Bitter Spirits Part 13

"Good thing you immediately tore it up and threw it in the trash."

"Well-I was busy, but I'm definitely going to do that."

"Might should burn it, just for good measure."

"Excellent idea."

"Ready?" Bo said as he climbed into the front seat. The privacy window was lowered. Probably for the best, all things considered. She had no desire to repeat yesterday's behavior in front of Bo, and if Winter continued to tease her about the postcard, she wasn't certain she'd be able to concentrate on being proper.

"Ready?" Winter repeated, tossing the question to her.

"Yes, I think I might be."

The corners of his mouth curled like paper on fire.

Bo turned the Pierce-Arrow onto Grant, and the three of them chatted casually as they retraced the same path Winter and she had walked. Only, instead of navigating through the narrow streets and cul-de-sacs toward Doctor Yip's, Bo slowed in front of an unmarked garage and waved a hand out the window. A man smoking a cigarette waved back, and Bo waited while the man hauled open a ma.s.sive door on wheels, allowing them access to a dimly lit garage.

Once they'd parked, the man pointed at Winter while asking Bo something in Cantonese. Winter must've recognized a word, because he opened his jacket and flashed a holstered gun. "That stays with me, buddy. You can forget it."

Bo translated and shooed the man, urging him to back off. He yielded.

They were led through a series of dingy corridors, out a door, across an alley, and into another building, pa.s.sing several men she could only a.s.sume were guards along the way. A dull anxiety settled over her as they headed into a ma.s.sive warehouse s.p.a.ce. Just what did Ju do, exactly? She a.s.sumed it was bootlegging, but all she could hear was loud machinery.

Sewing machines.

Several rows of them, all operated by Chinese women, who looked up with blatant curiosity at Aida and Winter.

"One of Ju's enterprises," Winter explained near her ear as they pa.s.sed bolts of brightly printed silk stacked on shelves. The warm air smelled of fabric dye and machine oil.

Aida removed her gloves and pocketed them. "This is his fis.h.i.+ng company?"

"Exactly. He makes costumes for theater productions. Quality stuff."

"Ah." The sounds of sewing machines faded as they headed down a dark corridor to an open area with several carved doors, the middle of which was flanked by two armed men. Their guide spoke some aggressive words in Cantonese to the men and knocked on the door.

A tiny woman in a bright yellow traditional Chinese dress answered. Her black bob was s.h.i.+nier and straighter than Aida's. She smiled at Winter; her front teeth had an attractive gap.

"Nei hou, Mr. Magnusson."

Winter groaned under his breath. "h.e.l.lo, Sook-Yin."

Their guide snapped at Sook-Yin and a short argument ensued in Cantonese. The spat ended with her looking angry and saying, "Follow me."

Her quick strides led them through a gilded foyer, past a set of heavy wooden doors, and into a large six-sided room-an indoor courtyard with double-high ceilings and a second story ringed with balconies. Like Golden Lotus, the room was decorated with traditional ornamental flair: gilded screens, silk curtains, and ornate trusses lining the ceiling.

In the center of the great hall was a large, round dining table. A lone person sat at the table, two bodyguards at his back. The chair he sat in was so wildly thronelike, Aida could only a.s.sume that the person lounging in it was Ju.

THIRTEEN.

"WINTER MAGNUSSON, THE VIKING BOOTLEGGER. IT IS GOOD TO see you, my friend. It has been several months. We've missed you."

With polished black hair and a big smile, Ju was rather das.h.i.+ng and well attired. He looked like someone who should be in Hollywood pictures, not running an underground gang in Chinatown. Aida guessed him to be in his forties.

"You've got more goons around than usual," Winter said. "You worried I might steal something?"

Ju's smile grew. "You are big and slow-easy to catch. This must be the woman we spoke about on the telephone."

"Aida Palmer, this is Ju-Ray Wong."

"Everyone calls me Ju, my dear." He held out his hand, inviting her to step forward. When she took it, he kissed her knuckles. "It is an honor to meet such an extraordinarily lovely woman."

"Thank you for inviting me into your home."

"Please, have a seat. My grandmother is making us a very nice meal."

It did smell rather nice, whatever it was. Winter held out a chair for her, then sat down next to Ju. Bo hung back until Ju prompted him forward. "Go on, Mr. Yeung. You're Magnusson's trusted man. You can sit with us."

Bo didn't act like he was comfortable doing so, but he sat to her left. Several of Ju's men joined them. And if Aida felt uneasy being the only female seated at a ma.s.sive table full of gangsters, it only got worse when an army of women began bringing dishes out to the table, under the instruction of Sook-Yin. Their faces were painted, their dresses traditional. Several of them placed platters of steaming vegetables and seafood on a rotating wooden tray in the center of the table, while others brought green bottles of Chinese beer.

Aida had grown accustomed to tasting unusual dishes since living over Golden Lotus, but the style of food presented here was much more rustic-no pretty dumplings and hand-pulled noodles. She didn't recognize the vegetables, and Ju laughed as she stared at the intimidating spread. "You need a knife and fork?"

"I can use chopsticks," she said proudly, having been taught by Mrs. Lin.

"Everything is very fresh. Have some chicken."

She peeked at bubbling liquid inside a clay pot, from which a serving girl speared small, unfamiliar pieces of chicken, each glistening with rubbery dimpled skin and strange bone fragments. One piece was definitely the chicken's clawed foot.

"The Chinese butcher chicken differently," Bo explained in a soft voice.

