by Vivien Chien
“Watchin’ the show.” He pointed toward the news vans. “Ian’s over there giving them some kind of statement.”
I squinted, studying the figure in black. “Of course he is,” I sighed. Figures. I should have known it was him. Who else would it be?
“He’s been there for twenty minutes already.”
“Have you gone over at all?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nah, I’m not much for the spotlight … especially after what happened last time.”
“This is ridiculous, I’m going inside.” I rolled up my window and turned off the engine.
Peter stepped back so I could open the door. “Mrs. Feng is going to be so mad.”
“Well, that’s Ian’s problem now.”
We walked to the entrance together, passing by a few Asia Village employees on our way in. Apparently everyone wanted to see what was going on.
As we headed toward the restaurant, we caught sight of a short woman with straight caramel-brown hair in a black coat and dress pants standing outside City Charm. Her hands were cupped around her eyes, trying to look inside the store.
My defense alarm immediately went off. “Excuse me, do you need something?”
Startled, the woman jumped and turned to face us. “Oh hi, I didn’t hear you coming…”
“Can I help you?” I walked up, inches away from her, straightening my back.
She stuffed her hands into her coat pockets. “I was wondering what you could tell me about the owners of this store.”
“And you are?” I folded my arms across my chest.
She looked past me at the entrance. “Um, I’m with the Plain Dealer. I was hoping I could get a different story from what my partner is reporting outside. Do you think you can help me?”
My arms fell to my sides and I tried my best to keep my anger under control. “Reporters are not allowed in the plaza unless invited by someone, and I don’t believe we invited you … so you can leave now.” I pointed toward the entrance.
The woman appeared offended that I would deny her a story. “I’m trying to get something more personal for the community, and if you don’t want to help with that, I have to wonder if you even cared about them at all.”
I felt my nostrils flaring. Peter put a hand on my arm, reminding me he was there. “Look, if you want to get your story so bad, you can speak to the property managers. You’re not welcome here. Now, unless you want me to have you removed legally, I suggest you be on your way.”
We stood staring each other down like two cowboys in an old Western at sunrise.
She puffed up her chest. “That won’t be necessary.” Her eyes flicked toward Peter before she stormed off.
I watched her stomp out and noticed that a few people who had been loitering at the doors were watching us. When they caught me looking, they quickly turned away.
“You cool?” Peter asked, nudging my arm.
“Yeah, fine.” I dug into my purse for the store keys and let us in. “Let’s just try to get through this day without any more drama, if that’s possible.”
“You got it, boss,” Peter said, giving me a salute.
Fifteen minutes later, Ian was knocking on the door, signaling me to let him in. “It is freezing out there today,” he said as he rushed in, rubbing his hands together. “I thought they’d never let me leave.” He removed his hat and ran a hand over his hair.
“What were you saying to them?” I asked, my hands naturally gravitating toward my hips. I could feel myself looking like my mother.
“I told them this whole thing was a tragedy and while we’re devastated over what happened, it has no bearing on the shopping quality of Asia Village.” He turned away from me and headed toward a table. “Would you mind getting me some tea? I need something to get rid of this chill.”
“Ian!” I yelled to his back. “Two people are dead and you’re talking about how it’s still safe to shop here? That’s so insensitive!”
He whipped around, his expression filled with shock. “Insensitive? Practical, you mean. We’re going to lose business if we’re not careful, Lana. This is the second incident to happen at Asia Village in a matter of months. I have to think of the well-being of the plaza.” His tone was condescending and it only helped fuel my fire.
“That is such a business thing to say.”
“It’s the truth.” He removed his coat, draping it over the back of a chair and placing his hat on top. He pulled out the chair next to it and sat down. “Now, some tea if you don’t mind…”
I started to say something but thought better of it and stomped off to the kitchen, pushing the swinging doors a little harder than I meant to. The right door smacked against the stainless-steel counter that was behind it.
Peter jumped at the sound. “Whoa!”
“Sorry.” I grabbed a teakettle off the shelf.
“What happened out there?” he asked, nodding toward the dining room.
I filled the kettle with hot water from the water dispenser. “Oh, nothing. Ian just needs some tea. You know, to warm him up after telling the news crew that it’s safe to shop at the plaza … because it’s not our fault that two people are dead.”
“Wow, that guy is…” Peter shook his head. “I don’t even know the word for it, man.”
“I know a good word for him.” I prepped a tray with the teakettle and cup, taking a deep breath before returning to the dining area.
“Do you want something to eat, too?” I asked with a hint of contempt as I set down the tea in front of him. It took everything in my power not to slam it on the table.
His cell phone rang before he could answer. He held up a finger signaling me to wait, and answered the phone. His voice raised an octave. “Good morning, Donna, I’m so glad—”
I could hear her voice on the other end of the phone, and she didn’t sound happy in the least.
“Well, yes, absolutely, I understand—”
She cut him off again, and I could hear her talking a mile a minute.
“No, I didn’t mean—” He closed his eyes and exhaled. “Yes, I’ll be here. See you then.”
