Murder Lo Mein
Page 23
Things were going good, I felt happy and my life—though on a different track than intended—was starting to feel back to normal. As the crowd began to enter the streets, I took a moment to appreciate my current plane of existence. It was good to be me.
Rockwell Avenue was soon filled with masses of people moving from one tented booth to another in search of handmade goods, local services, or menu samplings from nearby restaurants.
Asia Village, the shopping plaza that housed my family’s restaurant, was well represented amongst the busy street. Aside from Peter and me, Kimmy Tran from China Cinema and Song, an Asian entertainment store, was two tables away from us selling CDs and Chinese movies. Esther Chin, who owned Chin’s Gifts, was somewhere down the street peddling her porcelain knickknacks, music boxes and jade jewelry. Jasmine Ming, from Asian Accents hair salon, was showcasing a table of hair treatments, shampoos and nail care products while Mr. Zhang, from Wild Sage herbal shop, was at the opposite end of the street enlightening people on proper usage of herbal remedies and elixirs.
Even Penny Cho from the Bamboo Lounge was present, handling the onstage entertainment that was set up at the end of the parking lot. As the night continued, dance and musical acts would be performed on the main stage that sat in front of an eating area packed with picnic tables. Once that began, our little tent would have a long line of people waiting to purchase spring rolls, dumplings, and fried noodles.
The beginnings of that line formed in front of our stand, and before I had time to truly appreciate the event, Peter and I were slammed with food orders. While he worked to keep the food pans stocked with the most popular items, I filled plates with customer requests and cashed them out as quickly as possible.
It was a humid night and the air felt stale around us. The heat coming from the grill and below the pans wasn’t helping matters. I made a mental note to remember clip fans for the following week.
The performances began around seven p.m. and opened with a group of women dressed as geishas that wowed the crowd with a traditional Japanese dance. It was so beautiful that most of the crowd in the surrounding area paused to watch, and Peter and I got a break from serving customers. When the act was finished, applause erupted all around us and within seconds the momentum of the hungry visitors continued.
Peter inspected the inventory below the counter, opening lids and counting what we had left. He shook his head. “Dude, we’re almost out of dumplings already. I thought the spring rolls would be first to go.”
We were only halfway through the night. I pulled out the small notebook I kept in my purse and made notes on what items we would need to adjust for next week’s market. “I wonder if anyone else is running out of food yet.”
My eyes traveled over to Wonton on Wheels which had a line that was at least ten deep. Sandra was manning the window by herself, and when I glanced over to the front of the truck, I noticed that their son, Calvin, had arrived and was having what seemed to be a very heated discussion with his father.
Despite the fact that I was not a fan of Calvin’s, he’d turned into a decent-looking young man. He was tall, thin with a little bit of muscle, and kept his jet-black hair short and shaved on the sides.
His full lips were turned down in a frown and his arms were crossed over his chest in defiance of his father. From small snippets I’d heard around the plaza, Calvin was constantly butting heads with his father, who was dead set on turning his son into an entrepreneur like himself. But Calvin wasn’t having any of it, and had immediately enlisted into the Navy when he turned eighteen.
He didn’t last long, though, and ended up getting out after a couple of years. Since then he’d been filling his time by going back to school and picking up odd jobs. Last I’d heard, he was working as a food delivery truck driver and drove routes that took him all over the Midwest.
I lost sight of the argument and quickly forgot about it when our next wave of customers came by, keeping us busy for the next hour. In that time, Peter’s mom and our split shift server, Nancy Huang, showed up to lend a hand. The three of us worked in harmony with Peter cooking, Nancy filling the plates and me cashing out the customers.
I felt chipper, as we worked. It was going to be a great summer and Ho-Lee Noodle House was sure to gain tons of new business being at these weekly events. As a marketing tool, I’d ordered postcards with a picture of our restaurant on the front and our menu on the back to pass out with each order.
As the night trickled to an end and the crowd started to thin out, Peter, Nancy, and I began closing up shop.
Nancy, one of my mother’s best friends, was a dainty woman with soft features. Her voice at times was barely above a whisper and the beauty of her youth had carried well into middle age.
She and Esther Chin were my honorary aunts, and I wondered how things would flow when my real aunt, Grace, came to visit this summer.
Nancy placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I see Sandra Chow talking with Ruby at her booth. It’s been a long while since I’ve seen Ruby. I think I will go say hello.”
“Yeah, I talked with them earlier tonight. I don’t remember Ruby at all.”
“When she moved to the east side she didn’t come visit anymore. Everybody is always so busy.”
“Were she and Mom close?” I asked.
Nancy tilted her head in consideration. “For a short time, yes.”
Momentarily, I pondered if there might be any interesting back story, but if there was anything to be told, I was sure I’d hear about it through the grapevine. “Okay, well, we’re almost all packed up here. I’ll come and get you when we’re done and ready to go.”
She nodded and turned to leave.
After she’d joined the other two women, I busied myself with straightening up the cash box and the slips containing our orders. The order forms had been another one of my ideas to help keep track of what sold best and what was less popular. I gathered them with a rubber band and slipped them in the cash box before locking it.
When I looked up, I saw Calvin ambling over to our booth.
“Well, if it isn’t Lana Lee … all grown up.” He laughed as he extended a hand over the register.
“Calvin,” I said, reaching for his hand. “It’s been a while, how have you been?”
