The Misfortune Cookie: An Esther Diamond Novel

by Resnick, Laura

  “I’m fine, John. A little shaken up, but fine.”

  “Uncle Lucky!” The lion trotted across the street.

  “You got here fast,” I said to Lopez.

  “I was just around the corner.” He grabbed me again for another fierce hug and said against my hair, “What were you thinking?”

  “I wasn’t thinking,” I admitted. “I just didn’t want John to get shot. It really didn’t occur to me until she pointed the gun at me that she might shoot anyone else. After all, she was obsessed with the idea of killing John.”

  “Why? I mean, who is John? Why does Ted’s sister want to kill him?”

  “It’s such a long story.” I shook my head. “Maybe later.”

  I realized that after weeks of being cold, I was sweating now. I unbuttoned my coat as I went over to Lucky and John.

  John had removed his lion head, and he and Bill were looking at the enormous thing in perplexity.

  “What the hell happened with that thing?” Lucky asked as he removed his wig. I saw that he was sweating, too.

  “I don’t know,” said John, frowning as he stuck his head inside the lion’s mouth, apparently looking for whatever had caused that burst of fire. “Weird.”

  Lopez joined him. “You mean that wasn’t on purpose?”

  John shook his head. “I don’t even know what ‘that’ was.”

  Lucky said, “It saved Esther’s life, though.”

  I looked at Lopez and remembered what Max had said.

  Extreme stress triggers these interesting events. His emotions and his focus become powerful enough for him to affect matter and energy, though it’s not conscious and he doesn’t realize it’s happening.

  He’d obviously been pretty damn stressed by seeing Susan about to shoot me. I’d been pretty stressed by it, too.

  So I thought I knew why a lifesaving burst of fire had poured from the creature’s mouth, aimed straight for Susan. Even though everyone else, including Lopez, was mystified by the event as they poked and prodded John’s singed lion costume.

  Lucky said to me, “Is my face swelling?”

  “Huh? Oh.” I looked at his jaw. “Maybe a little. We should get some ice.”

  Lopez looked away from the lion to glance at us. He registered Lucky’s presence with surprise. “Hello, Lucky.”

  We froze.

  Shit.

  Lopez looked at the hairy disguise that was now in Lucky’s hand. “Do I even want to know why you were wearing a wig?”

  Nelli, who recognized Lopez, greeted him with friendly good cheer.

  “Oh, good,” he said. “It’s Max’s neurotic dog. Where’s Max?”

  “Busy,” I said. “Not here.”

  Lucky sighed in defeat. “You’d better take Nelli, kid.” He gave me her leash, then turned to Lopez. “It don’t seem fair that this happened when I only came out here to save my nephew’s life.”

  “And he saved me, too,” I added, hoping this would help.

  “Uncle Lucky?” John said, looking worried.

  “But whaddya gonna do? You got me, detective.” He stretched out his wrists toward Lopez to be cuffed. “And I ain’t saying a thing until I see my lawyer.”

  Lopez looked down at Lucky’s outstretched arms, then back at his face. “I must have missed a chapter. What are we doing?”

  John and I looked at him.

  He looked at us.

  I finally said, “You’re not going to arrest him?”

  Lopez asked Lucky, “Did you do something illegal here today that I didn’t see?”

  Lucky lowered his hands. “You’re not bringin’ me in?”

  “For what?”

  Looking a little annoyed now, Lucky said, “You’ve arrested half the family!”

  “Yeah, and I’m hoping to arrest a few more,” Lopez said. “But I don’t have a warrant for you.”

  “What?” John blurted.

  “What?” I said.

  “Either you’re smarter than you look,” Lopez said to the old mobster, “or you’re as lucky as they say. Because we can’t get anything on you. You’re free to go.”

  “I’m what?”

  “Of course, if you want to confess some crimes, I’d be happy to take you in,” Lopez offered.

  “No, no. That’s fine. I’m happy to be a free man, detective.”

  Lopez shrugged and then turned away from us to speak to Officer Novak.

  John started laughing. “Oh, my God.”

  “Shut up,” Lucky said darkly to him.

  I was laughing, too.

