“Got it,” said Nicki.
“Oh Yin,” said Dolores. “Don’t forget the chocolate on the pillow.”
Dolores checked out the room. “Not bad, not bad at all. You catch on fast,” she said. “We’re going on our break now, Yin. Take fifteen.”
“You can join us if you want,” said Ellen. The staff lunchroom is in the basement, next to the laundry.”
Dolores made a face. “The vending machine spits out stale sandwiches and warm juice, but if you give it a swift kick, it returns your coins.”
“Not mine,” said Ellen.
“You’re not lucky like me.”
“Right, Dolores.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want anything right now. I’ll see you later,” said Nicki.
She watched from the end of the hall as the two women headed for the elevator. Ellen stopped to chat with the cop and Dolores joined her. This was Nicki’s chance and she took it.
I just hope Newman isn’t watching the surveillance camera.
Dragging a mop and pail, she shot up the hall to room 813.
“I heard a scream,” she told the guard at the door. “A terrible scream from across the atrium. Someone’s in trouble!” The cop dashed down the corridor, then headed toward the atrium.
Ellen and Dolores ran behind him.
“Come on, Yin!” they hollered.
Nicki knocked her pail over with her foot. “Oh, no!” she cried. “You two go. Hurry! I’ll be right there.”
Once they were out of sight, Nicki pulled out her mother’s universal passkey, rammed it into the slot, grabbed her mop and pail, and quickly shut the door behind her.
She went straight to the in-room safe.
The vase has to be in there. Her mind raced as she pulled out the override tool.
It was!
Standing alone in the middle of that cold metal safe was the most exquisite piece of porcelain she had ever seen. But there was no time to admire it now. Nicki grabbed a thick towel from the bathroom, wrapped it around the vase, and carefully placed it in the bottom of her pail. Then she opened the door a crack and peered down the hall.
Good. I still have a bit of time.
She riffled through Kahana’s shirts in the chest of drawers.
There’s got to be a clue here someplace. Something to lead me to the creep who stabbed Master Kahana.
Next she tried the closet.
It was empty except for a couple of light jackets. She went through the pockets, but there was only a package of gum and a slip of paper. On it Kahana had written a phone number and a name: Robert A-G. Nicki shoved it into her pocket.
Sensing her time was up, she crept out the door, just as the cop was coming down the hall. Wheeling her mop and pail to the service elevator, she took a deep breath and prayed that he didn’t see her get on.
He didn’t.
But Trent Newman did. When the doors opened, he was standing in the elevator.
Chapter Seven
“What the devil are you doing?” Newman had a chunk of Spam in his hand. No bun, no mustard, just Spam. Neat.
Now I know he’s a kama’aina, thought Nicki. Nobody can stomach Spam like a born-and-bred Hawaiian. There isn’t a restaurant in Honolulu that doesn’t serve it.
“You’re supposed to be cleaning with your team! Why aren’t you?”
Nicki shrugged. Then she noticed that the towel had shifted and part of the vase was exposed. She draped her mop over it in an attempt to conceal it from Newman.
It felt like the longest elevator ride of her life.
“Find your team and don’t go off on your own, do you hear me?” declared Newman. “Any more missteps and you’re history.”
Newman stuffed the meat into his mouth, holding it between his teeth so it didn’t fall out, then stomped through the door when the elevator finally came to a stop.
Nicki hurried to her mother’s office on the main floor. When no one was looking, she slipped inside and found a place to hide the vase. Then she called home.
“I need your help, Fenwick. And I need it now.”
“My help, Miss?”
“I’ve got the vase.”
“You found it?”
“I’ll explain later. Right now it’s hidden in my mother’s office at the hotel, but I’ve got to get it out of here. I’ll be working on one of the floors, but I’ll keep my eye out for you every chance I get. Bring a suitcase, Fenwick. And try to look like one of the guests.”
“I’ll try.”
“Oh, and Fenwick?” Out of her pocket Nicki pulled the slip of paper she’d found in room 813. “Can you do a reverse phone check for me?”
Nicki finished work at seven. Before she left, she returned to the eighth floor, stood with her back against the wall and peered around the corner toward 813. The forensics team was inside, poking into every corner. Newman stood outside the room, hands folded in front, a vacant look on his face.
After a few minutes, a detective came out.
“We’re almost finished in there, Mr. Newman,” he said.
Investigators shuffled past; they didn’t appear to be carrying anything from the room.
“Didn’t they find anything?” demanded Newman.
“I can’t tell you that,” answered the detective.
“Mr. Kahana informed me that he required a room with a safe,” said Newman. “I believe he must have deposited something valuable in there.” His face went red. “I need to know for insurance purposes. If there’s going to be a claim—”
“No, sir,” said the detective. “There was nothing in the safe.”
“What?” Newman craned his neck to look inside, but the detective pulled the door shut. “But I’m sure—”
“Sure of what?”
