Golden Lies Page 14

  "I'm not sure I want to know you, either," Paige said finally. "I'm also not sure we have a choice. Something is going on between your mother and our father -- even now. He went to see her only hours before he was attacked."

  "The police already spoke to my mother. She told them what she knew."

  "Did she tell you about the dragon?"

  "I know my mother is obsessed with a dragon that looks like the one your father supposedly showed her. I don't know anything more than that."

  "Maybe if we put our heads together, we can figure out why that dragon is so important to our parents. It seems strange that your mother could have painted it without seeing it before."

  "My mother paints from her imagination. She's a very good artist and an extraordinary person. She didn't deserve ... him," Alyssa added, casting another angry glance at her father.

  "Neither one of us knows much about their relationship, but what I do know is that your mother was quite possibly the last person to see him alive. And that makes her very important."

  "What are you saying? That you think she assaulted him?"

  "No. But she's going to be a part of the investigation. My family is very important to the city. The mayor, the police chief— they want the assailant caught. The press is covering the story every day. As soon as they find out about your mother, they'll be all over her. She'll be under the microscope. She'll be asked tougher questions than the ones I'm asking. The press will delve into her background, where she came from, how she met my father. They might even find out about you."

  "Is that some sort of threat?"

  "I'm just pointing out the reality of the situation. I need your help. My father got hurt in Chinatown. I bet people there would be willing to talk to you before they would talk to me. You may hate him, but I'm sure you love your mother. We both want to protect our family."

  Alyssa considered her words. "I'll think about it."

  Paige took out her business card and scribbled her home and cell phone numbers. "Please call me. Don't wait too long."

  Alyssa took the card. She paused on her way out the door. "Are you going to tell the press about me?"

  "Are you?" Paige countered.

  "Why would I?" Alyssa asked with surprise.

  "Money. Someone would pay you well for the story."

  Alyssa nodded, her mouth set in a bitter line. "I'll keep that in mind."

  "Dammit," Paige swore under her breath as Alyssa left the room. She hadn't handled that particularly well. The door opened, and she wondered if Alyssa had come back with more to say, but it was the nurse and Riley.

  "I found this man listening at the door," the nurse said with a frown. "Do you want me to report that to your grandfather?"

  "No, he's a friend of mine." Paige moved into the hall to speak to Riley while the nurse moved to the bed to check on her father. "What did you hear?"

  "Some of your conversation with Alyssa," he admitted. "I don't think I would have given her the idea of selling her story to the tabloids."

  "She would have thought of it eventually. She's very angry. She didn't know about my father until today."

  "Then she has a right to be angry. Let's go."

  "Go where?" she asked in surprise.

  "To follow Alyssa, of course," he said, taking off down the hall.

  Paige jogged after him, barely keeping up with his long strides. As they exited through the front doors of the hospital, they saw Alyssa heading toward the bus stop.

  "I'll get the car," Riley told her. "You keep an eye on her. If she gets on a bus, make a note of the number."

  "Okay. But why are we following her?"

  Riley just gave her a quick smile. "So we can find out where she goes."

  Paige didn't particularly care for his sarcastic answer, and she couldn't see what following Alyssa would accomplish, but at least they were taking action. Anything was better than sitting in that hotel room wondering if her father would ever wake up.

  * * *

  Alyssa got off the bus and walked up the steps toward the top level of Portsmouth Square, a popular gathering spot in Chinatown. Her discomfort grew with each step, especially when she passed the children's playground where old Chinese grandmothers watched the babies for their young mothers who worked during the day. Chinatown never really changed. While new immigrants moved in and out of the neighborhood, there were many who lived their whole lives here, like her grandparents, who had gotten married just after the Second World War ended.

  They'd spent several years living in a small, cramped apartment with two other families they referred to as uncles, aunties, and cousins. In truth there was no blood between them, just a friendship borne of being strangers in a strange land. Eventually, her grandparents had managed to get their own apartment, where they'd raised five American-born Chinese children. But while those children, her mother Jasmine included, grew up American, her grandparents still held tight to their traditions and superstitions.

  Her grandmother, An-Mei, was a strong-willed woman who had worked hard to help support the family, shelling shrimp, sewing in sweatshops, and making fortune cookies for tourists. She had done it all while her husband, Lee, cooked herbs in the kitchen and eventually opened an herb shop on a narrow street in Chinatown, which they still ran together.

  Alyssa had heard the many stories of their struggles to survive in America, and she admired the strength and courage it must have taken for her grandparents to start over in a new country. But she didn't admire the way they treated her mother and herself as outcasts who had dishonored the family name. Her mother was the true culprit, but by virtue of her illegitimate birth, Alyssa was considered a mark of shame as well, at least by her grandmother, who had told her many times that she would have to work hard to overcome her birth, that she would have to prove to the gods that she was worthy. Worthy of what, Alyssa wasn't quite sure, but she hadn't dared to ask.

  Questions were never welcome in her family, not with her mother, not with her grandparents, not with anyone. So why had she come back to the old neighborhood with even more questions? Who did she think would answer them?

