Laura Resnick - The Misfortune Cookie

“You mean that even after the cookie is no longer in the presence of the victim,” I asked, “cracking it will still cause his death?”

“Or it may cause the death of the person carrying it,” said Max. “It depends on the intention, the method, and the skill being exercised in the creation of the curse, and we don’t have that information at this time.”

“In other words,” I said, really starting to dread the next cookie, “if Benny’s secretary had gotten hungry and broken open the cookie herself, or if she had tripped and dropped it while giving it to him . . . We don’t know which one of them would have died, but one of them would probably be toast?”

“Precisely.” Max looked at both of us with concern. “So if you take possession of a potential misfortune cookie, you must be very careful.”

“That does it,” Lucky said darkly. “We gotta put this killer out of business. What if Benny had given that cookie to one of his grandkids, for chrissake? What then? Huh?”

“Oh, my God,” I said, realizing the horrific extent of the Evil we were confronting. “Either the child might die as a result of breaking open his treat, or his grandfather might die right in front of him.”

Max nodded. “Lucky is correct. We must find and stop this killer. Otherwise—”

He was interrupted by Nelli suddenly jumping to her feet and growling menacingly at the closed door. We heard a footstep and realized someone was on the other side of it.

Lucky rose quickly, pulled a gun out of his waistband, and ordered me in a low voice, “Get under the desk and stay there. Now. ”

A system of geomancy for orienting and organizing buildings, structures, and spaces.

I was about to crawl under the desk, as instructed, when there was a knock on the door. Then a man’s anxious voice called, “Alberto? Are you in there?”

“Oh, good God,” Lucky said in exasperation, lowering his gun. “I’m getting way too jumpy.”

“As am I.” Max took a steadying breath. “I thought Nelli had detected a demonic being or menacing entity.”

Nelli’s tail wagged a little with uncertainty as she realized the new arrival was not a threat.

“Alberto?” called the voice, sounding alarmed.

“That’s Mr. Chen, isn’t it?” I said, heading for the door.

“The way our favorite familiar growled, Nathan probably thinks there’s a demonic being in here. ” Lucky called, “Yeah, it’s me, Nate. Everything’s fine.”

I shoved Nelli aside and opened the door for John’s father. Since we hadn’t really met, I introduced myself, then I apologized for our dog—whom he was eyeing with alarm. Nathan Chen was not as tall as his two sons, but he had the same trim build, good posture, and attractive features. His lined face was pleasant, his hair was mostly gray, and he looked about sixty.

“Nelli, calm down,” I admonished.

Canines are among the most socially oriented animals on the planet, so they’re very sensitive to etiquette. Nelli, by now, realized she had growled at someone who was a friend of her pack, so she was embarrassed and eager to rectify this blunder. But the grinning and panting apologies of a dog the size of a Shetland pony could be a little off-putting to a stranger unfamiliar with Nelli’s goodhearted nature—especially if he was not a dog person, which John’s father clearly was not.

As I pulled Nelli out of his way so he could enter the room, Mr. Chen’s gaze fell on the gun in Lucky’s hand.

“Is there bad news?” he asked sharply. “Are you in danger?”

“No, no,” Lucky assured him, setting the gun down on the desk. “I’m just tense. Been cooped up for too long.”

Mr. Chen nodded. “This isn’t good for you, stuck inside here for two weeks. I think it’s time to risk moving you. John’s worked out a plan for . . .” He glanced at me and Max, then said, “Well, we can discuss the details later.”

“I ain’t ready to move yet,” said Lucky. “We gotta solve this thing first. Then I’ll get out of town.”

“You’re that convinced Benny was murdered? And that whoever killed him is a threat to others?” Mr. Chen asked.

As he answered, I could see that Lucky was thinking of the grandchildren to whom Benny Yee might so easily have given that deadly cookie. “Yeah. Me and the doc and the kid, we’re gonna see this through, like we always do. And then I’ll be ready to make a move.”

“The doc and the kid?” Nathan repeated. “This is starting to sound like a Western.”

“How do you do, sir? I’m Dr. Maximillian Zadok. You were so busy during Mr. Yee’s wake that I did not have the pleasure of an introduction then.” As he extended his hand in greeting, Max added, “I hope our canine companion didn’t alarm you too much just now.”

“She’s a bit startling,” was the tactful reply, “but I can see that she meant no harm.”

They chatted for a couple of minutes, both civilized men with Old World manners. Max complimented Nathan Chen on his well-run business and his fine sons. Mr. Chen, in turn, expressed an intention (insincere, I assumed) to visit Max’s West Village occult bookstore one of these days.

“What are you doing here, anyhow?” Lucky asked him. “I thought this was your game night.”

“I think I’m coming down with a cold. So I left early and came back here to get some paperwork to do at home, in case I’m not well enough to come in tomorrow.” He added to me and Max, “I don’t want to sneeze and cough on the bereaved.”

“Indeed, no,” said Max.

I glanced at the clock on the wall and said, “Oops, I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to meet Ted at Lily’s shop soon.” I hadn’t been there before, but I had the address, and it was an easy walk from here.

“Ah, Lily Yee?” Mr. Chen smiled fondly. “Please give her my regards.”

“Of course.”

“Shall I accompany you, Esther?” Max said. “If Lily is there, it might be an opportunity for me to pursue my inquiries.”

“Good idea,” Lucky said briskly. “And I’ll pursue mine.”

Observing the spring in Max’s step as he gathered his things and started donning his heavy coat, I realized, without surprise, that he was looking forward to seeing Lily again. I hoped he would actually remember to pursue relevant inquiries when speaking to her . . . But I knew how hard it could be to hold a train of thought when you’re fatally attracted to the person you’re speaking with, so I vowed to refrain from quizzing him on the results of the conversation.

When Max picked up Nelli’s pink leash, Lucky said, “Uh, Doc, maybe you could leave her here?”

“Here?” Max repeated.

“Here? ” blurted Mr. Chen.

“I could use the company,” Lucky said. “It gets pretty quiet in here at night.”

“Ah. Yes,” I said. “I guess it would.” What with no one else in the building being alive, and all. “And a dog is a good companion.”

“Also a good ally when confronting Evil,” said Max. “Brave, stalwart, valiant, and true.”

Nelli wagged her tail and drooled a little.

Max added to Lucky, “I am sure Nelli would be delighted to keep you company, my dear fellow. But, er, she does need to go outside from time to time, you know.”

Lucky looked at Nathan Chen, who sighed and gave in.

“Remember?” he said to Lucky. “We almost never use it, but if you go down through the basement and then back up the stairs on the other side of the cellar, there’s a door that leads to the alley that’s behind Kwong’s Carry-Out. It’s not scenic or fragrant, but it will probably serve your purpose.”