“Well, Mr. Kahana specifically asked me about the safe. I’m sure he must have—”
“I’m sorry, sir,” said the detective. “You’ll have your room back shortly.”
“Good!” snapped Newman, and he stormed down the hall.
Nicki ducked into a closet. While Newman hammered the elevator button with his fist, she took the stairs to the ground floor and headed outside.
On her way to the hospital she passed Bloom’s Deli, just as Margo came out the door.
“Yin!” Margo called. “Come on over! Do you like corned beef?”
Before Nicki could explain she was vegetarian, Margo had already set her a place at the picnic table and was bringing out food by the boatloads. “Not too busy tonight, so we’ve got tons of leftovers.”
“Margo,” said Nicki, “I’m not a meat eater myself, so I—”
“No problem. Have a bagel and cream cheese. And rye bread. And pickles. And lox—do you eat fish? And coffee!”
She sure loves her coffee, thought Nicki.
“Thanks, I guess I am pretty hungry.” Nicki tossed back two bagels and half a dozen pickles.
Margo smiled. “You like pickles.”
“I love pickles,” admitted Nicki, helping herself to another. “And these are the best I’ve ever eaten.” She scrunched up her napkin and let it drop into the middle of the empty plate. “I must have built up an appetite; I’ve been cleaning rooms at the hotel all day.”
“You got a job? Hey, that’s great!”
Ira and Ruthie Bloom, Margo’s parents, brought out sticky buns and soup and more coffee.
“This is my new friend, Yin,” said Margo. “And these are my parents.” She made a sweeping motion with her left hand while reaching for a bun with her right.
Margo’s dad took a place on the bench.
“You girls care to join me in a bowl of soup?”
“I don’t think there’s room for all three of you in there,” quipped Ruthie, making Margo laug
h.
“Sit down, Mom.”
“There are still some customers to serve.”
“You can never have too many customers,” said Ira. “In the old days, you could, but no more. I’m telling you…what’s your name again?”
“Yin.”
“I’m telling you, Yin, this health food craze is going to put me out of business. Nobody wants pastrami, nobody wants kreplach, nobody wants knishes. They act like anything with a bit of schmaltz will kill them on the spot. My grandfather in Brooklyn lived until he was ninety-eight, and he ate nothing but schmaltz. And cream soda.”
“Schmaltz?” asked Nicki.
“Fat,” Margo managed to squeeze in before Ira was off again.
“All this nonsense about health,” cried Ira. “You know what it is, girls? You know what it is?” He swallowed a big spoonful of soup. “Bupkis! That’s what it is!”
“Bupkis?” asked Nicki.
“That means nonsense,” said Margo. “In Yiddish.”
Nicki managed to drink almost half a cup of coffee by swallowing it at the same time as the sweet bun. Then she helped Margo and Ira carry the dishes back inside.
“Everything was really good, Margo,” she said. “How much do I owe you for this?” She pulled out her wallet.
“Your money’s no good here, Yin,” said Ira. He shoved a stack of plates into the dishwasher.
“He’s right,” added Ruthie. “And remember, you’re welcome anytime.”
“Thank you both, very much.”
Margo walked Nicki outside.
“I like your parents,” Nicki said.
“They’re okay, I guess.” Margo rolled her eyes. Then she smiled. “I love them.”
“I know you do.”
“So you’re headed to the hospital?” asked Margo.
“I have to find out how Mr. Kahana’s doing.”
“You know anything I tell you is off the record, but—”
“Is he okay?”
Margo smiled. “Your feet must be tired. I might as well save you the trip to the hospital.” She put a hand on Nicki’s shoulder. “It sounds like Mr. Kahana is going to recover.”
“Oh,” sighed Nicki. “Thank goodness.”
“I heard two nurses talking about how his vital signs were stronger and that the coma wasn’t as deep as it had been. I think they expect him to come out of it.”
“Thanks so much, Margo. That’s such a relief, you’ve no idea.” She took a deep breath.
“One thing, though,” added Margo.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t want to upset you.”
“You won’t.”
“The police have posted a second guard on the floor.”
“A second guard?”
“Yes,” said Margo. “I…I heard that—”
“What, Margo? What did you hear?”
“Someone tried to cut off Mr. Kahana’s oxygen supply.”
Chapter Eight
“Fenwick?”
“Miss Nicki? Where are you?”
“Still downtown. Is everything all right?”
“Splendid,” said the butler. “And don’t worry, the Ming is safe and sound.”
“Good, because they think Grand Master Kahana may be out of the coma soon.”
“Terrific news, Miss.”
“I wish it were all good news, but…” She stopped. “Fenwick, did you do that reverse phone check for me?”
“The number is for Soong’s Chinese Antiques,” he replied, reading her the address on Spadina Avenue.
“A Chinese antique store?” She waited at a pedestrian crosswalk for the signal to change. “I wonder if he intended to sell the vase.”
“Or maybe get an opinion as to its value.”
