Outside Jade Palace, some stool-pigeon waiters were cleaning up scraps of paper and ripping up posters the protestors had left. Willie Gee was supervising the cleanup.
“I heard you settled with the fired waiters, Willie,” I said.
He turned and leered at me. “I gave them what they wanted, what this whole thing was about. Money.”
“You could have let the whole thing go to court.”
Willie dismissed the thought with his hand. “I was right, but it wouldn’t have been cost-effective to allow them to continue to tarnish Jade Palace with their lies. It’s always harder to be right than wrong.”
A waiter came out with a garden hose. Two others pushed brooms on the sidewalk where the water sprayed.
“Have to get all their germs away from my restaurant,” said Willie, smiling. “Officer Chow, are you coming to our benefit dinner?”
“Who are you benefiting?”
“The Asian-American Patrolmen’s Association. They’re a nationwide organization based in L.A.”
“They’re having their benefit here?”
Willie gave a smug smile.
“Our reputation precedes us, all the way to the other coast,” he said.
“I wish they knew what was going on in this restaurant, about its real standing in the community.”
“They know exactly where Jade Palace stands,” said Willie, chuckling to himself. “They know we offer the finest food at the best prices with the most attentive service. Also, I made a small donation to their organization.”
“What happens when the money runs out, Willie? What happens when you can’t pay out settlements or make donations to the right people anymore?”
“Money doesn’t run out for a good businessman,” said Willie, picking at his teeth. “Like my former guard down here. After he skipped town, I found out that he had been working for an old family rival in Hong Kong. He tried to play our competing interests against each other. He was nothing but a troublemaker.”
From several stories up, thousands of dim-sum plates were clinking in sinks. It sounded like an air-hockey tournament.
The midget came up to us from behind.
“Tough break, Willie,” he said.
“What makes you say that, little man? The labor settlement was in our favor,” said Willie with a smile that could hide fangs.
“Well, if I’m not mistaken, Officer Chow has given you a parking ticket.”
Willie swung his head around and looked at his Corvette halfway down the block. A folded ticket under the windshield wiper was clearly visible. The three eights in his license-plate number hadn’t worked.
“No standing, 11 to four, just like the sign says,” I said.
“You dirty, dirty bastard!” Willie seethed.
It couldn’t have been sweeter if it were the last parking ticket I ever wrote.
—
I walked down to the park with the midget. It was a big deal because it was the last day for him to play games in the park. His toy store, like most of Chinatown, was going to be open every single day of the year.
“No more vacations for you,” I said as we stepped into Columbus Park.
“I don’t need vacations,” said the midget. “Where would I go, anyway? I’m going to let the world come to me.”
As we made our way to the stone tables, I was pleasantly surprised by the number of men and boys who had showed up. Nearly everybody the midget had ever played a game against was there. It was the biggest collection of losers in Chinatown. Someone was filling balloons with a helium tank.
“What’s this?” asked the midget excitedly. I had never seen the midget surprised by anything before.
Two children hoisted up a large banner that read, “THANKS FOR PLAYING! BEST OF LUCK WITH THE STORE!”
“It’s a celebration,” I said.
Wang came up and pressed a coconut soymilk bottle into the midget’s hands.
“Policeman Chow and Vandyne paid for everything,” said Wang.
Men of all shapes and ages came up and shook hands
with the midget and clapped his back. A sponge cake filled with cream and fruit with a Chinese chessboard design was ready to be cut by the guest of honor. I was glad I had ordered the largest size possible.
“How does it feel to be so loved by so many people?” I asked the midget.
He shrugged. “I’ve never known anything different.” He poked a straw into the coconut soymilk and took a few sips.
“Are you sure you’re not going to play in the park anymore?” I asked.
“I’m going to play in the store. I’m going to set up game boards so other people can play, too, like the American chess stores in Greenwich Village. I want there to be a place to go for games in the winter or when it rains.”
