Death by Dumpling

by Vivien Chien

  “Yes, please do so.” He bowed his head a fraction of an inch. “Thank you for stopping by.”

  I waved a hurried good-bye and made a beeline for Esther’s shop. It might have been paranoia but I could feel his eyes following me the whole way there.

  * * *

  Chin’s Gifts was one of those places where clumsy people shouldn’t go. All of the shelving, showcases, and most of the merchandise are made of glass. This is where you learned the best lesson of keeping your arms in and your hands to yourself. I should know, I had spent a lot of time there.

  The entrance to Esther’s shop was kept wide open during business hours and I rushed inside to escape the eyes of Mr. An.

  I found her sitting behind a long row of glass showcases, her eyes glued to a small television screen. I swear, she and my mother could be the same person. “Whatcha watching?” I asked, trying to peek over the counter.

  Esther looked up at me from over her reading glasses. “Chinese movie,” she said, turning the volume down. “What are you doing here today? You do not work on Saturdays.”

  Instead of answering her question, I jerked a finger toward the entrance and asked, “Did you know that Mr. An is staying in business?”

  She sneered. “Yah, he took down his sign the other day.”

  “You’re not happy about it?” I asked, somewhat surprised by her response.

  She shrugged. “Mr. An is not very nice. And his store is too expensive.”

  I looked around at Esther’s things and realized that he sold a lot of similar knickknacks. Probably Esther was concerned now that Mr. An was staying and getting a little more business, that he would take business away from her. I decided to stay away from that apparent sore subject. After all, that wasn’t what I had come to ask Esther about. “How did things go at the police station for you the other day?”

  “So-so.” Her eyes slipped back to the TV screen. “I do not understand where the shrimp dumplings came from. I know this was not from you and Peter. I told the police they are making a mistake.”

  “Speaking of Peter, did you happen to hear him and Mr. Feng fighting a few weeks ago?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

  Trying to appear casual, I leaned against the counter. “Just wondering. The detective brought it up and I’ve heard people talking about it. I thought it was strange. What would they have to fight about?”

  “Stand up straight,” she said, wagging her finger at me. “You will become crooked in old age. I tell you all the time.”

  I couldn’t help but feel she was trying to dodge the subject. But she wouldn’t stop giving me the stink eye. I stood up with a sigh, straightening my shoulders. Not even my own mother lectured me this much about my posture. “So, why would they be fighting? Did you see anything?”

  “You stop worrying about these things,” Esther lectured. “You have to worry about you.”

  “Now you sound like my mother,” I said bitterly.

  She looked at me sympathetically. “You are going through hard times. We worry about you.”

  “I’m fine, really,” I said, holding up my head. “Things are getting better.” Okay, that was partially true. I’d stopped crying over sappy commercials, most of the time. And I didn’t hate happy couples when I saw them anymore. That’s progress. Right?

  Esther gave me a look that told me she wasn’t convinced.

  “Okay, fine, I’m going,” I said, throwing up my hands. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

  “It’s Saturday, Lana,” Esther said, as I walked out the door. “Go find a boyfriend to make your mommy happy.”

  CHAPTER

  11

  Instead of finding a boyfriend, like Esther had instructed, I decided I would hit up the next best thing. The bookstore. I needed books to add to my “to be read” pile, and while I was there, I could question Cindy about the day she found Mr. Feng’s body. Hopefully she would prove to be more informative than Esther.

  As I stepped inside, I stopped and took a deep breath, closing my eyes and taking in the intoxicating smell that is the Modern Scroll. This was my favorite store of all. It was a small slice of heaven, and I came in any chance I got just to be around the books. Books were my solace, my escape.

  There was nothing like that feeling of holding a book in your hand and traveling to another place, another time … another life. I was called a nerd a lot because of it, but I didn’t care. I wear that hat with pride.

  I stopped at a display in front and browsed through Cindy’s selections of the month. She had placed a few Amy Tan and Lisa See books together on one side, and on the other were books on meditation, and the Tao Te Ching.

  Cindy stood behind the counter, flipping through a magazine, her stringy black hair hanging in her face. When she noticed me approaching her, she looked up, pushing her thick-framed glasses farther up her nose. Smiling, she said, “Lana Lee, back for some more books already?” She slid her magazine to the side and leaned on the counter space next to the register.

  The cash register was centered in the back of the store and in front of it was a grouping of mismatched velvet couches and a coffee table for people to lounge while looking through potential purchases.

  I laughed. “Since I was in the neighborhood, I figured why not. How are you?”

  She shrugged. “Can’t complain really. Business is starting to pick up for the holidays. I’m hoping this year treats me good.”

  “I saw that Mr. An is staying in business.” I gestured to the wall she shared with the Painted Pearl. “So, that’s got to be a good sign, right?”

  She snickered. “I was shocked to see that happen and just a pinch disappointed.”

  “Really?” This piqued my curiosity. “Why is that?” I asked, noting that much like Esther, she wasn’t thrilled.

  “That man is a pain…” she answered, rolling her eyes. “And don’t let his quiet demeanor fool you. He can get pretty loud sometimes, more often than not lately, it seems.”

