The Best American Mystery Stories 2011

Chin Yong-Yun Takes a Case by S. J. Rozan

FROM Damn Near Dead 2

MY DAUGHTER IS a private eye.

You see? It even sounds ridiculous. She follows people. She asks the computer about them as though it were a temple fortuneteller. She pulls out their secrets like dirt-covered roots to hand to the people who hire her. What is private about that? And always involved with criminals, with police! My only good luck, she is not a real police officer, like her best friend Kee Miao-Li. Whenever I see Miao-Li's mother, we give each other sympathy, though I give her the greater amount because her daughter's choice of profession is even more unacceptable than mine.

Although her daughter, at least, is engaged to be married, to a boy of good family, in Chinatown for three generations.

Mine is not.

Not that I believe marriage is the answer to all a woman's problems. I am not a fool, no matter what my daughter thinks. Marriage, if handled badly, can be a source of great distress. This has been the case for Tan Li-Li, a mahjong player of my own age-a fact she tries to hide behind black hair dye and crimson lipstick. I would not call Tan Li-Li "friend," although she is among the women I regularly meet with under the trees in the park or at the folding tables of the senior center. It is not easy to be the friend of a woman who eats so much bitterness. Difficulties make many people more kind than formerly; but some are like Tan Li-Li, thinking they can rid themselves of troubles by giving them to others. Tan Li-Li's gloom stems from marriage, though not her own. She is a widow, and as she will be the first to tell you, a widow's lot is sad, to be always alone. I am also a widow, and although I miss my husband, gone these many years, I do not find myself alone. Perhaps that is because I have five children and five grandchildren, all nearby. My daughter, in fact, though her profession is a disgrace, is filial in this: she still lives with me in the family apartment. But Tan Li-Li has only one son, and one grandson, and the marriage that is so bitter for her is her son's.

My daughter, who follows American ways, knows Tan Li-Li and how difficult she can be. She asks me, "Why do you play with her, Ma? When she's there, why don't you sit at another table or something?" If she had a true Chinese understanding, of course she would never say such things. Tan Li-Li was brought into our mahjong group by Feng Guo-Ha, with whom she shared a village childhood in China. Even a poor village has its social order. The poorest can be the worst: the smaller the treasure at the top of the staircase, the more fierce the battle on the steps. The Tans were a merchant family, while the Fengs labored in the fields. Feng Guo-Ha, a small, shy woman, tells us that Tan Li-Li was sour even as a child: and Tan Li-Li treats Feng Guo-Ha imperiously to this day. One thing that galls Tan Li-Li is the contrast between their sons. Feng Guo-Ha's son, like his mother, is friendly and eager to please. He treats his mother well, living nearby, taking her shopping and to the doctor. Often she looks after her granddaughter while her son and his wife are at work. Tan Li-Li's son, in contrast, has for four years ("Such an unlucky number!" Tan Li-Li sighs) been living on the other side of the world, in Beijing, and raising her grandson there.

Feng Guo-Ha cannot enjoy being criticized and given orders by Tan Li-Li: nevertheless, loyalty to childhood friends is never wrong, no matter their behavior, and she remains loyal. Loyalty to friends from adulthood is also virtuous. Feng Guo-Ha and I sewed together in the garment factory for many years, when our children were young. She's my friend, and I won't abandon her to Tan Li-Li's sneering voice.

You can understand, however, what a surprise it was for me when that voice, which I rarely hear beyond the mahjong table, issued from the red telephone in my own kitchen.

"Chin Yong-Yun," Tan Li-Li said decisively, as though my name were something I didn't know and would be grateful to be told. "I hope you are well. I am looking for your daughter."

I recovered myself and answered calmly, "Quite well, thank you, Tan Li-Li." Politeness suggested I inquire after her health also before reaching the substance of our conversation, but she had not allowed me that courtesy. "I'm sorry, but my daughter is not at home."

"She is not in her office either. How can I speak to her?"

"If you've left a message, as I'm sure you have, she will no doubt call you as soon as she is able." Unless I spoke to her first myself. Perhaps I could discourage her from plunging into the cloud of bitterness that surrounds Tan Li-Li.

"That is not soon enough. Our matter is urgent."

"Our matter?"

"It concerns my son. As you know, he is visiting me here."