“I’m going to miss seeing you out here.”
“It’s more important for me to be at my cash register! You think we came to America to loiter in the park or something?”
Two little boys pushed their way in and begged the midget for his autograph. He politely refused. “I’m not retiring!” he said. “Come into my store. Everyone’s welcome to play against me or against someone else. I’ll give you lessons, too. It’s better than pinball!”
I saw Paul handing out flyers for the opening of the midget’s toy and game store. He was employee #1.
“I hope you work hard,” I said. “The midget’s not going to take it easy on you.”
“Do you see me goofing off? Look how many of these I’ve already given away,” said Paul, pointing at a nearby garbage can that held a dozen crumpled flyers. I took one from him.
“Ten percent off all items, huh?” I said.
“It’s a great deal.”
“Paul, you know, you’re not allowed to distribute these in public parks.”
“Would you arrest your own roommate?”
“No, I’m off-duty right now.” I read the piece of paper again. The Chinese name of the store was “Thirty-Six Strategies.” The English name was “Dragon Fantasy.” “Who came up with the American name?” I asked Paul.
“I did. Pretty good, huh? We’re going to sell this new American game, Dungeons and Dragons. It could be humongous.”
“I believe you,” I said.
I walked up behind Vandyne, who was caught up in a game against a teenager.
“Vandyne, the midget’s here,” I said.
“Yeah, be right there,” he said vacantly, his hand bracing his chin.
“Not doing too bad here.”
“Not bad at all. I took a page from the midget’s playbook on this one. Say, Chow, who’s the guy with the camera?”
“He’s making a movie about the midget.”
“He’s not just a tourist, then.”
“He’s still a tourist,” I said. “He ain’t native like you and me.” Then I whispered, “Look out on the left.”
Vandyne flashed me an “OK” from under the table. His opponent glared at me and I went over to the filmmaker.
“I want to ask you something,” he said. “How come only men are coming up to the midget? Why are all the women sitting at the sidelines? Is it some kind of unspoken sexist Chinese theme that women shouldn’t interfere with men’s affairs?”
“Naw,” I said, watching men clumsily smear cake on their shirts. “Women just have more sense then men.”
“I think that girl over there is staring at us.”
“She’s looking at me.”
“You know her?”
“Yeah, her name’s Lonnie.”
“Wow, she’s like Miss Chinatown.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe I should get a shot of her kissing the midget.”
I felt a twinge of jealousy jerk through my left arm. “Aw, just leave her alone,” I said. “Here, read this flyer.”
“’Dragon Fantasy’? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
I went over to Lonnie. She was wearing a long-sleeved translucent shirt that showed a solid white blouse under it.
“Robert, it’s so sad, isn’t it?” she asked.
“It’s not sad. It’s a celebration of all the midget has done
for Columbus Park. Now he’s opening a store. It’s like he’s gone legit.”
“He’s been playing here for as long as I can remember.”
“Before I knew him, he would play pranks on me. He’d throw peanuts at the back of my head.”
“How did you get to be friends with him?”
“He helped solve a crime a long time ago.”
“What was it?”
“It was this drug-smuggling thing,” I said. “So, aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
Lonnie beamed. “Not now, but I’m working a double shift tomorrow. You know, Dori is leaving to work in one of the Martha’s in Queens? I have to train a new girl to take her place. She’s so much nicer. Everything’s going to be better.”
“I’m glad Dori’s gone. Now you won’t have to bring your whip to work anymore.”
Lonnie laughed and her neck and upper chest grew red.
“That’s a nice outfit you got there. It’s, ah, very sexy.”
“Thank you, Robert. I’ve never heard you say anything like that before.” Just then I saw Paul giving me a sour look from his post at the park entrance.
“Are you warm enough in that thing?” I asked Lonnie.
“It’s very warm,” she said. The redness was spreading to her face. Something made me turn and look over my shoulder. I saw the filmmaker pointing his camera at Lonnie and me. I could see him smiling.
