Ghost Month (37 page)

I ignored Dwayne. Three Kiwis had come by because of the sign and decor. Joy Division has always been big in New Zealand. I talked them into sitting down and trying the stew fresh off the stove instead of getting something to go.

Frankie chatted with two giggly Japanese women. I could tell they were going to buy a lot. I assigned myself the task of washing dishes to give Frankie some more time to work on the women.

I washed out Da Pang first. The giant pot was our workhorse, and Dwayne would need it again soon. I ran the spray nozzle over Da Pang. I thoroughly scrubbed the insides of the pot. It was older than me, and I remembered my grandfather treating the pot with great affection. He used to pet it and talk to it gently.

I had just turned the pot upside down when I heard Frankie yell out, “Gun!” I looked up and saw a muzzle pointed at me.

I couldn’t think. What was that quivering ring in front of me? I had a vague idea that it was something bad. I should be scared of it. Somebody was babbling something.

A loud noise rang out, and then I couldn’t hear. Something slammed into my back. I put my arms out, and my fingers touched the ground. I saw Da Pang, which had saved my life, rolling away in space. Black scissors kicked across the landscape. I struggled to get to my hands and knees. I felt like the tide was dragging me out.

Someone pulled me up and made funny faces at me. Dwayne. That’s your name. The Japanese women were screaming and crying. The New Zealanders were running after someone.

I recognized that the torso on the ground was mine. I looked it over. No holes. Good. Dwayne shook me hard, and I focused on his face.

“Frankie pulled the guy’s mask off!” He said. “It was your friend!”

“It was my friend?”

“The loser guy you’ve been dodging! Cookie Monster! Ming-kuo!”

Frankie came over, holding something. “He got away, but he dropped his piece.” He held up a loose stocking in one hand and in the other, Ming-kuo’s gun, already in a clear plastic bag. “He was too slow.”

It was hard to imagine my old classmate as anything but harmless and pathetic. Why was he trying to kill me? “Ming-kuo had a gun?”

“Yeah,” said Dwayne. “The thing he tried to shoot you with!”

“Poor Da Pang,” said Frankie. The pot now had a dent. A small hole in the brick wall above the main sink showed where the bullet had lodged after the ricochet.

“Cookie Monster,” I said stupidly.

“Yeah,” said Dwayne. “He was a monster.”

F
RANKIE INSISTED THAT
I let Jenny examine me, as she had experience with medicinal herbs and foods. After taking my pulse, feeling my ears and smelling my breath, she made me drink a room-temperature tea as a preventative measure.

She checked my pulse again when I was done. Jenny then looked deeply into my eyes, searching for something.

“There you are!” she finally declared. I looked Jenny over. I admired her big brown eyes and thick lashes up close. She was treating me with the firm demeanor of a detention teacher.

“He looks all right to me, Frankie,” Jenny said. “Now let me do you.”

Frankie waved his right arm. “I’m in perfect health, Jenny. No need to examine me.”

I walked into the side of a rack of clothes, but before it could tip over, Frankie grabbed the hanging rod and set it right again. The fastest reflexes in Taiwan saved my ass again.

A
S WE CROSSED THE
street to Unknown Pleasures, Frankie and I both noticed that the bootleg DVD sellers had packed up their rollaway carts and left. It meant that a cop was near.

Closer than near, actually. He was waiting for me at the stand.

“Are you the one who was shot?” the cop asked me as he nervously fiddled with Ming-kuo’s bagged gun. He looked young enough to be on the varsity track team.

“Not quite shot, but it was close,” I said.

“I called it in,” said Dwayne, almost sheepishly. “I know you have a crappy relationship with cops, but I couldn’t let this thing slide.”

“You’re Chen Jing-nan, right?” the cop asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you get a good description of the shooter?”

“I know who it is. It’s Wang Ming-kuo, an old classmate of mine.”

“He’s a loser,” Dwayne volunteered.

“Okay,” said the cop.

“Officer,” I said, “I notice that you’re not writing anything down.”

The cop straightened up. “I can remember what you’re saying. ‘Wang Ming-kuo.’ See?”

Frankie moved to a corner of the stall and crossed his arms.

“If I tell you where Ming-kuo is, will you arrest him?” I said.

The cop shrugged and tilted his head. “At this point it’s your word versus his. We have to review the security cameras in the area.”

