Death by Dumpling

by Vivien Chien

  “Mr. Zhang, do you believe the stories that people are telling about us?”

  To this, he gave a hearty laugh. “No, these stories are nonsense. You are a rabbit; rabbits do not like to fight.”

  I looked at him, baffled. I was surprised he took my Chinese zodiac sign into consideration. “Who do you think could do such a thing?” I asked. “It’s hard to believe that anyone here would want to kill him.” I looked accusingly at all the storefronts in the plaza.

  His nod was slow and thoughtful. “A man with many secrets will have many enemies. Enemies will always find you, even when you think you are free.”

  “Did Mr. Feng have a lot of secrets?” If that were true, then it could be a number of people. People we hadn’t even considered yet.

  Mr. Zhang chuckled. “When you look at the ocean, do you see what is underneath?”

  I scrunched my eyebrows. “No…”

  “Many people are like the ocean…” he replied. “Now, you go, and do not worry about things that are past. You are young and life is waiting for you.” Without another word, he turned around and shuffled back into his store.

  * * *

  The morning was busy enough to keep my mind occupied. Despite the cold weather, the holiday shoppers had decided to pick up the pace. Many of them stopped in for warm bowls of wonton soup and hot cups of tea.

  At noon, Mr. An walked in, scanning the restaurant. His eyes settled on Nancy and his expression softened.

  I greeted him at the hostess booth. “Would you like to dine in today or carry out?” I asked.

  He turned to look at me as if he hadn’t realized I was standing there. “I would like to dine in.”

  “Follow me.” I grabbed a menu and led him into the dining area.

  As he sat down in the booth, he looked up at me curiously. “Are you not normally on lunch now?”

  “Yes, but it’s been so busy, there’s no time.” I gestured to the packed tables.

  His glance traveled around the room, and he nodded.

  “Nancy will be right over.” I had purposely seated him at one of her tables so I wouldn’t have to deal with him.

  This seemed to please him. Before I could walk away, he asked. “Is Peter back to work yet? I have not seen him since the day that he left with those men.”

  A warning bell went off in my head. “He had some vacation time he wanted to use and figured now was as good a time as any.”

  Nancy came up behind us and rested a hand on my shoulder. “I can take over now, thank you, Lana.”

  I stepped out of the way and moved to my side of the restaurant, far away from Mr. An and his creepy vibe. Asking about Peter … again. I would have to add that to my list.

  * * *

  About an hour later, my mother popped out of the back office with a bowl of udon noodles, my favorite, and waved me over to a booth in the back. I signaled to Nancy who was waiting on a table that just walked in. She gave a nod and turned back to her customers.

  “You eat,” my mom said, handing me the bowl and a pair of chopsticks.

  I gladly took the bowl and sat down across from her. I’d gone too long without eating and I could hear my own stomach grumbling. I took a bite of the noodles, burning my tongue in the process.

  “You be careful. It’s hot,” my mother scolded me. “You are too impatient.”

  I ignored the jab about my patience. “Mom…” I twirled my noodles around the bowl, waiting for them to cool down before taking another bite. “You’ve known Mr. Feng since you first came to the U.S., right?”

  “Yeah. I have known Mr. Feng a long time.”

  “Did he have a lot of secrets?” I asked.

  She scrunched her face at me. “Why do you ask this question?”

  I shrugged. “Just wondering, I guess. I was thinking about him today and I realized I didn’t know him that well.”

  “Mr. Feng was a nice man. He always liked to take care of people. But he had many problems when he was a young man. He was very handsome when he was young, and a handsome man always has trouble.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Too handsome … too many women come to find you.”

  I looked at her with surprise. “Did you feel that way about him too?”

  “No, I liked your father right away. He was very handsome too.” She laughed.

  “So, Mr. Feng had lots of girlfriends when he was younger?” It was hard to picture him as a ladies’ man.