“Who’s that?” asked Lonnie.
“He’s making a film about the midget,” I said. “Lonnie, let’s go get some cake.” I did some breaststrokes through the crowd and put people between us and the camera.
—
When the party was over, the midget, Lonnie, and Paul went over to help set up the toy shop. I decided to take advantage of a few hours of privacy while Paul was tied up.
I went looking for some fruit juice at the Hong Kong supermarket but I didn’t want to walk by the beer section. I had to keep fluids moving through my body, the midget said. I cut across the back where they kept the incense and packs of Hell Bank Notes.
People would burn these notes in metal buckets at gravesites to give their loved ones money in the afterlife. Everyone goes to “hell” when they die, but it isn’t bad if you have enough money to throw around. Burning Hell Bank Notes was a ritual that had lost all religious significance over the centuries, but it remained as culturally Chinese as pouring everyone else’s tea before your own. Even Chinese Christians burn Hell Bank Notes.
A bundle of notes stuck out of an opened package and some bills were strewn around the floor. The smallest denomination was $1,000. The plastic had been torn away in small rips as if some rat had chewed it open. I looked around and saw a little girl grinning at me mischievously from the next aisle.
“Did you do this?” I asked her.
She smiled wider and shook her head. Her two front teeth were gone. I bent over and put my hands on my knees.
“You’re a bad girl,” I said.
The little girl scampered over and tried to free some more notes. I put down my basket and watched her. She pulled out a bundle of notes and waved them over her head. A minute later, her grandmother came around the corner.
“You stupid little girl! Don’t touch those! You want to give yourself bad luck! They’re for dead people! Now you’re going to die, too!”
The little girl started to cry as her grandmother lifted her up roughly by the elbows. All over Chinatown, other kids were in various stages of having the culture scared and beaten into them. I thought about the belt-whip marks on Paul’s back, and how I would never let that happen to him again. I felt a little good about myself. It wasn’t a feeling I was used to.
I picked up a newspaper aligned with Hong Kong, along with a carton of orange juice and some cans of lychee juice.
At home, I flipped through the paper. Vietnam was going to hold elections for a newly unified government. Protests were being held in Beijing to oppose the demotion of Deng Xiao Ping, a protégé of Chou En Lai. The prince of Cambodia had resigned. Big changes were coming to Asia in the first week of April.
A tiny item near the back mentioned that a Chinese man with a large frame had been found murdered in a hotel room in Vancouver’s Chinatown. Shot twice in the back of the head. He had come in from New York. It was the kind of thing that didn’t make it into the American newspapers.
—
I was nearing the end of my first dry week since early Nam. I told Paul not to do anything for me. I was cooking, cleaning, and eating fruit. It felt good in a painful kind of way, and I noticed that I could smell and taste things better.
I had gone to a Chinatown Democrats fundraising event. I was in the pictures, but I didn’t stay for dinner. When I saw the wine glasses they were putting out, I’d given the ridiculous excuse that I had to do laundry. After I’d gotten home, it actually made sense to bring a couple of loads of dirty clothes down to the basement machines.
I sat in a brittle plastic chair by the dryers and ate two bruised pears.
I picked up a pair of slacks that had come out of the dryer and turned the pockets inside out. The remains of some Tic Tac mints were stuck to the pocket lining. I had to scrape them off with the flip-out emery board of a nail clipper.
In my palm, they looked like little eggshell chips.
Or paint.
Those weren’t eggshells in Yip’s coffee-bean grinder. They were paint chips. Lead paint.
—
The midget was behind the counter of the toy shop. Paul was sweeping the floor. It had been completely redesigned and looked like a brand new store.
“You’re out a little late!” said the midget, following my gaze around the store. “See anything you like?”
“Look what you did to the store! You move pretty quick,”
I told him.
