Chinatown Angel by A. E. Roman

Author:A. E. Roman
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780312375003
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

SEVENTEEN

It was freezing as I walked through Chinatown with its red and gold dragons, past shops with Chinese vendors setting up to sell roots and fish and herbs, TVs and cell phones and stereos. I walked up Canal toward the Manhattan Bridge gateway, turned right at Mott Street, and went into the Wing Wok Restaurant—formerly known as the Chinatown Angel.

I sat at the counter as I had done for two days in a row. Mr. Wing and his waiters had claimed they had never heard of Tiffany or the Chinatown Angel. I ordered tea and a warm bun, waiting for someone to appear. Who? I didn’t know. But I would when I saw them.

The restaurant was still mostly empty when she entered.

She wore a pink winter coat, pink hat, pink snow boots and a pink Powerpuff Girls backpack. She carried a violin case plastered with cartoon angels.

Her blue jeans were tight on her tall, slender, shapely figure. Bright and smiling, she entered and I could smell her as she came toward me, confident as a young panther, all lilac perfume and promise. She wore a Mickey Mouse watch and a silver bracelet with an angel’s head hanging from it.

Her hair was no longer dyed blond. It was black and silky and down to her hips almost. Her face was all high cheekbones and flawless skin, and almond-shaped eyes filled with green lightning. I’d been thinking Tiffany’s green eyes were contact lenses. They weren’t. They were the real deal.

“Hello, angel.”

“Hello, Mr. Santana,” she said.

She knew who I was.

I felt something stir in my chest as Tiffany removed her pink coat and hat and I saw her wrapped like a gift in a tight T-shirt, a row of letters across her breasts: BORN TO RUN.

“I want you to listen to me, Mr. Santana. I know you work for my cousin Marcos.”

I glanced around. “How did you know?”

“A friend called and said that you were looking for me, suggested that I move out of Chinatown as soon as possible.”

“So this friend knew where you were all along?”

“Please go away. I can pay.”

“Not that easy.”

Tiffany touched my hand and said, “Don’t be mean to me.”

I melted. I melted and eased off like some chump.

Compose yourself, Santana.

“Do you have any idea what you’d be doing to me?” she asked. “If I had to leave Chinatown? Do you have any idea?”

“I don’t get ideas,” I said. “I had one once. It was small and had a little bell. It broke. It was my last one.”

She made a quizzical face. “Are you a detective or a comedian?”

“I’m a detective by profession. I only dabble in comedy. It’s a defense mechanism. But my real passion is interior design.”

“I see,” she said, and smiled.

“I can put on my deadly serious face if you’d like.”

“No,” she said. “Life is already too deadly serious.”

“I second that emotion.”

“I just want to be left alone,” she said. “Will you please help me?”

Isn’t that the way it always starts, Chico?

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