by Vivien Chien
He twisted around to follow my line of sight. “See anything up there you like? I could get some glasses if you feel like having a drink.”
“No, that’s okay,” I mumbled. “I drove here, and I should be going soon anyway. I only wanted to stop by and uh, you know, talk about Joel.”
“What is it that you need from me exactly? Sounds like you have this pretty much under control.”
“I, um … well,” Think, Lana, think! “Maybe he threatened you? That whole rumor thing he started last year … maybe he’s coming after you because he thinks you cheated in the contest.”
Ray blinked. “The rumor … ah, the rumor … yeah, Joel. That guy. He’s a piece of work. I think you have every right to assume he’s the one behind all of this. I should have thought of it myself.”
The expression on his face was so intense, my eyes kept drifting away. I attempted to read some of the book titles off the spines that were showing, but I was having a hard time focusing my vision. The office felt stuffy and the clutter he had lying around was beginning to make me feel claustrophobic.
“Maybe you could get me a glass of water?”
“Sure.” He stood up from the edge of the desk, and opened the door letting in a cool breeze. “I’ll be right back.”
“Ice too,” I said.
He smiled. “No problem.”
Ray shut the door behind him, and I took a deep breath and slouched in the chair. This was a mistake. He was creeping me out and I had no idea what I was talking about. In my head, I imagined that we would talk about the fortune cookie and then he would add some dialogue. Maybe he would tell me about how it made him so nervous that he was looking over his shoulder ever since he received it, or that he was checking around corners, and hearing things that weren’t there. But nothing. He said nothing of the sort. This wasn’t going how I planned at all.
I checked my cell phone. I’d only been at the restaurant for about twenty minutes, but it felt like two hours.
My attention shifted back to the stack of magazines and books that were on top of the filing cabinet. I wondered if he’d kept the issue with Norman Pan’s Sun Tzu-themed review. I didn’t hear anything going on in the kitchen, so I decided to take a quick peek at what magazines were in the pile before he came back.
As fast as possible, I rifled through the magazines, checking the issue dates on each one as I flipped through the pile. The ones I held in my hand were more current issues, none of them appeared to be from the right year.
I started to put the magazines back on the shelf when I noticed one of the books that had been hiding under them. It was a thick hardcover in black with red foil lettering. And the lettering read: The Art of War.
My breath caught in my throat. Setting the magazines down on his desk, I reached for the book, running a hand over the cover feeling the impression of the foiled script.
I always flip the pages of a book, I can’t help myself, and that’s exactly what I did at that moment. When I fanned the pages, I noticed there were highlighted passages marked in yellow. I stopped on one of the pages and read the highlighted quote.
It read: If your enemy is superior, evade him.
With a gasp, I dropped the book, and cringed at the sound it made. It was the same quote that Stella had received in her fortune cookie. Quickly, I picked the book up from the floor and held it to my chest, my eyes sliding to the door. What do I do now? This was evidence. I had actual evidence in my hands.
I heard some rustling around in the kitchen and knew I had to make my move quickly. I set the book down on the desk, picked up the magazines and placed them on top of the filing cabinet where they were. I grabbed the book and tried shoving it into my purse, but the book was too big; I had a small cross-body bag with me instead of the jumbo-sized handbag I carried on a normal day.
Crap.
In a panic, I searched around the office. If I could stash it somewhere and then tell Adam where it was hiding, then maybe he could come back and get it.
But it was too late. The doorknob turned and Ray stepped inside, catching me red-handed with his dirty little secret.
He pursed his lips and shut the door behind him, never taking his eyes off me. “Now what the hell are you doing with that?”
CHAPTER
30
If the room wasn’t hot before, it was definitely hot now. My shirt was clinging to my body, and my hands felt clammy against the book cover. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.
Ray held the glass of water, his hand shaking ever so slightly, causing the water to splash over the sides. “I asked you a question, Lana.”
I held up the book, trying to keep my own hands steady. “I was thinking maybe I could borrow this? I’ve been so fascinated with this type of stuff lately. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
“Oh, I would mind. That’s my favorite book.” He sneered. “So … I leave you alone for a few minutes and you go through my things? Is that any way for a guest to act?”
A nervous laugh escaped from my throat.
He was inching closer to me, and I slid my feet backward, shimmying myself around the corner of his desk. I kept moving until the desk stood between us.
I was shaking. In the past there’d always been someone to save me, there had always been someone there. They might not have arrived until the last minute, but what mattered was that they were there. This time was different. The only person who knew where I was sat in a bar parking lot next door, and by the time he realized something was wrong, it would be too late.
“You really shouldn’t have done that, Lana,” Ray said in a calm voice. “Now, I can’t let you leave here…”
“I won’t tell anyone,” I promised him. “You can have your book back, and I’ll just be on my way. Like it never happened.”
He laughed. “Oh, Lana … I know you. I know your track record. I’ve read the stories in the Plain Dealer. This is your thing, isn’t it? You’re like one of the Scooby gang … only…” He paused, looking around the room. “Doesn’t seem to me like you have much of a gang.”
