by Vivien Chien
“—confirmed to be signs of foul play and tampering with the vehicle in question. We’re currently investigating some potential leads. If you know anything at all in reference to this case, please contact the Cleveland Police Department. Thank you.” He held up a hand signaling to the crowd that he was finished, gave a respectful nod, and turned abruptly away from the camera, refusing further questions.
The news anchor returned with a grim expression and shook his head as he segued into the next headline. Megan turned the volume down and plopped down on the couch, keeping her eyes fixed on my reaction.
I hadn’t moved from my spot in front of the TV. I just stood there, staring at the floor trying to formulate a linear thought. But all that came were flashbacks of the fire, the feel of blacktop digging into my arm, and the sounds of people screaming in terror.
“I knew this whole thing was odd,” Megan finally said. By the look on her face, I could tell she’d been waiting to say that since she’d woken me up. “Didn’t I say this whole thing was odd? I told you, Lana, these things don’t just up and happen. Not like this.”
“Okay, you were right,” I mumbled.
“Do you think this was meant to be a murder? Or do you think that part was an accident? It could just have been someone wanting to ruin their business and damage the truck.”
“Maybe, I don’t know.” As Megan posed the questions that I had already been thinking on my own, I wondered if attempting to solve the crime would be the best way to alleviate the anxiety I’d felt. As they say, there is nothing better than facing your fears head-on and taking action.
“Do you remember seeing anything strange? There had to be a sign that this was going to happen.”
I thought back, reviewing the night from the moment I arrived to the time of the blast. “Well, Calvin and Ronnie had an argument earlier in the night. And then before the explosion, Calvin did take off in a hurry,” I rambled, still staring at the floor. “His uncle was rushing him out of there … he had to use the bathroom or something and they were going to the corner bar.”
“So they left the area, but not the night market itself?”
“Well, no. The corner bar across the street and maybe four or five businesses down from the picnic area.”
“That little place with the red awning?” Megan asked.
“That’s the one.”
“Okay, so what do you know about this Calvin guy? Do you know anything about his uncle?”
Her questions were coming at me so rapidly I hardly had time to process them. I moved over to the couch, stepping over her legs, and sat down next to her. “Um, I don’t know much about Calvin. I know next to nothing about his uncle … I’d never even met him before the other night. I know Calvin doesn’t get along well with his dad. He was in the navy, and then he used to be a truck driver for a while … now he works for his uncle as a mechanic in his auto repair shop.”
“Aha!” Megan yelled.
Kikko jumped off the couch, and scuttled into the other room.
“Aha what?” I asked.
“Come on, Lana. If anyone would know how to blow up a vehicle, it would be a mechanic.”
“I don’t think Calvin would murder his own dad though … right?” I asked. Did I even know that to be true? How bad was their feuding? I didn’t know anything about Calvin anymore, not since we were kids. He could be a psycho for all I knew.
“Well, that’s why I asked if you thought it was an intentional murder. It could have been an accident. Maybe he wanted to get back at his dad for something, and just meant to damage the food truck as payback. I mean, he’s a mechanic … doesn’t mean he’s a good one.”
My attention drifted to the coffeemaker. I needed fuel to think. I also needed to get dressed. I was supposed to meet my family for our weekly dim sum outing at Li Wah’s in less than two hours.
Megan seemed to sense my thoughts as she sometimes did. “I’ll make the coffee, you go do your thing.” She shooed me away as she stood from the couch. “We can speculate more about this later.”
I showered and dressed myself in sort of a haze that only made my morning routine more horrendous and lengthy. When it comes to getting ready, I can be a primper … and a scrutinizer.
Megan brought a cup of coffee to where I sat at my vanity. “You know, maybe you should talk with this Calvin guy. You could potentially find something out.”
I set down my eyeliner and reached for the mug in her hand. “The thought crossed my mind while I was in the shower. I sent him a Facebook message yesterday, so when he responds maybe we could get together in person and I could ask some questions. But I don’t know … it all started to seem a little far-fetched the more thought I gave it. Our imaginations tend to get away from us. And I’m not entirely sure that I want to get involved with this one. To be honest with you, I keep going back and forth with the idea.”
She stepped back to better assess me. “Are you kidding? First, how could you not want to get involved? Second, our imaginations are right on point. You heard what that detective said, there was foul play. And, like you said, Calvin was arguing with his dad … and … the uncle—”
“Because it could all be a coincidence. None of it necessarily means that Calvin or his uncle were involved in what happened.” I took a sip of coffee and savored the first taste of caffeinated goodness. There was nothing better.
“Bagh!” Megan swatted the air. “You know as well as I do that a majority of crimes are committed by family members. Just because you’ve known this guy since he was little doesn’t mean that he’s not capable of doing something like this. Calvin Chow is number one on my suspect list.”
* * *
Li Wah’s is a Chinese restaurant on the east side of Cleveland in a plaza much like Asia Village. The restaurant serves dim sum daily and my family has been congregating and partaking of their delicious menu every Sunday since Anna May and I have moved out on our own. It’s my parents’ way of making sure that they see both of us at least once a week regardless of what’s going on in our lives. Of course, I was currently working at the family business and seeing my parents several times a week whether I wanted to or not. Like I said, it wasn’t part of my life plan.