He hung up and looked at me. “I’ll be back later. I have to meet with Donna soon.” He poured himself a cup of tea and leaned back in his chair, seemingly preoccupied.
“Fine, I have some things to do before we open.” I left him to his thoughts and his tea, rushing back to the office to make my dreaded phone call. I wasn’t really in the mood to deal with this, but maybe the best thing for me was to get away from this plaza. Too many things happened around here, and I longed for the quiet isolation of a cubicle.
A receptionist answered the phone and instructed me to hold while she patched me through.
“Hello, Mr. Forester?” My voice came out soft and unsure. I cleared my throat, scrounging up some courage. “This is Lana Lee. We had an interview set for later today.”
“Oh yes, Miss Lee, how nice to hear from you,” he replied, good-naturedly. “How can I help you?”
“Well, I’m afraid I won’t be able to make today’s interview. It turns out that my parents had to make an emergency trip overseas and they’ve left me in charge of our family business.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope that everything is all right with your family.”
“It is, thank you.” I twirled the phone cord between my fingers. “I’d really like an opportunity at this job, and I think I’d make a great fit at your company. I was wondering if there would be any way we could reschedule. Maybe I could come in when they get back?”
“When do you anticipate them to return?”
“It wouldn’t be for at least two weeks.”
“I will say that you were my favorite candidate for this position. And I’ve had the same thought about your place at this company.” I heard him take a deep breath over the phone. “But I’m sorry, Miss Lee, we need this position filled as quickly as possible and we have quite a few people interested who can start immediately. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course, that makes sense.” My shoulders sagged as the reality hit that I had officially lost my chance at this job. “Thank you for your time. I appreciate you taking my call.”
“Take care, Miss Lee. I hope everything works out with your family.”
I thanked him again and hung up. There were still a few minutes before I had to unlock the doors, and I used that time to remove the disappointment from my face. We hadn’t even opened yet, and I couldn’t wait to go home.
* * *
The Mahjong Matrons filed in and took their usual seats by the window. They wore worried expressions on their faces, and spoke hurriedly among themselves.
When I greeted them with their tea, Pearl was the first to speak. “This is bad luck,” she said, staring up at me with concern. “That store is bad luck.”
I set the teakettle in the center of the table. “It’s just a coincidence,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. I didn’t want to egg them on, knowing how fast they could spiral out of control given the right ammunition.
Wendy shook her head. “No, this store”—she pointed at the wall that stood between the restaurant and City Charm—“this store is bad luck. You do not want this bad luck to follow you.”
The four women looked at one another.
“What?” I asked, eyeballing the four of them.
Opal reached into her purse. “We brought you this.” She pulled out a beaded jade bracelet and handed it to me. “You keep this with you all the time. It will help keep away evil spirits.”
“Um … thank you.” I took the bracelet and slipped it over my hand.
“Trust us. This will help you stay safe.” Pearl reassured me.
“I’ll make sure to wear it every day.”
All four women nodded in satisfaction. They had accomplished their mission for the morning. Now it was on to their next feat: breakfast.
Ian reappeared as the Matrons were getting ready to gather their things and leave. However, now the sudden rush they were in dissipated as they watched him claim a table.
“You’re back early,” I said, noting the two hours remaining until lunch. “What happened to your meeting with Donna?”
“She rescheduled for later this afternoon. Something else came up that she had to handle right away.” He tapped the table with his index finger. “By the way, tomorrow morning before the plaza opens, Donna wants to call a plaza employee meeting. You need to be here an hour earlier.”
“Fine. Do you want something to eat now?” I asked, feeling impatient. I was still aggravated with him for his actions earlier that morning. Plus I knew the Matrons were hovering to see if they could pump him for information. The gossip mill does not rest, especially in times of crisis.
“Maybe just some egg drop soup for now. I’m not sure if Donna wants to eat when she gets here.”
I nodded. “Fine, I’ll let Peter know.”
When I came back out, Ian was talking with the Matrons from across the room. My only saving grace was that no one else had come in to witness their conversation.
“I think you should not open this store again,” Pearl said with force. “It is bad luck. Every business that moves there will be cursed.”
“That’s nonsense,” Ian replied. “There is no such thing as curses.”
“The young people don’t understand,” Wendy said to Pearl with a sigh.
I eased through the dining room hoping they wouldn’t suck me into their conversation. For the sake of argument, or lack thereof, I had gone along with their superstitious beliefs and taken the bracelet without comment. I didn’t want them to use this in their argument against Ian.
I didn’t have to worry, though, because Ian was starting a speech on why superstition was silly, and I managed to make it all the way up to the hostess station unnoticed. I plopped down on my stool and tried to eavesdrop without being obvious.
“… problem with the older generation, and we can’t live by those standards today,” Ian told the ladies in a matter-of-fact tone. “These are new times, and no one believes in those things anymore.”
“You be careful, young man,” Pearl lectured. “We have lived a long time and know many things you do not understand. You are still a baby.”
