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ALEX INTRODUCED THE oddball group as the Chan family. The old man with red suspenders looked like he was in his seventies. The woman next to him, probably his wife, might have been a few years younger. Her hand clung to her husband’s arm. She wore a polyester black dress printed in huge sunflowers and carried a large satchel. Winston wondered how she managed to stay upright with that giant leather bag weighing down her bony shoulder.
“Ming Chan,” Alex said, pointing to the large purse belonging to the wife, “sells the finest in fashion carry-wear.” Winston noticed that the rest of the family also carried bags. The men even had murses.
Winston’s wedding party whispered among themselves, uncertain of what to do about the strangers, but nobody dared intervene.
The old man spoke again, his finger tapping his head. “Ming mean bright in Chinese. English name mean smarts.” He beamed at those around him, showing off his yellow teeth and a chipped incisor.
Mrs. Chan spoke up, her voice tiny but sharp. “I’m Orchid, and my husband paid for this beautiful vacation.” She waved her hand and gestured around the verdant area.
“Actually, the shack’s in the back,” Winston mumbled, but no one paid him any attention.
“Gorgeous,” Mrs. Chan continued. “Special trip for the kids.”
Winston counted seven offspring in all, and he wouldn’t call them so young anymore. Every one of them looked at least thirty.
Winston glanced at Kristy. He leaned closer to her and whispered, “Should we do something to make them stop? They’re interrupting our rehearsal.”
Kristy shrugged. With her sweet nature, she’d probably let them carry on.
Mrs. Chan arranged her children by age. The oldest, the broad-shouldered man, shook off Mrs. Chan’s hands as she touched him. “This is not a vacation. It’s a work retreat,” he said. “Meant to inspire us.”
Mrs. Chan seemed oblivious to his disrespect. Or maybe she was hard of hearing. In any case, she started introducing the family. The oldest was named Fortune, or Fort for short.
How long would these niceties take? Winston caught Alex’s eye and made a slashing motion across his neck.
His friend took the hint and interrupted Mrs. Chan. “Why don’t we see the world-famous Mystery Shack now?”
The Chans finally left, some family members with looks of annoyance and others with joy. Winston breathed a sigh of relief. The schedule could go back to normal. He noticed that Kristy’s smile returned, while Marcy’s shoulders relaxed. The bridesmaids and groomsmen stood up straighter, and those watching the rehearsal repositioned themselves on their seats.
Winston turned his attention to the celebrant. “We don’t need the best man to continue, right?”
“Nope, not for the rest of the rehearsal.” The officiant shuffled the notes in his hands. “Now, where were we? Ah ha . . .”
The celebrant continued going over the schedule for the next day, and Winston couldn’t wait for the whole thing to finish. Once the rehearsal was done, they’d booked a nice dinner for their friends and family at a great Malaysian place, Sambal. He could almost taste the curry dishes with their fragrant coconut milk, along with the fluffy layers of roti canai bread.
By the time he’d finished imagining the culinary delights, Alex had returned.
“All done?” Winston asked him. “They went off the property?”
“No, the Chans wanted to poke around the shack some more, but I came back as quick as I could. Best man duties.” He gave Winston a thumbs-up. “Anyway, not like they can get lost in there.”
They soon finished the rest of the rehearsal. Now calmer, Winston greeted the family and friends milling around the pasture. He gave his brother-in-law, Gary, a polite pat on the back. The guy better not hurt Marcy again—Winston felt protective of his older sis.
He issued an even cooler greeting to Carmen, Alex’s girlfriend. Sure, she’d financed this amazing place, but he knew to be careful around the wannabe model; he’d been lured—and burned—by her a long time ago. Pete and Jazzman, his senior friends, he hugged with tenderness. They’d only grown closer over the years after their intense collaboration on Winston’s big first case.
While discussing directions to the restaurant, he heard a faint noise. It grew louder, soon becoming a shrill scream. Winston distinguished a key word in the ongoing sharp cry: help.