  “Too many, I forget how many.” She looked into the distance. “But Donna was his favorite. When he saw her, he did not want to be so crazy anymore. Donna was good for him. She made him be a good man.”

  Despite my mother’s confidence in Donna’s ability to make Mr. Feng an honest man, it didn’t mean there weren’t things they didn’t know. Maybe he was just more careful these days. That could explain the unknown woman crying in his office.

  “Why did you not say yes to Ian Sung?” my mother asked out of the blue.

  I shuffled my noodles around in the bowl. “I’m just not sure I want to go out with him. That’s all.”

  “He can take care of you.”

  My body tensed at the subject. “Mom … I don’t need a man to take care of me. I can take care of myself.”

  “You always say this.”

  “Because it’s true.” I stuffed my mouth with noodles, not wanting to continue this conversation.

  “Anna May is jealous,” my mom threw in.

  “Well, tell her to go out with him then.”

  “Ian Sung does not like your sister this way.”

  “That’s her problem, then, isn’t it?”

  “Why can’t you be nice?” my mother asked.

  “I am nice. She’s the mean one.” I stabbed the bowl with my chopsticks. “Wait a minute … we were talking about Mr. Feng.”

  My mom leaned back in her chair. “Okay, okay. What do you want to know?”

  I decided to try the blunt approach. “Did anybody hate Mr. Feng?”

  She seemed to think about it for a minute. I didn’t know whether she was rehearsing her answer or if she was coming up with a list. “Mr. Feng had a hard life. He did make many mistakes when he was young. But later, he was better. If someone did not like him, it is from a long time ago.” She looked away.

  “What about the rent being raised?” I’d almost forgotten that we hadn’t discussed this yet. “Did you know about that?”

  “Who did you hear this from?” my mother wanted to know.

  “Kimmy Tran.”

  “Ai-ya.” She slapped the table. “That girl has a big mouth.”

  “So, you knew about it then?” I pointed my chopsticks at her in accusation.

  “Yes, I know about this,” my mother admitted. “But it was not true. He would say this all the time when people were not making good money in their store.”

  My eyes widened. “He did?”

  She nodded in reply. “Yes, but he would never do this. He was too nice.”

  “Mom! That’s terrible. People believed him. Sue Tran believed him,” I reminded her. “And Mr. An was going to move his store to a mall because of it. And what about the people who’ve left?” I thought about the empty stores scattered around the plaza.

  “You are too young to understand. Business is business. Mr. Feng would say this so people will try harder. Sometimes people get too comfortable.”

  “So he’s never raised the rent on anyone before?” I asked, confused.

  “No, not because of this reason. Mr. Feng always tried to help people stay.”

  “What about Mr. An? He wasn’t planning to help him stay…” I set my chopsticks down. “I heard he lived here before he moved to California. Did they have some kind of problem with each other?”

  She looked away, her eyes shifting toward the entrance. “No matter what anybody says, he was a good man.” My mom patted the table and got up, disappearing back into the kitchen.

  Guess that conversation was over.

  T
hat evening as I drove home, I could hardly believe what my mother had told me. I felt she was being a little naïve about the whole situation. In my eyes, Thomas Feng was scaring people into leaving the plaza. How many people had he told and how many people had left over the years because of his made-up claims? If he was so helpful, why hadn’t he tried to stop Charles An from putting the GOING OUT OF BUSINESS signs in his windows?

  Clearly, Mr. An had actually planned on leaving. If Thomas hadn’t died when he did, would Mr. An still have gone ahead with closing his store? Would Mr. Feng have tried to stop him?

  With the threat of Mr. Feng raising the rent no longer looming, Mr. An didn’t have to worry about coming up with extra money. I began to wonder if he’d really sold enough art to keep himself in business or if he was still scraping by.

  And then of course there was Kimmy’s mother, who had obviously heard the news; both she and her husband had gotten second jobs because of it. But why wasn’t Sue Tran familiar with this tactic like my mother was?

