A Loyal Character Dancer - [Chief Inspector Chen Cao 02] (47 page)

“Good to meet you, Peiqin. Chief Inspector Chen has spoken frequently about your excellent cooking.”

“A poetic exaggeration,” Peiqin said.

Yu tried to speak more formally, like a host, apologizing, “Sorry about the mess. May I introduce our son to you? He is called Qinqin.”

The room had space only for one table. The early arrival of the guests put the hosts in an embarrassing situation. The table was still littered with dumpling skins, minced meat, and vegetables. There was no room on the surface for even a teacup. Catherine had to put her bag down on the bed.

“The chief inspector is always busy. He has to go back to the bureau later.” Catherine took a couple of boxes out of the bag. “They are just some small things I’ve chosen at the hotel. I hope you like them.”

One was a food processor, and the other, a coffee maker.

“How wonderful, Inspector Rohn,” Peiqin exclaimed. “It is so thoughtful of you. For his next visit, we can serve Chief Inspector Chen fresh coffee.”

“You can also use it to make hot water for tea,” Chen said. “For this visit, we can use the food processor to mince and mix the meat and vegetable.”

“And bamboo shoots too,” Yu said proudly, beginning to experiment with the machine.

“I have something for you, too.” Chen produced several glass-and-brocade boxes of ink sticks—fantastically shaped as turtles, tigers, dragons. A special product of the Tai Mountains, made of the pine resin, they were supposedly inspirational.

But impractical, Peiqin thought, compared with Catherine’s choice.

Chen busied himself with translating the English directions on the box for Yu. Catherine insisted on doing something, too. “Don’t treat me as an outsider, Peiqin. That’s not why I am here today.”

“So she can boast about her Shanghai experience afterward,” Chen said.

Peiqin handed Catherine a plastic apron to put on over her dress. Soon Catherine’s hands were covered with the flour, and her face was speckled too. She did not give up. A couple of dumplings jumped out of her hands, large and irregular in shape.

“Marvelous!” Yu applauded.

“Great big dumplings for the chief inspector.” Catherine had a playful twinkle in her blue eyes. “The big guy in your bureau.”

Then it was time to cook. Peiqin made for the kitchen. Catherine followed her. Peiqin felt embarrassed. It was not exactly a kitchen, merely a common cooking and storage area of the original hallway, now crowded with the coal stoves of the seven families on the first floor. The dish she had brought back from the restaurant had to be steamed on a neighbor’s stove. Catherine seemed to be cheerful, however, moving about in the cramped area, watching Peiqin put dumplings into water, arrange some in the bamboo steamer, fry some in the wok, and add various seasonings to the duck soup.

“When will Old Hunter come home?” Chen asked Yu as they started to clear the table.

“I don’t know. He left early this morning. I have not had a chance to speak to him. Do you have to return to the bureau?”

“Yes, there’s something—”

Their talk was interrupted by the appearance of the various dumplings on the table. Catherine carried bowls in both hands. Yu mixed dishes of red pepper sauce with peeled garlic. Chen opened a small urn of Shaoxing yellow wine. Yu also moved the table a few inches toward the bed. Chen sat on one side, Catherine on the other, and Yu and his son, on the edge of the bed. The side close to the kitchen was left for Peiqin, who had to cook fresh dumplings from time to time.

“Fantastic,” Catherine said between bites, “I have never tasted anything like this in Chinatown in New York.”

“You have to make the dumpling skin yourself,” Peiqin explained.

“Thank you, Peiqin,” Chen said with half a dumpling in his mouth. “You always give your guests a special treat.”

“I’ve never had fresh bamboo shoots before,” Catherine said.

“Fresh bamboo shoots make a world of difference,” Chen said. “Su Dongpo once said,
It’s more important to have fresh bamboo shoots than to have meat.
It’s a delicacy for a highly civilized taste.”

“Was he the same Su Dongpo you mentioned at the crab meal, Uncle Chen?” Qinqin asked.

“Qinqin has a very good memory,” Chen said.

“Qinqin has a great interest in history,” Yu said, “but Peiqin wants him to study computers. Easier to find a job in the future, she thinks.”

“It’s the same in the United States,” Catherine commented.

They finished all the dumplings.

“Let’s wait a few more minutes for the duck soup.” Peiqin said, holding a small cup of yellow wine in her hand. “It takes time. So please recite a poem for us, Chief Inspector Chen.”

“A good idea,” Yu seconded. “Like in
The Dream of the Red Chamber.
You promised last time, Chief.”

“But I haven’t had much time for poetry.”

The duck soup arrived. Peiqin ladled out a small bowl for Catherine. The black tree ears floated in the broth. She also brought an unusual dish to the table. “Our restaurant’s specialty, called Buddha’s Head.”

It was a semblance of Buddha’s head—carved out of a white gourd, steamed in a bamboo steamer, covered with a huge green lotus leaf. Yu sawed a piece off the “skull” skillfully with a bamboo knife, put the chopsticks into the “brains,” and came up with a fried sparrow—inside a grilled quail—inside a braised pigeon.