“I move smart,” he said. “That means you have to move quick sometimes and hire the right people.”
“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 clean around you,” he said with a tight smile.
I turned back to the midget. “You know where Moy’s moved to?”
“Somewhere else.”
“OK, fine. 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 address 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 don’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.
“So you’re getting a dinner thrown for you, Chow. Momma must be real proud of her boy.”
“Don’t call me ‘boy.’”
“You’re a really funny guy, Chow. You know, I didn’t understand your sense of humor before, but now I think I get it. Anyway here’s a little something I got you. Welcome aboard. I’m giving you an investigative assignment.” He pressed something smooth and plastic into my hands.
“You’re giving me a Polaroid camera?”
“You know the drill. You’re not that dumb. When you’re making your rounds, take pictures of any suspicious youth you see. Let’s see how you do with that.”
“How do you define suspicious?”
“Anyone who looks smarter than you.”
—
I walked down to the street and stretched my arms. The sun felt warm.
There were about a dozen people in the toy store. The midget was behind the counter, playing a game of Chinese chess with Vandyne. Paul was restocking the shelves with little bottles of enamel paint.
I held up my camera. “Got you something, Paul,” I said.
“What am I going to do with this?” he asked.
“Take pictures of cops,” I said. I turned to Vandyne and the midget. “They’re throwing a dinner to honor me. I’m getting an award for stopping the parade disturbance.”
Vandyne put one hand on my shoulder. “All right,” he said.
“That filmmaker’s coming by here soon,” said Paul. “He wants this to be the finale to his movie. A guy goes from playing games in a park to buying a toy store. He wants all the midget’s friends in it, too.”
“Well, I better get my hair cut,” I said. I left for the barber’s on Doyers.
“Hey!” yelled Law the barber when I came in the door.
“Law, I’m going to give you a break and let you take your time on this one. I’m going to be in a movie. I want a haircut, shampoo, and a shave,” I said.
“I’m going to make you look like a star,” Law said, laughing. “I’m going to put your picture on my wall.”
I had time to read some of the Taiwan-biased paper before he could get to me.
The Wells Fargo armored car robbery in New York was possibly an inside job; a couple of gunmen had gotten away with $851,000. Jimmy Carter had won the Wisconsin Democratic primary for the presidency. The KMT Chinese were worried about him because it was rumored that if he were elected, he’d establish ties with the People’s Republic and cut off Taiwan. He’d been a farmer, and was therefore a communist sympathizer.
“Hey you, right now,” Law said to me, patting an empty chair.
He delicately pulled a sheet around my neck and placed a steaming cloth over my face. It was like being wrapped in
a womb. Then Law sprayed my hair with water and snipped around for a while. I felt wet hair clips brush by my ears.
The bell on the door suddenly went off and someone ran in.
“Robert!” yelled Paul.
“What?” I said, yanking the towel off my face.
“The filmmaker’s at the toy store now and he brought in this guy from Japan. The midget’s losing! Everyone’s there!” He was out of breath.
I jumped up and pulled the sheet off. Law scowled, jerked his drawer open, and chucked his scissors into it.
“I’ll be back, Law. I’m sorry about this. I’m so sorry,” I said on my way out.
We pushed our way into the store. People were crowding the sidewalk, trying to see inside. With a stage light set up in the store, it was brighter than the first day of summer vacation. The filmmaker had shoved his fist into his mouth.
The Japanese player folded his hands in front of him as he stared at the board placidly. It was looking bad for the midget, who had a far-off look of wonderment in his eyes.
We got there just in time. The game was over in only a few more moves.
The midget won, of course. It had only looked like he was losing.
—
Willie Gee must have had some really good info on me, because seated with me at the first dining table in Jade Palace’s banquet hall were the midget, Lonnie, Vandyne, Rose, Wang, and coach Teeter. And my mother. Paul had to watch the toy store. I’d see him at home later. Another entire table was taken up by community-relations officers that you never actually saw in the neighborhood and their wives. They all needed forks.