I pulled into the parking lot and hurried into the restaurant where I knew that my family would already be waiting. I’m usually late to everything. I’d like to believe it’s because I’m a free spirit and time is relative, but for whatever reason, people don’t seem to buy that. As they say, everyone’s a critic.
As suspected, I spotted my parents, my grandmother, and my sister seated at a table with two empty chairs. I rushed over, noticing the agitated look on my mother’s face. The table was bare, except for teacups, which was unusual because they normally started ordering without me. The fact that there was no food in sight kind of worried me … and made my stomach gurgle. It felt as if my appetite were slowly coming back.
My mother, who is best described as a “little Asian woman,” was sitting next to my father, whom I lovingly call “a big ole white guy,” and they were deep in discussion. They didn’t even notice me walk up to the table. My sister was fiddling on her phone, clearly ignoring the conversation, and my grandmother appeared to be doodling on what looked like a Chinese newspaper.
“Hi, everyone,” I said, a little out of breath. “Sorry I’m late.”
My grandmother picked her head up and grinned at me, her silver front teeth sparkling. “Lana is here,” she said in Hokkien. I couldn’t really speak the language myself, but I could understand the bare minimum. I found myself recognizing more words the longer my grandmother was here, since she knew almost no English whatsoever. It made communication very difficult at times. There were a lot of hand gestures and mimicking involved in our conversations.
My family predominantly spoke the Taiwanese dialect of Hokkien, but they also mixed in Mandarin at times, and it was hard for me to keep up. My sister had a better understanding of it as she’d spent a lot of time studying the language w
ith my mother. I hadn’t had the same interest or patience so her knowledge surpassed mine by a long shot.
I sat down next to my grandmother, leaving the seat next to my sister empty. Smiling at my grandmother, I glanced down at what she was doing. She was drawing mustaches on everyone in the photos. When she caught me looking, we both started laughing.
With an exaggerated sigh, my sister put her cell phone down on the table, and rested her chin in her hand. “Welcome to crazy-people hour.” She tapped a well-manicured, ruby-red nail on her nose and her eyes slid in the direction of my parents.
I looked among the three of them and lifted my shoulders in question. “What’s going on?”
My father answered for the group. “Your mother is a little upset over this morning’s developments with the Chow family,” he explained. “And frankly, so am I.”
“Upset?” my mother spat. “UPSET? I am mad!”
A few people turned around to gawk at our table. I smiled apologetically to the elderly couple sitting directly next to us. “Mother…”
“Lana,” my mother returned with sarcasm.
“Okay … first, where is the food?” I asked, searching the room for the dim sum cart. “We should eat before everyone loses their minds.”
“I think Mom scared away the staff with her harsh whispers,” my sister quipped.
I saved my eye roll for better use. Spotting the man with the cart, I got his attention and signaled him over. He wheeled the cart over and stood in front of me, avoiding my mother.
I exaggerated a smile. “Hi, we’ll start with some shrimp dumplings, a basket of spare ribs with black bean sauce, sticky rice with minced pork, spring rolls, and some turnip cakes.”
Using a pair of tongs, he lifted the steamer baskets out of the heated cart and placed them gingerly on the table.
My grandmother’s eyes brightened and she quickly speared a shrimp dumpling with her chopsticks.
After the server left and our table was filled with the variety of foods I’d chosen, everyone dug in, taking a sampling of each item for their plate.
When I’d polished off a spring roll—one of my very favorite food items—I reached for the teapot and filled my cup. “Now what’s going on? I’m assuming that you guys are upset because the police said they’re looking into foul play. But that’s a good thing. Whoever did this needs to go down for it.”
My mother looked at me with an impatience that confused me. I thought she would be happy that—for once—I was remaining levelheaded about the situation. Guess not.
“It’s not that they’re saying it was foul play, Goober,” my dad answered. “It’s that they’re accusing Sandra Chow of the crime.”
“What?” My mouth dropped. “They think Sandra Chow did it? But why?”
My mother’s face turned a bright shade of red. “Yah. So stupid!” Her fist pounded the table.
“Bai-ling.” My grandmother used my mother’s real name in such a stern voice, you knew she meant business.
My mother sulked in her seat.
“I don’t understand why they would think she did it,” I said out loud. But in my head, I was thinking about the way I’d seen them communicate with one another at the night market. At best, they came off as business partners, not a happily married couple. At the time, I didn’t think all that much of it, but now that it was being brought up, I had to consider it.
“Can’t we just have a normal meal with normal conversation?” my sister asked. “Every time we sit down at a table, we’re talking about some act of violence.”
“Sure, let’s talk about your criminal law class, Miss Lawyer,” I said to her. “I’m sure you’ll never have to talk about this kind of stuff once you pass the bar.”
Anna May scowled at me as she bit into a pea pod.
“Sandra is a good person,” my mother said, eyeballing my sister. “She does not deserve this. She has lost her husband.”
