This Is a Bust (35 page)

“I'm glad you've got a decent job now, Paul. How come you
can't clean up the apartment floor this good?”

“I have to clea
n around you,” he said with a tight smile.

I turned back to the midget. “You know where Moy's moved
to?”

“Somewhere else.”

“OK, fi
ne. But I need to ask you about something else.”

I
looked at him square.

“Let's go have tea.” The midget flipped the store keys to Paul
and we went to a tea place on Mott. We sat down in the back against a wall of wood paneling.

“You know I've been beating everybody that filmmaker
can dig up for me to play,” the midget said. “He flew out American-chess players from San Francisco and Chinese-chess players from L.A.” There wasn't a trace of smugness in his voice. “He wants to film a final showdown in the store.”

“Anyone come close to you yet?” I asked. The dainty
teahouse table was low, but it was just a little too high for the midget.

“This one woman I played against, she had good instincts,
but poor execution. She could tell what was going to happen, but she couldn't come up with a good strategy.”

“She Chinese?”

“She is, but she doesn't speak.”

“That's too bad. She could have been the love of your life.”

“I found the love of my life years and years ago.”

The waitress brought over a pot of black tea and two heavy
ceramic cups. She was about 22 and wearing the restaurant uniform, a bright green tracksuit with a bastardization of the Adidas logo.

“Would you like some honey or sugar?” she asked.

“No,” I said.

“Um,
would you like a phone book for your chair?” she asked
the midget.

“Only if it has your number in it,” he said with a wink. She
frowned and skittered away.

“You never miss a chance to harass women,” I said.

“I never miss a chance to
harass stupid people, on or off the
game board. So what's going on?”

“Have you seen Yip around?”

“As a matter of fact, I saw him dragging two new suitcases
in the street the other day.”

My heart sank.

“Did he leave town?” I asked. “I stopped by his apartment,
but no one was there. All his stuff's gone.”

“He hasn't yet, but he will. Wouldn't you if you murdered
your wife?”

“How do you know Wah was murdered?”

“How could there be lead in a can of preserved bamboo
shoots? There isn't a factory in the world that still uses lead in their cans.”

“Maybe it fell in somewhere,” I said.

“The lead fell in that can, after it was opened,” said the
midget. “The British colonial government in Hong Kong would never allow lead to end up in a manufacturing plant. China, maybe, but not Hong Kong.”

“So
someone from the restaurant wanted Yip to kill his wife,
and he did — by grinding lead paint in a coffee grinder and sprinkling it into her food.”

“Not just someone from the restaurant — Lily, Wah's old
boss. Of course she wanted Wah dead. Getting a potential union organizer out of the way meant a big promotion for her back in Hong Kong, where the parent company is. It's owned by an old pro-communist general who was friends with Willie Gee's dad.”

“Isn
't it a little weird, that communists want to bust
unions?”

“The old men gave communism to the students and have
them preach it to the peasants. All those big company owners in Hong Kong, they live like royalty. They get the biggest houses with the best feng shui — on the top of a mountain by a river. Nice places. They could also probably get their friends very similar places. Even set up someone
like Yip in China — out of reach from American authorities.”

“Why would Yip want to go to China?”

The midget rolled his eyes. “Yeah, why would he want to
go back when he's got it so good here? Living in a beat-up apartment and sharing a common bathroom with all the other dying old men on his floor.” The midget took a sip of his tea. “You don't understand because you were born here, Robert. When men came over, they only intended to be here temporarily, even if it ended up being years or decades.”

“Wah was the one who became an American citizen, not
Yip,” I said.

“They used to argue because Yip wanted to go back and
Wah wanted to stay here. Lousy as it was, she loved living here in America.”

“Couldn't Yip have just left, without murdering his wife, if
he wanted to go back so badly?”

“Well, he could have. But he wanted to go back with a certain degree of comfort — a fat wallet to take up the slack in his pants.”

“Where is Yip now?”

The midget took a deep breath. He reached into his
waistband and pulled out a ball-point pen. He scrawled something on a napkin.

“This is the addre
ss of a vacant apartment. Nobody knows
who owns it. He's probably there.”

The midget whistled at the waitress and said, “Hey tall girl,
let's get the check here. We're in a rush.”

“I'm not that tall,” she said.

“Are you kidding?” said the midget. “You're a freak!”

—

I tested the front door and luckily the lock was broken. I

had pushed my way half in, but pressed the apartment buzzer anyway.

Static came over the speaker.

“Yip,” I said into the dented microphone, “it's me, the cop.”

He didn't buzz the door open, but it didn't matter.

When I got up the stairs, Yip was standing in the apartment
doorway wearing a thin t-shirt, shorts, socks, and slippers. He looked frail and old.

“Officer Chow, this is a surprise.”

“You seem a little nervous, Yip. What's going on?”

“It's just that I wasn't expecting you.” He managed to break
his face into a smile. “Hey, come in, sit down.”

“You've got a teapot boiling and some butter cookies on
your table. You were expecting someone.”

“I'm just having a snack.”

“Maybe I'll have one, too,” I said, strolling into the
apartment.

Yip leaned against the sink and
shifted uncomfortably.
The rickety kitchen table held a paper plate with assorted Danish butter cookies. A pack of playing cards lay next to the plate.

“What does she see in you?” I asked him.

“Who?”

“Lily,” I said, taking a cookie. He rubbed the back of his neck
and smiled.

