by Anne R. Tan
Should she keep walking to the cafe at the end of the block and duck in for a quick bite? Would this make her a horrible daughter?
A woman bumped into Raina from behind.
As Raina straightened, she called out, “Hey, watch where you’re going!”
The woman didn’t even glance at her. She jammed a finger on the buzzer to Hudson’s apartment building. When the outer door clicked open, she disappeared inside. Raina did the same and stormed up the stairs to the second floor. She heard the screaming match before she saw the participants.
“You will not get away with this,” a woman said. “I’m going to the police—”
“Stop! We do not understand what happened. For all we know, Uncle Martin could have died in his sleep,” Hudson said, his voice sounding clogged and congested like he had been crying. “Brandi, just go home. I’ll call you later and we can talk then.”
Raina rounded the corner on the second floor. The woman who had bumped into her stood with clenched fists outside an apartment. Mom, with her hands on her hips, shielded Hudson with her body.
“It's all over Facebook and Instagram. The next-door neighbor is a minor celebrity because she found the body with you this morning,” Brandi said. “I can't believe you were stupid enough to involve the old busybody.”
Raina studied the rude woman. The Asian genes from their mom’s side bypassed Brandi Rice, Hudson’s older sister. She was a petite brunette with ice blue eyes. The bruise on her cheek was ripe like a plum with the edges turning yellow.
“She has the spare key. How else could I have gotten into his place?” he said.
A neighbor popped his head out of his unit, but when Brandi gave him the finger, he jerked back inside.
“If this is how you want to play this, Hudson, we can both go down in flames. My lawyer will tie everything in probate, so we will both end up with nothing.” Brandi gave a brittle laugh that could have been a cackle, except she cut it short and spun on her heels.
Raina huddled against the wall so she wouldn’t get bumped again.
As Brandi rushed past, she blinked rapidly, but this didn’t stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks.
* * *
Mom put an arm around Hudson’s hunched shoulders. She turned her head and mouthed “wait here.” The two of them disappeared inside the apartment.
Raina jammed her hands into her pockets and paced in the hall. Death brought out the worst in some people, but to have the Rice siblings squabbling already was not good news.
Mom came out, closing the door quietly behind her. “I need your help. Brandi will do everything in her power to make trouble for Hudson. I think she’ll implicate him somehow.”
Raina studied the fifty-year-old woman in front of her. The hair started to gray in the last year, streaking her black hair, but she was still trim and youthful enough to pass for forty. Her oval face seemed puffy as if she’d been crying. “I don't understand. Anybody can make a wild accusation. It doesn’t mean the police would make trouble for your boyfriend.”
Mom pleaded with her eyes. “I need him to be more than my boyfriend. I don’t think he will propose until everything is settled with Uncle Martin’s death.”
Raina took a deep breath to keep her voice from sounding dismissive. “I still don’t understand what you want me to do.”
“What you do best—poke your nose into Uncle Martin’s death. I want this settled ASAP so Hudson can finish his mourning and propose to me. My future happiness is at stake here.”
“Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun? Why don’t we wait until the coroner comes back with the cause of death?”
“I’m disappointed that you are refusing to help me. I guess twenty-one hours of labor without medication doesn’t count for much these days.”
Raina shuffled her feet and tried not to snap at her mom. Did she have to pull the labor card?
As if sensing her imminent victory, Mom gestured for Raina to follow her inside Hudson’s apartment. “Come and talk to Hudson. He’ll convince you there’s something fishy about Uncle Martin’s death, but I don’t want him to know you’re investigating. That would be too presumptuous.”
6
In the Doghouse
Raina took longer than necessary to close the door. The apartment was nothing more than a one-bedroom studio, much smaller than her place in Gold Springs, but cost four times as much in rent. A curtain sectioned off the bed from the rest of the space, which was comprised of a loveseat and a coffee table that also doubled as a dining room table. Since there was no other seat, Raina sat on the rug next to the coffee table.