Ian snorted. “I’m hardly a baby.”
The bells above the door jingled, and a woman wearing a black fur coat and leather gloves stepped in. Her eyes were covered by large, round sunglasses. A plump man in a tan coat followed closely behind her. He held a leather briefcase in his right hand and looked around the restaurant with apprehension.
The woman stepped up to the podium, removing her glasses, revealing eyes that were hardened and judgmental. I slipped off my stool, throwing on my smile designated for customers. She returned the gesture with a tight-lipped smile that told me she didn’t mean it. She gave me a once-over, spending extra time assessing my hair. She shook her head, mumbled to herself, and took a deep breath of exasperation.
“Would you like a table for two?” I asked, ignoring the scrutiny.
“No, thank you,” she replied, her voice deeper than I had expected. She was a thin woman with narrow features. In a manner of speaking she was attractive, but in a handsome sort of way. “I’m trying to find the property manager. I stopped at the office, but the doors were locked.” She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the property office. “Do you know when they’ll be in?”
“Oh, he’s actually right over there, waiting on a food order.” I twisted in his direction, pointing at his table.
“Very good,” she said, looking past me at Ian. “Thank you.” She headed straight for his table, and the plump man behind her followed, giving me an anxious glance as he passed.
I watched Ian and the woman interact. The smile he greeted her with slowly started to disappear. She gestured toward the man standing behind her who gave Ian a terse nod, both of his hands now gripped tight to the handle of his briefcase.
The woman turned an about-face on the heel of her designer boots and marched out of the restaurant with the plump man struggling to keep up.
Ian stood from his seat, smoothing out the wrinkles in his dress shirt. He buttoned his suit jacket and squared his shoulders, looking both determined and agitated.
“Lana, I’m going to need you to deliver that soup, if you don’t mind.” He didn’t look at me as he said it; he just stared at the door, his eyes narrowing.
“Why?” I asked. “What was the deal with that woman?”
“That is Constance Yeoh…”
“Constance Yeoh?”
“Yes,” he hissed, finally making eye contact. “Brandon’s ex-wife.”
“Ex-wife?” My eyes flew to the door, but she was gone. “He was married before?”
“I guess so. And to top off that surprise, she claims his store belongs to her now.”
CHAPTER
8
“I can’t believe he was married before and it never came up,” I said to Peter. After Ian left, the Matrons lost interest and headed out themselves. Before they left, they made me promise I would update them should I learn anything interesting. The restaurant was now empty and I’d hunkered in the kitchen waiting for Ian’s soup.
Peter poured the soup into a plastic container. “Maybe it was a sore subject or something,” he offered.
“I don’t know, I guess. It just seems weird to me that Isabelle never brought it up when she basically told me everything else about their life.”
“Except where Brandon was disappearing to all the time…” Peter looked at me sideways as he put the plastic container into a paper bag.
“You noticed that, too?”
“Oh, for sure. He would disappear constantly. Sometime I had to help her with shipments because the boxes were too heavy for her. I asked where he was and she would always say the same thing—”
“Let me guess: He was out running errands.” I finished for him.
He nodded. “How many errands can you have?” He stapled up the bag an
d started to remove his apron.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I’m going to run this over to Ian.”
“Can I take it?” I asked. “I kind of want to see what’s going on.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s your call, dude … I mean, boss.”
I smirked, taking the bag from his hand. “I’ll make it quick.”
I rushed out into the dining room only to find Adam standing at the podium with his hands in his jacket pockets staring at the ceiling. Against my will, a symphony of butterflies danced around in my stomach as I made my way up to the podium. “What brings you by, Detective?”
“Good morning, Miss Lee,” he said, his voice low and soft. “There’s a crew coming to handle a few things next door.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “And I thought since I’m already here, I’d come by to see how you’re holding up.”
“Oh? There’s still more to be done over there?”
“Just wrapping up a few things…” he said, his gaze traveling to the bag in my hand. “Are you going somewhere?”
I looked at the bag as if it were a foreign object. “Oh … I’m bringing Ian some soup.”
Adam stiffened at the mention of Ian’s name. “Soup? Is he sick?”
I laughed. “No, he ordered it. I’m not bringing it from me personally.”
His body relaxed and he let out a deep breath through his nose. “Oh … well, I’ll walk over with you then.” He gestured to the door, and I stepped in front of him, leading the way.
“So you were saying something about the scene of the crime?” I reminded him.
He stopped walking and turned to face me. “I was going to wait until we could sit down to talk about this … but I know how upset you are over what happened.” He reached for my empty hand and gave it a squeeze. “The gunshot wound is not consistent with a suicide. The angle is wrong, and there should be gunshot residue on his hand but there isn’t.”
My hand felt slick in his. I jerked it away, rubbing my palm on my pants. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that even though the shot was taken at a close enough range for a suicide, someone staged it to look that way. The murder weapon was incredibly clean.” His eyes studied my face as I processed what he was saying. “We just notified the families that this is now being treated as a double homicide.”
