Prospect for Murder (Natalie Seachrist Hawaiian Cozy Mystery 1)
Page 11
“Fascinating,” I responded. “I have never understood how a small country like Japan gained so much control of China and other Asian countries.”
“It is amazing. The following year, our family’s pathway changed forever. Shortly before the disastrous Stock Market Crash of October 1929, I arrived. With an eye toward the movie celebrating modern womanhood (and the myths of pearls born of moonlight and dragon’s breath), I was named Míngyuèzhū, or Bright Moon Pearl. Sadly, the birth was long and difficult and Yùyīng’s physicians said she must not bear more children. Although Hiram would have loved to have a son to carry his name, he loved our mother too much to endanger her life.
“Celebrating his two priceless daughters, our father commissioned an exquisite piece of jewelry for our mother. The unique design was conceived by a member of the famous Lee family of jade carvers who worked for prominent Hung Chong and Company. The eternal taijitu symbol of the balancing of yin and yang reflects the Shànghăi deco style. I wear the yin half, which represents the moon. It is made of carved white jade framed in silver and features a circle of gold. Jade wears the yang half, representing the sun. It is carved in black jade trimmed with gold and features a circle of silver.
“The last tangible reminder of our father’s love for the women in his life is the painting you see at the head of the dining table. In the center, our mother is seated on an antique hand-carved dragon’s chair in beautiful mahogany. Although Mother sits in front of the entwined bodies of the dragons at the back, you can see pearls in their mouths on the armrests. I am held in her arms while Jade stands regally at her knee as a toddler. At Yùyīng’s throat, you can see the beautiful yin-yang necklace united in its full beauty, highlighted by the rich blue silk of her traditional cheongsam dress. Separate or joined, these necklaces are our greatest treasures—reminders of the deep roots from which we sprang.
“All too soon after this painting was hung in our family’s dining room, the lives of everyone in our family and indeed most of the world changed. What many younger Americans forget, is that the Great Depression extended to every corner of the world. Regardless of ethnicity, economic status or age, the life of ease enjoyed by so many in the Roaring Twenties was gone almost overnight.”
As Miss Wong continued her tale, I could imagine the impact that decreased wealth had had on her family.
“Within a short span of time, the effects of the Depression, coupled with the efforts to unite a country plagued with antiquated institutions and anarchy helped sink the Chinese Republic’s prospects. Living conditions in Shànghăi worsened for people at every economic level. For us, that meant a shrinking of our world, as building by building and room by room, the need for space in our compound diminished. With less demand for entertaining, the number of people who surrounded us in our daily living decreased as well.
“As the economy contracted, even the presence of our father lessened. Although there was little commerce, he had to work longer hours to close the shops and warehouses of our family’s business. Most days, he left home before dawn and seldom returned until we were asleep. Sometimes we heard sounds in the night as he brought home the most precious goods to be tucked into storage or had unmentioned meetings with people of various backgrounds and languages.
“Perhaps unsurprising for those with small children, the misfortune of our family provided unique opportunities for Jade and me. When the adults were too busy to notice our absence, we spent hours in fantasy play among the growing number of boxes and piles of furnishings. There was even a wedding sedan chair that graced an inner courtyard by our favorite fountain—until Jade fell while swinging from one of its long carrying poles.
“Throughout all the change and turmoil, the one constant was Chú Huā Lee. Adding to her care of us, she had to meet the needs of our mother, who now oversaw the maintenance of our home. With few of the rooms remaining in use, our only other staff members were a housekeeper, an old gardener and a pair of young guardsmen who assisted wherever they were needed.
“Mealtimes most reflected the changing economic climate. Unless our father was at home, the entire household ate together in the kitchen. Our dinners usually consisted of a single bowl of rice topped with limp vegetables and small amounts of fowl or pork past its prime. Even when Father was at home, the menu remained simple, but our dinners became festive with his stories of the city and questions of how each of us had passed the day…”
CHAPTER 9
Few people have the imagination for reality.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe [1749-1832]
To nudge our conversation toward things closer in time and geography, I asked, “How much longer did they live in China?”
“It seems like a lifetime, but it was only a few years. For the Chinese Republic, the effects of the Great Depression went far beyond financial concerns. Coupled with failed efforts to unite a country plagued with antiquated institutions, the economic circumstances helped sink the Chinese Republic’s prospects for survival.
“Despite the decline, our family still had considerable wealth. Therefore, our parents had to remain even more vigilant about our security. To avoid attracting attention from the growing hordes of thieves, our Mother put her prized jewels in cases for safekeeping and our parents seldom entertained. While retaining security personnel, Father reduced our domestic staff. Soon the outer buildings in our compound became dark and silent as we seldom ventured into them.”
At that moment, our conversation was stopped by Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.
Miss Wong said, “I am so sorry. Let me see if this is an urgent call. Yes?” she answered.