“So many brains in one head,” Catherine said. “No wonder it’s called Buddha.”

“The flavors of those birds are supposed to mingle together in the steaming process. You can enjoy the different tastes in one bite.”

“It’s delicious.” Chief Inspector Chen sighed with satisfaction, stood up, clanked a chopstick on the rim of the cup, “Now, with Buddha’s blessing, I have an announcement to make. It’s about our hosts.”

“About us?” the Yus asked.

“I went to the bureau this morning. Among other things, I attended a housing committee meeting. The committee has decided to assign Detective Yu a two-bedroom apartment on Tianling Road. Congratulations!”

“A two-bedroom for us!” Peiqin exclaimed. “You are kidding.”

“No, I’m not. It’s the final decision of the committee.”

“You must have put up a fight for us, Chief!” Yu said.

“You deserve it, Yu.”

“Congratulations!” Catherine grasped Peiqin’s hand, “It’s great news, but why was there a fight?”

“There are more than seventy people on the waiting list but how many apartments did the bureau get this time, Chief Inspector Chen?”

“Four.”

“ ‘The watery rice porridge is not enough for all the waiting monks.’ The housing committee has to have many meetings before reaching a decision. Chen is a leading member of the committee.”

“You are exaggerating again, Peiqin. Your husband was at the top of the list.” Chen produced a small envelope. “I did only one thing. When the meeting was over, I took the apartment key. It’s officially yours. You may move in as early as next month.”

“Thank you so much, Chief Inspector Chen,” Peiqin grasped the envelope with both hands. “That’s the most important thing, the key. ‘There are so many dreams in a long night.’”

“I know that Chinese proverb,” Catherine said.

“So cheers.” Chen raised his cup.

“Cheers.” Catherine leaned over to whisper in his ear, yet loudly enough for others to hear, “Now I see why you like your bureau position so much.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it, I think I need to return to the bureau.”

Catherine said, “And I need to go to the hotel to pack.”

* * * *

Twenty minutes later, Old Hunter burst into Yu’s room as Peiqin was clearing the dishes.

“Was Chief Inspector Chen here?”

“Yes, he and his American partner were both here,” Yu said. “They have just left.”

“Where did they go?”

“They went their separate ways, I think. She went back to the hotel, and he, to the bureau.”

“Give him a call,” Old Hunter said, still slightly out of breath. “To make sure of it.”

Yu did. Chen was not at in the bureau, however. Nor at the hotel. Yu finally got hold of him on his cell phone.

“I’m on the road. Give my regards to Old Hunter.” Chen added, “It may be difficult for you to reach me tonight. I’ll call you.”

“What’s up, Father?” Yu said, putting down the phone.

Peiqin came back with a bowl of dumplings.

“Thank Heaven and Earth. At least he’s not at the hotel,” Old Hunter said, taking the bowl. “Your boss has an old head on his young shoulders.”

“What do you mean, Father?” Peiqin added a pinch of black pepper to the old man’s soup.

“Yu is Chief Inspector Chen’s man. People all know that, both in and out of the bureau. So they chose to tell me a thing or two.”

“What did they say?” Yu asked.

“Some guys are white-eyed chickens, with the tiniest black guts, only good for back-pecking. Now they are catching the wind and shadow between Chief Inspector Chen and the American woman. Internal Security may have been sent into the hotel.”

“Those good-for-nothing bastards.”

“Don’t worry too much. Chief Inspector Chen is a cautious man,” Peiqin said quietly, wiping her hands on the apron. “That’s why he wanted to bring her to our place, rather than to his.”

“He asked me when you would come back, Father,” Yu said.

“I had a talk with him this morning. About Gu Haiguang.”

“Who is Gu Haiguang?”

“The owner of the Dynasty Karaoke Club. A Mr. Big Bucks connected to those gangsters. Hasn’t your boss spoken to you about him?”

“No. We didn’t talk on our flight.”

“He said that he would call me about meeting Gu later tonight. I tried to reach him at the bureau, but he was not there.” Old Hunter said between bites, “I don’t know what Gu’s involved in. The case of the victim in the park or that of the woman on the run. But what I gave your boss should be enough to lock Gu up for a couple of years.”

“So where is he going now?” Yu said. “That’s strange. Wen’s case is concluded. I don’t know what else he is up to.”

“He cannot be too careful,” Old Hunter repeated.

“Have some more dumplings, Father,” Peiqin said, coming back with another steaming bowl. “He’ll call.”

* * * *

Several hours later, Chief Inspector Chen had still not been heard from.

With Qinqin asleep on the convertible sofa, and Old Hunter in his own room, Yu and Peiqin lay quietly on their bed, waiting. There was nothing else Yu could do. Holding her hand, he talked about their guests. “Chief Inspector Chen may have his peach blossom luck, but it will never bear fruit.”

“What do you mean?” Peiqin said. “You must have noticed the way she looked at him.”

“That makes no difference, Peiqin. Their relationship is impossible.”

“Why? Chen is not immune to her attraction. There are so many stories about cross-cultural marriages nowadays.”

“Not in his position,” he said. “In fact, he could not discuss everything in the investigation with her.”