"Killed fresh this morning," Ju said, while making an enthusiastic hacking motion with his hand.

"I can practically see the cleaver marks," Aida agreed.

Ju chuckled and translated to the table. A round of male laugher erupted. Winter draped his arm across the back of her chair and gave her quick wink.

The women filled her plate with this and that, while Bo steered her away from some dishes and encouraged others, his advice mostly on the mark. Winter ate heartily, his steely leg pressed against hers, while conversing with Ju.

"So tell me your story, Magnusson. Why were you really in this neighborhood yesterday? I know it's not for acupuncture. Bo has been poking around asking questions about other tongs. You finally deciding to do what your father would not and take over the alcohol business in Chinatown?"

"Not in a million years. I'm making plenty of money, Ju. If I made more, I'd have to find something else to spend it on."

"You've certainly gotten your daddy's business all s.h.i.+pshape. Cleaned up all his messes. Everyone knows you are a much better boss than he was. A born leader. Maybe because you have all your marbles?"

Winter narrowed his eyes at Ju. "Watch it."

"I'm not telling you anything that you and I don't both know. All I am saying is that people around Chinatown are talking. They see you're more successful than your father-so successful that they covet what you have."

"Someone's coveting, all right. And when I find out who, they'll wish they'd minded their own business." Sook-Yin bent low to pour beer into Winter's gla.s.s. Aida didn't like how close the woman got, or how she put her hand on Winter's shoulder. "You haven't heard about anyone in particular, have you, Ju?"

"I've heard rumors about a handful of different tongs. If any of those rumors had substance, I'd share them. We've always had an understanding, you and I. I've treated you well. You've treated me well."

"That understanding hasn't changed on my part. Has it changed on yours?"

"You are speaking of yesterday's insult. Let us take care of it." He whistled and said something in quick Cantonese to one of the men behind him, who turned and headed through a doorway. A few moments later, the cauliflower-eared man and his companion were hauled out and pushed in front of the table.

"These are the men who accosted you yesterday?" Ju asked. It took Aida a moment to realize he was speaking to her, not Winter.

She glanced at the first man's bandaged nose and the discolored burn on his companion's cheek. "Yes, that's them."

Ju motioned to the guard holding them, who immediately pulled out a revolver and stuck the muzzle against the head of the man she'd burned. "Do you want his death as payment, Miss Palmer? I will gladly do this."

Good grief! "That's not necessary," she said.

"Are you sure? It is within your right. They acted out of turn and insulted you."

"I was just hoping I'd never see them again."

Winter put down his chopsticks. "If Miss Palmer doesn't mind, I'd like to propose a trade." Aida nodded her consent. Winter continued. "Instead of their lives as payment, maybe you can give me some information."

"What kind of information?"

"The private kind."

Ju dismissed everyone from the table but one guard, and Aida let out a long breath as their attackers were marched out of the room.

When they'd gone, Winter asked, "Have you heard of a fortune-teller named Black Star working at a local joss house?"

Ju's brows shot up. "A fortune-teller? Why do you need to know this?"

"Because another tong is using him to try to scare me. Do you believe in superst.i.tious things, Ju? In spirits and ghosts?"

Ju chuckled nervously, looking between the three of them. "Are you teasing me, or is this an honest question?"

"It's honest. Someone's playing around with witchcraft, and I need to hunt them down."

"The alleys of Chinatown are crawling with dark magic. There are some things I don't want to stick my nose in, and that is one of them."

"So you won't help me find this man?"

The tong leader considered it and let out a heavy sigh. "I should refuse, but you've been good to me. If I do this for you, and another tong catches me, I will ask for your protection."

"You'll have it."

"Then I'll see what I can learn. Might take me a few days. I'll need all the details you already have."

"Thank you."

Ju sighed and said something to his guard while pulling a silver cigarette case out of his pocket. "That is all you want? Just the location of this man? Usually I'd offer you something else, but in light of your company-"

Winter made a loud growling noise.

Ju held up his hands. "I was only going to suggest something for Miss Palmer. My dear, would you like a new gown? My ladies can make beautiful things."

"That's not necessary," Aida said.

"Go on," Winter encouraged. "They do nice work."

"It's the least I can do," Ju said. He fired off another string of Cantonese commands to someone. Several minutes later, two women carried bolts of silk into the room. "Sook-Yin will take you to be measured and show you gown styles."

Winter's face was blank. Should she be worried?

"It's a high honor," Bo whispered as he gave her an encouraging prod. So she followed Sook-Yin and her two girls into another part of the home. Someone's bedroom. It looked too feminine to be Ju's. The girls unwound measuring tapes and deftly coiled them around her-bust, waist, hips, wrists. You name it, they measured it. Sook-Yin spoke to her while they worked.

"I have seen freckles on the Irish women's faces and arms, but never so many."

"Yes, I hear that a lot." She suffered through Sook-Yin's brash inspection as the girls worked, jotting down figures after each measure. "I'm not Irish."

"I wondered why Winter had not visited me in so long, but now that I see you, I guess I understand."

"Pardon me?"

"You are to be the new wife, yes?"

"New wife?"

"Second wife."

Aida stared at her. "You were married to Winter?"

Sook-Yin's eyes widened, then she laughed. Loudly. "Me? I am Ju's woman. You do not know Ju's business?"

"Sewing?" Aida guessed, unhopeful.

"The other business."

Aida stared at her.

"I am a paid woman," Sook-Yin said. "All of Ju's women are paid."

"Prost.i.tutes?" Aida squeaked.