by Vivien Chien
I was in the middle of filling in data for an expense report when Nancy came into the office. She wrung her hands together as she approached the desk. “Ms. Yeoh is here to see you … and she is very upset.”
“She is?” I asked, surprised. “That’s impossible, I just talked to her earlier today. She’s in New York.”
Nancy cocked her head at me. “No, she is sitting in the dining room.”
Oh. Constance. That Ms. Yeoh. I got up from the desk and followed Nancy out into the dining area. We needed to start referencing them by their first names instead; this was getting too confusing.
Constance sat in a booth appearing both discontented and impatient. Her purse was placed in front of her and her hands lay on top of it as if the contents needed protection. She looked up at us as we made our way over.
“Nancy,” I said, using my customer service voice. “Would you mind getting us some tea, please?”
“Yes, I’ll get it right away,” Nancy replied, practically running back into the kitchen.
“I’m a little surprised to see you.” I turned my attention back to Constance. “After everything you’ve been through today.”
She scowled at me. “I don’t wish to speak of that. Frankly, none of this is your business.”
Instead of fueling the fire further, I simply smiled and asked, “How can I help you?”
“Sit,” she barked, pointing at the empty seat across from her.
I did as she said without hesitation.
A thin smile of satisfaction spread over her lips. “I need you to speed up the process of what’s going on with my ex-husband’s store.”
A part of me wanted to be surprised that she would even entertain this ordeal with the store after the day she’d had, but I wasn’t. She definitely didn’t waste time, I’d give her that. I shook my head in confusion. “I’m sorry; I’m not sure how I can do that. Ian—”
“Men are incompetent, don’t you think?”
Nancy arrived with the tea, pouring each of us a cup. I nodded in thanks and she whisked away to tend to her other tables.
She stared at me expectantly. “Well … do you agree?”
“Um … sure.” It came out as more of a question than a statement. In truth, I didn’t agree with her, but I felt it was necessary for my safety that I go along with whatever she had to say.
Her smile widened. “Good, then we’re on the same page.” She repositioned herself in the booth, leaning in toward me. “I know that property manager of yours is a complete idiot. I asked to speak with Mrs. Feng because I’ve heard such great things about her, but he insisted he could handle everything.”
I nodded. “Ian is technically in charge of the plaza now. Mrs. Feng acts more as a consultant these days.”
“Regardless, he’s an idiot, and I’m sure that detective doesn’t have much for brains, either,” she spat. “If he did, he would have figured out that my ex-husband wasn’t the guilty party immediately. How careless!”
My stomach tightened. “I can assure you, Detective Trudeau is very good at his job.”
“In any case, I’ve found a woman can be very persuasive when the situation calls for it, and it’s clear to me this Mr. Sung has feelings for you.”
“What?” I choked a little, covering it up with a cough. I sipped at my tea. “That’s—”
She held up a hand. “Please, I have two eyes, I can see this myself. The way he looks at you is atrocious … and obvious. So unprofessional! But, we can work this to our benefit. All I need you to do is work that magic of yours and convince him to hurry up with the legal issues he’s supposedly having.”
“What legal issues?” I thought it was in my best interest to act like I was completely clueless. If she knew that Ian had shared the details with me, she might go on a tirade.
“He keeps muttering something about the verification process. Frankly, I don’t think he’s even talked to his lawyer yet. The paperwork I gave him is above standard. There shouldn’t be any issues with it at all.”
“Well, you know how things get hectic around this time of year.”
She glared at me. “Oh please. Planning for Chinese New Year is hardly anything to get worked up over. I could have this whole place up and running within the day. It’s just an excuse he’s using to keep me away from what’s rightfully mine.” She clenched her fist and gave the table a good pound.
A few customers turned our way and I smiled apologetically at them. I was thankful the Mahjong Matrons weren’t here to witness this, at least. With any luck, I might be able to stop news of this little meeting from spreading around the plaza.
“Constance,” I whispered, hoping my soft tone would calm her down. “I’ll try to help any way that I can, but I can’t promise anything. If the situation is tied up because of legal matters, I’m not sure I can do much.”
She took a deep breath, straightening herself in the seat. “I’m positive that you’ll find a way. I don’t want to take this whole ordeal to the media and cause more problems for your little plaza, but I’ll do what I have to.”
If I had any doubts, the look on her face told me she meant it.
“I’ll do what I can,” I told her. And I meant it. I’d do just about anything to get her the heck away from me at this particular point in time. “But can I ask you what the rush is?”
She raised a brow at me. “What do you mean?”
“Well, are you planning on keeping the store open?”
She scoffed. “Nonsense, I plan on clearing out all the inventory as soon as possible and then turning the space into a designer handbag boutique.” She looked around the walls of the restaurant with disdain. “This place could use a little class.”
I bit the insides of my cheeks. I wanted to deck her after that comment. I wanted to tell her there was nothing wrong with the way our plaza was now. But instead I asked, “So you don’t intend to keep the store as it is?”