  I did a quick assessment in my head of how the stores at Asia Village were doing financially. It seemed like Mr. Zhang was holding on surprisingly well even though he had very few customers. The salon always did well, and the Chinese grocery was holding its own, so no worries there. Even the Bamboo Lounge had a packed house every night of the week.

  So who were the weak links?

  Without question, it circled back to Kimmy Tran and her struggling family. But what was Kimmy doing to help? She hadn’t said. Unless she had started to work without pay, which would lighten a little bit of the financial load on her parents. That didn’t seem likely though.

  I made a mental note to find time to stop and see her.

  I also needed to find out once and for all who the woman was in Mr. Feng’s office that Yuna heard crying that day. With what I’d found out from my mom, it was entirely possible that he’d kept some of his old habits. Maybe a situation with a lady friend had gotten out of hand.

  Pulling into the parking lot of my apartment complex, I gave myself a minute to collect my thoughts and form a list of things to remember. Megan was right, we needed to write this stuff down. I needed a notebook to keep it all straight.

  While sitting there, I decided I would accept Ian’s offer to join the committee he was putting together. It might make it easier for me to find out information about Mr. Feng. After all, they were partners. Surely he would have talked to him about things like rent increases or other Asia Village decisions. Regardless, I would find a way to make it work to my benefit.

  As for his other question, well, the jury was still out on whether or not I’d accept his dinner invitation. Right now, he was on my suspect list.

  CHAPTER

  14

  When Nancy came in at noon the next day, I asked her if she’d mind covering for me while I did some running around. Being Nancy, she was more than happy to help. With each day, she was looking a little better, and I had a feeling that being needed by someone, even if it was just me, was helping that along.

  My plan was to meet with Ian and tell him I’d take the offered slot on the board of directors committee. Then I would make a quick stop to see Kimmy Tran and find out what she’d been up to lately.

  As I was about to leave, my mother came out of the back room, her hands on her hips as she watched us.

  “Lana, where are you going?” my mother asked as she walked up behind us.

  “I have some errands to run today, so Nancy is going to cover the dining room by herself until I get back.”

  She eyed me with suspicion. “Where are you going?”

  “I have some stuff to do,” I said, flinging my purse on my shoulder.

  “Where?” my mom asked again.

  I huffed. “If you really need to know, I’m going to see Ian and then I have to make a couple of stops.” I looked away as I said the last bit.

  My mom beamed and clasped her hands. “Are you going to tell Ian that you will be his girlfriend?!”

  Nancy chuckled and mumbled something in Mandarin.

  “No,” I said with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m just stopping by to see him…”

  The luster left my mother’s eyes. She stared at me stone-faced. “Pretty soon Ian will find somebody else. Do not play games and waste time.”

  “I’m not playing games.” I inched toward the door. “Why are you always giving me the third degree?”

  “I worry about you,” my mother said. “I want you to be happy again.”

  “Okay, well, I’m happy.” I faked a smile. “See? Happy.”

  My mother pursed her lips.

  “I have to go. See you later!” I waved as I slid out the door.

  I stood in front of the vacant shop between our restaurant and the Trans’ store where my mother couldn’t see me. China Cinema and Song was only one shop away from Ho-Lee Noodle House. Right now, the property between us was vacant, and had been for a while.

  I checked the time and saw that it was just a little past twelve. I had some time to kill before I met with Ian, so I decided to stop and see Kimmy first. Might as well get it out of the way.

  The Trans’ store was a top five on my list of favorite places to go in the plaza. Kimmy’s mom had the best stuff imported from China and Taiwan and was one of the only places in the area where you could find these types of videos and CDs.

  Kimmy stood behind the counter, filing her nails. I looked around the store and not one customer was in sight. Kimmy didn’t even notice that I walked in. She looked tired, and even from the entrance, I could see that she had bags under her eyes.