I could not help but know. As if it were not enough to see Tan Li-Li daily parading her three-year-old grandson in the park-grasping the child's hand so firmly I feared it would grow misshapen-she also had spoken of nothing but this impending visit for weeks before Tan Xiao-Du and his son arrived from Beijing. I had expected the visit to lighten her humor, especially since her daughter-in-law had remained in China, but her sourness did not abate. Probably I had been foolish. I had expected pleasure and pride to mark her reactions to many events involving her son: his posting to an important position in China with his American firm, his marriage to a kind and beautiful Beijinger, the birth of their son. Each time, however, Tan Li-Li's reaction had been only darkness. Of his return to the homeland: "How can he leave me here to grow old alone?" Of his marriage: "Now he will never come home!" Of his child: "My only grandson, growing up so far from me!" Xiao-Du had offered to bring his mother to Beijing as often as she wanted, even to settle her there for as long as he stayed. But still, around the mahjong table we heard only complaint and recrimination.

"I'm sorry, Tan Li-Li," I said. "I cannot-"

"There, you see?" Tan Li-Li interrupted with a voice of vinegared triumph. I started to ask, "See what?" but she wasn't speaking to me. "I told you, Xiao-Du, that calling Chin Yong-Yun was useless."

I did not want my daughter involved with Tan Li-Li's endless problems, but this insult was unacceptable. Before I could properly respond, however, a man's voice came into my ear.

"Chin Yong-Yun, I hope you and your family are well. This is Tan Xiao-Du."

"Tan Xiao-Du, I and my family are quite well, thank you. I hope your family is also." The son, teaching the mother courtesy. His Cantonese was good, also. I'm sure his skill didn't make his mother grateful for her luck, although it should have. Many American-born children are poor in Cantonese. My children all speak well, of course. They are talented in languages. I'm sure my choice not to learn English, which made it necessary for them to speak Cantonese at home, played only a very small part.

"I'm sorry my daughter is not available," I told Tan Xiao-Du, "but her services are much in demand, you understand."

"Yes, of course. But this is a very important matter. Isn't there any way we can contact her?" I was reluctant to share my daughter's cell phone number with the Tans, but I couldn't help hearing Xiao-Du's strained tones of distress. Especially when he announced, "It's my son. My son has been kidnapped."

I was briefly speechless, hearing this news. The despair in Xiao-Du's voice, and the situation's dire nature, changed my thinking. It did not, however, change the humor of his mother. "Never mind," I heard her sneer behind him. "I told you, there is only one solution. You will give them whatever they want and all will be well. Do as I say!"

"No!" Xiao-Du responded desperately. "Mother, I can't!"

"Foolish boy! You will not-"

"There must-"

"You are-"

"Come speak to me," I said loudly, into his ear.

"What? I'm sorry, Chin Yong-Yun, what did you say?" I could hear the son shushing the mother as he waited for my response.

"I often work with my daughter on her cases." I am not the sort of person to be unscrupulous with the truth, but circumstances were pressing. "I will collect your evidence, and brief it to her when she is available." My daughter thinks I never listen when she talks about her work. If that were so, would I know the words of her profession?

"Chin Yong-Yun-I don't think-"

"Come, you must hurry if your child is in danger." I hung up the phone. I find this often helps people make decisions.

Ten minutes had not passed before mother and son were at my door. Of course I had put the kettle on the stove and set out teacups. I might have expected a small gift of almond cookies or bean cakes, as is customary when visiting, but the Tans arrived empty-handed. Making allowances for the son's distraction and the mother's customary lack of civility, without comment I added a plate of macaroons to the table. As the tea steeped I seated myself in my armchair, instructed them to sit also, and requested that they tell their story.

"I blame myself," Tan Li-Li began, but her son interrupted.

"No, Mother. It is not your fault, and this is the time for action, not for blame."

"Nevertheless, I-"

"Please," I said to stop this tiresome argument. "We never involve ourselves in the personal lives of our clients."

"We?" Tan Li-Li's plucked eyebrows arched.

"My daughter and myself. In our investigations. Xiao-Du, just tell me what has happened."

I asked to hear the story from the son, but I had little hope. I poured the tea-first for mother, then for son, and last for myself-and discovered that my assessment had been correct.

