by Vivien Chien
“Like what?” she asked.
“I’m beginning to wonder if something more complicated is going on.” I paused. “And then I had a run-in with Ian Sung…”
“Ian Sung? Mr. Feng’s partner?” Megan shook her head. “I’m so confused right now.”
I recounted my visit to the salon as best I could, adding my own commentary as I went along. Megan had to walk away a couple times to serve drinks to people coming in, but after about three or four trips, she finally had the full story.
She stood in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest, eyebrows scrunched together. “I wonder why he would want to meet with you. I mean, it can’t be business related. You only work there; it’s not like you own the place. Wouldn’t you think he’d want to meet with your mom instead?”
“I know, right? I can’t think of what he’d possibly want to talk to me about.”
“Unless it’s not business related.” She waggled her brows.
I rolled my eyes. “I doubt it’s anything more than business. If it were, wouldn’t he just talk to me about it right then?”
“Unless he felt embarrassed about it?” Megan suggested. “Either way, I can’t wait to find out what it’s about.”
“That makes two of us.”
“And this whole thing with the EpiPen…” she started, thankfully moving away from the Ian bit. “It is kind of strange that that day of all days Mr. Feng wouldn’t have it. You swear you saw it, right?”
“I don’t know,” I said, starting to doubt myself. “But that’s not all that’s bothering me. It’s this thing with Peter. I mean, I feel like it came out of nowhere. Since when did Peter and Mr. Feng have bad blood between them?”
“Peter can be kind of weird at times, I’ll admit, but I don’t think he’s a violent person.”
“I agree. And I can hardly remember them having any interaction other than Peter delivering his food every week.”
As she was about to respond, something from behind me caught her attention. “Ugh, him again.” She groaned, folding her arms.
I turned around to see who she was looking at. It was Detective Adam Trudeau. “You know him?” I asked, turning back around.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know him other than he’s kind of a jerk and always comes in every Friday.”
He didn’t see me sitting there, so I was able to watch him unnoticed. He came in every Friday? I wondered why I had never seen him before. He scanned the bar just as he’d scanned the restaurant the first day I’d met him, cataloging everything in sight. He appeared satisfied with whatever he saw and proceeded to move toward the back near the gaggle of girls. “That’s him,” I said, following him with my eyes.
“Who?”
“That’s the detective.” I nodded in his general direction.
Megan gawked at me. “Are you kidding me? That’s him? Nice Eyes Guy?”
I pursed my lips. “Can you drop that already?”
“No.”
We stared at each other for a solid thirty seconds before she turned around and went to greet the detective. I watched her grab a bottle from the beer cooler and set it in front of him. They barely exchanged two words as she took his money.
She came back over and rolled her eyes again. “What a peach.”
“He really comes in here every week?”
“Every Friday night without fail,” she replied. “He’ll sit there, in that same seat, until closing and not talk to anyone. I’ve seen some women go up to him every now and again, but he barely looks their way. They eventually give up and move on to the next available guy.”
I watched as he sipped his beer, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead. “I wonder what his story is…”
She scowled at me. “Oh no, don’t even think about it.”
“About what?” I asked, my face the picture of innocence.
“I’ve seen that look before, Lana Lee.” She put her hands on her hips. “He intrigues you. It’s all downhill from here.”
“Oh, please don’t be so dramatic.” I batted a hand at her. “He thinks I’m a potential suspect. How can I even consider being attracted to him?”
“You tell me. You’re the one who’s a sucker for nice eyes and rough exteriors.”
Before I could come back with a snarky remark, she walked away and started making her rounds down the bar, checking on people’s drinks. My eyes couldn’t help but travel back over to Detective Trudeau. Even if he was a jerk, I had to give credit where credit was due, and he definitely got points in the handsome department. His black button-down shirt had most likely been what he’d worn for work, but he looked more casual with the top button undone and his sleeves rolled up. Except for a rather expensive-looking watch on his wrist, he was free of what I referred to as “man jewelry.” And that included no wedding ring. Okay … so I looked. Sue me.
The look on his face wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t cruel either. He seemed to be somewhere else, and had yet to notice me.
As I watched him, I wondered, had the circumstances of our meeting been different, would I be romantically interested in him? The answer to that was most likely yes, but I wasn’t ready to fully come to terms with that thought. After all, he was a police detective in a murder investigation … and one of his fingers was partially pointed in my direction.
I thought back to the conversation with Jasmine. According to her, Detective Trudeau was my problem. But was he really? Wasn’t he just doing his job? He didn’t know me from Eve, so why should he believe that I was innocent? Even with Peter, he had no way of knowing.
The instigator on my shoulder told me that he should at least believe I was innocent because I was innocent and I should stop making excuses for him.
While my brain was having this argument with itself, I’d gotten off my barstool and was heading over to his end of the bar before I realized what I was doing. That must have been thanks to the instigator on my other shoulder. The same one that usually told me things were a good idea when, in fact, they were not.
And since I felt like everyone, including Megan, was watching me, there was no sense in turning back around. I plopped my purse down and sat next to him on the empty stool. “Hi.”