“There has to be a reason why they think it’s her,” I said. I wondered to myself if Calvin was on the chopping block, as well. It was probably better if I didn’t mention it, or my mother’s hair might light on fire.
“Sandra and Ronnie were having some money problems and there’s speculation that the explosion was used to get an insurance claim,” my dad explained. “They think it’s possible that it went horribly wrong and Ronnie got killed in the process. At least that’s what they said to Sandra this morning when they interrogated her.”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” I said. “Why would Ronnie be in the truck if they planned to blow it up together? And why would they do it at the night market and put other people in danger?”
“From what they said, it was a poorly made bomb. Their theory is that Ronnie somehow triggered it by accident or that it went off too early.” My dad shook his head. “Totally unreal. I can’t even imagine Ronnie being that kind of person … cheating the system that way. He’s always been a hard worker. And then making a bomb on top of it?”
“Where did you hear all of this?” I asked.
“We spoke with Sandra shortly after her meeting with some detective,” he said. “Your mother called her this morning to see how she was doing. She’s still in the hospital with some burns, and I guess this jerk bag came to see her first thing this morning. They’re not going to release any of this to the public, of course. So keep the details to yourself, okay?”
I assumed the jerk bag my father was speaking of would be Detective O’Neil. “Of course, Dad. I won’t say anything.”
“I need to see her,” my mother said resolutely. “I need to see her right away. She will need someone to keep her company.”
“How about Anna May and I go open the restaurant so you and Dad can visit with Sandra?” I offered.
My sister paused, chopsticks in midair. “Since when did you become the good daughter?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Don’t get used to it. Limited-time offer.”
CHAPTER
7
Anna May and I pulled into the parking lot of Asia Village one after the other and parked our cars next to each other.
When she got out of the car, she continued to tease me about my offer of giving my parents the day off. “Seriously, Lana, what has gotten into you? You’re giving up your Sunday? It’s your favorite lounging day.”
The plaza was already open and bustling with customers, but our restaurant had shortened hours on Sunday.
“Mom needs to be with Sandra and I’d rather she just get it out of her system. You know she’s already high-strung from the fact that Aunt Grace is coming to town.”
My sister blew out a puff of air. “Yeah, you’re telling me. And you know how it’s going to go too. They’re going to argue the entire time. One of them will bring up how they don’t approve of the other, and then the other one will justify it and turn the whole thing around on whoever started the original argument. Blah, blah, same tune, different day.”
It was odd to hear my sister react this way because, of the two of us, she was usually the good-natured one. But there was something about the ordeal of my mother getting together with her sister that brought me and Anna May together. My guess is that it was an us-versus-them situation.
We headed into the plaza and made a beeline for the restaurant. As we got closer, I noticed an attractive middle-aged woman sitting on the bench across from our restaurant. Her head was bent down as she scrolled through her phone, and long black hair covered her face from view. A large Prada bag sat at her side. She was dressed in a short-sleeved red silk blouse, a beige knee-length skirt and matching pumps. I didn’t need to see any more of her to know who she was.
I grabbed Anna May’s arm and stopped walking. “Oh my God, she’s here … already?”
“Who?” Anna May asked, following my line of sight. She gasped. “What? She’s a week earlier than she originally told us.”
We shared a glance and then continued walking toward the woman.
“Aunt Grace!” I flashed my br
ightest smile as we approached her. “What are you doing here?”
“Girls!” Grace Richardson, my mother’s extremely Americanized sister, stood up with outstretched arms. “Come here and give me a hug! It’s so great to see you both!”
The three of us gathered together for a group hug, and the minute we embraced, I could smell the Chanel No. 5 she was known to wear. Flashes of childhood memories with visits from Aunt Grace filled my head and suddenly I was six years old all over again.
“What are you doing here?” Anna May repeated as we stepped back from one another. “We weren’t expecting you until late next week.”
“Well, I was up at Martha’s Vineyard with some friends, and found myself completely bored. It was me and two married couples, so you can imagine how I felt. I figured why not surprise all of you and come a week early. I rented a car and assumed everyone would be here.” She gestured to the closed restaurant. “But then I saw you have different hours today, so I thought I’d sit and catch up on some work e-mails.”
“We go to dim sum every Sunday morning before opening,” I explained. “Usually Mom and Dad handle the Sunday hours, but they went to visit a family friend…” I trailed off. I knew my mother wouldn’t want me to share any of the specifics just yet.
“Oh, that’s right! I forgot you guys have that little family tradition. I was going to call your mother, but I thought it would be more fun to surprise her,” Aunt Grace said with a sigh.
My sister gently brushed my arm with her elbow. “She is going to be so surprised, you have no idea. Shall we go inside?”
The three of us entered the restaurant and I went about flipping on lights while Anna May and Aunt Grace talked about my sister’s law studies.
Don’t get me wrong, I really like my aunt Grace. She’s a great woman, but here’s the thing: she turns my mother into a nightmare. The two women are as different as night and day. My aunt is more carefree while my mother is reserved. Aunt Grace never settles too long in one area though she does have a stable residence she keeps in California. Meanwhile, my mother hasn’t left northeast Ohio since she came to this country.