“That could be it,” agreed Nicki. “I’m going to check the place out.”
“But aren’t you coming home now? It’s almost eight.”
“Soong’s must be just around the corner from here. I won’t be long.” She clicked off her phone and walked until she found the shop.
Dwarfed between two tall buildings, Soong’s Chinese Antiques appeared uninhabited, except for a dim light burning at the back. In the window, a huge red-and-yellow sign read One-of-a-Kind Finds.
Bronze Buddhas and dragons with glassy eyes stared at her from the window, paintings of cherry blossoms and peonies on silk dangled from bamboo rods, ceramic panda bears, hardwood boxes, and incense burners sat in piles, and heaps of cheap-looking pottery took up any space that was left.
The curtain at the back of the store stirred when Nicki walked through the front door, and a bell jingled over her head. Before long, an elderly Chinese woman appeared.
“I’m psychic,” she said.
“So am I,” returned Nicki.
“Well, I suppose there’s no point in conversation then. We’ll just—”
“Read each other’s minds? Okay.” Nicki wandered around the store.
What a load of junk, she thought.
“This is not junk,” the woman snapped. “These are unique, one-of-a-kind pieces. Why don’t you treat yourself to a set of dishes? Or something to decorate your room?” She picked up a ceramic figurine.
“Okay, it’s my turn,” said Nicki. “You’re wondering what I’m doing here. You figure I’m not going to buy anything—that I’m here with a hidden agenda.”
“Maybe,” said the woman.
Nicki took a business card from a stack on one of the tables.
“So you’re Mrs. Soong?”
“My friends call me Lila.”
“Okay, Lila, so why am I here?”
“I said my friends call me Lila.” The woman put the figurine back in its place. “I know why you’re here.”
“Why?”
“To spy on my handsome grandson.”
I’ll bet he’s not all that handsome.
“He is so,” said Lila.
The woman can read minds! “I don’t know your grandson.” Nicki dragged her finger along the top of a picture frame. An inch of dust dropped to the floor. “I wouldn’t get away with this where I work.”
“Where do you work?”
“You’re psychic. You tell me.”
The woman didn’t reply. Then she grinned.
“Okay,” she said, “you can call me Lila.”
“I work at a hotel, as a housekeeper.”
Lila raised an eyebrow. “Give me a break,” she said.
“I do,” insisted Nicki.
Lila grabbed Nicki’s hands and examined her palms. “These hands haven’t ever done a day’s hard work.”
“I just started today,” said Nicki, “so they have done one day’s work.”
“I’m thirsty. You?”
Nicki nodded.
Lila started for the back room, and Nicki followed.
“So is your handsome grandson’s name Robert?”
Lila stopped dead in her tracks.
“No. My grandson is T’ai. Why do you ask if he is Robert?”
“I thought there might be someone here by the name of Robert. Robert A-G.”
Lila rushed to the cash register, slid her hand under the counter, and pushed a button. Four times, maybe five.
“What are you doing?” asked Nicki.
Lila didn’t reply.
A door banged shut.
Someone ran down from the apartment upstairs.
A young man of about eighteen pulled back the curtain.
He is good looking, thought Nicki, noticing his long, dark hair and muscular build.
“What’s going on?” T’ai Soong looked at Nicki, then at his grandmother.
“She’s asking
about someone named Robert A-G.”
T’ai grabbed Nicki by the arm. “Where’s my uncle?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She pulled herself free.
He grabbed her again, this time even harder.
Nicki figured she had two choices: employ a roundhouse kick to his ribs or feign weakness and find out who Robert A-G was and why David Kahana had his name.
She opted for the second choice.
Lila Soong’s grandson dragged Nicki to the back room.
Chapter Nine
“Who are you?” asked T’ai.
“She’s a spy,” said Lila.
The bell over the front door jingled, and Lila peered through the curtains.
A young man with red hair walked in the front door. “It’s your friend Mac,” said Lila.
“We’re back here,” hollered T’ai.
“Why did you ask about Robert A-G?” Lila stared Nicki down.
“First, tell your grandson to let go of me,” insisted Nicki.
T’ai and Lila exchanged glances.
Lila nodded.
“Robert,” said T’ai, releasing Nicki, “is my great uncle. Lila’s brother-in-law.”
“My sister’s husband,” added Lila. “He’s a widower now.”
“So why did everyone freak out when I mentioned his name?” Nicki brushed off her arm. “And why did you ask if I’m a spy?”
“Robert’s gone,” said Lila.
“Gone?” asked Nicki.
“He was supposed to arrive here a week ago.”
“And?” prompted Nicki.
“He never made it. Wasn’t on the flight.” Lila leaned against the wall and stared at her with black-marble eyes. “But you already knew that, right?”
“Of course not.”
“Lila,” said T’ai, “I believe her. I mean, look at her. She couldn’t hurt a fly.”
You might be surprised, Nicki said to herself.
The Scratch on the Ming Vase Page 3
