The Misfortune Cookie: An Esther Diamond Novel (28 page)

“I was hungry,” I tried.

“Esther.
”

“Where did you get that cookie?” I asked.

“Someone sent it to me at work.”

“Who?”

“Not sure. The card got lost.”

“I see.”

I was
very
glad Susan was going to prison. (Well, I assumed she was. Apart from pointing a loaded gun at me and John today, she was also still screaming and fighting, over by the squad cars, as the police were trying to book her. I didn’t think she was going to turn out to be a very convincing defendant.

“Earth to Esther,” Lopez said impatiently.

“What? Oh.” I said, “I’m really sorry about the car.”

“It can be repaired. I’m not sure this can.”

“This?”

“Us. Esther . . . what were you
doing?
”

I decided just to tell him. “I was saving your life. The cookie contained a mystical death curse.”

After a few seconds of silence, he said, “That’s it? That’s your story?”

“Yes.”

“Well, doesn’t
that
just figure?” he said in disgust. “I have no idea what to do with you.”

“Maybe there are some things we should try to talk—”

Nelli burst into a hysterical torrent of barking—a furious, frightening, menacing sound. I turned to look at her, startled by the racket—and saw Lucky restraining her while she bared her fangs at Detective Quinn, who was simply passing by. He gave her a wide berth, looking as startled as anyone would look in those circumstances.

Although Lucky had a firm hand on her collar, he wasn’t reprimanding Nelli. He was looking down at her with a puzzled frown. She was growling and barking, her eyes fixed fiercely on Quinn, her fangs dripping, her hair standing on end. Even after the detective was well past her, her gaze remained glued to him, fierce, menacing, warning him to watch out. Her whole body was puffed up, aggressive, and ready for action.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Esther,” Lopez said. “You cannot have a dog that size who behaves that way. Especially not in the city! Max needs to get rid of her. I mean it.”

I was still looking at Nelli. Then my gaze shifted to Lucky. He looked up and met my eyes. He jerked his chin, indicating we should leave.

“We’ll get her out of here,” I said absently to Lopez. “Sorry.”

“Esther, I’m serious. That dog is dangerous. And you and I aren’t done talking about what you did last night, either. Esther! Are you listening to me?”

“Bye,” I said. “I’ve gotta go.”

When I reached Lucky’s side, I asked, “What the hell happened? What set her off?”

“I don’t know,” Lucky said in a low voice. “All that guy did was walk past us. Didn’t even look this way. But she went berserk as soon as she sensed him. And look her even now. She can’t take her eyes off him.”

I looked at Quinn, who was at least fifty yards away now, talking with a cop at the other end of the street. He looked completely normal—as he had looked each time I’d encountered him.

“Nelli?” I said, bemused by the familiar’s behavior. “Nelli?”

But she ignored me, her gaze fixed on Quinn, her posture menacing, a faint growl rumbling in her throat each time he moved.

“Max says she can sense demonic entities and mystical beings,” Lucky pointed out. “And we seen her react to dangerous things before.”

“But Quinn just seems like a normal guy,” I protested.

“To you, maybe. But not to our favorite familiar—a mystical being herself, who entered this dimension to fight Evil.” Lucky asked, “Who is that guy, anyway?”

“Lopez’s new partner,” I said with a dawning feeling of dread.

“In that case,” Lucky said, “I think we’d better go talk to Max.”

I watched Lopez walk over to Quinn, who grinned at him and said something. Lopez shook his head, and the two of them stood talking.

Nelli growled again, clearly upset to see someone she liked standing that close to Quinn.

“Yeah,” I said, wondering what Nelli sensed about Lopez’s new partner that alarmed her so. “We
do
need to go find Max.”

Tiger

People born in the Year of the Tiger, as I was, are said to be courageous, honest, lucky, rebellious, arrogant, unpredictable, and resilient. I can live with that description.

T
he idea for Lily Yee’s store came from a shop that I entered just to get out of the rain when visiting Vancouver’s Chinatown several years ago. Much like the shop in this novel, it was a small, generic storefront that blossomed into an extensive maze of rooms full of wonders and oddities. My enchantment with that place led me to start thinking about a story that would take Esther Diamond to New York’s Chinatown.

The idea for the misfortune cookies was the result of editor Betsy Wollheim mercilessly rejecting one mediocre title after another for Esther’s Chinatown adventure, until I came up with
The Misfortune Cookie
. Initially relieved that She Who Must Be Obeyed had
finally
approved a title for the book . . . I then realized I needed to come up with a plot for it. (It’s always something.)

In researching this book, I paid multiple visits to New York’s Chinatown (and I took Betsy along with me for several hours on a particularly frigid day, so I got my revenge). Following the lion dancers around was probably the most fun I had, out of many wonderful experiences there. Some of the most informative hours I spent in Chinatown were with Susan Rosenbaum, the Enthusiastic Gourmet, who offers fascinating food tours of the neighborhood. But tasting dried cuttlefish is not an experience I ever intend to repeat.

For readers interested in delving further into Chinatown, some of my most enjoyable background reading included: Jennifer 8. Lee’s engaging
The Fortune Cookie Chronicles: Adventures in the World of Chinese Food
; Patrick Radden Keefe’s
The Snakehead: An Epic Tale of the Chinatown Underworld and the American Dream
, which I found unputdownable; and the beautifully photographed
Chinatown, New York: Portraits, Recipes, and Memories
by Ann Volkwein and Vegar Abelsnes.

My thanks to Dan Dos Santos, the brilliant artist for the Esther Diamond series, who has raised the bar still higher with this dynamite cover. Thanks also to the tremendous co-publishers at DAW Books, Sheila Gilbert and Betsy Wollheim, to managing editor Joshua Starr (who puts up with a
lot
), and to the rest of the wonderful team at DAW Books.

Finally, I must emphasize that this book is a work of fiction and does not seriously seek to question, challenge, or undermine the inherent and indisputable goodness of all cookies everywhere. Indeed, throughout the writing of
The Misfortune Cookie
, I relied heavily, as I so often do, on the Elizabeth Bevarly Theory of Plotting (Liz is a prolific novelist and a friend of mine): There is no plot problem that cookies cannot solve.

Anyhow, I hope you’ve enjoyed
The Misfortune Cookie
so much that you immediately succumb to an uncontrollable impulse to go eat in a Chinese restaurant. Which is probably where Esther Diamond will be until she, her friends, and her nemeses return for their next misadventure—which book title will be announced on my website after I come up with one that She Who Must Be Obeyed approves . . .

—Laura Resnick