  “You can hear him through the walls?”

  “Oh yeah,” she said, and pointed to the door directly behind her counter. “This back here is my office … and it’s fairly quiet in there. You may not realize it because you work in a restaurant, but these walls are pretty thin. And his office is on the opposite side of this wall.” She pointed to her right. “I can hear pretty much everything going on in his office and in the service hallway.”

  “Wow,” I replied. I didn’t think too much about the service hallway since I barely went back there. Its main use was to take out garbage and receive deliveries, which Peter or my mother usually took care of.

  “Wow is right. I’ve never heard someone so angry before.”

  “Could you hear what he was yelling about?” I looked at the wall, half expecting to hear something right then.

  She shook her head. “No, not really … it was muffled most of the time. You could just hear the anger in his voice.”

  A customer walked up behind me holding a stack of paperbacks. I stepped to the side and Cindy rang him up, thanking him for his purchase and wishing him a great day.

  She repositioned herself against the counter. “Now that I think about it more, I did hear a few things, but I don’t know who he was talking to, or about. There was something about a woman, and money. He was constantly talking about money.”

  A woman … and money. Now that was interesting. “Are the two connected?” I asked, hoping for more information than just that.

  “Not sure,” she said.

  “Do you know who he was arguing with?”

  “Sometimes with Thomas…” She looked down as she said his name. “Sometimes with Ian … and other times, I have no idea. But there was definitely a lot of commotion there lately.”

  “Did he argue with Mr. Feng recently?”

  “Since the day he moved in is more like it.” She leaned in closer. “As far as I could tell, the two of them hated each other. Thomas stopped in about once a week, and they’d always end u
p arguing about something.”

  “Could you hear anything between the two of them?”

  She shook her head. “A lot of times they would speak in Cantonese, and my Cantonese is not very good. I could pick up a few words, but nothing worth mentioning.”

  “Do you think it’s strange that they spoke in Cantonese? I rarely hear anyone around here use it.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe Mr. An is better with Cantonese than Mandarin? I don’t know much about him to tell you the truth. Just that he lived in California for a number of years. Can’t imagine why he’d come back to Ohio. I mean … these winters.”

  “So, he’s from here originally?” I asked. I couldn’t remember my mother ever telling me about him.

  Cindy nodded. “I think he lived here through his college years and then left for California shortly after. When he first opened his store, I think I heard someone say that he’d had a falling-out with someone, but I have no idea with who.”

  “Do you remember who you heard that from?”

  “It was so long ago…” she said, adjusting her glasses. “I have a hard time remembering last month.”

  If Mr. An had lived here before, maybe my mother had known him when she was younger. I’d have to ask her about it. She might know more of the story. “By the way, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how are you?” I asked, shifting the subject. “It must have been hard to find Mr. Feng that way.”

  She looked away from me, her eyes squinting as if she were blinking back tears. “It’s not how I expected my day to go, I can tell you that.” When she looked at me again, her eyes were bloodshot. “But I’m better. I imagine it’ll be something I’ll think about for a while, but I just try to take everything one day at a time.”

  I nodded, trying to imagine what it would have been like for her. She wasn’t much older than me, and I have no idea how something like that would affect me. I wasn’t looking to find out any time soon either. “Were you close with Mr. Feng? You were meeting him for lunch, right?”

  “No, it was a business meeting.” Cindy hesitated. “My experiences with Mr. Feng are not as … cheerful as some of the other shop owners. I only talked to him when I had to.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  She shifted her weight. “I’m a people watcher. Mostly, I keep to myself and observe my surroundings. You can learn a lot that way.” She paused, looking around to see if anyone was nearby. “Mr. Feng was not the pleasant, happy-go-lucky guy that everybody knew and loved.”

  “He wasn’t?”

  “No. He was a troubled man, with a heavy burden on his shoulders. I don’t know what that burden was, but I gathered he didn’t like his life very much and that’s why he spent so much time here.” She stared at me pointedly. “Away from home if you get my drift.”

  I did get her drift.

  “A lot of times, I’d be here late, after closing, and I’d keep an eye out on the plaza.” She looked past me, out into the plaza, as if he were there now. “I’d see him walking around the pond in circles with the strangest look on his face, almost like he was constantly worried about something. A lot of times he’d stop and stand in front of Mr. An’s shop and just stare at it. Then he’d circle around and he’d stare at Ho-Lee Noodle House for a while.”

  “He did?” What reason would he have to be staring at our restaurant? Or Mr. An’s store, for that matter?

  “When I stand at the front door, I can see right over the pond across the footbridge, and there he’d be, just staring. I don’t think he ever noticed me.”

  “What do you think he was doing?”

  “I have no idea. But he did it almost every night that I was here late.”

  “And how often is that?”

  “Two or three times a week.”

  I wondered to myself if he followed that routine every night and if anyone else had seen him doing this. Was he looking for something? What did the Painted Pearl and Ho-Lee Noodle House have in common?

  “Aside from that, he seemed to be in a lot of confrontations with people,” Cindy added as an afterthought.

  “Like who?”