  “Three weeks trapped in a Chinese funeral home,” I murmured to Lucky. “And the cops weren’t even looking for you.”

  “If the two of you ever tell anyone . . .” he muttered.

  John and I just kept laughing.

  “Hmph.” Lucky took Nelli’s leash from me and stomped away, the picture of offended dignity.

  As the milling crowd began to thin out a bit, I saw Detective Quinn over by the police cars. He was talking on his phone.

  “Esther, I don’t even know what to say.” John turned to me. “I think you saved my life today.”

  “Does that make you indebted to me for a thousand years?” I asked with a smile. “Or do you have to save my life now?”

  Lopez finished speaking with Officer Novak and caught my eye. He made a gesture indicating he wanted me to join him.

  Here we go, I thought. I’d have to explain about last night’s smash and grab.

  “I was thinking more along the lines of inviting you to dinner,” John said. “You know, to thank you. And to . . . well, maybe just to have dinner together?”

  Lopez raised his brows at me, impatient to talk.

  “I mean, can I call you?” John asked.

  “Huh? Oh, sure,” I said. “Will you excuse me, John?”

  I wasn’t looking forward to this, but I’d better get it over with.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?” Lopez asked in a low voice when I reached his side. “You scared me to death today.”

  “I’m fine.” This had happened before. At Fenster’s, in fact. So I said, “It turns out that the second time a deranged killer points a gun at you, you get over it faster than the first time. I’m already feeling more like my usual self. Weird, huh?”

  “Everything about this was weird,” he said, looking again at the singed red lion head. “But none of it as weird—”

  “Here we go.”

  “—as you breaking into my car last night to steal a cookie. What the hell was that about?”

  “I was hungry,” I tried.

  “Esther.”

  “Where did you get that cookie?” I asked.

  “Someone sent it to me at work.”

  “Who?”

  “Not sure. The card got lost.”

  “I see.”

  I was very glad Susan was going to prison. (Well, I assumed she was. Apart from pointing a loaded gun at me and John today, she was also still screaming and fighting, over by the squad cars, as the police were trying to book her. I didn’t think she was going to turn out to be a very convincing defendant.

  “Earth to Esther,” Lopez said impatiently.

  “What? Oh.” I said, “I’m really sorry about the car.”

  “It can be repaired. I’m not sure this can.”

  “This?”

  “Us. Esther . . . what were you doing?”

  I decided just to tell him. “I was saving your life. The cookie contained a mystical death curse.”

  After a few seconds of silence, he said, “That’s it? That’s your story?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, doesn’t that just figure?” he said in disgust. “I have no idea what to do with you.”

  “Maybe there are some things
we should try to talk—”

  Nelli burst into a hysterical torrent of barking—a furious, frightening, menacing sound. I turned to look at her, startled by the racket—and saw Lucky restraining her while she bared her fangs at Detective Quinn, who was simply passing by. He gave her a wide berth, looking as startled as anyone would look in those circumstances.

  Although Lucky had a firm hand on her collar, he wasn’t reprimanding Nelli. He was looking down at her with a puzzled frown. She was growling and barking, her eyes fixed fiercely on Quinn, her fangs dripping, her hair standing on end. Even after the detective was well past her, her gaze remained glued to him, fierce, menacing, warning him to watch out. Her whole body was puffed up, aggressive, and ready for action.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Esther,” Lopez said. “You cannot have a dog that size who behaves that way. Especially not in the city! Max needs to get rid of her. I mean it.”

  I was still looking at Nelli. Then my gaze shifted to Lucky. He looked up and met my eyes. He jerked his chin, indicating we should leave.

  “We’ll get her out of here,” I said absently to Lopez. “Sorry.”

  “Esther, I’m serious. That dog is dangerous. And you and I aren’t done talking about what you did last night, either. Esther! Are you listening to me?”

  “Bye,” I said. “I’ve gotta go.”

  When I reached Lucky’s side, I asked, “What the hell happened? What set her off?”

  “I don’t know,” Lucky said in a low voice. “All that guy did was walk past us. Didn’t even look this way. But she went berserk as soon as she sensed him. And look her even now. She can’t take her eyes off him.”

