Chapter Twelve: Lan Su Chinese Garden
“Look at the Camellias!” Ellen said as soon as she entered the small courtyard that served as an entrance to the larger grounds. “I just love Camellias, and we can’t grow them in San Antonio, because our soil is too alkaline.”
Brian smiled at her and shook his head.
“What?” Ellen asked him.
“Nothing,” he said.
“Look over there!” Tanya crossed the courtyard to a set of wooden doors. “Aren’t those Azaleas gorgeous!”
“Yes!” Ellen said, following Tanya. “Another thing we can’t grow in San Antonio.”
“These flowers are beautiful,” Sue said from behind. “But I don’t see a restaurant.”
“This way,” Brian said. “It’s a traditional Chinese tea house, and they serve the best dumplings you’ve ever tasted.”
Brian led them through the set of wooden doors into a rectangular room with many windows looking in all directions out onto the garden. At the center of the grounds was a large pond reflecting the beautiful colors of the surrounding shrubs and trees and clear blue sky. A bridge ran across with a small pavilion in the middle of it. The bridge was parallel to the room they were standing in, so they’d have to go around the outskirts of the pond to get to it.
They left the rectangular room for a concrete deck, from which the pond’s gorgeous reflections were even more spectacular. Ellen took a deep breath, and when she released it, she felt the tension from the nightmare in the tunnels leave her body.
“This place is gorgeous,” Tanya said. “I wish I had these views from my windows.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Brian said. “The tea room is this way.”
He led them across a narrow path on the edge of the pond. They took stepping stones over a stream and passed through smaller courtyards, where more flowers bloomed. At the center of one of them stood a breathtaking Japanese Maple. They walked by rooms with open doors and windows that revealed art on the walls and pots of flowering plants inside. Then they walked across the bridge, through the small pavilion, and around the other edge of the pond to the tea house.
Inside, a Chinese woman bent over a long stringed instrument, plucking a beautiful melody. A younger woman with pink hair and a nose ring led them to the middle of the room to a wooden table with views of the pond and garden. She gave them menus and asked if they already knew what tea they wanted.
“We’ll need a minute,” Sue said.
The young woman left them to peruse the menu and enjoy the music.
“Do you have a favorite tea?” Ellen asked Brian, finding it hard to decide among the many flavors.
“I like to sample something new each time I come,” he said. “So far, my favorites have been the Golden Monkey and the Strong Fire.”
“Oh, the Strong Fire sounds good to me, too,” Sue said.
“What about Eight Treasures?” Tanya asked him. “That sounds good to me.”
“I don’t believe I’ve had that one yet.”
When the young woman with the pink hair returned, Ellen decided to try the Eight Treasures with Tanya. Then they were asked for their food orders. There were fewer selections of food than tea, so it took less time to decide.
When the waitress left the table, Sue said, “So tell us your idea, Ellen. I’m dying to know.”
“It’s nothing too exciting,” Ellen said. “I think we should visit the library and look for a map of the underground. If we can find one, it’ll make searching them easier.”
“The police are already investigating them, thanks to you,” Brian said.
“That doesn’t mean our work is done,” Ellen said. “What if there are tunnels leading from the Ladd Carriage House? What if that’s how your brother was taken?”
The waitress returned with their tea. Each of them was served a beautiful pot full of flower petals and leaves in steaming hot water. They were also given pretty tea cups on matching saucers. As the young woman with the pink hair left, Ellen poured her tea from the pot, which had a built-in strainer to prevent the petals from entering her cup.
“What’s the point of searching for more tunnels?” Brian asked. “Do you really think Mike would still be there? Wouldn’t the crimps have shipped him off to wherever they send their victims? The police need to find out where that is.”
“We can’t rule out the possibility that he isn’t still being detained in a tunnel,” Ellen pointed out before taking a sip of the hot tea. She paused from talking to enjoy the flavor. “Mmm.” Then she said, “And, even if your brother has been taken to another location, he may have left behind some clues.”
“And don’t forget the ghosts,” Sue pointed out. “We may find one or two who know something.”
Brian sighed. “Okay, then. I’ll help you search for a map. But what if one doesn’t exist?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Sue said. “By the way, good call on the Strong Fire.”
“Glad you like it,” Brian said before taking a sip of his.
“Ours is good, too,” Tanya said. “Do you like it, Ellen?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she said after sipping some. “Besides, Denny Moyer said to check the tunnels, so I think we should check them all.”
“Maybe we can ask Harry Moyer if he knows anything,” Sue suggested. “Maybe Denny knew about the tunnels while he was alive. If so, his father may, too.”