It was a nice dinner, one of the fancy Chinese ones where every dish is a kind of meat, and no rice or vegetables are served. A long stretch of seafood and meats slipped in and spun on the large lazy Susan in the middle of the table. Sliced jellyfish, cuttlefish, stewed snakehead fish, steamed flounder, Peking duck, sliced dried beef, sliced dried pork, lobster, and shrimp were all reduced to bones, shells, and colorful smears.
For the presentation portion of the evening, I was seated on a platform between the chairman of the Pearl River Businessmen’s Association and the head of the Kwangtung Province Business Alliance. A dozen other businessmen were up there with me. I had on my uniform – for the last time, I told myself.
A banner hung over our heads. In English it said, “Chinatown Supports Police Department.” In Chinese it said, “Congratulations, Happiness, and Longevity.” Photographers from three Chinese-language newspapers snapped pictures. One was supported by the KMT. One was working for a Hong Kong conglomerate. The third was backed by money from the communists.
Businessmen gave speeches in Chinese at the fixed microphone stand at the center of the stage. The Chinese people were surely making progress in America, they said, and Policeman Chow was such a hard worker that the foreigners couldn’t help but promote him. It wasn’t really a promotion, but I knew better than to interrupt an elder.
One guy from the Hong Kong business alliance gave a speech encouraging the Chinese people to continue to fight the communists. He ended by giving a dirty look to the communist photographer.
Right before he went up, Vandyne came up to me at the table and said, “I’m only doing this because my nephew loves that stamp book you got him.”
“I figured he’d like it more than me,” I said. Vandyne toyed with the tuning pegs on his guitar. He stooped slightly at the mike.
“Hello,” he said awkwardly. He put his hands together and nodded his head. Then he played and sang “I’m Walking” by Fats Domino. The singing was a little off, but the playing was spot on. He gave off a good vibe and even got the Chinese people to clap in time.
He came off and I gave him a hug. Then I went up to the mike. I had a three-paragraph speech ready about how my dad was a waiter and how he’d suffered at the hands of a place like Jade Palace. I was also going to talk about how more Chinese had to come forward to report crimes in the community. Paul had helped me with the prepositions.
But the microphone was turned off. I tapped it a few times, but nothing came out of the speakers. The dinner was winding down and people had already broken away from their assigned places to talk at other tables. I was worried I wouldn’t have a chance to have my say.
I stood at the podium and leaned on my elbows. For the most part, the Chinese people were talking amongst themselves and the cops were doing the same. It brought home how I was just an instrument. I was the dummy who made both sides look good. It didn’t matter what I thought or said for myself. In fact, nobody even cared to listen to me.
“Willie!” I yelled when I saw him passing by. “Tell them to turn on the microphone.”
Willie Gee was dressed in a red suit with gaudy lace trim on its oversized lapels. He smiled and said, “One second!” He ducked into a bar at the side and came back with a bottle of Heineken and a glass. “You wanted a beer, right?” he said as he popped the cap off and poured it.
The smell of alcohol made my eyes water. I felt like I was drinking it already. I could have just one beer, couldn’t I? Willie put it on the stand and pushed it closer to me.
“It’s cold,” he said, smiling.
Lonnie’s hand came crashing in and swept the bottle and glass into Willie’s chest.
“I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy!” she said.
“Stupid girl!” growled Willie Gee. He slipped off to the kitchen, but not before snapping his fingers at one of the older waiters and pointing at the broken glass on the floor.
“This dinner isn’t really your style, is it?” Lonnie asked me. She had on a red chiffon dress that made her look like she was stepping out of a rose.
“No, not at all.” I came out from around the microphone stand and stepped down from the platform. I put my
hands around her shoulders while keeping some distance between our bodies. People were slipping on their coats
and leaving.
“Are you going home now?” she asked.