“I d
on't understand what you're talking about,” he said,
hiding his hands in his armpits. He remained standing. I sat in a chair next to his two suitcases and knocked them over with my knee.

Yip cringed as the luggage tumbled.

“I'm so clumsy,” I said. I picked up the pack of cards. “How
about a game of blackjack, Yip?”

“I'm feeling a little tired, maybe we could play tomorrow.”

I glanced at the suitcases.

“I've got a funny feeling you ain't gonna be around
tomorrow.”

He came over and sat at the table. “Maybe one quick game,”
he said.

“I think we should play for a while,” I said. “I'm feeling real
lucky.” We played about a dozen hands. I was the dealer and busted on nearly every hand.

“Now it's your turn to deal,” I said.

“I'm an old man, you can't let me get too tired,” Yip said
weakly.

“Come on, I know how you like to gamble. Please don't be so
polite. You shouldn't feel bad about winning.”

He dealt me the ace of spades, but my second card was a
four. Two cards signifying death. There was a knock at the apartment door. Yip shuffled the cards and didn't move.

“Someone's here,” I said.

“Yes, but it must be the wrong apartment.”

“You shouldn't ignore it,” I said.

“I
shouldn't have answered the door all day,” he said, glaring
at me. I jumped up and pulled open the door.

“We've met,” I said. “Lily, right? Thought you were in China.”

Her face, already powdered to the hilt, went even paler.

“Why Officer Chow, I didn't know you'd be here. What 
a
surprise.”

“Come in, come in! What are you doing here, Lily?” I said.
She took tentative steps inside, as if she expected the floor to give way. Yip set the cards aside. He looked as if he had a mild fever.

“Wah had arthritis, didn't she Yip?”

“Yes, she did. You know that. Everybody knows that. It was a
struggle every day for her to work.”

“My grandmother had arthritis and it was always worst for
her when she woke up,” I said. “She couldn't do anything. I had to turn on the water, tie her shoes, open cans.”

Yip sat back and folded his arms. “What are you getting at?”
he asked.

“I know you ground up lead paint to spike that can of
bamboo shoots, but I still don't understand how you could do it. Kill a helpless old woman whose only mistake was loving you and living with you.”

Lily inched along the wall, looking for a crack to slip into.

“Why would I want to kill my wife
?” Yip cried out. I felt
anger rumble in the back of my head.

The lights went out. I lunged and had Lily by the throat. I
threw her on the floor. I snapped the lights back on.

“That was a childish thing to do!” I growled. Lily was on
the floor, choke-sobbing. “What did Jade Palace's owners promise you to get rid of Wah? How big a raise did you get from Willie Gee?”

“You're so stupid,” Lily mumbled to the floor.

“You're nothing but a lousy, drunk policeman!” sneered Yip.
He turned, bared his teeth at me, and sprayed saliva when he talked. “You only got your job to fill a racial quota. You're a no-good son of a no-good man who committed suicide in disgrace!”

I looked over at the table. I kicked it over and pulverized the
nearest cookie with my heel.

Then I calmly clicked my radio. It wasn't working. I looked
around the apartment. There was no phone.

“I'm going downstairs to call the precinct on a payphone,” I
said, handcuffing Yip's hands behind his back. “Don't even think you can go anywhere,” I warned Lily.

I left the apartment and found a phone next to a rusted
garbage can across the street. Before I got to it, I heard a scream and a crash back at Yip's building. I put my hands in my pockets and let out a whistle.

—

A few days later, I was sitting in the Brow's office.

“I am ordering you to stay away from Lily Leung, Mr. Chow,”
he said. “She's an upstanding member of the community and you're harassing her.”

“She's going to sneak off to China and never come back, sir.”

“I don't blame her. She saw her friend jump out a window.
I'd be traumatized, too.”

“Sir, do you know where those marks on her face came
from? She pushed him out and he tried to bite her.”

“He
pushed her back and jumped out. He was grieving for
his recently deceased wife.”

“With his bags packed, sir?”

“Son, why are you holding on to this?”

“Sir, Yip's wife, Wah, was trying to organize the workers. Lily
paid off Yip to kill her. Then she killed Yip to cover up her trail.” The Brow squinted at me and stomped his foot.

“That's absolutely brilliant, Mr. Chow! That's why you're our
most experienced detective!”

“Sir, maybe you're not treating these deaths as murders
because the
Times
and the
Daily News
ignored the story.”

“I call that exercising good news judgment.”

I sat back and crossed my arms.

“Don't be unhappy Mr. Chow, we're giving you an EPD for
keeping the peace during the chaos of the Chinese New Year parade.”

“Excellent Police Duty. That's great, sir,” I said. EPD was the
lowest citation you could get. Boy scouts could qualify for it.

“Also, it seems that the Chinese community got wind of
your citation. They're setting up a dinner in your honor, Mr. Chow. Think of all the times you've attended these events, and now you're the honoree! Look at the progress you've made.”

“Who's putting on this dinner, sir?”

“It's going to be at Jade Palace. Willie Gee is arranging
everything. You're going to make the front pages of the Chinese papers. Congratulations, Mr. Chow.”

He stood up and shook my hand, although I was too
shocked to get up.

“You realize, sir, that Willie Gee is Lily Leung's employer?”

“This dinner shows that there's no hard feelings! I think
you're reaching a moment of truth, Mr. Chow. Now you can see how highly you're regarded in the community.”

—

English was waiting for me in the hallway.