“All right, calm down,” Lucky said to the dog. “You’re hurting people.”
“I’ll go get a couple more chairs.” John limped out of the room.
I set my brown bag down on one of the desks. “Lucky, you’re really part-owner of a funeral business? I mean, you’ve actually got a perfectly legitimate business interest?” I had never expected this.
“I inherited it from my mother’s brother,” he said. “He was never involved in any Gambello business. Running a funeral home, though, he turned a good profit from some of our work.”
“No doubt,” I said.
“And straight away after this place come down to me,” he continued, “I put it in my daughter’s name. Her married name.”
“So you don’t think the cops or the FBI know about your connection with it?” I asked as Max helped me off with my coat.
“I don’t think so . . .”
He didn’t sound very sure, but instead of questioning him about that, I asked curiously, “How did your family get into business with the Chens?”
“My uncle brought old Mr. Chen into the funeral business after that guy saved his life by pulling him out of a burning car one night right after an accident on Canal Street.”
“Good heavens!” Max looked at me. “Speed kills, Esther.”
“That kinda thing creates a bond.”
“I’ll bet,” I said.
“Those two guys was in business together for forty years. Italian funerals on one side, Chinese on the other, and their partnership was always as smooth as glass.” Lucky continued, “My uncle didn’t have any kids, so I was kinda like a son to him. Which is why he left me the business. Anyhow, I don’t advertise my association with the Chens, since I got complications in my life that my uncle never liked and the Chens don’t need, but we’ve always been able to count on each other.”
As Lucky finished his story, John returned to the room, carrying a couple of folding chairs. While he set them up, he said, “That’s for sure. When my mom died suddenly fifteen years ago and my dad was devastated, Uncle Lucky took care of everything. Looked after me and my brother . . . Looked after my dad, really. He was the rock in our lives when we needed it.”
“Oh, my dear fellow,” Max said, obviously moved.
“Whatever,” Lucky said gruffly. He noticed the carry-out bag and asked me, “Hey, did you bring dinner?”
“Yes!” I was ready to get this party started. “Have you got plates and forks?”
“You really want to eat in a funeral home, kid?” Lucky asked me doubtfully. “There’s a dead guy lying in his coffin just across—”
“You’ve been eating here, haven’t you?” I said dismissively as I began unpacking what was left of the food. I assumed he had been stuck inside this building ever since escaping the bust at Bella Stella.
“Sensitive, but not squeamish,” the old gangster said with a grin. “I’ve always liked that about you.”
“My dad’s got stuff here for when things are so busy he has to eat at his desk.” John opened a cupboard and pulled out some paper plates and napkins, plastic forks, and a few bottles of water.
As we all sat down at the desks to eat, Lucky said to me, “So, kid, did you really clobber a couple of cops during the arrest at Stella’s? Including your boyfriend?”
“Lopez is not my boyfriend,” I said, shoveling rice onto my paper plate. “I did hit him, though.”
“Hmm.” Max frowned. “Actually, Esther, I’m still puzzled about why you struck Detective Lopez. Perhaps I’ve missed some key aspect of the stor—”
“How do you know what happened during the bust?” I asked Lucky quickly. “I assumed you got yourself out of there as soon as you realized that the NYPD had just stampeded through the door.”
“You bet I did,” said Lucky as he accepted a container of roast pork and vegetables from John. “But I’ve got my sources. I can’t stand going five days without any news at all. I been trying to find out how bad the damage to the family is and how much worse it’s gonna get.”
“I’ve been reading the papers,” I said, “in case your name appeared.” I passed the spicy duck along to Max.
“OCCB executed a search warrant on the boss’ home in the middle of the night,” said Lucky, “but they didn’t find nothing. He’s a careful man, after all. And he still ain’t been arrested, so maybe they just can’t get him.”
“At least, not until someone who has been arrested decides to cut a deal and turn state’s evidence,” I said.
“Hmph. We don’t need that kinda talk at dinner.” Lucky spoke sternly and dug into his meal with a scowl.
Nelli was watching us with riveted attention, but Max—who otherwise tended to spoil her—had established a strict rule against begging at the table. So she was lying by the door, occasionally cocking her head alertly, as if hearing something interesting. I supposed her enormous ears could detect a few sounds from Benny Yee’s wake. Which reminded me . . .
“So Lucky, what was the meaning of your note?” It had sounded serious. And talking about it would take his mind off the Gambello family’s problems.
“Ah, yes! I am most intrigued,” said Max. “I deduce that you believe Mr. Benny Yee has been murdered by mystical means?”
Lucky set down his plastic fork and nodded. “You bet. I think Benny Yee was killed by a fortune cookie!”
6
Tong
“Let me get this straight,” I said to Lucky. “You think Yee was murdered by a cookie?”
“No.” Lucky gave me an impatient look. “A fortune cookie.”
“Oh. Well that makes all the difference,” I said. “I stand corrected.”
“A fortune,” Lucky said. “The piece of paper inside the cookie. That’s what killed him!”
“Hmm. What leads you to believe this?” asked Max.
“It had a death curse on it,” said Lucky.
“Interesting,” said Max.
“A death curse? In a fortune cookie?” I frowned. “Seriously?”
Lucky nudged John, who was eating shrimp with garlic sauce. “Tell them.”
John nodded. “It was a death curse. That part is true.”
“What do you mean that part?” Lucky snapped.
“Wait.” Max held up an admonishing finger. “Someone please begin at the beginning.”
John started to speak, but Lucky scowled at him and said, “I’ll tell it.”
John nodded and went back to eating.
“Benny Yee, who’s a capo in the Five Brothers tong—”
“They don’t call them capos, do they?” I interrupted.
“No,” said John, without looking up from his plate.
“Esther, please, let’s not interrupt unless we must,” said Max.
“Sorry.”
“Three days ago,” Lucky continued, “Benny Yee receives this elaborate fortune cookie at his office. One of them gourmet things. It’s kinda big, drizzled with dark chocolate, wrapped in see-through silver cellophane. Very fancy. It was left on his secretary’s desk while she was down the hall for a couple of minutes. She thinks there was a card with Benny’s name on it, but no one could find it later.”
I spooned some roast pork onto my rice and then kept eating. It was amazing how much better lots of good food was making me feel about my prospects in life.