He barely moved his head, but instead slid his eyes in my direction. He turned to look at me when he realized who I was. “Miss Lee?” he asked, sounding puzzled.
“Are you always this formal?” I smirked at him, hoping to lighten the tension that had already wedged its way between us. “Maybe just call me Lana.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Having a drink, much like yourself.” I nodded toward his beer bottle.
He glanced at it as if he’d forgotten it was there. “Right.”
“My roommate works here.” I pointed to Megan who was pretending she hadn’t been spying on me the entire time. “I come up here quite a bit to visit her. I’m surprised I’ve never noticed you before.”
“I suppose you never had a reason to,” he said, looking away.
I tapped the side of my glass, not sure how to respond to his comment. “So, how’s the case coming?” I tried my best to sound nonchalant, but I could hear the eagerness in my voice. Sometimes my lack of suave really irked me.
Without turning to me, he said, “When I’m off the clock, I don’t like to talk about work. And I can’t talk about that with you anyway.”
“Fair enough.” I stared ahead too, looking at the bottles lining the wall, trying to think of something else to say. “So, how long have you been a cop?”
He turned to frown at me.
I held up my hands in defense. “Hey, that’s not technically a work question.”
He thought about that a minute. “Fair enough,” he responded, mimicking me. He took a sip of beer before saying, “Nine years total … I just became a detective a little over a year ago.”
“Did you always want to be a cop?” I asked.
He set the bottle down. “Look, maybe we don’t talk about
this right now, okay? I had a hard day and I just came here to unwind.” He didn’t look at me as he said it, and I couldn’t gauge his reaction, nor figure out why his time as a cop would be a sensitive subject.
“Okay, sorry,” I murmured.
He seemed to regret his tone and sighed. “Why did you come over here anyway?”
I shrugged. “I thought it might be good to get to know each other. You know, outside of the whole case thing. Maybe if you knew me…”
He smirked. “Buttering me up isn’t going to help you or your friend.” He turned to face me fully, his eyes burning into mine. “Knowing you isn’t going to change anything. I have a job to do and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Nothing you say is going to change anything, so if that’s why you came over to talk to me, then don’t bother.”
My face reddened a little bit, partially from embarrassment and partially from anger. I couldn’t believe he’d managed to turn my act of civility into a ploy to butter him up. I suddenly felt silly for coming to his defense, even if it was just in my own head.
I picked up my purse and drink, scooting my butt off the stool. Turning to him, I said in the coldest tone I could conjure, “I’m sorry I bothered you, Detective Trudeau.” My chin rose a little as I said his name and I could feel the liquid courage of my Purple Virgo setting in. “I’m also sorry that you think so little of me without even knowing anything about my character. Good luck with your investigation.”
He started to say something, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of staying to hear him out. If he was going to blow me off, then he would get the same treatment.
* * *
Saturday morning I woke up with a small chip on my shoulder and more motivation to get my investigation under way. After my encounter with Trudeau, I decided there was no room to doubt myself or what I wanted to accomplish. His attitude was making me grumpy about the entire situation, and I was left with an added desire to prove him wrong. But in order to do that, I needed to stay as clearheaded as possible. And clearheadedness involved coffee.
I stumbled into the kitchen with Kikko dancing around my feet. “Just let me get the coffeemaker started and we’ll go out, okay?” I said this half expecting her to protest. The pee-pee dance was serious business in this household. For all parties.
To my surprise, the coffeemaker was already on and a fresh, full pot awaited me. I stood there staring at it, amazed that the smell of brewing coffee had escaped my sleeping nostrils.
“I couldn’t sleep anymore,” a groggy voice said from behind me. I turned around to find Megan sunk into the couch with a coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other.
“Did you even get any sleep?” I asked, walking over to the couch. I fumbled around for the dog leash and found it sticking out of the couch cushion next to her.
She shrugged. “Sorta. It’s actually sunny out today and I wanted to take advantage of that. Who knows how many more days like this we’ll have?”
“True.” I noticed that she’d opened all the blinds in the living room, letting the sun fill the room. The winters in Cleveland could drag on and the sun would soon become a stranger.
I took Kikko around the complex to her favorite tinkle spots. She sniffed the grass leisurely, soaking up the sun, and I stared off into space planning the details of my mission.
I had learned a couple of tidbits along the way, like the woman crying in Mr. Feng’s office, Peter and Mr. Feng allegedly arguing, and Kimmy’s thoughts on Mr. An and reasons to murder someone.
The plaza would be as good a place as any to dig into the information I’d already learned. Maybe someone saw something and didn’t realize it. I could check if anyone else had heard or seen Mrs. Feng in the plaza within the past two weeks. She didn’t usually come by, and when she did, she made sure to stop by and say hello to everyone. I was still having a hard time believing that Donna Feng would allow herself to be heard arguing with her husband like that. I wasn’t even sure she was capable of that much emotion.
But I had seen Kimmy Tran fall apart in public. Kimmy’s strange behavior and extreme dislike for our recently deceased landlord had been niggling at my brain since the day we had our visit with Donna Feng.