  Part of her wanted to turn and run back across town to the small apartment she shared with three of her college friends, who didn't worry about old secrets, who were only concerned about getting ahead, meeting nice guys to marry, living their lives the way they wanted to live them. But she still had to worry about her mother. It was for her mother's sake that she had come here. Perhaps her grandparents would speak to her more freely than they would to Jasmine.

  A cluster of men sat on the stairs, playing cards. She hurried past them, past the chess tables where more old guys turned to stare at her. The top level of Portsmouth Square was a male bastion of gambling and other vices she didn't want to consider. She remembered once walking alone through the square late at night and having men come up to her asking if she wanted a date. She'd been so frightened by those groping hands, those leering voices that she'd avoided the square for years. Even now she felt uneasy.

  But it was daytime and no one bothered her. She paused, seeing a familiar stooped figure bending over a bench where several men were playing Mahjong. It was her grandfather, Lee Chen. She hesitated, then approached the group, careful not to disturb anyone during the play. Her grandfather must have sensed her presence, for finally he turned and looked at her. He broke away from the group and walked over to join her. He was a short, square man; at one time, he had been a gymnast, but that had been a very long time ago. Now he was thin and frail and occasionally seemed confused by his very existence. Since he had turned seventy-nine years old on his last birthday, she supposed some confusion was understandable. She smiled as he put a hand to his head to pat down the few loose-flying strands of hair he had left. His face was square, plain, his eyes somewhat hidden by the old-fashioned black-rimmed eyeglasses he wore. But he had a smile on that face, a cautious smile, as if he wasn't sure he should give her one.

  "Alyssa, what are you doing down here?" he aske
d.

  "I'm on my way to the shop. I need some herbs."

  "You are too thin. Must eat more. You come for New Year's. An-Mei fatten you up."

  "You know Grandmother won't let us come for New Year's. It's a sacred holiday. We have too many sins, we taint the New Year with our presence." Alyssa heard the bitterness in her voice, but she couldn't do anything about it. While their presence was tolerated at other family parties, the traditional New Year's Eve dinner had always been held just out of reach.

  "You come anyway. I invite you," Lee said firmly. "She do what I say. She's my wife."

  "I can't come without my mother."

  "Jasmine lay in the bed of her making. Not you. You come."

  "I'll think about it." She paused. "Do you remember Ma telling you of her dreams about a dragon?"

  He frowned. "She dream too much. She must stop."

  "Ma thinks she saw a dragon just like the one in her dreams."

  "She always see dragons. She imagine it."

  "A man," she said, deliberately not calling David Hathaway her father, "brought her a dragon statue the other day. She said it looked exactly like the one in her dreams. But that man was robbed, and the dragon was stolen." Alyssa watched her grandfather's face for a reaction but saw nothing in his eyes. He might be the friendliest of her relatives, but he had the same unreadable expression as the rest of the Chens. "Did you hear of a robbery in Salmon Alley on Wednesday night?" she added.

  "I hear many things, some lies, some truths. Who knows which is which?" he said with a shrug.

  "The man who was robbed was David Hathaway. I don't suppose you know who he is?"

  "I must go. It is my turn to play. You be a good girl, Alyssa, go home, go to work. Make good life for yourself. Forget about dragons."

  Her grandfather was gone before she could say another word. He knew who David Hathaway was; that much she was sure. Although that wasn't completely surprising. The Hathaways were a famous San Francisco family. Did her grandfather know that David Hathaway was also her father?

  With a sigh, she walked out of the square. She was tempted to end her quest and go home, but Paige's reminder that her mother might be connected to their father's attack worried her. She couldn't let her mother get into any more trouble than she was already in. The Hathaways had a lot of money. They could make things happen. She hadn't needed Paige to tell her that. It was strange to think she had a sister now— a half sister, but still a sibling. She'd been an only child forever.

  Paige was beautiful—blond, sophisticated, smart. She'd never had to struggle, never worried about her family name or lack thereof, never wondered where she came from, who her parents were. It wasn't fair, and Alyssa was jealous. Not really of the money, although it would have been nice to grow up rich. No, what she really hated was that Paige had grown up with two parents who loved her, two parents who could probably trace their family tree back to the Mayflower. Paige had never had to be half of anything.

  Not that it was Paige's fault. She wasn't responsible for the situation any more than Alyssa was. In a way, Alyssa was surprised that Paige had been friendly. She wondered if she would have felt the same way if the situation was reversed. Well, she'd have to deal with Paige later. Right now she had to speak to her grandmother, and that would require all of her attention, strength, and courage.

  Squaring her shoulders, she headed down the street and opened the door to the family herb shop. The smells of ginseng root and honeysuckle made her want to breathe deeply, to inhale the peace and calm that filled the shop. Despite her often anti-Chinese stance, she secretly loved the herb shop: the floor-to-ceiling mahogany cabinets filled with hundreds of long, narrow drawers where the various herbs were stored; the soft flute music that played in the background; the rows of books on Oriental medicine, self-healing, meditation; the candles that burned brightly along the counter no matter what the time of day.

  Her cousin Ona, who at thirty-five was the oldest of the cousins and a favorite of their grandmother's, was helping a customer complete a purchase. She smiled at Alyssa and said she'd be just a moment.