"It is, as I said, my fault." Tan Li-Li's shake of the head might have expressed self-disgust, or at least disbelief. However, it was more likely a denial of her son's request not to blame herself, as well as of mine to remain uninvolved in her personal life. "I was in the park with little Bin-Bin while Xiao-Du attended to business for his firm. His position requires him to be available to give instructions to his subordinates at all times. Even when he is overseas with his family." She gave Xiao-Du a look full of maternal suffering and accusation.

"In the park," I repeated firmly. "With Bin-Bin. When was this?"

She turned back to me with narrowed eyes. "Forty minutes ago." She paused before resuming her tale. "Bin-Bin was playing with other boys, and I turned away for a moment to buy roasted peanuts for him, for a treat. No more than a moment! When I looked up, he was gone."

She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"What makes you think he was kidnapped?" I asked. "Isn't it more likely he wandered away? Maybe some other grandmother found him. He's a small child who's lived his whole life in Beijing. He doesn't speak Cantonese, or English, does he? He could be at the police station right now, unable to tell the officers even his name."

That was clever of me, to think of that, and I might have expected their eyes to light up and one or the other to call the Fifth Precinct immediately. But the mother looked exasperated, and the son merely sad.

"I got a phone call," he said. "A ransom demand."

I blinked. "Oh."

He waited. "Aren't you going to ask me what they said?"

"Yes. Yes, of course," I said with impatience. "I'm waiting for you to tell me." I added, "It's best to allow people to tell their stories in their own way, without prompting." My daughter has said this, though she thinks, just because I don't stop chopping vegetables when she speaks, that I haven't heard her.

"They said not to go to the police. They said if I do what they ask, my son will be returned unharmed."

"What do they ask?"

He breathed deeply. "My firm develops computer software for foreign markets. Since going to China I've been working on a major project, to enhance the ability of scanners to recognize and read character-based languages-" For some reason, looking at my face, he stopped. "I'm sorry," he said respectfully. "That's technical talk and it doesn't matter. The point is, we're not the only firm working in the area. A successful product, because it will greatly increase computer speed, will be worth many, many millions to the company that develops it. We are the closest."

"Because of Xiao-Du's leadership," the mother put in.

The son just looked at her, then said to me, " That was the demand. To get my son back, they want our code."

"And I say, give it to them!" The mother's face went red with indignation, as though her son's intransigence were willful and unreasonable.

"Your code?" I said. "That is, your solution to your project?"

"Yes. But I can't give it away! I'd be betraying my entire team! Everyone who works for me, trusts me-and my employer, the faith they've shown-"

"You've given them everything they could have asked for!" the mother countered. "You left your home to live on the other side of the world! You work long hours and days, you're exhausted, no time for anyone! Now you must give them your son also?"

"Of course not, never! But there must be another way. That's why I wanted to come to Lydia-to Ling Wan-Ju." He looked at me desperately. "Can you help us? Can your daughter help us?"

"Possibly," I said. "But first you must both answer some questions for me."

"Anything!" said the son. The mother only sniffed and sipped her tea.

"Xiao-Du. First: were you given a deadline for your compliance?"

"Yes, five this afternoon."

"Over two hours from now. Good, we have some time." The mother frowned at that, but I paid her no attention. I asked the son, "Who was it who called you?"

"I don't know. Obviously he represents one of our competitors, but there are a number of them."

"But it was a man?"

"Yes, though he disguised his voice."

"Really? How?"

"He made it low and growling."

"I see. Now tell me, if you do as they ask, what will be the result?"

"Little Bin-Bin will be returned!" The mother could not contain herself.

"My question concerned a different result," I said in a neutral and professional manner. "For you, Xiao-Du. In relation to your employer. What I mean is, why do you not just do as the kidnappers ask, and then explain the dire nature of the situation to your employer?"

The son swallowed. I poured him more tea, in case his throat was dry. "I'd be betraying my firm and my team," he said. "Three years of work, lost. Worse, given away. Even if they understand, they'll have to fire me to save face."

"They will not fire you!" the mother exploded. "Never mind their face. You will resign without explaining anything. With your talents you'll easily find another position, and your firm will continue their work in ignorance. When the competitor brings their product to market, your firm will realize they've lost the race, and consider themselves unlucky. That will be all."