On the loveseat, Hudson hung his head over his knees. His gaze focused inward. Mom rubbed his back in silence.
After a couple of minutes, Raina cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about Uncle Martin. What happened?”
Hudson’s hands trembled, and he tucked them under his armpits. “Uncle Martin and I have dim sum every Tuesday morning, but when he didn’t show up, I stopped by his home. Mrs. Keane let me in…” He took a shuddering breath. “He was fine when we left last night. I don't understand what happened. I should have stayed with him.”
Mom patted Hudson’s knee. “It’s not your fault. If there were anyone to blame, it would be me. If I ate more dinner, then you wouldn’t have had to make a snack run.”
The image of Mom and Hudson necking in the dining room in the wee hours of the morning floated across Raina’s mind and she quickly suppressed it. “What did you see when you walked into the townhouse?”
“Mrs. Keane and I went inside, calling out for Uncle Martin. At first I thought he was asleep because he was still sitting on the sofa. It wasn’t until she screamed that I realized something was wrong. He was too still.” Hudson pressed his trembling lips together. Several seconds passed before he could continue. And when he did, his voice came out in a raspy whisper. “Except his bloodshot eyes were wide open.”
Mom gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. “Poor baby.”
“Then what happened?” Raina asked, ignoring her mom. Did he have a heart attack?
“I don’t remember. Someone must have called the police because the next thing I knew there were a bunch of people at the house. Mrs. Keane later told me that I picked up the crane pillow and set it back on the sofa.” Hudson blinked, his eyes clouded with confusion. “Brandi will tell the police I killed him. I just know it. It's not my fault Uncle Martin reduced her inheritance to five thousand dollars.”
“Oh, poor baby,” Mom said, rubbing his back.
Raina rubbed her temples. One more “poor baby,” and she would scream. “Mom, why don’t you make Hudson a cup of tea?” She tilted her head toward the kitchenette.
Mom brightened at the idea and hurried off.
Raina turned back to Hudson. “Is there something unnatural about Uncle Martin’s death?”
Hudson hugged himself tighter. “I heard Detective Smith whisper to an officer that Uncle Martin probably died from asphyxiation.”
Raina glanced at her mom to give him a moment to collect himself. Though Smith wasn’t a coroner, she didn’t doubt his experience to judge whether a crime had occurred. “Did Uncle Martin take his usual sleeping draught? He mentioned last night he’d had trouble sleeping for years. Is there any possibility he could have overdosed on it?”
“He had been taking the herbal remedy for decades. There was no way he could have OD’d on it.”
“Where did he get the ingredients? I wonder if he got a bad batch.”
Hudson shook his head. “The Chinese apothecary has been in business for fifty years. Their prices are higher than everyone else, but they have a reputation for quality ingredients. I can’t think of the name, but it’s off the side street from the Golden Gate Bakery.”
Mom returned with two cups of tea and handed one to Hudson. He thanked her and rested it on his knees. She blew on hers and sipped it.
Raina ignored the fact she didn't get a cup. “What did your sister mean abou
t going to the police?”
“She’s just upset at Uncle Martin’s death. They used to be close until the loser boyfriend came into the picture. She wouldn’t leave him, so Uncle Martin cut her off the will, hoping the boyfriend would go away when he realized Brandi had no money coming.”
“It didn’t work?”
Hudson shook his head.
“Is it possible someone murdered Uncle Martin?” Raina asked.
Hudson’s eyes jerked, and his cup slipped from his hands. Mom jumped up, running into the kitchen for paper towels. It took a couple of minutes to clean up the mess.
He raked a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that. Your question surprised me.”
“Asphyxiation rarely happens by itself.”
“Why would anyone kill Uncle Martin?”
“What about angry clients? Is there anyone that might be unhappy with his work? When you are working with ancestors, some people could get mighty touchy.”
Hudson frowned, staring off into space for several moments. “There’s the Dai Lo from the Nine Dragons, but I don’t think you should talk to him.”