“Silly girl, of course not. A souvenir store is a bit garish, don’t you think? No, I think a designer accessory boutique is exactly what this place needs.” She reached for her own designer handbag and slid out of the booth. “I’ll be in touch.”
I’m sure it was meant to be a statement, but it came out more like a threat. And with her, well, it definitely was.
* * *
Ian sat across from me in my mother’s office. I’d spent most of the day being cornered by people I didn’t want to talk to, and I really wasn’t interested in talking to anyone else—which I told him—but Ian refused to leave.
“That dreadful woman came to see me again,” Ian said, bordering on a whine. “She insisted that I’m taking too long working out the details of her transfer … she called me an incompetent pig. I can’t deal with her another day.”
“Maybe you should speed up the process,” I suggested. “Stop stalling and call the lawyer. Have him verify the paperwork and move on with it. She even came to see if I could do anything about it. The longer you take, the worse she’s going to get. She threatened to go to the media…”
His jaw dropped. “You’re kidding me.”
“I wish I were.” I shook my head. “Adam mentioned they were done over there. You can’t exactly use the police as an excuse anymore. And your story about being tied up with legal issues isn’t fooling anyone.”
A line formed between his brows. “Adam?”
“Detective Trudeau, I meant.”
“I didn’t realize you were on a first-name basis.” He cleared his throat. “When did that happen?”
I squirmed in my chair. “We’ve had dinner a few times.”
He looked down at his hands in disappointment. “Ah, I see.”
“Ian, the papers,” I said, trying to bring the conversation back around to its original point.
“Oh, right, the papers,” he said, waving a hand. “Well, they are with the lawyers and they’re reviewing them. We have a meeting with them in a few days. I told them to take their time.”
“I wouldn�
��t delay this anymore. She’s going to keep harassing us until she gets her way, and we can’t afford another story in the Plain Dealer. How are you going to feel when they write a piece about the dictator of Asia Village?”
“Are you really that anxious to have her move in next to you?” Ian asked, desperation etched on his face. “Lana … you have to help me.”
I leaned back in my chair. “What can I do?” I contemplated telling him about the little I’d learned from Victoria, but decided to keep it to myself.
“Find something out on this woman … on both of them for that matter. You agreed with me that something isn’t right. Let’s prove it before she can get her claws into that store.”
“Ian, the only thing you suspected was that she wasn’t the real Constance Yeoh. But we know that’s not true. And if she has the documents to prove that City Charm is hers for the taking, then that’s all she needs. I know she isn’t the greatest person in the world, but what can we really do about it?”
“Documents can be falsified…” Ian said.
There was a sound in his voice that I couldn’t quite place, but I had a feeling it might have something to do with the fact that he had lied about his own past. While Megan and I had been investigating the murder of Mr. Feng, we had uncovered secrets that Ian had been keeping. He had been lying about his job history in order to make himself seem more credible. Of course, he didn’t know that I knew about it, but maybe the sound I was hearing in his voice was guilt.
“Isn’t that for the lawyer to decide?” I countered.
“Couldn’t you see if there’s anything at all on this woman? It doesn’t have to be about the store. Anything that would discredit her is just fine.” He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Consider it a favor.”
“Why don’t you do it?”
“Lana…”
I sank in my seat. “Okay, fine. I’ll dig around and see if I can find anything out about her. But, if I don’t find anything suspicious, you have to promise to let this angle go. This shouldn’t be about Constance; this should be about what happened to Brandon and Isabelle. If we waste too much time looking at one person, we could miss something really important.” The mysterious William Shatner look-alike was still swirling around in my brain.
“Deal. And I know you’re right about getting caught up, but I can feel in my gut that this woman is guilty of something.” He stood up with a new bounce in his step. “And maybe after this whole thing is resolved, we can finally have our own dinner date.”
Yeah … great.
* * *
That evening, when I got home from work, I searched the Internet for information on Constance Yeoh, but came up empty-handed. She didn’t seem like a very interesting person. Her name popped up a few times in relation to the college she had attended and her place of employment, but aside from that, nothing sprang up as a red flag.
It was clear without researching anything at all that she had motive. She was a woman scorned … and scorched, for that matter, but did she have the means? I tried to imagine her in the back room of City Charm, staging the crime, but the imagery wouldn’t come together. If anything, just as her own sister had said, she was an opportunist, not a murderer.
My mind played again with the idea of a hit man. She had the money to do it, and it would give her the safety of an alibi. Plus, she wouldn’t have to get her hands dirty. Supposing that my mystery man was the hit man—how would that work? Clearly, he was seen with Brandon multiple times. Did Constance hire him to befriend Brandon … to get close to him? How do you even go about hiring a hit man? There was so much I didn’t know!