“Another good idea, Sue,” Ellen said.
Sue smiled. “Well, I try my best not to disappoint. It’s hard living up to my own precedent.”
Brian laughed. “I hope you won’t mind a private tour of these gardens before visiting the nursing home.”
Ellen lifted her brows. “You won’t hear a complaint from me.”
“I’d love a tour,” Tanya agreed.
The girl with the pink hair returned with their meals. Tanya had ordered the Chinese Daikon Salad, which didn’t look like much—just a few leaves on a plate. Sue had ordered the Taoist Delight Noodles. While her plate had more on it than Tanya’s, it still didn’t look like enough to fill a person up. The Chinese Vegetable Dumplings that Ellen and Brian had ordered look slightly more substantial.
As if he had read their minds—or more likely, their faces—Brian said, “This is just the first course. We’ll have a bowl of soup next, and dessert after.”
“Thank goodness,” Sue said, digging in. “Mmm. Tasty.”
Ellen tasted her dumpling. “Mine is, too. How’s your salad, Tanya?”
“It doesn’t look like much,” Sue said.
“It’s actually pretty good,” Tanya said.
As they ate, they listened to the concert and gazed out the window. It was nice to rest and enjoy their surroundings, which appealed to every one of their senses—the sweet smell of the tea, the savory taste of the food, the beautiful colors of the flowers and foliage in the garden, and the range of chords played by the musician. Even the texture of the cloth napkins and porcelain tea cups were satisfying to Ellen.
Ellen had to admit that more than the tea and the food, or the flowers and the music, Brian’s bright gray eyes smoldering beneath his dark brows distracted her senses more than anything else. She couldn’t stop thinking of the kiss she’d given him last night and how crazy she had been to do it.
Before they had finished their meal, the musician began packing up her instrument.
“I wonder what that’s called,” Ellen said, watching.
“A guzheng,” Brian said. “It’s an ancient Chinese instrument—like a cross between a harp and a guitar.”
Ellen was impressed that he knew that and couldn’t resist comparing him to Paul, who had cared very little about anything cultural unless a golf course was involved. Then she sighed. It really wasn’t fair of her to keep making comparisons.
Their bowls of soup arrived. The earthy, smoky flavor was soothing, and it made her feel surprisingly full. It still hadn’t seemed like a lot of food. Maybe that’s why the Chinese tended to be slender people.
When the young woman with the pink hair brought out trays of mooncakes, cookies, and tarts, Sue’s face beamed.
“They almost look too pretty to eat,” Tanya said.
“Almost,” Sue said, reaching for a cookie.
Once they had all eaten as much as they could, Brian led them back to the first courtyard, where their guide was waiting. The guide, a tall Caucasian man with a name tag that read, “Mr. Parker,” but who insisted that they call him Glenn, had white hair and a white beard and was older than they, probably in his late sixties. He took them back through the paths they had already taken, telling them the story of the collaboration between the cities of Portland and of Suzhou, a place in China’s Jiangsu province famous for its Ming Dynasty gardens. He pointed down to the unique stonework and named the different patterns, the apple blossom being his personal favorite. And he pointed across the pond at some of the rarer specimens in their collection.
“Every specimen you see here originally came from Suzhou,” he said. “In fact, Lan Su is a combination of Portland and Suzhou.”
“I’ve not heard of Suzhou,” Ellen said. “Is it near Hong Kong?”
“It’s about a two-and-a-half-hour flight northeast of Hong Kong,” Glenn said. “On the coast of the East China Sea. Beautiful place to go if you want to escape the winter for a tropical paradise.”
“Do you continue to receive shipments from there?” Ellen asked. “Or do you just propagate what you already have?”
“Excellent question,” Glenn said. “We do both. In fact, do you see that flowering tree just over there?”
He pointed across the courtyard to a gorgeous white flowering tree standing about six feet high.
“That’s the Malus hupehensis, or tea crabapple tree,” Glenn continued, “a recent shipment we received last month.”
“I noticed that as soon as we arrived,” Tanya said. “I’d love to get a picture in front of it.”
“Let’s do!” Sue said. “All of us. You, too, Glenn. It’ll make my husband jealous, so he’ll pay better attention to me.”
Everyone laughed.
Sue turned to a young woman behind them and asked if she’d snap the photo. When the woman agreed, Sue handed over her phone, and then the group crowded together in front of the tree and smiled for the shot. Sue thanked the woman as she retrieved her phone.
“To think that tree was in another part of the world not that long ago,” Ellen said, admiring its blooms.