And that day outside his office, she had said that Mr. Feng had needed to learn a lesson. That just so happened to be the same day he died.
After Kikko had exhausted all of her possibilities, we headed inside, my mind now focusing on the coffee that was waiting for me in the kitchen. Megan was still sitting on the couch and the only difference was that her bagel was gone.
I dug in the cupboard for a mug and filled it up, leaving room for cream and sugar. While I made my coffee, Megan padded into the kitchen to refill her own cup.
“What do you have planned for today?” she asked. “I need new jeans, everything I have is getting so worn out. Want to come shopping with me?”
“I can’t today. I have to run a few errands at the plaza.”
“What errands?” she asked, eyeballing me. “Maybe I can come with you? Then we can go to the mall afterward.”
I looked up from my coffee cup. “Nothing important. It’s actually pretty boring stuff, you wouldn’t want to go.”
She pursed her lips. “I feel like I’ve hardly seen you at all this week.”
“I shouldn’t be gone too long. Maybe we can get lunch later,” I suggested.
“Fine.” She pouted. “Text me when you’re done.”
After absorbing enough caffeine, I found a sweater and jeans to throw on and was out the door before Megan could ask any more questions about my errands. I don’t know why I felt the need to lie to her, but I wasn’t ready to tell anybody what I was up to yet, even her.
It was about ten o’clock when I got to the plaza. While I was pulling in to the parking lot, I noticed a couple of news vans parked on the street right outside the gates. There were a reporter and cameraman standing outside the van, filming. The plaza and its lot were considered private property, and reserved for customers unless otherwise invited. Donna had made sure of that, and signs were posted right outside the gate warning that trespassers would be prosecuted. When she’d had them installed, I thought it was a little overboard because nothing exciting ever happened around here. Who would have thought it’d come in handy?
A few cars sprinkled the lot, but it looked as if the holiday shoppers hadn’t begun their day yet. I was thankful for small favors. That meant the shop owners wouldn’t be too busy to talk to me and maybe I could learn something helpful before the stores got too busy.
As I got out of the car, I heard a sharp whistle, and followed the sound over to the news van. The cameraman I’d seen on my way in was signaling me to come over. I simply waved, and gave my biggest smile. I shouted, “No English!” and walked inside.
CHAPTER
10
My first stop would be Esther’s place. She was pretty forthcoming with me most of the time, so I saw it as a good place to get information.
On my way to Esther’s shop, I passed Mr. An’s store. I stood in front of it for a minute and stared at the large windows displaying giant pieces of art. The GOING OUT OF BUSINESS signs were gone. When did that happen?
I decided to stop in and inquire. I had never been inside the Painted Pearl before, and I took my time admiring the walls that were covered from ceiling to floor with beautiful paintings. In the middle of the room stood four wooden shelving units that held carefully painted porcelain dishes, clay pots, and figurines. A small sign sat on each unit and proclaimed HAND-PAINTED. The back of the store had a long wooden counter that displayed handcrafted jewelry and small trinkets.
Mr. An stood behind the counter with his hands behind his back. He smiled at me. “Hello, Miss Lee. It is so nice to see you again.”
I smiled back. “You have a lovely store,” I said, gesturing to the paintings on the walls.
“Thank you.” He looked thoughtfully at his collection. “I have been collecting art for most of my life.”
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br /> “You have some fascinating pieces.” My eyes continued to skim the room, taking in all the stunning artwork. “I can’t believe I’ve never stopped in before.” I stopped by a painting portraying a sad woman dressed in traditional Hanfu clothing. She sat under a cherry blossom tree with her head tilted down, her face thoughtful but sad.
“Are you interested in a new piece of art?” Mr. An asked, noticing the painting I was looking at. He came out from behind the counter, his hands still behind his back, and walked up to it, nodding at the woman in the painting. “That is a beautiful one. It is called Lost Love.”
Fancy that, I thought. I knew a thing or two about lost love; maybe that’s why I was so drawn to that one. “Actually, no,” I said, breaking my attention away from the painting and turning to him. “I was just stopping by because I noticed the GOING OUT OF BUSINESS signs are gone.”
He nodded, his face brightening. “Yes, I was able to sell enough paintings that I no longer have to close. I think business will be much better from now on.”
“That’s wonderful news!” I exclaimed. “It’s too bad that Mr. Feng wasn’t able to see it happen. He would be happy to know that the threat of an empty store was gone.”
His eyes dimmed and he looked past me, staring off into the plaza. “Yes … that is unfortunate.”
“So unexpected…”
He continued to stare off in the distance and I began to wonder if he’d heard me. I was about to speak again, but his eyes slid toward me. “Often death is unexpected, even when we are waiting for it.” He clenched his jaw, but the rest of his face remained still as he watched me.
“It won’t be the same without him,” I replied. “Did you know him well?”
“I knew everything I needed to know.”
His lack of expression unnerved me and I felt a chill trickle down my spine. I shook it off and focused on the trinkets sprinkling the counter and decided to change the subject to something more cheerful. “I was thinking to myself that I’ll have to stop by after I get my paycheck to pick up a few things. There are so many to choose from.”
