Laura Resnick - The Misfortune Cookie

John shook his head as he said, “Benny died so fast, it wouldn’t have made a difference if she’d known and called for help.”

“Lucky, I’m not really seeing the connection,” I said. “Benny opens the fortune cookie. He sets it down. He gets up, he trips, he dies.” I shook my head. “The homicidal nature of the cookie isn’t apparent to me.”

John laughed at that. Lucky glared at him, then said impatiently to me, “The fortune cookie contained a death curse. Don’t you get it?”

“Hmm,” said Max.

I looked at John. “Do you think Benny was cursed with death?”

“No,” he said. “I think Uncle Lucky has been cooped up in here for too long, with too little to do besides worry.”

“That does sound plausible,” I said to Lucky.

He glared at me, then said grumpily to John, “So tell them your theory, Mr. PhD Candidate.”

“Okay.” John looked at me and Max. “Benny was the kind of guy you asked about when we were talking in the car, Esther. He was a bigshot in the Five Brothers tong and involved in plenty of stuff on the wrong side of the law. He had enemies.”

“And one of them,” Lucky said, “cursed him with death!”

“Hmm,” said Max.

“It’s John’s turn to tell the story,” I pointed out.

“Like a lot of older Chinese,” John continued, “Benny was superstitious. He was known for it, in fact. For example, he wouldn’t visit the fourth floor of any building, no matter how important a person or an appointment it might be.”

“Um, why?” I asked.

“Four is a bad-luck number,” John explained. “The Chinese word for it sounds like the word for ‘death.’ Sure, plenty of people think it’s inauspicious. But Benny had a real phobia about it. And that’s just one example.”

Realizing where John was going with this, I said, “So this very superstitious man who has a lot of enemies receives a mysterious gift, and when he cracks open the cookie, he reads a fortune there that curses him with death. And he panics?”

“Exactly. He drops the cookie and jumps out of his chair. Maybe he was just moved by agitation. Maybe he was headed for the door to tell his secretary they had to find out where the fortune cookie came from. Either way, he trips, falls, hits his head, and dies.” John shook his head. “I think it was a malicious prank, a practical joke that was intended to wind him up. To make Benny jumpy and skittish. But it had much worse consequences than the sender ever expected.”

“Hmm,” said Max.

“It might even have been sent by a friend or colleague,” said John.

“Not a very nice one,” I noted.

“I don’t think Benny hung out with nice people,” John replied. “Anyhow, there’s no trace of where the fortune cookie came from. And now that it has led to his death, no one will ever—”

“So it was really a mis fortune cookie,” I said, thinking of Benny’s superstitions.

“You got it, kid. And ain’t nobody ever gonna admit to giving that misfortune cookie to Benny,” said Lucky. “That’s one thing John and I agree on, at least.”

“How did you guys find out about this?” I asked. “Did Mrs. Yee just blurt out the whole story when she was making funeral arrangements?”

“No, I heard it from Benny’s nephew,” said John. “He heard it from the widow.”

“And I eavesdropped.” Lucky shrugged. “I was bored. I really don’t have anything to do besides worry.”

“Why did the nephew tell you all this?” I asked John.

“I know the family,” he replied. “Ted and I grew up together, and Susan and I were in some undergrad classes together in college.”

“Who is Susan?”

“Ted’s sister,” he said. “And, of course, I’m helping with Ted’s film, so we see each other a lot these days.”

“Ted’s film?” I repeated.

John replied, “Benny’s nephew, Ted, is shooting an indie film here in Chinatown. I’m doing the hair and makeup for it. I’ve had a lot of practice at that kind of thing.” Looking at me as if concerned about how I’d react, he added, “I do most of the hair and makeup on the customers here.”

I realized he meant corpses, but something much more important had caught my attention.

“Ted’s shooting this film now?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Max said to John, “In order to review this matter thoroughly, I need to know what has become of the—”

“Have all the parts been cast already?” I asked.

“Well, when I say now, ” John said, “I guess I’m wrong. Between Benny’s death and Mary breaking her leg, we haven’t filmed for the past few—”

“Does anyone know,” Max asked, “what became of the—”

“Who’s Mary?” I asked.

“Mary Fox,” said John. “She’s one of the two female leads. Well, she was. Now that she’s laid up with a broken—”

“Is she Chinese?” I asked urgently. I’m versatile, but there was no way I’d be cast as a Chinese character.

“No, Mary’s white. The lead character in the movie is an ABC who’s trying to choose between two women. One of them is—”

“ABC?” I repeated.

He smiled. “American Born Chinese. Like me.”

Max said, “About the fortune that was in this cookie . . .”

“So Mary Fox was playing the white girl?” I said. “And now that she’s broken her leg, the role will have to be recast?”

“Um, I don’t know. I would think so,” said John. “But that’s Ted’s call. And he’s got a lot on his mind right now, since—”

“Yeah, Benny’s death,” I said. “Whatever. Look, John, I’m an actress.”

“A professional,” Lucky added helpfully. “Esther’s been on TV.”

“Oh?” said John with interest. Then: “Oh. ”

“Can you introduce me to Ted?” I asked.

“Of course,” said John. “I’m sure he’s here tonight. The deceased is his uncle, after all.”

“Oh. Right.” That sank in now. “Sorry. I should have . . . I mean, this might not be the best time for me to ask to read for his movie.”

“Oh, it’s probably all right,” said John. “To be honest, Ted won’t miss Benny—just his money.”

“Pardon?”

“Benny was backing Ted’s film.”

“Ted’s lost his backer?” I asked in dismay.

“Well, there’s still cash left from Benny’s initial investment,” said John. “And Ted is optimistic about getting more investment.”

“Okay. Good. I’d like to meet him. Right away.” I stood up.

So did John. “All right.”

“Does anyone know,” Max asked loudly, “what happened to the fortune that may have cursed Benny Yee with death?”

“Oh, sure,” said Lucky, looking surprised by Max’s volume. “I got John to ask Mrs. Yee for it today.”

John said wearily, “He really did get me to do that.”

“I figured you’d want to see it,” Lucky said to Max. “And since handling it after Benny’s death didn’t kill the missus, I didn’t think it would kill us, either.”

“She kept it?” I asked curiously.

“When she saw it, she wasn’t sure what to make of it,” said John. “She thought it must be something to do with the Five Brothers. So she took it home with her.”

“In case it turned out to be evidence?”

“Maybe. Or maybe just to keep it out of strangers’ hands. I’m not sure.”

While John was speaking, Lucky was retrieving a sealed plastic bag from a drawer in one of the desks. Inside the transparent bag was a slip of black paper, barely an inch wide, maybe three inches long. Lucky didn’t open the bag when he showed it to us. The black paper had a single Chinese character on it, painted in delicate white calligraphy.