“How is it shipped over?” Sue asked Glenn. “I don’t think you ordered that from Amazon.”
The guide laughed. “No. Not Amazon. That one was brought over by a ship that sailed across the ocean to Astoria. The tree was then put on a cargo barge and brought up the Willamette to our receiving dock.”
“You have a receiving dock?” Ellen asked.
“Yes. Well, we share it with other businesses,” Glenn replied. “You see, there are underground tunnels that lead from the receiving dock directly to our basement, so we can keep the most delicate plants from being adversely affected by the climate and pollution on the streets.”
“Underground tunnels?” the four of them said at once.
“Yes,” the guide said with a chuckle. “I see you’ve heard of the Shanghai tunnels. Did you have a tour recently?”
Ignoring his question, Ellen asked, “Do you personally transport the shipment through the tunnels?”
“Me and a few others. And I’ve never seen any funny business in the eighteen years I’ve worked here.”
“Never?” Sue asked.
“Never,” he said.
“Eighteen years?” Brian asked. “I didn’t realize the garden had been around that long.”
“Yes, sir. I helped build it,” Glenn said. “After working for a construction company since the age of sixteen, I was finally able to turn my dream into a reality.”
“It’s a beautiful place,” Tanya said. “You have a lot to be proud of.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Hmm,” Ellen was still thinking about the underground. “Is there any chance you could take us through the tunnels to your receiving dock?”
“I’m afraid that’s not part of the tour,” Glenn said.
Brian pulled his wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket. “How much do you need to make it happen?”
The guide lifted his white brows and watched Brian pull out three one-hundred-dollar bills. “Make it an even five, and you’ve got yourself a tour.”
Brian handed over the cash.
“Follow me,” Glenn said.
He took them through the rectangular room of windows, across the deck, around the edge of the pond, and over the stream to a second courtyard. From there they entered a set of wooden doors where beautiful art and pots of flowers were displayed. At the back of the room, doors led into a storage room.
“Right this way,” he said. “Pardon our mess.”
He led them to another door that opened onto a concrete ramp. He pulled an overhead string to illuminate the ramp to the basement. Stacks of large planters lined one wall, and a wheelbarrow and flat-bed cart, along with bags of soil and fertilizer, lined the other. They followed him past these items and through a brick arch.
“Watch your head,” he said as he ducked beneath the arch. “You might want to use your phone light, because it gets dark up there where we turn to the left.”
“It’s hard to breathe down here,” Tanya muttered.
“You okay?” Ellen asked her.
“I’m fine. I just miss the fresh air in the garden.” Tanya followed Ellen beneath the arch.
Glenn had been right about the darkness. It was impossible to see beyond their circles of light.
“Maybe I should wait for y’all back at the tea house,” Sue said.
“Are you sure?” Tanya asked. “I’d hate for you to miss out.”
“How far is it?” Sue asked Glenn.
“It’s about a five-minute walk,” Glenn replied.
“Oh, I can handle that.”
“If you get tired,” Brian said. “Speak up. I don’t mind waiting.”
“If you’re hoping for another opportunity to make out with me in the dark, you’re out of luck,” Sue teased.
“Oh, darn,” Brian said with a laugh.
“Don’t sound so broken-hearted.” Sue sounded slightly annoyed.
Their banter was interrupted by Glenn, who had been too far ahead to overhear it. From up front, he said, “We’re right beneath Second Avenue. He shined his light ahead of them. “And that up there is where the tunnels converge from the other businesses.”
“Is that beneath a particular intersection?” Brian asked.
“Almost,” Glenn said. “It’s just short of Glisan Street.”
Ellen dodged an empty cardboard box lying against one side of the tunnel and was startled when her light fell on a pile of wood. She wished she could see more than two feet in front of her.
“Glisan Street?” Tanya repeated from the back beside Sue. “Near the Blanchet House?”
“Oh, I’d say about a block away from there,” Glenn said. “The tunnels meet beneath the Transportation Department and cut up to the waterfront from there.”
“Do you know of any other tunnels in downtown Portland?” Sue asked. “Like maybe over by the Ladd Carriage House?”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” the guide replied. “Maybe your Shanghai tour guide can answer that one.”
Unfortunately, Michael P. Jones hadn’t known of any either.
A clinking sound behind her made Ellen turn. “What was that?”
“Me,” Tanya said. “Sorry. I think I kicked a can.”
“I almost twisted my ankle on something back there,” Sue said. “You would think the businesses using this tunnel would keep it clean, if only for risk management purposes.”