I pointed at the evidence that dangled ever so carelessly in his loose grip. “His fingerprints are going to match the ones on the gun,” I said.

“I can’t just take his fingerprints, Jing-nan,” the cop said through a weak smile. He wiped his forehead and pushed back his snap-back hat. “We have to respect his rights as a citizen. We all have rights, you know.”

“Gan!”
declared Dwayne. “Gimme that gun back, you lousy cop. We’ll just go shoot him ourselves.”

The cop shoved the gun handle-first into his armpit. “Now, now, let’s not get carried away,” he stuttered.

“Officer,” I said, “what should I do if he comes back with another gun?”

“He probably won’t come back,” said the cop. “Not tonight. I’d better get back to the station now. Write up this whole incident from beginning to end.”

“Get the fuck outta here!” Dwayne yelled. “You can forget about getting any free food, too!”

The cop handed me his card and left, but not before whispering, “Sorry.”

“What the hell, you guys?” I said to Frankie and Dwayne. “What would have happened if I had been killed? The same bullshit?”

“We probably wouldn’t be able to seat people inside,” Frankie offered.

I chuckled and slumped into a seat. Who knew the Cookie Monster could be an assassin? Who knew he could miss an unarmed target from point-blank range?

“You want to take the night off, Jing-nan?” asked Dwayne. “We can manage without you.”

“I’m staying. I’m safer around you guys, anyway.” I bit my lip. “By the way, thanks for saving my life.”

Frankie nodded. Dwayne wrung out a towel that was already dry. “I only did it for the money, Jing-nan,” he said.

The DVD sellers crept back in. I slipped back into Johnny mode and didn’t worry about anything.

Near closing time I saw people running by Dabei Road to Beefy King, which had an outdoor satellite-TV hookup.

Curious, I followed along. The buzz was that someone was about to commit suicide on a live broadcast.

A large crowd had gathered. The flat-panel television was set up next to the menu, which was branded into a wood sign. The broadcast picture was a little blurry, but it was clear enough to show a man standing at the edge of a roof.

Night-market vendors, including me, Jenny and Kuilan, stood closest to the television, impervious to the waves of beefsteak-grease clouds rolling off Beefy King’s grill at eye level. Tourists stood away from the smoke. The guy who sold peanut-candy-scraping crepes was offering 50 percent off to the unexpectedly large crowd and doing brisk business.

“This is disgusting,” said Jenny. “Trying to show someone dying on live television.”

Kuilan popped a peanut into her mouth. “Well, we’re watching, aren’t we?” she asked.

“Someone’s going to rescue the guy in the end,” I said. “No one’s going to die on TV.”

“Is anybody thirsty?” asked Ranny, the Beefy King owner. He looked anxious to capitalize on the crowd. “How about some Coke or iced tea? Also, closing-time special—Philadelphia cheesesteaks, thirty-five percent off!”

“Turn the sound on,” someone yelled from the back.

“If I have the sound on, I can’t hear what people are ordering. Not that you’re ordering anything anyway.”

The channel’s ground crew finally got it together and drew up close on the potential suicide. He was standing, holding his head in his hands. Then he dropped his arms.

It was Ming-kuo.

I held my breath. Goddamn you, Cookie Monster. What did you get yourself into?

The frame suddenly shook and drew back, showing that Ming-kuo was on top of a building with probably a dozen floors. He was on Xinyi Road, the main artery of downtown Taipei. I could tell because Taipei 101 was sometimes caught in the swaying frame.

The camera focused on Ming-kuo’s full-moon face. It was a good lens. I could have sworn that I saw sweat and maybe tears on his face, which was lit from the bottom, leaving his eyes in darkness. Ming-kuo looked down and drew his arms together, as if preparing to dive. The crowd around me swooned as if they were there in person.

“Don’t do it!” yelled Kuilan.

“Help is on the way!” said the crepe vendor.

“Philadelphia cheesesteaks, forty percent off!” yelled Ranny.

Ming-kuo’s face twitched. His right hand brought up a cell phone and fiddled around with it.

My ringtone, the opening drumbeat of Joy Division’s “She’s Lost Control,” went off.

The entire crowd turned and looked at me. I checked my phone. It was Ming-kuo. I answered the call.

“Hello, Ming-kuo?” I said tentatively. I could hear the wind whipping around him.