The name sounded oddly familiar, but Raina wasn't sure where she'd heard it before. “Why not?”
“Because he’s a Dai Lo,” Mom said, emphasizing the title in Cantonese.
A light bulb went off in Raina’s head. The literal translation meant big brother in slang, but Dai Lo was also the title used by underlings to address a triad boss.
No wonder the Nine Dragons sounded so familiar. It was on the news a few days ago that a member who’d hounded Chinese businesses for protection money in the East Bay was released from prison. “I second that motion. Can you think of anyone who might have a grudge against Uncle Martin?”
Hudson frowned, beginning to shake his head, but his eyes widened at a sudden thought. “His business rival—Joley Mok. She opened a feng shui shop in Chinatown two years ago. Uncle Martin asserted she was too young to be a master. They even argued publicly last year when the Chinatown Business Association wanted to re-align the feng shui in their lobby. Uncle Martin called her a hack and she called him an old fool. Someone else ended up with the contract. Several clients canceled on her afterwards.”
Mom set her teacup on the coffee table. “What do you think, Raina?”
“You're better off hiring a pro,” Raina said.
Mom shook her head. “We have to keep this in the family.”
Raina chewed on her lower lip. She was absolutely right. The feng shui business relied on word of mouth and a belief in superstition. Potential clients getting wind of the “bad luck” surrounding Uncle Martin's death meant the family business would be toast.
Hudson’s head swiveled between Raina and her mom. “What am I missing?”
Mom patted his hand. “Don’t worry about it, dear. You need to focus on putting together the memorial service. Just let me take care of us.”
Raina didn't want to be responsible for the survival of someone's livelihood. What if there was no more sleuthing mojo left in her reserve? But this could be a chance to mend fences with her mom even though the coldness between them wasn't Raina’s fault to begin with. “Fine, but I'm not promising anything.”
* * *
In the lobby of Hudson’s building, Raina dialed her grandma's cell number, glancing out the main door. Through the glass, she saw Smith approaching the building.
It didn't take a rocket scientist to know Smith wanted to chat with Hudson. It wouldn't take long for the detective to cross her path again. Better to delay the happy event as long as possible.
She hung up and strolled down the short hallway which led to the four units downstairs. The lobby door opened and a draft swirled around the small area, lifting a few strands of her curly hair. At the farthest apartment, Raina dug into her purse, pretending to look for her keys.
When she could no longer hear the footsteps on the stairs, she risked peeking out from underneath her hair. The lobby was empty. She sprinted for the main door, grabbed the handle, and flew onto the street.
Raina trotted several blocks, just to make sure she was out of sight, and called her grandmother again. As the phone rang, she studied the strips of cha siu hanging over the butcher block on the other side of the window at a restaurant. The Chinese style barbecue pork glistened in the late evening light.
Her stomach rumbled, and she felt a wave of lightheadedness. The last time she ate was breakfast. She hung up and stepped inside to order a cha siu rice plate.
While she ate, Raina called her grandmother’s two favorite senior centers, but no one had seen Po Po. Finally, in a moment of desperation, she checked her grandma’s Facebook feed. Po Po had updated it less than two hours ago.
In the dog house. Need food.
Raina paused mid-sip—one hand held the glass of water suspended in front of her while the other held her phone. Did Po Po mean with the police or…was she in their backyard? The ice water leaked around the side of her mouth and soaked the top of her shirt. She set the glass down, still reading the updates on her phone and blotting at her shirt absentmindedly.
Po Po must have read Mrs. Keane’s postings on the Internet and went into hiding mode. Raina wasn't sure why, but a dog house was exactly the place her grandma would choose. This streak for the theatrics made everyone exasperated with the matriarch of the family.
Raina ordered another cha siu rice plate to go. She got back to the house in record time and went into the house and headed straight out the back door.
The Wong family didn’t own a dog, but they owned a dog house which served as their hiding place for their spare key. Anyone who disregarded their “Beware of Dog” sign and opened their side yard gate could see the doghouse and hear a pre-recorded Rottweiler barking.