“I guess we’re used to it,” Glenn said.
Ellen followed Glenn as quickly as she could while dodging the clutter on the ground. She could sense Brian behind her. Occasionally he brushed up against her, and she couldn’t tell if it was accidental or intentional.
As Glenn reached the point where three tunnels merged into one, he pointed his light to their left. “Back that way leads to Blanchet and the Falcon Building. Sometimes I see the art teachers getting supplies, or the boxing company carting their big punching bags down to the docks.”
“Why would they cart them to the docks?” Brian asked.
“Just the ones they retire,” Glenn explained. “Apparently, they donate them to an impoverished area in China. Isn’t that nice? I like it when people reuse instead of dispose, don’t you? It’s better for everybody.”
Ellen glanced back at Tanya and Sue, wondering if the same idea had occurred to them: What if the PBC hid their shanghaied victims in empty punching bags?
Brian met her eyes and whispered, “I can tell you’re thinking really hard. What is it?”
“I’ll tell you later.” She turned and followed Glenn to the right, into an area that felt much cooler than the tunnel they were leaving.
“You feel that?” Glenn said, glancing back at her. “That’s cool air from the river. Makes this last leg the best part of the trip.”
“That does feel nice,” Tanya said, before she took in a deep breath.
Ellen’s EMF detector started buzzing from inside her purse. Taking it out, she noticed the needle fluctuated between 5 and 6 mG’s.
She showed it to Sue and Tanya. “I don’t think the chill is just from the river.”
Brian cocked his head to the side. “Are you saying this part of the tunnel is haunted?”
“I can feel it,” Sue whispered.
This part of the tunnel was also wider and cleaner. Ellen didn’t see empty card board boxes, pieces of wood, or trash littering the area, making it easier for her to read her instruments and walk at the same time.
Soon they came upon another concrete ramp.
Glenn stopped. “There we are. That ramp leads up to the receiving dock, which is next to Steel Bridge, where the cruise ships board passengers.”
“Can we see the dock?” Sue asked.
Glenn frowned. “I didn’t bring my key. We keep it locked.”
“That’s okay,” Ellen said. “Thanks for showing this to us.”
“Yeah, man,” Brian said. “I didn’t know these tunnels really existed.”
“To tell you the truth,” Glenn said, as he headed back in the direction they’d come, “I think the city prefers it that way.”
“Why would you say that?” Ellen asked, following.
“Well, think about it. The fewer people that know, the safer these tunnels are. There’s nobody patrolling them, see? It wouldn’t be hard to use them for less noble purposes.”
“Like human trafficking?” Sue asked.
Glenn shrugged. “I don’t see why not. I was thinking drugs. Let’s hope to God the cartels never learn about them. That’s the last thing Portland needs is a bigger drug problem.”
“I wish we had the Ouija Board, so we could question the spirits,” Sue said. “They could be helpful, if we could talk to them. I don’t sense evil or negativity. Do either of you?”
“I don’t sense anything,” Tanya said.
Ellen hadn’t picked up on anything, either, but the readings made her suspicious. “I have a pendulum with me. Let’s use it to try to make contact.”
“What the what?” Glenn asked. “Are you seriously going to try to talk to ghosts?”
“That’s what they do,” Brian explained. “Can you give us a minute?”
“I suppose, for five hundred dollars, I can wait a few,” Glenn said. “And, anyhow, things just got a little more interesting.”
Ellen handed the EMF detector to Tanya and held the pendulum by the end of its string. To Brian, she asked, “Do you still have that lighter?”
“Yeah. You need it?”
“Just hold a flame, if you would,” Sue said. “It will help the spirits find us.”
“My phone just died,” Tanya said.
“That’s a good sign,” Sue said.
Ellen took charge, since she had brought the pendulum. “Spirits of the other realm, we come in peace and mean you no harm. We’re desperately seeking a friend, a brother, who went missing over a month ago. His name is Mike McManius. He’s in his sixties. I’d like to talk to you with this pendulum. Please make it swing forward and backward for yes…” Ellen demonstrated by swinging the pendulum, “and side to side for no…” Ellen changed the direction of the pendulum’s swing, and then used her other hand to bring it to a stop.
“Now, then. Is there anyone here with us from the other realm?” she asked.
The pendulum did not move.
Sue added, “Follow our light to find us, spirits.” Then she dug into her purse and brought out something folded in a napkin. She opened the napkin to reveal a half-eaten doughnut. “Follow the smell of my offering.”
“You gotta be kidding me,” Glenn said.
