut holes and a glazed doughnut shaped like an eight. “Oh, boy…” I said, shaking my head.

  My grandmother frowned. “No understand.”

  “You young girls need to learn the language.” Helen looked at me. “I will translate?”

  “Tell her that it’s not good that the doughnut shop owner knows me so well.” I pointed to my waistline.

  Helen smirked and gave my grandmother a speedy reply.

&
nbsp; My grandmother looked at me, held her stomach, and started laughing hysterically.

  * * *

  An hour before the contest was set to begin, I noticed Penny rushing past the restaurant. I’d been waiting for her to show up all morning and was surprised that she hadn’t arrived earlier. Peter was already busy prepping his station along with most of the other contestants.

  Anna May was wiping down one of the tables, and I sidled up next to her to try and tell her discreetly that I was stepping out for a minute, but she yelped when I said, “Hey.”

  “Oh my God, Lana Lee!” Anna May gasped, clutching her chest. “Do not sneak up on people like that. You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days with all this slinking around you do.”

  A few of the patrons turned around.

  I smiled awkwardly. “Sorry.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I’m going to step out for a minute; can you keep an eye on things until Vanessa gets here?”

  “Where are you going now? Can you never stand still?”

  “I wanted to talk with Penny before the contest.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Talking to the competition right before the contest starts?”

  “It’s not about the contest.”

  “What are you up to?” Anna May said, eyeballing me. She put her hand on her hip, imitating our mother. “Are you snooping around in things you shouldn’t be?”

  I avoided her stare. “No…”

  “Then what do you need to talk to her about that can’t wait until later?”

  “Nothing, mind your business.”

  She pursed her lips at me. “Whatever, Lana, I don’t even have the energy to fight with you today.”

  “Yeah, what’s that about?” I asked her. “Mom is not acting like herself either.”

  “Didn’t you hear?”

  “Hear what?”

  “Auntie Grace is planning on making a trip here. She wants to spend some time with A-ma.”

  My eyes widened. “When is this supposed to happen?”

  Anna May shrugged. “Not sure, but it’s definitely got Mom distracted.”

  Auntie Grace is my mother’s older sister. It’s an understatement to say that they don’t get along. Their feuds may be worse than anything Anna May and I have ever been through.

  I stood there scrutinizing my sister and wondering what type of battles our future would hold. Would we end up like our mom and aunt? Or would there actually be a day when we got along?

  My sister gawked at me. “Hey! Space cadet, what are you doing? Snap out of it.”

  “Okay, I’m going … geez.” Guess us getting along would have to wait for another day.

  When I entered the Bamboo Lounge, I heard a bunch of clanking around coming from the kitchen. “Penny?” I asked the empty room.

  No response.

  I headed back toward the kitchen and poked my head inside the swinging door. Penny was crouched down grabbing pots and pans from below a steel counter unit.

  “Penny?”

  She jumped up, dropping the pans on the floor.

  “Sorry, I’ve been having that effect on people today.”

  “Lana … you startled me.” She picked up the pans and threw them in the sink. “My cook is running late and didn’t even bother to tell me until about a half hour ago. He was supposed to set up for me.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked, looking around the kitchen at the scattered supplies.

  “It’s probably best if you don’t. It might seem odd to the judges if we’re working together.”

  “I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute. It’s kind of important. But maybe we should talk after the contest instead?”

  “Yeah, if it’s not too urgent, would that be okay with you? I’d like to get this stuff out there and set up as soon as possible. I don’t even know when my cook is going to show.”

  “Sure, good luck.”

  “Thanks, Lana, you too.”

  CHAPTER

  16

  If there was any worry that the murder of one of the contest judges would keep people away from the next round, it was soon alleviated by the large crowds of people that showed up to watch today’s cooking session.

  Though Donna Feng was mostly the silent partner in running the plaza, she did handle a lot of the publicity affairs. For the sake of the contest, she allowed camera crews from the local news stations to attend. Normally she banned media outlets from filming inside the property, but she was hopeful that this would bring more business to the plaza and perhaps shed some positivity on a rather gloomy situation.

  Donna now stood at the front of the stage in what I recognized to be a two-piece, pencil-skirt Dolce & Gabbana suit. I remembered fawning over the black-and-white basket-weave suit in a recent issue of InStyle. While she waited to give a speech about the recently deceased food critic, she smoothed the sides of her French twist, exposing a delicate diamond bracelet on her wrist.

