Ian Hamilton - The disciple of Las Vegas

It wasn’t true, but Ava appreciated the small white lie. “Thanks, Mummy, and please thank Auntie Lily for me.”

“I will. Now, remember what I told you about Maggie. She is their only child, and she’s still in school.”

“I’ll be as nice as can be.”

Access to Maggie Chew wasn’t what Ava wanted, but it was all she had. Most traditional Chinese parents shielded their children from the realities of their lives, and Maggie was a student and an only child. Well, I’ll try her anyway, she was thinking, when her phone rang. She looked at the screen and saw a number she didn’t know, although the country code was familiar.

“Hello,” Ava said. She heard someone breathing, and then a rough wheeze. She felt her shoulders seizing up. “Who is this?”

“Where are you?”

She looked at the time. It was close to twelve in Vancouver, which meant that it was three o’clock in the morning in Manila. “Mr. Ordonez,” she said.

“Where are you?” he repeated.

“Vancouver.”

He paused. Ava could hear his breathing become louder. “Have you spoken to my brother yet?”

“No, I haven’t, and it isn’t likely that I will. He doesn’t seem prepared to speak to anyone, except maybe Louis Marx. And, Mr. Ordonez, from what I hear, your brother is genuinely ill. Even Marx may not have access to him anymore.”

“Chang fired Marx last night.”

“Oh,” Ava said, noticing that Ordonez had bypassed her remark about his brother’s health.

“Did you find the man Cousins?”

“No.”

“Chang said you knew where he was.”

“Except he wasn’t there when I arrived.”

“Chang said he was in San Francisco.”

“Yes.”

“So why are you in Vancouver?”

It was more of an accusation than a question. Ava hesitated. Her first instinct was to strike back. Instead she calmly said, “I wanted to confirm who incorporated Kelowna Valley Developments and who the shareholders were.”

“And did you?”

“Not yet.”

“When will you know?”

“Maybe later today.”

“Call me when you do.”

Ava sat upright. “Mr. Ordonez, I’m not going to do that.”

“What?”

“I don’t work that way. When I’m on a job, I don’t contact clients with progress reports. I keep Uncle generally up to date and he passes along to the clients all or part of what I tell him, when and how he sees fit.”

“I am not your regular type of client,” he said, his voice rising.

“I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not going to call you.”

The phone line went dead.

Ava stared at her cellphone, trying to decide if she should call Uncle. No, she thought, it’s too late. Then she waited another minute, almost certain Ordonez would call back to remonstrate with her. When he didn’t, she stood and walked to the desk, where she had written Maggie Chew’s phone number into her notebook. She shook off her conversation with Ordonez and dialled the number.

“Hello.”

“Hello, this is Ava Lee.”

“You didn’t waste any time,” the voice cracked.

“Auntie Lily said I could call.”

“I know, but it was only yesterday that I heard your name for the first time. Louis Marx called the house to speak to my father and ended up talking to me. Louis said he met you in Manila. And now Aunt Lily says you’re here in Vancouver already.”

Ava felt a tiny surge of optimism. If she had been speaking to Marx, then Maggie Chew knew something was going on. “What did Louis tell you about me?”

“He said you’d been hired by my uncle but, despite that, you seemed to be fair.”

“I try to be.”

“After talking to Louis I was going to try to contact you anyway. You didn’t have to drag Aunt Lily into this. Her call upset my mother. She doesn’t want her friends to know that my father is going through a rough patch.”

“I’m sorry. How was I to know?”

“You couldn’t, I guess.”

“I’m sorry anyway.”

“Are you really in Vancouver, like Aunt Lily said?”

“Yes.”

“You move fast.”

“It’s what I do,” Ava said.

“She said you wanted to meet with my father.”

“If it’s possible.”

“It isn’t.”

“I see.”

“He isn’t making any sense right now. I think he’s had some kind of nervous breakdown. My mother and I have been trying to get him to see our family doctor or go to the hospital, but we can’t get him to listen to us. He seems totally lost, like he’s burrowed into himself.”

“Louis said he was distressed.”

“Catatonic is more like it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that.”

“What would you prefer me to say?” Ava asked.

Maggie hesitated and then said, “I’ll meet with you if you want. I have some understanding of what’s been going on, and I know my Uncle Tommy will be howling for blood. Maybe there’s a way we can manage all of this better.”

“It certainly can’t hurt,” Ava said, her optimism notching up another gear.

“Where are you calling from?”

“The Pan Pacific Hotel.”

“There’s a very good Chinese restaurant near there, the Emperor’s Crown, in the Marine Building in the inner harbour. Could you meet me there in about an hour? I’ll be wearing a powder-blue sweatsuit.”

“Black Adidas nylon jacket and training pants,” Ava said. “And Maggie, I wish I didn’t have to ask you to do this.”

“Well, I know sooner or later we’ll have to talk to someone, and better you than some other people I can think of…”

“I’ll see you in an hour,” Ava said softly.

Ava got to the restaurant at exactly one o’clock. From the entrance she scanned the room for a powder-blue sweatsuit. When she didn’t see one, she asked for a table for two by the window. She put the envelope that contained the information from Cousins and Edward Ling on the table and then sat for ten minutes watching float planes land and take off from the marina in the harbour.

A server was placing a pot of jasmine tea on the table when Ava saw a silver BMW pull into the lot. It was a high-end Series 5 or 6, and the driver was wearing a powder-blue sweatsuit. It was the kind of car she would expect the only daughter of wealthy Chinese parents to drive. She was no stranger to the breed. Not all of them were spoilt, arrogant, and manic about acquiring the latest fashion in clothes, cars, shoes, and purses. But more than enough were.

When Ava saw the BMW, she assumed Maggie Chew would fit the bill. But as she watched the short, pudgy girl walk into the restaurant, the image disappeared.

Ava stood up, and when Maggie saw her, she walked towards the table with her head down, her eyes fixed upon her unlaced white running shoes.

“Thank you for coming,” Ava said.

Maggie raised her head. Ava saw that her skin was marred by bright red pimples high on her cheeks and small pits beneath them. Her eyes were large, with dark circles around them. “I didn’t think I had much choice,” she said.

“Shall we order?” Ava asked, a believer in the calming quality of the dim sum ritual.

“I don’t know how much I can eat.”

“What would you recommend?” Ava persisted.

Maggie picked up the dim sum menu. “The sticky rice is good… the chicken feet in black bean sauce… turnip cake.”

“How is the har gow?”

“I prefer the shrimp-and-chive dumplings.”

When their order had been taken, Ava poured tea for Maggie. Maggie tapped her middle finger gently on the table as a sign of thanks. She has manners, Ava thought.

“I’m sorry I had to reach you through Auntie Lily. I tried Edward Ling first.”