“Cha siu faahn,” Raina whispered in a singsong voice. “Cha siu faahn. Who wants dinner?”
The literal translation of Chinese phrases always puzzled the next-door neighbors, a young Caucasian family trying to learn the native language of their adopted daughter. If they had heard her, they would assume she had poured the cha siu sauce over her rice.
“Pssst,” a voice hissed from inside the doghouse.
Raina's shoulders sagged in relief. “I'm heading back into the kitchen to put the food on a plate. You can follow me if you want or you can stay out here all night.” She strolled back into the kitchen, knowing full well her grandma would follow. She scraped the Chinese food out of the take-out boxes and put it on a plate.
Po Po stomped into the kitchen and locked the back door. “Thanks for picking up dinner.”
“Why were you hiding in the doghouse?”
Po Po gave her a pitying look. “Oh, honey, no wonder you were an engineer. You have no pizzazz. Now I can tell my friends I was out in the cold and dark, hiding from the police, who would beat the truth out of me if I was caught.”
Raina handed the plate to her grandma. “Eat. We'll talk later. I’m taking a shower.”
An hour later Raina was sprawled on her grandma's bed while Po Po changed into her pajamas. Neither Mom nor Win was home yet. Raina wondered if she should be worried her teenage brother had unlimited freedom to come and go as he pleased. She had always known her mom would never win any parental award, but how difficult was it to set a curfew on a school night?
A flash of annoyance shot through her. Why was it she always ended up doing her mom’s job? When Dad died, Raina had lost more than just a parent—she’d lost her childhood as well. With both her mom and older sister falling apart and her half-sister taking off on her own, Raina became the glue that held the family together.
“Rainy? Are you okay?” Po Po asked.
Raina shook the thoughts from her head. Water under the bridge now.
“No?” Po Po asked.
“It’s Mom, but I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t do a good job as a parent.”
“Will you stop being the martyr? You know my relationship with my
mother has nothing to do with you.”
“If I didn’t—”
“No, we are not having this discussion tonight. We can’t change her, so there’s no point in going around in circles and wasting our mental energy on something beyond our control.”
Raina took a deep breath to calm herself. She was getting worked up again. She seemed to fall into the same role of resentful daughter every time she stayed longer than a day in her childhood home. “Where did you go this morning? It had something to do with whatever you found at Uncle Martin's house last night.”
Po Po clenched her jaw. The mulish expression settled in like an unwanted guest ready for a long visit. “I don't want to talk about this either.”
Raina knew she wouldn’t get anywhere with her questions. “Whatever happened to no more secrets? I guess it only applied to me.”
“There's room for privacy in any relationship. If I want you to know, I will tell you when I'm ready.”
Raina jerked her chin, which could be taken as a reluctant nod when one squinted. Whatever her grandma was hiding had to be ferreted out with finesse. “What about hiding in a doghouse? Can we talk about this?”
“Not much to say. Mrs. Keane’s tear-streaked face with a caption that said the love of her life, Martin Eng, just died in his sleep showed up on Instagram. That woman even posted a picture of Detective Smith, identifying him as the lead investigator. After I got over the initial shock, I knew the police would want to talk to me. I was walking up the street when I saw the detective with another officer at our front door. I backtracked and hopped over the fence from the neighbor's backyard.”
Raina bit her lip to keep from laughing. Her great-grandma, Tai Po, had been an opera singer and actress prior to her elevation as third wife. Both Po Po and Mom didn’t fall far from the tree according to her paternal grandmother. “I'm surprised you didn't break anything with such a maneuver. Couldn’t you have waited until they left without taking such a drastic measure?”
Po Po tapped her smartphone and held it up. A fisheye view of the street came up. “There was a break-in after Ah Gong’s death, and I installed video surveillance cameras around the house.” She pinched the screen to zoom in on a vehicle. “Looks like an officer is still watching the house. It would have been a long wait if I didn't take my drastic measure.”