I did a quick search to see if I could find anything out about Marcia and whether or not she’d ever lived in Nevada. I found a few websites that listed address information on name searches and clicked on one. Marcia’s name pulled up a hefty list of previous residences: Las Vegas, Reno, Atlantic City … even Windsor. And her current address was New York. I didn’t know much about gambling, but I did know what those cities had in common. They were all home to popular casinos. But what did it mean?
Since I was already online, I decided to go through Brandon’s social media. I skimmed through the posts and comments that had come in since Brandon’s death. His page had turned into a memorial wall of sorts. After that, I scoped out his friends in search of Jay Coleman, the man Victoria had mentioned.
I found him right away and was thankful something was working out. I sent him a message cooking up a story about writing a tribute article for a plaza newsletter. This newsletter didn’t exist, but Jay didn’t have to know that.
While I was at it, I thought it might be a good idea to reach out to a few of Brandon’s other friends to see if I could get any other info. I needed to talk to people who knew Brandon outside the plaza … people who might know what he could be involved in. There were a few friends with connections to Marcia, so I jotted their names down on my list.
Two or three of his Cleveland friends also “liked” the casino. None of them were familiar, but I wrote their names down anyhow. Whoever these people were, they’d never come to visit at Asia Village. Outside of the Captain Kirk guy, there hadn’t been any visitors at the store.
Off my list, I picked a few of his friends from both Cleveland and New York, and used the same story about the newsletter feature I had with Jay.
I felt satisfied with what I had accomplished and made some notes in my notebook while considering the recent details I had uncovered. Brandon had a gambling problem, and maybe Marcia did, too. Constance was angry, betrayed, and had a lot of money—she had resources. My mystery man had been seen by Jasmine, and by me, but who else? Was there anybody else I could ask? Were he and Brandon running off to the casino together? That had to be it. But how did the ex-wives fit in? And did they?
Collapsing face-first onto my bed, I let out a groan that I’d been holding in all day. Figuring this out was going to be impossible!
To top things off, not one but three people had reached out to me in the same day and asked me to help them with their own self-serving requests. How had their issues become my problem? Wasn’t anyone besides me concerned about what had really happened to Isabelle and Brandon? And why did both of the wives trust me to do their dirty work?
I stood up and went to my closet, opening the door and peering at myself in the mirror. I smiled at myself. First with teeth, then with no teeth. Did I appear trustworthy? Is that why people kept confiding things in me? Or was I naive? Were they using me to their advantage?
I didn’t know the answers to those questions. In the meantime, I was going to have to work on my “not so approachable” face.
CHAPTER
16
The next morning as I got ready for work, I gave myself the “it’s a new day” speech. Whatever happened yesterday was in the past and I was ready to start fresh. I will often give myself these little pep talks, but I don’t know if they do any good. Half the time I don’t believe myself.
Still, I left the house with a chipper disposition and even sang along with the radio on my ride into work. I refused to listen to another morning of dreary weather advisories.
Esther and I pulled in at the same time, and I waved good morning to her as I got out of my car.
She squinted at me from her parking space. “Where is your hat?”
“I don’t have one,” I said, walking up to her car. “It messes up my hair.”
“You will get sick this way.” Esther slammed the door to her car and shooed me inside.
“I’ll be fine. I never wear a hat.” Truth was, I hated things on my head. Always have. I wasn’t a fan of headbands, hats, shower caps … anything that felt restricting.
“I will find you a hat,” Esther assured me. “I can pick out something pretty to go with your new hairstyle.”
Instead of arguing the point, I just nodded. It was much easier to agree with her and be done with it. Esther, much like my mother, always knew what was “best” for me, an
d any backtalk from me was considered a challenge of her intelligence.
We entered the plaza and circled the koi pond, stopping in front of the abandoned souvenir shop. She sighed. “This store is bad luck for so many people. Since the beginning nothing has stayed here.”
“I know, but maybe the next owners will have better luck.” I didn’t think I should mention anything about Constance or it was bound to travel throughout the plaza before lunchtime.
She shook her head. “I thought this time things would be different. Brandon was very lucky at winning money all the time.” She gave another heavy sigh and started to walk away.
I followed after her. “Wait, what do you mean he won money all the time? Are you sure that he was winning?” If he was winning money, then where was it going? And why didn’t he pay Marcia to get her off his back?
“Your mommy and I would see Brandon at the casino almost every day, and he was very good at playing blackjack. Sometimes, me and Betty would watch him play. He would win at least one time every night.”
“One time every night?” I asked.
“Yes, sometimes I think he was there more than me and Betty.”
“And the last night you saw him, you said he won a lot of money. Did you ever tell the police that?”
“Yes, I told your boyfriend.”
I blanched at “boyfriend.” Was everyone referring to him that way now?
She sighed. “Brandon was so happy that night. He won so much money, he said he could pay the rent for his store for the next two years.”
So he was intending on paying Marcia back. But what had stopped him previously? “Esther, do you remember seeing him with anybody that night? Or did he say anything strange?”
“I think he was by himself. Sometimes he had a friend come with him … a tall white man.”