  "Is Grandmother here?" Alyssa asked deliberately using the word grandmother. While the other grandchildren affectionately called their grandmother Nai Nai, Alyssa refused to do so. Her grandmother had made it clear that, because of her mixed blood, she wasn't a true member of the family.

  "No." Ona bagged the customer's order and wished her a good day. "Can I help you with something? Maybe some ginkgo biloba or some licorice. You look anxious, tense. What have you been eating? Are you drinking too much coffee again? You know you have to keep a balance in your life."

  "Yes, yes, I know." Unfortunately balance was the last thing she had right now. She was so weighted down it was hard to stand upright, but she didn't want to tell Ona the reason for her anxiety. As the oldest, Ona was also the nosiest, believing she had some inalienable right to butt into everyone's business.

  "You're a big-time banker now," Ona continued. "You should take care of your health."

  "I take ginseng every day."

  "What about ginger? It disburses the cold, adjusts nutritive and protective qi."

  "Fine, I'll take some ginger. But I think you're just trying to show a profit so our grandparents will leave the shop to you and not to cousin Lian."

  Ona smiled. "You are a smart girl, little cousin."

  "Don't let the family hear you say that or you'll be disowned for good."

  "It's the twenty-first century. Our grandparents need to get over the facts of your birth," Ona said firmly.

  "They never will. I don't expect it anymore. And I don't really care."

  "Don't you?" Ona asked softly, compassion in her dark eyes. "It's not right the way you've been treated. I wish you would come to New Year's. I miss you every year."

  "That's sweet of you to say, but I won't come without my mother, and she's not welcome." Alyssa took the bag of herbs off the counter. "By the way, I heard there was a robbery in Salmon Alley two nights ago. Do you know who did it?"

  "I have no idea. Why do you ask?"

  "Just curious. I read about it in the newspaper. You always seem to know what's going on in the neighborhood. I heard the victim was a Hathaway and that he might have had a priceless statue with him."

  "I heard the same thing. Assaulting rich white men is very bad for business. If the tourists are afraid to come here, we'll all suffer."

  That was Ona, a homeopathic herbalist but also an unemotional pragmatist. Of course, Ona didn't realize that the rich white man was Alyssa's father.

  "Our grandparents were very upset about it," Ona added. "I heard them talking in the back room. They don't like it when crime gets too close. It makes them remember the old days when they had to pay for protection from the gangs running through the streets."

  "They had to pay for protection?"

  "Of course. It was a way of life for many years, but thankfully not now."

  "Do you think a gang was responsible for the attack?"

  "No one is boasting about it, but who can say? Ancient art pieces can be sold on the black market for a lot of money. I'm surprised Mr. Hathaway didn't have more security with him. Actually, I'm surprised he was here at all. I bet he was going to see Lonnie Yao. He's an expert on Chinese bronzes. He has a reputation for being able to spot a fake from three feet away."

  "You'd think a rich man like Mr. Hathaway would have his own expert right in the store."

  Ona shrugged. "Is something wrong? You seem awfully interested in this robbery."

  "Nothing is wrong. So, where is our grandmother?" Alyssa asked, deciding she better change the subject before Ona became more curious. "Is she upstairs cleaning the apartment for the New Year's celebration?"

  Ona groaned. "Every day she cleans—up there, down here, in the garden. And every night she buys fresh oranges and tangerines and tells me to take them home so I can have more babies. She doesn't think my two are enough."

  Alyssa laughed. Ona's two energetic b
oys were more than enough. "Maybe she wants you to have a girl."

  "I don't think so. She says three boys would be lucky."

  "I think I'll go upstairs and see her."

  "She isn't upstairs. She went out, and she didn't say where. She was in a bad mood, so I let her go without asking why."

  "Why was she in a bad mood?"

  "She's seventy-eight years old. Does she need a reason? Besides, she's always in a bad mood around the New Years'. I guess counting up all her sins for the year depresses her." Ona rested her arms on the counter as she leaned forward. "So, how are you, Alyssa? Any new men in your life?"

  "I'm too busy for men."

  "Ben was asking about you the other day. He always asks about you when he comes into the shop."

  "I'm sure he was just being polite."

  "You know, he might get tired of waiting for you."

  "He's not waiting for me, and I'm not interested."

  "Because he's Chinese."

  "Because we're too different."

  "You should talk to him, Alyssa, give him a chance. He might surprise you."

  "I doubt it. He wants a traditional Chinese wife, and I could never be that."

  "Do you want me to tell Nai Nai you came by?"

  "No, I'll catch up to her later. Thanks."

  Alyssa stepped onto the sidewalk and paused, debating her options. Maybe she should talk to Ben. Not about her love life, but about the dragon and the robbery. Ben was a reporter for the Chinese Daily News. He covered everything that happened in Chinatown.

  Still, she hesitated. She hadn't seen Ben in several years. They'd been friends throughout childhood and had started dating in high school, but when she'd moved away to college, she'd ended their romance the same way she'd cut the ties to the old neighborhood. There was no future for her in Chinatown. And that's where Ben wanted to be.