“I’ll scream,” I told him. “Your employee will hear me and come to see what’s going on.” At least that’s what I hoped. The walls in Ho-Lee Noodle House weren’t all that thick, and I was praying they weren’t here either.
“What employee?” Ray set the water glass down on his desk. “I sent her home about five minutes ago.”
My eyes darted toward the door. There was no way to get to it with him standing where he was, and now that I knew we were alone in the restaurant, I kind of wished that Wilkins would have followed me in.
“The genius of this whole thing is that no one is ever going to guess it’s me.” Ray puffed up his chest. “Norman and I were friends … and I have no connection to Stella … and you … ha, I’ll be gone before anyone realizes what happened to you. How far do you think I can make it by nine A.M. tomorrow morning? I should at the very least be able to make it through three states. I’ve been told I have a lead foot.”
“Why then?” I asked, trying to stall. “Why kill your friend? Why kill Stella? Why do any of this?”
“Norman … ah, good ole Norman. We weren’t always friends, you see.” He sat down in the seat he’d originally cleared for me and seemed to relax as he leaned back in the chair. He didn’t have a concern in the world. “Norman’s friendship came after the money started flowing…”
“You were bribing him then!”
“I had to. His articles on my restaurant were hurting business. It was common knowledge that he was crooked … so I took advantage of that fact and proposed a deal. It was an excellent partnership.”
“Well, if it was going so great, then why kill him? Your business turned around, and winning the contest last year helped your image. You had it made.”
Ray leaned forward. “Because he got greedy. He wanted too much money … an unthinkable amount. He told me that if I didn’t pay him, he would out my attempts to pay him off. You call being indebted t
o someone like that ‘having it made’?”
“Wasn’t he worried about the backlash?” I asked. “I mean, if he was accepting the bribes, it would come back on him and his credibility. His entire career would be destroyed. Every review he’d ever written would then come into question.”
“I can tell you with certainty that Norman wasn’t worried about it. He’s paid off a few people himself. As they say, it helps to have friends in high places. On top of that, he was very careful. He only accepted cash payments and covered his tracks very well. He planned to retire on that money … my money.”
I clutched the book tighter to my chest. “But then why kill Stella, what did she have to do with this whole thing? Were you bribing her too?”
“I did try … I will tell you that.” He laughed. “She wouldn’t take my money though. And it’s a shame. All I wanted her to do was forget the conversation she overheard. One small task.” He shook his head. “And she couldn’t even do that.”
“So you killed her for overhearing about blackmail?” This tracked with what she had told me, and what others had witnessed without realizing what they were seeing. Stella really had been on to something.
“Not about the blackmail. Unfortunately, she heard me threaten Norman’s life. I warned him. I tried to save him … but that stubborn old man would not back down.
“Then he winds up dead … and she’s got her eye on me. I couldn’t have that.”
“So the fortune-cookie thing … I don’t get it. Why go to all that trouble?”
“I wanted Norman to know that I was coming for him. That the things he’d written about me were not forgotten. I wasn’t planning to continue with it, but I needed to connect the murders so no one would suspect me. Like I said, there is nothing to associate me with Stella other than us being judges on the same contest panel.
“I thought that would be obvious, Lana. Killing Stella was a two-for-one deal. It would take the suspicion off me, and it would connect the murders. I had no reason to kill her … at least not one that anyone knew about … except Norman, of course. But with him out of the way, there was nothing standing between me and getting the hell outta dodge.
“However, you’ve put a kink in my plans. I thought giving you that fortune would shut you up. I saw the way you were looking at everyone … trying to figure out who was responsible for ruining your precious little contest.
“Then, I decided to play the victim card myself. After I gave my fake fortune to your boyfriend, I planned to leave town on the premise of fear. People dropping like flies…” He rubbed his chin. “Although, I suppose you could add to that story … sweeten the pot.
“I can see it now,” he said, stretching out his arm and imitating a headline banner. “Local detective’s girlfriend brutally murdered in the back of a Chinese restaurant.”
“In the back of your restaurant,” I reminded him. “They’ll know it’s you.”
“No … because you see, ‘I saw the killer, Officer, and Lana stepped in and risked her life to save my own. It was that woman and her boyfriend … the Bamboo Lounge owner and the crazy man from the noodle contest.’” He smirked. “It’s going to be a great story. And, hey, on the plus side, you’ll go down as a hero. It’s the least I could do for you.”
I shivered. He was insane. The way he talked, this was all a big game to him. I had to get out of here. Maybe if I could reach one of the bottles on top of the filing cabinet, I could bash him over the head with it.
He watched me weigh my options, and he smiled to himself. “Not so fast, Lana.” In one swift motion, he rose from the chair, and leaped toward me.
I shrieked as his hands wrapped around me and he squeezed me until my bones hurt. I stepped on his foot, and his hold weakened enough for me to shove him with my shoulder. He stumbled backward, a look of annoyance on his face.