“Jing-nan!” he said. “I’m so sorry! I never wanted to hurt you! I was mad, that’s all!”

“That’s all right. You know, we’re all watching you on TV. Maybe you should go back inside. Okay?”

“I can see the crowds down there. Nobody’s ever given me this much attention. I’ve never felt so powerful before.” I saw that one of Ming-kuo’s arms was raised in triumph.

“Ming-kuo, you have to go back in now, all right?”

“I was mad at you,” he blubbered. “Because I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends!”

“But you never wanted to hang out with me! All of you called me a monster back in school—don’t deny it. So I became one! I joined Everlasting Peace a year ago, Jing-nan! When they noticed
you were making some noise about Julia, I told them I could take care of you. That was even before you emailed me!”

I tried to read Ming-kuo’s body language. I couldn’t tell if he was going to jump or not. Where the hell were the police and emergency responders? Someone send a goddamn helicopter!

“You know they killed Julia, right?” said Ming-kuo. “The Everlasting Peace guys. I was at the desk of the love hotel when they came back to hide. They were trying to get betel-nut beauties to sell their drugs for them. Things went bad and they shot one. Somehow I knew … I just knew it was Julia!”

Keep him talking. Any second there would be people creeping in on either side of Ming-kuo, ready to snatch him and pull him in.

“Hold on, Ming-kuo, how did you know it was her?”

“I saw her, Jing-nan. I actually talked to her a few times. I was lonely. She was always willing to listen to me back in school. She told me she hid a message to you because she didn’t think you two would ever see each other again.”

Help still hadn’t arrived. Ming-kuo sat down. Maybe that was a good sign.

Keep him talking. “Where’s the message, Ming-kuo?”

“Maybe at the stand, in the dressing room? The
lamei
might know about it.”

Ah, the boss lady, the “spicy sister,” might have a message for me from Julia.

“It’s my fault, you know,” he said. “I blame myself. I took some of the guys to the
binlang
stand to show her off. I told them that I had slept with her.” Ming-kuo was sobbing openly now. “I was bragging about it.”

I listened to him cry for a few seconds. I hadn’t wanted him dead after he tried to kill me, but now I wouldn’t have minded seeing him tumble off the building like a dog’s chew toy.

“Julia wouldn’t deal their drugs,” Ming-kuo continued between sobs. “There was some struggle and she was shot—but it was an accident! Now the entire faction has to pay the price. They’re going to get me, too, Jing-nan!”

My heart was raging for Julia, but I managed to say, almost to myself, “Stay calm. Everything’s going to be fine in the end.”

“I know the stand Julia was working at.”

“You told me before. The second exit at Hsinchu City.”

“I lied to you, Jing-nan! It’s the first exit. It’s called ‘Forever Beauty.’ ”

“Ming-kuo, come down from there and we’ll go together. How about it?”

“It’s too late, Jing-nan. I’ve already lost you as a friend, but at least I’ve made up for …”

The crowd around me screamed, so I missed hearing Ming-kuo’s last words. I looked up at the television screen. The camera was now set at ground level, with parked cars mercifully blocking out the spot where he had landed. At the scene, police closed in slowly and awkwardly, like they were in a three-legged race.

I
MET
N
ANCY AT
her apartment.

“You sounded like a robot on the telephone!” She wrapped her arms around my head like it was going to fly off.

“I feel so strange,
xinai,”
I said to the back of her neck. My first utterance of an affectionate name, “beloved,” surprised us both.

“My poor baby! Did you talk to the police about Ming-kuo?”

“I can’t believe the guy tried to kill me, and then a few hours later he kills himself!”

“It’s crazy, right?”

“I told the police that I was talking to him when he jumped. The guy I talked to said they would be in touch. It’s sort of a mess, because Ming-kuo tried to kill me in Shilin District and then he killed himself in Da’an District, so those two precincts have to work together.”

I hid my hands in my armpits and made an empty cradle with my arms.

“Nancy, he said he tried to be my friend. I wouldn’t let him, and that’s why things ended this way.”

I let the empty cradle bounce against my stomach. I felt guilty, but there was something I had to ask Nancy. She stepped on my right foot to stop my pacing.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Ming-kuo told me which
binlang
stand Julia was working at.

He said she had left me some secret message there and that the
lamei
knew about it.”