“Not too bad. Not too bad, at all.” He glanced down at my hand. “Firm handshake you got there. You’re not a delicate flower, that’s for sure.”
I smiled in return. “That I am not.”
He nodded in approval. “Right, so you’re working for your parents now or somethin’?”
“I actually manage the restaurant … wasn’t part of my master plan, but it’s paying the bills. What are you up to these days?”
He gave Peter a quick eyeball before answering my question. “I just quit my job as a trucker and started working in an auto repair shop. I got sick of being on the road all the time, ya know?”
“I can imagine that would be hard.”
A scraggly man in a dingy t-shirt and torn jeans came walking up to us from the direction of the food truck area. He stood behind Calvin and peered up at the makeshift sign we had hanging from the top of our tent. “Ha … Ho-Lee Noodle House … for real? That’s the real name?”
I pursed my lips. “Yes, that’s the real name. And, we’re closed now, sorry.”
Calvin chuckled. “Easy there, Sunshine, that’s my Uncle Gene.”
“Oh!” I blushed. “Sorry, I didn’t realize…”
“No sweat … I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.” Gene stepped up to the counter next to Calvin and gave me a goofy grin. “I’m Gene Tian. Nice to meet you.”
As the words left his mouth, I could smell alcohol on his breath. Clearly he had taken advantage of the beer tent.
“Nice to meet you,” I replied, not bothering to offer my hand.
“My apologies for interruptin’ your conversation, but I need to exit stage left with my designated driver over here.” He slid his eyes in Calvin’s direction.
“Come on little nephew, time to get out of here.”
“Okay, cool, just one sec,” Calvin turned his attention back to me. “So, I was thinkin’ maybe—”
“Hey … C … we gotta go … ASAP!” Gene grabbed his nephew’s arm and yanked hard. “I need to use the facilities and I ain’t usin’ those port-o-Johns, ya dig?”
Calvin rolled his eyes. “All right, let’s go then.” He waved a hand at me. “Maybe we can catch up another time, Lee. I’d sure like to hear how your mom roped you into taking over the family biz.”
“Sure, stop by the restaurant some time,” I offered. “I’m there all week.”
He winked and ran after his uncle who had already started hightailing toward the exit.
“Interesting dudes,” Peter said as he finished cleaning off the grill. “That one guy for sure had way too much to drink. Good thing his nephew is takin’ him home.”
“Odd that I’ve never met or heard of Gene before,” I said as I watched them disappear down the road. “I wonder whose brother he is.”
“Maybe he’s visiting from out of town for the summer or something,” Peter suggested.
“Speaking of,” I said, turning toward Peter. “My Aunt Grace is going to be here in a few days … I want to prepare you for my mother’s crazy behavior.”
“Oh man, is she gonna be all micro-managey at the restaurant? Because we’ve gotten into a nice groove since Mama Lee has been out of the picture. I mean, I love your mom and everything, but my chi is flowing so much better now.”
I laughed. “You’ve been talking to Mr. Zhang again?”
Peter shrugged. “Guilty as charged.”
I inspected our tent and was satisfied with our progress. All Peter had to do was pull up the trailer so we could haul away our grill and we’d be on our way home. I was already daydreaming about slipping into my pajamas and basking in the comforts of air conditioning.
Peter seemed to come to the same conclusion and dug in his pocket for the keys. “I’m sure there’s a line out of the lot, but I’m going to make my way over there anyways. If my mom wants to leave just tell her I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“Okay, I’ll be here.” I told him.
Right as Peter turned his back to me, he paused, his body straight as a rod.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
I heard a crackling sound, and Peter’s head turned in the direction of Wonton on Wheels. “OH sh—”
Before I could fully understand what was happening, Peter grabbed me and knocked me to the ground. A large boom and the sound of hail followed. From my place on the ground, I could see flames lighting up the parking lot. Wonton on Wheels was on fire.…
Also by
Vivien Chien
DEATH BY DUMPLING
DIM SUM OF ALL FEARS
Available from
St. Martin’s Paperbacks
Praise for
DIM SUM OF ALL FEARS
“Provides plenty of twists and turns and a perky, albeit conflicted, sleuth.”
—Kirkus Reviews
DEATH BY DUMPLING
“Vivien Chien serves up a delicious mystery with a side order of soy sauce and sass. A tasty start to a new mystery series!”
—Kylie Logan, bestselling author of Gone with the Twins
“Death by Dumpling is a fun and sassy debut with unique flavor, local flair, and heart.”
—Amanda Flower, Agatha Award-winning author of Lethal Licorice
“A charming debut, with plenty of red herrings. The heroine’s future looks bright.”
—Kirkus Reviews
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Vivien Chien was born and raised in an ethnically diverse household in Cleveland, Ohio. She found her love of books and the written word at an early age while writing short stories about her classmates in elementary school. Currently, she writes side-by-side with her toy fox terrier who refuses to sit anywhere else. When she’s not writing or frolicking in bookstores, Vivien enjoys frequenting local Asian restaurants and searching for her next donut. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Excerpt: Wonton Terror
Also by Vivien Chien
Praise
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
MURDER LO MEIN
Copyright © 2019 by Vivien Chien.
Excerpt from Wonton Terror copyright © 2019 by Vivien Chien.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
eISBN: 9781250129208
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St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / April 2019
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.