“Is there anyone with us?” Ellen asked again, ignoring the guide’s irreverence.
Slowly at first, and then more quickly, the pendulum swung forward and backward.
“Fascinating,” Glenn said, dubiously.
Sue whispered, “Please be quiet, Mr. Spock.”
“Oh, spirits of the other realm,” Ellen said. “Thank you for answering my question. As I said, we mean you no harm. I’d like to ask you another question. Do you spend most of your time in this tunnel? Is this where you dwell?”
The pendulum stopped moving.
Sue whispered, “I’m not sure that the spirit can answer that with a yes or no. Ask a different question.”
Feeling less confident, Ellen whispered, “Maybe you should do it.”
While Ellen continued to hold the pendulum, Sue looked up to the ceiling and spread her arms wide. “Oh, spirit of the other realm, have you heard of Mike McManius?”
The pendulum began to swing from side to side.
“No,” Brian whispered with disappointment.
Then Sue asked, “Have you seen a man in his sixties, resembling this man here?” Sue motioned toward Brian.
The pendulum slowed and came to a halt.
“Maybe it’s not sure,” Tanya whispered.
Sue nodded. “Oh, spirit of the other realm, have you seen any people being smuggled through this tunnel, against their will, to be sold to ship captains?”
The pendulum began to swing forward and backward, faster and faster. It swung so hard, that Ellen lost her grip of the string, and the pendulum flew across the tunnel and crashed against the opposite wall.
“Incredible,” Glenn said with much more sincerity than before. “I thought you were moving it, but I don’t think you’re strong enough to chuck it that hard against the concrete.”
Ellen searched for the pendulum with her flashlight app. Brian helped.
“My phone’s dead, too,” Sue said.
After a minute, Brian said, “Found it. I’m afraid its broken.” He scooped up the pieces and handed them to Ellen.
“Thanks.” Ellen dropped the broken pieces into her purse, not wanting to litter.
“I’m sorry that didn’t get us any closer to finding Mike,” Tanya said to Brian as she returned Ellen’s EMF detector to her.
“You never know,” Sue said. “Let’s make sure the police question all the captains that dock here. Maybe Mike has been sold into slavery. He could be trapped on a ship in the middle of the sea.”
“Hang on,” Glenn said with his palm raised. “Do you really believe a man was abducted in these tunnels and smuggled out to sea?”
“It’s just a theory,” Sue said. “We don’t have any proof.”
“Except the spirit’s destruction of the pendulum,” Tanya pointed out.
“I doubt you’ll find any concrete evidence,” Glenn said. “Too many business folks utilize these passages for anything like that to go unnoticed.”
“Let’s head back,” Ellen said, stashing the EMF detector into her purse. “We need to follow every lead. Let’s go look for Harry Moyer.”
Glenn moved to the front of their group and led them back the way they had come. Since Tanya and Sue’s phones had died, Ellen hung back to help Tanya, and Brian held his light for Sue.
When they reached the part where the three tunnels converged, Ellen heard someone coming in their direction.
“Oh, hello, Rodney,” Glenn said, shining his light near the man’s face. “Are you expecting a delivery this afternoon?”
Rodney stopped short when he recognized Ellen and her friends in the dim glow of his light.
“What are you doing down here?” he asked them.
“You know each other?” Glenn asked, flabbergasted.
“Research,” Sue said in reply to Rodney’s question.
“It seems these tunnels aren’t urban legend after all,” Ellen added.
“It’s the shanghaiing part that’s the legend, ma’am,” Rodney said, with a hint of irritation in his voice.
Ellen narrowed her eyes. That wasn’t how he had presented it to them earlier.
“We’ve told you why we’re here,” Sue said. “Now it’s your turn. You’re not retiring any punching bags, obviously.”
Rodney lifted his brows and looked from Sue to Glenn. “Nah. I have a meeting with one of the captains.”
“Have a good one,” Glenn said with a wave as he ducked beneath an arch of bricks leading to the tunnel beneath Second Avenue.
Once Rodney had moved on, Ellen turned to Sue and Tanya and whispered, “What if he’s going to warn the captain about the police investigation?”
“Why would you think that?” Brian asked.
Ellen and Sue filled him in on their earlier interview with Rodney.
“We think he may be a crimp,” Sue added, once they’d finished.
“We heard him talking about a delivery,” Ellen said. “I think he was referring to Alani. And I think Rodney’s going to tell the captain that his delivery escaped and that the police are involved.”
“If you’re right, we need to get the police on that ship before it leaves the dock,” Brian said as he frantically called 9-1-1.