  I looked at Quinn, who was at least fifty yards away now, talking with a cop at the other end of the street. He looked completely normal—as he had looked each time I’d encountered him.

  “Nelli?” I said, bemused by the familiar’s behavior. “Nelli?”

  But she ignored me, her gaze fixed on Quinn, her posture menacing, a faint growl rumbling in her throat each time he moved.

  “Max says she can sense demonic entities and mystical beings,” Lucky pointed out. “And we seen her react to dangerous things before.”

  “But Quinn just seems like a normal guy,” I protested.

  “To you, maybe. But not to our favorite familiar—a mystical being herself, who entered this dimension to fight Evil.” Lucky asked, “Who is that guy, anyway?”

  “Lopez’s new partner,” I said with a dawning feeling of dread.

  “In that case,” Lucky said, “I think we’d better go talk to Max.”

  I watched Lopez walk over to Quinn, who grinned at him and said something. Lopez shook his head, and the two of them stood talking.

  Nelli growled again, clearly upset to see someone she liked standing that close to Quinn.

  “Yeah,” I said, wondering what Nelli sensed about Lopez’s new partner that alarmed her so. “We do need to go find Max.”

  Author’s Note

  Tiger

  People born in the Year of the Tiger, as I was, are said to be courageous, honest, lucky, rebellious, arrogant, unpredictable, and resilient. I can live with that description.

  The idea for Lily Yee’s store came from a shop that I entered just to get out of the rain when visiting Vancouver’s Chinatown several years ago. Much like the shop in this novel, it was a small, generic storefront that blossomed into an extensive maze of rooms full of wonders and oddities. My enchantment with that place led me to start thinking about a story that would take Esther Diamond to New York’s Chinatown.

  The idea for the misfortune cookies was the result of editor Betsy Wollheim mercilessly rejecting one mediocre title after another for Esther’s Chinatown adventure, until I came up with The Misfortune Cookie. Initially relieved that She Who Must Be Obeyed had finally approved a title for the book . . . I then realized I needed to come up with a plot for it. (It’s always something.)

  In researching this book, I paid multiple visits to New York’s Chinatown (and I took Betsy along with me for several hours on a particularly frigid day, so I got my revenge). Following the lion dancers around was probably the most fun I had, out of many wonderful experiences there. Some of the most informative hours I spent in Chinatown were with Susan Rosenbaum, the Enthusiastic Gourmet, who offers fascinating food tours of the neighborhood. But tasting dried cuttlefish is not an experience I ever intend to repeat.

  For readers interested in delving further into Chinatown, some of my most enjoyable background reading included: Jennifer 8. Lee’s engaging The Fortune Cookie Chronicles: Adventures in the World of Chinese Food; Patrick Radden Keefe’s The Snakehead: An Epic Tale of the Chinatown Underworld and the American Dream, which I found unputdownable; and the beautifully photographed Chinatown, New York: Portraits, Recipes, and Memories by Ann Volkwein and Vegar Abelsnes.

  My thanks to Dan Dos Santos, the brilliant artist for the Esther Diamond series, who has raised the bar still higher with this dynamite cover. Thanks also to the tremendous co-publishers at DAW Books, Sheila Gilbert and Betsy Wollheim, to managing editor Joshua Starr (who puts up with a lot), and to the rest of the wonderful team at DAW Books.

  Finally, I must emphasize that this book is a work of fiction and does not seriously seek to question, challenge, or undermine the inherent and indisputable goodness of all cookies everywhere. Indeed, throughout the writing of The Misfortune Cookie, I relied heavily, as I so often do, on the Elizabeth Bevarly Theory of Plotting (Liz is a prolific novelist and a friend of mine): There is no plot problem that cookies cannot solve.

  Anyhow, I hope you’ve enjoyed The Misfortune Cookie so much that you immediately succumb to an uncontrollable impulse to go eat in a Chinese restaurant. Which is probably where Esther Diamond will be until she, her friends, and her nemeses return for their next misadventure—which book title will be announced on my website after I come up with one that She Who Must Be Obeyed approves . . .

  —Laura Resnick