  I walked past racks filled with DVD sets and movies, making my way around a group of organized bins of music CDs. Next to the sales counter sat a new selection of movie posters.

  “Hey there, Kimmy,” I said cheerily as I walked up to the register.

  She stopped in mid-file and looked up. A look of relief washed over her face. “Oh, Lana … it’s just you.”

  “Are you avoiding someone?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No one in particular, just don’t feel like being Sally Shopkeeper today.”

  I took another glance around the store. No danger of that. “How’s business?” I asked, leaning against the counter.

  Kimmy shrugged and focused on her nails. They were cherry red, which surprised me. Normally Kimmy went for more understated stuff. Right now she wore a baggy black T-shirt and jeans. Her hair was up in a sloppy ponytail. She wasn’t exactly a fashionista. “It’s still slow,” she replied. “I told my mom to go out for a bit and get some lunch or something. Did she stop by the restaurant?”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t see her.”

  “She’s been meaning to talk to your mom for days. Don’t know what about though.”

  “How’s her other job going?” I asked, shifting the conversation toward my prepared line of questioning. I’d practiced on the drive into work that morning so I wouldn’t get off track.

  “She hates it. She gets up at about four in the morning to deliver those damn newspapers. I don’t even think it’s worth it.”

  “Why doesn’t she find something else?”

  “The hours fit. Since she spends most of her time here, she doesn’t have a lot of options.”

  I nodded in understanding. “What about your dad?”

  She stopped filing her nails long enough to sneer. “He’s working at some factory making lamp shades. He takes shifts whenever he can. I guess the manager is an old friend of his and lets him fill in for people when they need a day off.” She eyed her handiwork on her left hand and then moved on to her right. “If you ask me, they should just close up shop and forget about it. Or move like Mr. An was planning. I’ve heard the plaza on the east side has cheaper rents.”

  “Speaking of, do you know Mr. An well?”

  She shrugged. “He’s cool. We talk about art stuff, and he’ll buy a lot of CDs to play in his store.” She looked up from her nails. “Why do you ask?”

&nbs
p; I looked away. “Just wondering, I suppose. I was surprised to see that he didn’t have to close his store after all. Talk about a lucky break.”

  Her eyes shifted back to her nails. “Yeah, well, at least someone around here got lucky.”

  “Who knows, maybe with the holidays, you guys will pick up extra business.”

  “I’m not holding my breath.”

  “By the way, what did you tell me your second job was? I know you told me, but I can’t remember what you said.” I looked at her innocently.

  Her file stopped mid-stroke and she looked up at me, her eyes narrowing. “When did I say anything about a second job?”

  “Oh, didn’t you?” Maybe I wasn’t as smooth as I thought.

  “No, I hadn’t mentioned it.” She leaned forward. “What have you heard?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing, I haven’t heard anything.”

  “Why are you asking all these questions?” she asked with a growl. “What are you up to, Lana?”

  “Nothing … I just stopped by to see how you were. I had some time to kill before—” I looked down at my hands.

  “Time to kill before what?”

  My cell phone rang and I answered it a little too eagerly. “Hello?”

  “Hey.”

  It was Megan. “Oh hey, is everything okay?” I asked, feigning concern.

  “Uh, yeah. I just called—”

  “Oh no, I’m sorry to hear that. Just give me a second.”

  “Lana, what the heck are you talking about?” Megan asked.

  I looked up at Kimmy and gestured to the phone. “I’m sorry, I have to take this … I’ll talk to you later.”

  She shrugged. “Okay, whatever.”

  When I was out of range, I put the phone back to my ear. “Hey … you still there?” I asked.

  “Um, yes, what the hell is going on over there?” Megan asked. “Who was that in the background?”

  “Kimmy Tran.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, and she got real defensive about having a second job,” I told her.

  “What do you think that means?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure, but whatever it is, she doesn’t want anyone to know.”

  “Well, I just called to tell you that I got you something. I left it on your bed.”