  Approximately five minutes before the contest was set to begin, Ian let out an earsplitting whistle and the crowd hushed. Donna smiled, her teeth immaculately white against her fire-engine-red lipstick.

  “Greetings to all, and thank you for joining us for the second round of Cleveland’s Best Noodle contest.”

  The crowd cheered.

  “But first, let us take a moment to pay our respects to the ill-fated Norman Pan who was senselessly murdered during the first round of this contest. Norman was a staple in the community and he has reviewed almost every fine Asian establishment in the city. Along with that, he was a friend to many.” Her eyes slid toward Walter.

  A couple people bowed their heads, but mostly everyone sat with blank expressions and stole glances at one another.

  “Okay,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Let’s get on with it! Good luck to each of our contestants.”

  Everyone clapped, and Ian took center stage as Donna made her way to a seat off to the side. Ian gave brief introductions just as he had during the first round.

  The second round of the contest required each chef to make a noodle soup of their choosing. Peter was known for his beef noodle soup and I was confident he’d win this round with no problems.

  I sat directly behind him with Megan and Kimmy on either side of me. My parents, sister, and grandmother sat behind us. Though I’d hoped that Adam would be able to join us for the second round, he was off somewhere handling detective duties.

  The judges circled the stations as the cooks busied themselves with preparing the soup bases. Peter, who liked to cook listening to heavy metal, had one earbud in and his head moved in rhythm to the beat.

  My attention drifted over to Penny who was standing solo at her workstation. Looked like her cook hadn’t even shown up yet. With a scowl on her face, she added seasonings and stirred the liquid in her pot.

  Stella circled Penny’s station and mumbled something close to her ear. Penny froze and I saw her whole body visibly tense from where I sat. The ladle stopped in the pot and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, at which point Stella walked away and continued on to the next workstation.

  After that, I noticed that Penny seemed even more agitated than she had been earlier in the day. The connections between Joel, Penny, and Stella still stumped me, and I wondered if I would ever get any answers.

  Half an hour later, the cooks had completed their assignments and the judges were each served a tiny bowl of soup. While they deliberated, the cooks tidied up their stations.

  Stella, who had taken over as head judge, was tasked with announcing the winner. To get the attention of the crowd, she clanked her chopsticks against her soup bowl. The motion rather than the sound caught the attention of everyone, and the noise in the room dropped so Stella could be heard.

  “After careful assessment of all the fine soups presented to us, we have come to a unanimous vote. This round goes to Peter Huang and the Ho-Lee Noodle House! Congratulations!”

&n
bsp; The crowd erupted in applause, and my dad threw in some sharp whistles for good measure. Peter turned around and beamed at us with pride.

  We took turns congratulating him before others started coming over to shake his hand and offer their praise.

  Stella motioned for the crowd to quiet down. “Now that we’ve shared the good news with you … we have to share the bad news too.”

  The room was immediately silent, and we all waited for Stella to announce the restaurant that would be eliminated.

  She held the note card in her hand and, keeping her eyes focused on it, said, “The contestant that will not be going to the next round is Penny Cho from the Bamboo Lounge.”

  A few people in the audience booed in response.

  I caught my mother sighing with relief.

  Stella nodded solemnly. “While we’re sad to see her go, we thank her for participating in the contest, and look forward to seeing her try again in next year’s competition!” She slid a quick glance at Penny before encouraging the crowd to applaud.

  Stella dismissed the crowd after the applause died down and people began to shuffle out of the bleachers and head into the plaza. A few stragglers stopped by to extend congratulations on Peter’s win.

  A man I recognized as a reviewer from Scene magazine made his way through the circle of people and patted Peter on the back. “I think you’re going to take this contest all the way. I’m only sorry I wasn’t able to get a taste of what you made today.”

  “Thanks, man. Feel free to stop by the noodle house any time, and I’ll be sure to make anything you want … even if it’s not on the menu.”

  While they talked about the different dishes that Peter could potentially make him, my attention drifted over to Penny who was in the middle of an argument with Stella. Penny jabbed her finger at the workstation while Stella remained calm, her arms crossed over her chest.

  “… sounds good to me.” The reviewer produced a business card and shook his hand before saying good-bye.

  “Did you hear that?” Peter asked, nudging my arm.

  “Huh?”