I made sure that “freedom” did not mean I’d be expected to take off my clothes.
Ted assured me it wasn’t that kind of movie.
“It’s about ideas and culture, identity and meaning, old values and new temptations.” After a moment, he added, “There are a couple of love scenes, though. That’s okay, right?”
I started to say that it was absolutely fine, as long as certain private parts of my body remained private; but I closed my mouth when I saw Lily approaching us. Max accompanied her, with Nelli at his side.
Lily asked Ted to go find his sister. “It is time to go home.”
Ted said, “Actually, I want to stay a little longer and see if I can talk some more to—”
“We are leaving now, Ted,” Lily said firmly. “Please tell Susan, and then get our coats.”
Ted sighed, said he’d see me tomorrow, and then went off to do as he was told.
Max said to me, “Perhaps we should also depart, Esther.”
I nodded, and John offered to give us a lift home, which we accepted; the hearse was a very convenient way to transport Nelli.
Max turned to Lily and took her hand in a courtly gesture. “It has been a great pleasure to meet you, Lily, and I hope we meet again soon.”
“I hope so, too,” she said with a smile. “You have been very kind.”
We said our goodnights, then made our way to the private back rooms again, where Lucky was waiting to confer with us. After we recounted the evening’s events to him—he’d heard some of the shouting and wondered what was going on—we discussed possible murder suspects.
“You met Danny Teng?” John said to me with a grimace. “I feel like I should apologize to you for that, since it happened in my family’s place of business.”
“Yes, normally a girl has to go into an alley after dark to meet someone like him,” I replied.
“Who is this guy?” Lucky asked with a frown.
“Dai lo of the Red Daggers,” said John.
“Dai lo?” I repeated.
“Gang leader.” John added, “Literally it means ‘big brother.’”
“The Red Daggers.” Lucky nodded. “I heard of them. Bunch of street punks with matching tattoos. Always in a lotta messy trouble. They’re enforcers for the Five Brothers. So, comin’ to Benny’s wake, that guy’s probably just paying his respects, like a good soldier.”
“Probably,” John agreed. “There were other Red Daggers there, too, but they stayed out in the lobby. My father, who’s a braver man than I am, asked them not to come into the visitation room. I think he said their attire might insult the family, or something like that. He’s an elder, so he got away with it, and they stayed out there. But, obviously, he couldn’t ask their dai lo not to come inside and pay his respects directly to the deceased. Danny would lose face, and that wouldn’t be forgiven.”
“This ‘face’ thing really complicates life,” I said.
“You bet,” said John.
“Yes, but having social credit—in other words, maintaining face—is crucial, because social relationships have been the central structure of Chinese society for thousands of years,” Max said, speaking up for the first time since we’d taken our seats in here. He had been unusually quiet and obviously distracted, which I attributed to Lily Yee’s mysterious influence. “The family, the clan, and the community in Chinese society are much more important than the individual. And people in China survived centuries of warring states, civil wars, volatile warlords, foreign invasions, unjust rulers, and colonial domination by relying on their social and personal relationships—rather than on laws or government—for protection, justice, and mutual aid.”
John nodded. “Traditionally, that’s how Chinatown has always functioned, too.”
I was pleased to see Max behaving more like his usual self, so I didn’t interrupt as he continued lecturing—which he was prone to do.
“Therefore, if one person loses face or is dishonored, it doesn’t reflect only on him, but on the whole social fabric in which he is merely one thread. His family, his clan, his guild or brotherhood—any or all of these will endure shame because of his shame. Thus their influence will be reduced and their position damaged in all their social relationships, making them vulnerable and weak, diminishing and even endangering them.” Max said pensively, “It’s a strong enough system to have worked effectively for many centuries, but it is not an easy way of life.”
“And tonight Esther helped the Yee family save face,” John said with a smile, lightening the mood, “when she prevented Grace Yee from committing murder at her own husband’s wake.”
“Good work, kid,” Lucky said to me. “I been to two funerals where someone got whacked before the stiff was even in the ground. I just hate it when that happens. People oughta show more respect for the dead.”
9
An evildoer
Since John had just raised the subject of Grace Yee, I said to my companions in the offices of Chen’s Funeral Home, “Speaking of the merry widow . . .”
“What about her?” asked Lucky.
I posed my Crime and Punishment theory about Grace (i.e. the spouse is always whodunit). But I was skeptical now, after what Susan had said—which information I summarized for Lucky’s benefit.
“So if the wife didn’t know about Benny and his secretary . . .” The old mobster shook his head. “Then what’s her motive? Would she kill him just because she thought he might be playing around with someone?”
“I suppose she could be an extremely clever woman who was just pretending not to know, in order to divert suspicion away from herself when she killed him.” However, I was skeptical about this theory, too, and I added, “But that level of self-control and planning really doesn’t match the woman who flew into a rage and tried to pulverize the girlfriend’s skull tonight in front of many witnesses.”
“And the niece—Susan?—said Benny had played around before, right?” said Lucky.
“He had,” John confirmed. “I don’t really follow gossip about that kind of thing, and even I knew.”
“Why would the missus kill him this time, when she didn’t kill him any of those other times?” Lucky asked. “I don’t see it.”
John added, “Plus, she gave me the death curse from the cookie as soon as I asked her for it. If she was behind it, wouldn’t she be cagey about it? But she seemed relieved to get it out of their apartment. Pretty much the way I’m relieved that Dr. Zadok is taking it out of here tonight.”
Lucky looked at Max. “What do you think, Doc?”
“Hmm? Oh.” Max looked distracted again as he patted the pocket where he had put that menacing slip of paper earlier tonight. “I need to take it back to my laboratory to study its properties.”
“No, I mean, what do you think about Mrs. Yee?” Lucky clarified.
“A lovely woman,” said Max. “Very, um . . . That is, she reminds me . . .”
“He means Grace Yee, Max,” I said quickly. “Benny’s widow.”
He blinked. “Oh. Er, yes, of course. I only exchanged a few formal words with her, so I didn’t form much of an impression. Well, not beyond noting that she seems to be a woman of volatile temper.”