As he rushed me again, I took the book I’d been holding on to for dear life, and swung my arms back as far as I could.
He groaned as he lunged at me, and with all my strength, I swung the hardcover book, hitting him in the side of the head.
The force of the hit caused him to fall and smack his rib cage on the desk. He fell to the ground, hitting his head in the process. With one hand holding the side of his head, he tried to stabilize himself.
In the meantime, I stepped over him as fast as I could and whipped open the door. I flew through the restaurant, and as I made it out of the kitchen, I heard him stampeding behind me.
“Get back here, you little b—”
Before he could get the rest of his sentence out, I ran out the front door. I was waving my hands over my head as I headed in the direction of Wilkins’s car, praying that he for once in his life would acknowledge me.
He did.
He got out of the unmarked car, and for the first time since he’d been following me, he spoke. “What the hell is going on?”
Ray exited the restaurant, consumed with rage and trying to capture his escapee.
Wilkins, without hesitation, pulled out his gun, and aimed with the precision that comes from being a professional. “Hands in the air! I. Will. Shoot.”
Ray halted and raised his hands in the air.
“Get in the cruiser, Lana,” Wilkins barked without removing his eyes from Ray.
I did as I was told, and watched as he inched his way closer to Ray who was slowly starting to kneel to the ground.
Wilkins checked him for weapons, and then pulled out a pair of handcuffs from somewhere in his sports coat. I saw his lips moving and I imagined he was reading Ray his rights. Afterward, he pulled out his cell phone and made a call, which I guessed was for backup.
I took deep breaths, still clutching the book to my chest. I didn’t want to let it go. It was the only thing I had at the moment that felt tangible.
Minutes passed before two cruisers showed up. When they had situated Ray in the back of one of the cars, Officer Wilkins came back to the car. He sat down in the driver’s seat, and stared out the window. Without looking at me, he said, “Man, Trudeau is going to be so pissed at you.”
* * *
We’d left my car at Ray’s restaurant because I was too shaken to drive. Megan told me she would get it later so I didn’t have to go back there. In the meantime, Wilkins took me to the police station so I could make an official statement and they submitted The Art of War into evidence.
Megan met me at the station to take me home. Adam had things he needed to wrap up so he let me know that he would meet us there when he was finished.
I didn’t talk on the way home and Megan didn’t pry. She knew that I would tell her what happened when I was ready.
While I sat wrapped in a blanket on the couch with Kikko dutifully by my side, Megan ordered an extra-large pizza and a giant bucket of wings. It had become our postcapture tradition.
The pizza guy came and went, and I hadn’t moved from my position on the couch since I’d gotten home. Megan had set out plates, shots of whiskey, and napkins. When she was done, she sat on the couch next time in silence. And the three of us stayed like that until there was a knock at the door thirty minutes later.
Megan got the door, and Adam stepped inside appearing larger than life. He stared at me from the threshold, and I stared back, not knowing what to say.
He turned to Megan. “Can you give us a minute?”
“Sure, I’ll call Nikki and see if she can take me to Lana’s car,” she said before disappearing into her room.
After I heard the door to Megan’s room shut, I held up a hand to Adam. “I already know what you’re going to say. I said I wasn’t going to do anything stupid, and I ended up sticking my nose into something I shouldn’t have. I didn’t realize how close I was…” I paused. “I’m sorry.”
He walked over to the couch, and sat on the edge, his knees brushing against my leg. “Actually, I’m proud of you.”
I straightened. “You are?”
“Yes, you defended yourself. You were in a tough situation, Lana,
and you defended yourself. I’m not happy about how you got to that point, but I’m proud to know I have a girlfriend who doesn’t give up.”
For the first time that night, a tiny smile appeared on my face. “You said the g-word.”
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me toward him. “Maybe I did.”
The tension from my body released, and I let myself relax against his strong frame. I was safe now. The whole thing was behind me, and I could move on. Life could go back to normal.
Adam kissed my forehead. “And, besides, it was kinda cool when the guys at the station were giving me high fives because my girl’s got a mean right swing.”
EPILOGUE
The following week after things settled down at the Village, Ian got his wish and the noodle contest continued. With Ray out of the picture, Ian needed to request yet another judge, and this time, it was a member of the OCA. They weren’t messing around anymore.
We were now back in the bleacher seats, and the contest arena was packed with people awaiting the final results of who would take home the grand prize. As I surveyed the crowd, anxious for the judges to finish their deliberations, my mind wandered over the various things that had taken place since Ray’s arrest.
News of the horrible ordeal and its outcome made national news, and Ray was quickly coined the “Fortune Cookie Killer.” Details about his life and dirty dealings were in every major newspaper the day after his arrest. The police hadn’t found the original murder weapon used on Norman before detaining Ray, but it turned out to be a cell phone charging cord. On the night of the murder, Ray had conveniently dumped it in the toilet tank at the Bamboo Lounge where he was confident no one would look. Adam found it exactly where Ray said it would be, wrapped around the chain that connected to the handle.