"Even if I could do that," the son said, "lie like that to people who've been so good to me, when the rival system comes on the market, they'll analyze it and then they'll know."

"What of it? It will never be more than suspicion. By then you'll have an important position elsewhere, and no one will speak against you."

"Not in China. In China I'll be finfshed. Even if it's just suspicion, no one will trust me enough keep me on."

"So, you will leave China! For your son, is that too big a sacrifice to make?"

Xiao-Du slumped miserably in his chair.

"Thank you," I said. "Tan Li-Li, now I have questions for you."

"This is ridiculous."

"Please, Mother," the son begged.

The mother rolled her eyes but turned to me with pursed lips, awaiting interrogation.

"You say you took your eyes off little Bin-Bin for a moment, when you were buying peanuts."

"Just for a moment!"

"I find it hard to believe, Tan Li-Li, that you took your eyes from him at all. I have seen you together in the park. You are the most assiduous of guardians." Tan Li-Li gave me a tight, smug smile. "A bag of peanuts could hardly divert you from your duty to your son and grandson," I continued. "Surely there must have been something else."

Her penciled brows knit. "What do you mean?"

"I am talking about a diversion." Let my daughter claim I don't listen to her! "A noise, a commotion, perhaps deliberately meant to distract you. Can you recall anything?"

After a moment her eyes lit up. "Yes! Why, Chin Yong-Yun, you are correct! A loud argument, three thuggish young men. Near the peanut vendor. Pushing each other, shouting, almost coming to blows. They drew everyone's attention. Then they ran off." She beamed. "Is that helpful?"

"Most helpful. Thank you. Would you like more tea? If not, I am ready to work on your case."

They both looked at me blankly. The son comprehended first. "Come, Mother." He stood.

"Where are we going?"

"We're leaving Chin Yong-Yun to her work."

"Chin Yong-Yun?" the mother said incredulously. "What are you proposing?"

"You have hired us," I clarified for her. "Have you not?"

"Yes!" the son said. "Whatever your fee is, I'll pay it."

"Of course," I said. "Now, if you'll excuse me?"

"We have…" the mother stammered. "It was Ling Wan-Ju we-he-wanted…"

"As I said, my daughter is not available, and as I also said, we often work together. Now, come."

"But… the deadline…"

"Yes." I turned to the son. "At the appointed time, if I have not recovered little Bin-Bin, you must give the kidnappers what they demand. No matter the consequences for you. Do you understand?"

He nodded glumly.

"But I don't believe you have reason to worry," I added, to be kind, though my daughter says she never promises a client she will solve their case, only that she will do her best. "Now. Perhaps you should go home and wait by the telephone in case the kidnappers call again."

This time the son looked blank and the mother answered with a cold smile. " They called him on his cell phone. He has it in his pocket."

"Oh. Yes. Of course, his cell phone," I said. "Yes. Still."

I was astonished at the mother's rudeness in forcing me to be so impolite as to ask guests to leave. But time was moving swiftly and I needed to begin my investigation. I walked across the living room and opened the door for them. With glances at each other-new hope in the son's eyes, impatient disapproval in the mother's-but without another word, they left.

Once they had gone I exchanged my house slippers for tennis shoes. I hoped the investigation would not demand a great deal of walking, because my bunions had been painful lately. But I didn't think it would. Except that I didn't understand what "code" was-a detail I regarded as unimportant-the situation seemed clear.

At the bottom of the three flights of stairs I opened the street door and peered cautiously around. The sidewalk held no one unexpected, so I emerged. I looked over my shoulder a number of times as I hurried to the park. I could not imagine who might follow me, with the exception of Tan Li-Li herself. That would be unfortunate, if not entirely unanticipated-clearly she had no faith in me-but she was nowhere to be seen.

In the park I questioned various women looking after their children and grandchildren. The number of people there was less than it would have been an hour ago, when Tan Li-Li had lost little Bin-Bin. By now many children had been taken home for their afternoon naps. Some of the women I spoke to had recently arrived, but still, I found a few who had been there for an hour or more. None of them, however, could give me any information about Tan Li-Li, little Bin-Bin, or any loud argument among three thuggish young men.

I was trying to decide what to do next when my own cell phone rang. I rarely use it, but I accepted it after my children repeatedly insisted. They claimed it would ease their minds to know I could contact them if I needed to. What kind of mother knowingly causes her children unease of mind?