There was silence for a moment, during which I finished one of the chocolate iced petit fours and sipped my tea. When Pearl raised her index finger to indicate she would be more than a moment, I got up and walked toward the dining area. Looking through the glass doors, I realized that the china cabinet was filled with thousands of dollars in precious antiques and furnishings.
“Very well. I will be there shortly.” Miss Wong rose and turned toward me. “I regret interrupting our visit, but my sister’s caregiver has encountered a family emergency and must leave unexpectedly. My nephew Richard is helping with the catering of an event at Kapi`olani Community College this afternoon, and there is no one but me to take Jade to physical therapy.”
“I completely understand. It’s fortunate you live close enough to be able to help her,” I commented.
“Yes, indeed. She is making great progress since having a stroke last year. She may never walk unaided again, but we are hoping that soon she will be able to personally handle her activities of daily living.”
Miss Wong then put her cell phone into its case and picked up her purse. “May I look forward to entertaining you with something stronger than tea next time? Perhaps on Thursday evening or Saturday afternoon?”
“That sounds lovely,” I replied. “I thought I had plans for Thursday, but that’s changed. It will be fine to reschedule our visit for then. But after that, I would love to entertain you.”
“Very well. Shall we say Thursday at five?”
“Yes. I look forward to seeing you then and hearing more of your family’s story.” I answered truthfully, moving toward the entryway to put on my sandals.
Walking back to my temporary home, I felt caught between two worlds. Still immersed in the fragrance of ginger flowers and almond cookies, I had to consciously pull my mind from the Roaring Twenties in Shànghăi to the many questions I had about this complex, and its residents and visitors. I considered everything I had to accomplish in the next couple of days. In the morning, I had an initial meet-and-greet for the learning center where I would be volunteering. Although I had only obligated myself for a single weekly session, I planned to use my volunteerism as an excuse for wandering in and out of the apartments at any hour.
Once I was free the next afternoon, I would start preparing for cocktails
with Pearl. Some of the research could be executed on-line, but other information was only available at the state archives or public library. I might not be able to redirect Pearl’s waltz through the decades, but if the opportunity arose, I needed to ask intelligent questions about the property and neighborhood—if not about her family and staff.
Being a new tenant, it was logical for me to research garbage and recycling schedules. I could also call FedEx and UPS about their pickup and delivery routes and times without tipping my hand. And I could conduct Internet searches focused on the address of the complex. Since many government agencies have digitalized their records, I might be able to track the Wong family’s real estate transactions including the Makiki Sunset Apartments.
At both the Hawai`i State Archives and Library I would be able to check on a variety of publications. Although only a few may have fully digitalized morgues of past issues, I could check hardcopy of archived newspapers and magazines and even the newsletters of some organizations. All that was required was time and effort.
Moving across the courtyard, I again felt that someone was watching me. The only person I had seen staring at me openly was Richard Bishop. But he did not seem dangerous, just weird. At the moment, I had no apprehension of imminent danger. Maybe my discomfort was simply the fishbowl effect of walking through a volleyball court flanked by two buildings whose open doors and windows could shield anyone who was peering out.
Most of the individuals I have encountered at the complex are like me, walking purposefully from one point to another, apparent residents or their guests. Generally, people nodded and said “Hello.” But unless you met someone while getting your mail, doing laundry, or barbecuing, there was not much impetus for engaging someone in prolonged dialogue.
After dragging myself up the unyielding concrete flights of stairs, I entered B406 ready to declare the day complete. I kicked off my shoes and dropped my keys beside my purse on the coffee table. Moving on to the bedroom, I pulled off my go-to-meeting frock and slipped on a favorite shorty mu`umu`u from the Hilo Hattie collection. As usual the classic style and print brought a smile to my face. It reminded me of entertainer Clarissa Haili, who had changed her name to Hilo Hattie. She was often compared to Sophie Tucker, with lively audience interaction and jokes that elicited an enthusiastic response from both locals and tourists.
Re-entering the living room, I expected to find Miss Una perched on the back of the sofa or recliner. However, there was no evidence of a feline presence. It was not a good sign when Miss Una fails to meet me on my return from any outing. Continuing toward the dining room and kitchen, I found the object of my quest. Miss Una was sitting on top of the table as regally as a kitten can. She completely ignored me, and continued to look intently out the slider.
“What? No greeting? No demand for a treat or a little supper?”
Finally, her tail thumped the table once and she looked over her shoulder at me.
“You know you’re not supposed to be up there. You have a perfectly good kitty perch beside the door.”
Silence and a hard stare were all I got in reply. After a pause, she gracefully jumped down and crossed the room to sit in front of her empty dry food bowl. Despite her reproachful look, I glanced out the small window over the sink. I realized that without the interference of the balcony, I would look directly down into the parking lot. From my current vantage point, Al Cooper’s slot seemed a bit far to the right for Ariel to have landed on it from this apartment’s balcony. I shivered at the image I envisioned, for the precise point from which she fell did not matter in the general scheme of her death.