  She thought for a minute. “Well, Kimmy Tran was over there a bunch, and of course, his encounters with Mr. An. And your cook a couple of times too.”

  “Peter?” I perked up. I had almost forgotten I wanted to ask about that.

  “Yeah, one time in particular, a few weeks before … you know, I saw the two of them arguing in front of the property office. I was just coming in for the day, and the two of them were going back and forth; Peter had his back to me, and all I could see were his arms waving around. Thomas saw me coming and must have told Peter because he got quiet real fast. After that, they went into the property office and shut the door.”

  So, Peter and Mr. Feng had gotten into an argument with at least one witness. It made me curious as to who else had seen it and if anyone heard something in particular. I still couldn’t imagine what they’d have to fight about. “Did you tell this to Detective Trudeau?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah, he was actually the one who asked me about their argument. After that, he asked if I knew anything about the relationship between all of you, and if I thought anything suspicious was going on.”

  I exhaled. “And?”

  She laughed. “Don’t worry, I’d never do that to you. Plus, if you ask me, this place is riddled with enough motives to keep the detective busy without looking at you or Peter twice.”

  “Well, I appreciate your faith in me and Peter.” I looked out into the plaza. “There are a few people here who think otherwise.”

  Cindy gazed out toward the plaza. “I’m telling you, Lana, if everyone around here just stopped and watched for a little bit, they’d see a whole lot more than what’s on the surface.”

  * * *

  After my talk with Cindy, I hung around and riffled through the bookstore for a little while, browsing shelves and clearing my head. I left with a few new paperbacks and a whole lot of questions. On my way out, I tried to stop at a few other stores, but by the time I’d left the bookstore, the plaza had started to fill with shoppers, and everyone was too busy for small talk.

  I replayed the conversations I’d had on my drive home and felt even more stumped than when I’d left the house that morning.

  There was something peculiar about the relationship between Mr. An and Thomas Feng, but what was it? If there was bad blood between the two men and somehow a woman was involved, could that woman be Mrs. Feng? Assuming, of course, that all the references to a woman were the same person.

  And the falling-out that Cindy had mentioned happening before Mr. An moved to California, was that a hyped-up story from the gossip mill, or had something actually prompted Mr. An to leave Ohio?

  On top of all that, now knowing that the fight with Peter and Mr. Feng had occurred, I had to wonder who had originally told the detective.

  When I got home, Kikko waddled to the door, snorting at me in excited spurts. I couldn’t help but smile as I knelt down to give her back a good scratch. “I wish I knew what I was doing…” I said to Kikko.

  “Doing with what?”

  I looked up. Megan was standing in the hallway, scrutinizing me. “I didn’t realize you were home,” I said, straightening up.

  “I was just about to text you and see if you were ready to have lunch yet. I was thinking we could head over to Effie’s Diner. I’m starving!”

  My stomach lurched at the thought of food. I didn’t realize until she mentioned it that I’d forgotten to eat all morning.

  While we drove to our destination, she filled me in on her shopping adventures and the plans she wanted to make for the rest of the day that now included a trip to Home Depot. More paint shopping. Joy. I stayed quiet as she talked, still lost in thought over my morning conversations.

  The parking lot at Effie’s was practically empty and there was no wait for a table once we got inside. We followed the hostess to a booth by the front window. I scooted in and sighed as I
watched traffic go by. Everyone out there was probably having a normal day Christmas shopping or doing something fun with their friends. Meanwhile, I was thinking about motives for murder.

  Megan slapped the table with her palms, startling me. “Okay, spill it,” she said with resolution in her voice.

  “Spill what?”

  She shook her head. “Oh, don’t give me that.” She pointed an accusatory finger at me. “I know you’re up to something. You’ve been acting weird since yesterday, so tell me what’s going on.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said, giving in. “Can we order first, though? I’m famished.”

  “Fine,” Megan said with a clenched jaw. “We’ll order first. But then you’re going to tell me what’s going on with you.”

  After the server had come back with our drinks and we ordered, I told Megan about my trip to Asia Village and the people that I’d talked with that morning. I’d never gotten the chance to tell her about the conversation I’d had with Detective Trudeau the night before, so I threw that in for good measure too. By the time we got our food, she had the whole story from start to finish.

  She stared at her chicken sandwich, chewing on her lip.

  “Well?” I asked. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “I’m trying to figure out why you wouldn’t just tell me that you were looking into things.”

  I shrugged, looking down at my own plate of food. “I thought you’d think I was silly.”

  “Silly?” Megan snorted and unrolled her wrapped silverware. “Lana, are you kidding?”

  I looked up at her, a little embarrassed. “No…”

  “Lana Lee,” she said, staring me square in the eye. “As your best friend, I am totally and completely insulted.”

  My jaw dropped. “You are?”

  “Yes!” she squealed. “I would totally help you! Besides, you can’t do this by yourself.”

  “I can’t?”

  “No, duh. Think about it. Cagney and Lacey … Rizzoli and Isles … and…”

  “Laverne and Shirley?”

  She pursed her lips at me. “Whatever. We’ll figure this out together. Lana and Megan are on the case!” she declared, holding up her butter knife.