I unclasped and unzipped my purse and pulled the phone from it. Pressing the green button, I said, "This is Chin Yong-Yun speaking," not too loudly, because it's very small.

"Yes, Ma, I know." It was my daughter, no time for politeness, a busy detective. "Ma, I have a call here from a man named Tan Xiao-Du, who says he's the son of a friend of yours and it's urgent. Then I have another from his mother, who says never mind. What's going on? Are you all right?"

"I? Of course I am. Why would I not be?"

"I don't know. It sounded like there was something wrong."

"Do not worry. I am taking care of their situation."

"Their situation? Not your situation?"

"Of course not. I'm sorry, Ling Wan-Ju, but I'm very busy right now. I'll explain later. Unless you're not coming home for dinner?"

"Yes, Ma, I'll be home. Are you sure you don't need me? Or the Tans don't need me?"

"They do not. I do."

"You do?"

"Yes. On your way home, please stop for cabbage."

It is important, under pressure, to be able to do two things at once. Therefore as I spoke to my daughter a decision had taken shape in my mind. Now, having said all I needed to say, I pressed the red button and replaced the phone in my purse, which I zipped. This was unfortunate, because as I was clasping the purse shut, the phone rang again. Ready to tell my daughter I really had no time for idle conversation, I unclasped and unzipped and took the phone from its pocket. I pressed the green button. "This is Chin Yong-Yun speaking."

I was surprised to hear, not my daughter's voice, but a man's voice, low and growling. "Stay away if you know what's good for you!"

"Who is speaking?"

"You don't need to know! If Tan Xiao-Du wants to get his son back, you'd better leave us alone! Otherwise someone might get hurt."

I asked again who was calling, but the connection had been broken. Many times that is caused by the inefficiency of the telephone company, but I did not think that had happened here.

Once again I replaced the phone in my purse. The voice had been quite threatening, but an investigator cannot allow herself to be intimidated. My daughter has said that many times.

Tan Li-Li's friend, Feng Guo-Ha, lives near the park. I had some questions to ask her, so I proceeded to her apartment without delay.

"Yong-Yun!" Though Guo-Ha smiled quickly, she seemed quite startled to see me. This was unsurprising. I am not the sort of person who appears on doorsteps unannounced; that is rude. However, my investigation demanded certain adjustments and I was doing what was necessary.

"Guo-Ha, good afternoon," I said. "I'm sorry to arrive without an invitation, but I must ask you some questions."

"I'm delighted to see you, of course, Yong-Yun, but perhaps you could return later? My granddaughter Mei is having her nap right now." Guo-Ha nodded in the direction of the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

"Oh, Mei is here with you today? What a fortunate woman you are, Guo-Ha."

"Yes, thank you, I am. But Mei has trouble sleeping, so once she settles for her nap I take great care not to disturb her. The slightest sound-oh, dear, I think I hear her crying now. I'm sorry, Yong-Yun, but if you'll excuse me-"

"I don't hear anything." I cocked my head to listen while delicately placing my foot in the doorway, in case the door shut accidentally. "Oh! Yes, I do. Allow me, Guo-Ha. I'm very successful with children."

"No, Yong-Yun, you mustn't trouble yourself-"

But I was already across the threshold and into the apartment. Guo-Ha's natural courtesy caused her to move aside for me before she quite knew what she was doing. Over her protests I made directly for the rear bedroom, the one that had been her son's. I heard a child's voice behind the door. I have always been able to quiet children when they fuss, but I could hear before I even opened the door that Guo-Ha had been wrong. Her granddaughter wasn't crying. She was laughing. "Hello, Mei," I said, stepping into the room. And to her father, sitting on the floor with her, a picture book on his lap, "Hello, Lao. I'm glad to hear your throat is no longer hoarse." And to the other child, on Lao's other side, "Hello, Bin-Bin."

Since Bin-Bin had had his nap and was refreshed, I took him with me soon after. Really, my visit was almost short enough to be considered impolite, but I had pressing business. Clearly, neither Lao nor his mother had been the moving force behind this abduction: they were merely agents, hired for the crime. This sort of thing happens often in detective work, and, as my daughter would agree, it is pointless to go after the smaller criminal. My next focus would be their employer, because, though I had recovered the child, an investigator does not like to leave a case unresolved. But first I needed to return Bin-Bin to his worried father.