“I’m pretty much done here,” I said. I asked the newspaper reporters if they wanted to talk to me, but they all declined. They already had the story written, they said. They only came to take pictures.
“You’re going to do just fine,” said Vandyne, clapping my back.
“You look so handsome tonight, Robert,” said Rose.
“Chow,” said Vandyne as he came in closer. “I want you
to know that we still need to brainstorm business ideas
together. This guitar playing isn’t going to support the
both of us.”
“You still got 16-odd years, right? Twenty and out?”
“I got a lot of odd years left,” Vandyne said.
Teeter came in. “They didn’t even let you talk, huh?”
“No, but I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t exactly a crowd-pleasing speech I had planned.”
“So congratulations on getting some investigative assignments.”
“Teeter, how in the world did you know?”
“I know this guy high up in the department. He was pretty impressed after watching you in the hockey game.”
“Is he high enough to get me out of doing stupid public-
relations assignments?”
Teeter smiled. “As a matter of fact, it’s over for you.”
“Over?”
“This is the last one. He’s ordering you to be removed from the public eye. It doesn’t behoove a future detective to have his face all over the place.”
“Who is this guy, Teeter?”
“You’ll know later on. He’s a really good guy who keeps a low profile, but he’s a powerful name.”
My mother and the midget came up to me at the same time. She looked him over.
“Hey, you must be the poor little man who plays games in the park,” my mother said. Her voice sounded like she didn’t think the midget could count to five.
“I’m not poor,” said the midget.
“I told Robert that I couldn’t believe that a grown man would waste so much time just playing games.”
“Mom, the midget is going to be the star of a movie.”
“Is it a children’s movie?” she asked.
The midget cleared his throat. “I’m going out for a smoke,” he said. Wang left with him.
“That’s a rather rude exit,” said my mother.
I was about to say something mean when Lonnie cut in.
“You’re Robert’s mother?” she asked.
“You Robert’s girlfriend?” asked my mother, pointing her right elbow at Lonnie.
“Yes, I am,” said Lonnie, taking her hand.
“When are you two getting married?”
Lonnie laughed like Chinese people do when they’re ready to move onto the next topic or leave. We left.
—
At the bottom of the escalator, Wang and the midget were sitting on a stone bench. The midget had taken his name tag off and was folding it over and over.
“You have a minute, Officer Chow?” asked the midget.
“Sure.”
“I wanted to talk to you in private,” he said.
“Wang, can you escort Lonnie home?”
“Sure. It would be a pleasure.”
“Oh,” said Lonnie. “Robert, I’ll see you later, then.” I gave her a tight hug. Then I sat down with the midget and watched them swing out through the glass front doors.
“Officer Chow, I want to offer you my heartiest congratulations. Even though this award’s bullshit.”
“Thank you, and let me apologize for my mother. I’m sorry for the way she treated you.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” he said. “I’ve got more than everything I’ve ever wanted. But what about you? It looks like the police are changing your duties.”
“You know what they want me to do now? Go around and take pictures of Paul and his friends because they can’t even tell the good ones from the bad ones.”
The midget smiled and cracked his neck.
“Speaking of bad ones, how about that Yip?” he said.
“Yeah, he tried to get close to me just to find my blind spot.”
“I think he genuinely liked you.”
“I don’t know how to take that.”
We stood there a little while, listening to the slurping sound coming from the rubber handrails on the escalators.
“I was thinking,” the midget said, “that I still need one more person in the store. I know it’s far beneath you, but even just a few hours a week would be really helpful to me and Paul. I’ll give you partial ownership.”
I looked at the midget.
“You’re just trying to keep tabs on me,” I said.
“Well, that’s not the only thing. Consider it a standing offer.” The midget slid off the bench. I went over to the glass doors.
“Don’t hold the door for me,” the midget said. “You’re the one who just got feasted.” He leapt ahead and got the door for me.