After feeding Miss Una, I poured a glass of wine and went out onto the lānai. So far, I had avoided standing at the railing. But now I walked right up to it and peered straight down. It was clear that where Ariel had landed was definitely to the right of the apartment’s balcony—not directly below it.
With growing apprehension, I thought about what that could mean. Glancing above the immediate scene into the hills, I watched the gathering of dark nimbus storm clouds. I hoped my living room at home would not get too wet if the wind shifted and rain inched in through the tiny gap I had left open. While I could check voicemail messages from anywhere, I realized I would need to go home periodically to check on things—or, ask Anna to monitor my home for me.
After tea with Pearl, I was not really hungry, but knew I would not last the night without eating something solid. The issue was resolved by popping some sweet and sour shrimp and a vegetable stir fry from my favorite deli into the microwave to defrost slowly. One day soon I should consider using the gourmet stainless cookware I had received as a wedding gift. Through the years, I never managed to learn how to prepare even the simplest dishes I enjoyed in the countries I visited.
I walked into the living room, reflecting on my examination of the balcony. Sitting on the sofa, I turned on my laptop and opened my file on the Makiki Sunset Apartments to note the angle of Unit B406’s lānai in comparison to handyman Al’s parking space.
In my first visit to Pearl Wong’s home, I had not learned anything that seemed pertinent to Ariel’s death. At any other time, I would have enjoyed the slow stroll through the early twentieth century. The absence of hard data was an acute pain in both my mind and heart, since it meant I was unable to perform any fact checking. It would be two days before I had another chance to glean anything concrete from her. If only I could determine a strategy for visiting the tenants in every apartment. That however, seemed like wishful thinking.
Hearing the microwave bell ding, I knew it was nearly time to eat. A couple of minutes later, I was considering checking in with Keoni when my phone rang.
“I was just thinking of calling you.” I said looking at caller ID.
“Well, great minds and all that,” Keoni responded. “How did your day go? Anything special come up when you met with the apartment manager?”
I caught him up on the minor details I had learned during my tea party and relayed my observation about the balcony’s position in relation to the space where Ariel had landed.
“That’s interesting, because a lot of suicides are almost ritualistic about executing—forgive the verb—their deaths. They leave notes explaining how their lives have become unbearable. Sometimes, they thoroughly clean their homes and even the site where they’re going to do the deed. Depending on their chosen method of self-destruction, they may decide to kill themselves in the nude. In such cases, they can be obsessive in folding their clothes and neatly aligning their shoes and accessories, as though they’re about to put them back on.
“If Ariel had jumped off the apartment’s balcony of her own volition, it probably would have been from somewhere in the middle, not skewed to one side,” he continued. “By the way, I don’t have any details for you, but Nathan and you will probably be getting a call from the ME’s Office sometime soon. I ran into my friend Marty tonight. The one I told you is an assistant coroner. I was having a final meeting with a client at the Beach Bar at the Moana Hotel, when he walked in for a drink with his wife.”
I gulped. “Did he reveal anything about Ariel’s death?”
“We weren’t speaking privately and he can’t divulge anything that isn’t public knowledge. He just announced that the initial autopsy report had been written up, although the comprehensive toxicology report usually takes a few weeks. With you, as well as her grandfather, being listed as her next of kin, I know you’ll be included in the reporting process.”
Keoni paused for a moment. “Listen Natalie, I want you to know I’m not withholding any information from you. But I don’t want you to get your hopes up about receiving immediate answers to your questions and concerns. With all the testing that comes into play in deaths that aren’t attended by a physician, it’s probably going to be a couple more weeks before the comprehensive report is finished.”
“Mmhm,” was all the reply I could muster.
“I know that, Keoni. And I’ve been thinking about what I’d say, if it reaches that point. You know I’m going back to Miss Wong’s for cocktails. After that I may know a few more specifics about this place and its cast of characters.”
“Okay. But keep in touch with me every day. And if you find the smallest reason to be suspicious of anyone, or are nervous about anything, call me immediately. I’m never that far away and I’ll have you and Miss Una out of there in a flash.”
That was what concerned me. I knew Keoni would do his utmost to safeguard me, but I wanted the freedom to be able to explore the answers to my questions for myself, as well as for Nathan. Nevertheless, I assured Keoni of my continuing adherence to his rules, and we signed off for the night. Next, I checked the voicemail for my land line at the condo and was happy there was nothing that required a response until the next morning.
I set the microwave for one last round of cooking. Two minutes later, I was sitting down with my plate on my lap to watch the evening news while I ate. There was no further information on Ariel’s case. Despite the lack of news, I decided to call Nathan. If nothing else, we could compare notes on our preparations for Ariel’s memorial service. My primary responsibility was selecting photos to be enlarged, framed and captioned for a display of the key moments in her life. So far, all I had done was bookmark the ones I intended to use.