Both Guo-Ha and her son were abashed at what they'd done, but I told them, "We will speak no more about this." I took little Bin-Bin's hand and led him out the door. In the park I stopped to buy him roasted peanuts, but we didn't linger. I considered calling my client on the cell phone, but Tan Li-Li's apartment, where Xiao-Du waited, was not far, and while I understand the value of such mechanical devices for people whose lives are as busy as my children's, still I consider them a poor choice for expressing matters of the heart. Also, it irritates me to press those tiny numbers.

The reunion of father and child was quite satisfying. Bin-Bin, who didn't know he'd been missing, squealed with everyday delight and ran into his father's arms. I'm sure he didn't understand the tears of joy, or the many kisses and hugs, or the large, dinner-spoiling dish of mango ice cream that followed.

Through all that commotion and all of Xiao-Du's repeated questions and thanks, Tan Li-Li regarded me with mascaraed eyes wide in wonder. Finally I was able to convey to Xiao-Du that I was not at liberty to discuss who the miscreants were, but that he had nothing more to fear from them, and also that he would receive a bill for services, payment of which would express sufficient gratitude. After all, would he thank the chef for cooking dinner or the barber for a haircut? Investigating is simply our job at LC Investigations.

Xiao-Du and his son settled down at the kitchen table to happily ruin their appetites together. I said to Tan Li-Li, "I'll be on my way, then. Perhaps you'll see me to the door?"

I should not have had to ask that, but I wasn't sure Tan Li-Li would be courteous enough to accompany me otherwise. She nodded and followed. I stepped into the hallway; she had no choice but to do so too, shutting the door behind her.

"Chin Yong-Yun," she stammered, "how did you-where did you-"

"Tan Li-Li," I said severely, "I think it's time you accepted that your son's decisions about where to live and raise his family have been made."

"I don't understand."

"Of course you do." I'm afraid I spoke more bluntly than our relationship would have normally allowed, but this was not a time for niceties. "It was a clever plan. And you are fortunate to have in the Fengs loyal friends, to get involved in such business at your behest."

She paled. "They told you?"

"They did not. They remain loyal. I discovered the truth by detecting. Why, for example, did the man who called Xiao-Du disguise his voice? It must be a voice Xiao-Du knows. It was bold of you to have him call me also, but I understand your desperation. He was an excellent actor, by the way. If I hadn't been sure of who it was, I might have been frightened. Another thing, no one in the park remembered seeing you with Bin-Bin today. The peanut vendor, whom I spoke to just now, could recall no loud argument among thuggish young men near his stand. You invented that in answer to my question, isn't that correct? Also, I asked myself, why did you leave a message with my daughter telling her to ignore Xiao-Du's call? Finally, I was struck by your insistence that your son resign rather than explain the situation to his employer. That was because, in fact, the code was never going to change hands at all. Xiao-Du's resignation was the solution, but to an entirely different problem."

Tan Li-Li stared at me, her red lips opening and closing like a fish's. It was comical, but laughing would have been unkind and I am not the sort of person who enjoys being heartless.

"You won't tell Xiao-Du?" Tan Li-Li looked truly scared for the first time. If she had appeared at all frightened during our earlier interview, instead of merely short-tempered and aggravated, I might not have understood from the first the situation's true nature.

"I promise I won't," I said. "But you must promise not to interfere with your son's family decisions anymore."

I trained a stern look on her. She nodded.

"Perhaps," I suggested, "you might consider returning to Beijing when your son does, and spending some time with his family there." Uppermost in my mind was how such a decision would strengthen the bonds between mother and son. The prospect of the cheeriness that might result around the mahjong table only occurred to me afterward.

Tan Li-Li nodded again, but said nothing.

I could feel her eyes watching me as I turned and walked away, but a detective has a sense about when she is in danger and I had nothing to fear from Tan Li-Li. I didn't look back. It was time to go home and prepare dinner. I had promised not to tell Xiao-Du the truth about what had happened, but I hadn't promised I wouldn't tell the story at all. It was, I thought, a noteworthy case, and I was sure my daughter would be interested.