Ghosts of Chinatown Page 4

  “But if you or some hypothetical someone else killed her, that means she’s a…” Cam leaves the sentence hanging in the air.

  “Yeah, she’s a ghost, a spirit, a poltergeist. I don’t know what the hell to call it.”

  Cam snaps his fingers and chuckles. “Wow. Talk about an unclean slate. I knew you had some substance, Piano Man, but you’re some serious misguided.”

  “I didn’t do it. I swear. My conscience is clear.”

  “Yeah, right. And no one’s after you.” Cam lets go of the panting Todd. “They want Harlan.”

  “Who the hell is ‘they’?”

  “‘They’ is the people that want to take down that Chinese dude who’s beaten three murder raps and been guilty every time. Harlan’s got ‘666’ plastered on his head. ‘They’ is the ones who believe in justice… Payback’s a bitch.”

  “Bull.”

  “So say you but uh-uh.” Cam waves his index finger. No, no, no. “You’re on my turf now, Piano Man.” He lights a cigarette and waves it around the environs. “Welcome to my world, where the different, the degenerates, the depraved give new perspective on what it means to be alive and what it means to be dead—the ideal territory for a ghost story writer. Chinatown ain’t schizo. It has its own internal logic. You wanna be here, you gotta play by our rules.”

  “What rules?”

  “The law of the echo. The golden rule. An eye for an eye.”

  “What if someone is wrong and makes a bad call?”

  “Then you’re screwed.”

  Cam turns around and strolls away. Todd’s distressed eyes follow him.

  The night energy has changed. There is a new cosmos. Chinatown suddenly is a whole lot scarier.

  Chapter 10

  Inside the Shanghai Gallery, Jasmine turns the lights off while Angela lights candles throughout the room. Liang, with a demonstration of strength, moves a new desk in—it is an exact replica of the one that Angela smashed.

  Everyone is here physically, but emotionally, psychologically, they are eons apart.

  Angela and Jasmine sit on the sofa in front of the TV. Liang lifts his hands up and the erhu rises off the floor and repositions itself off the ground.

  Angela folds her arms. “Let’s just get it over with. We know what happened.”

  “No! Not yet!” commands the Asian actress.

  Liang grips his fists tightly. “It’s insane that he continues to have this hold on you. What can we learn that we don’t already know, Jasmine?”

  Jasmine murmurs despondently, “I was drifting. I heard sounds, saw images fading in and out of focus… I just can’t be sure.”

  Her stepsister steps in. “You can’t be sure or you don’t want to be sure? My instinct tells me you don’t want to be sure.”

  “We have to discover the truth, no matter how long it takes.”

  Liang gives a sidelong look, eyes drifting to a candle. “That’s not possible. There has been a change. We have to vacate.”

  Jasmine grabs Liang. “But Todd wants to settle here.”

  “Todd’s welfare is not our concern. I can’t keep this place any longer. It’s taken them five years but the Huang Association has decided to take the building back at the beginning of the month.”

  “They cannot do that.”

  “We’ve never paid anything to use this building at all. To them, it’s a business decision.”

  Jasmine pleads with her father. “We can go somewhere else. It doesn’t have to be here, doesn’t have to be now.”

  “There is no other place. There is no other time. By the end of tomorrow, it will be finished. It must be here, it must be now.”

  Out of the shadows, Cam steps in and stands beside Liang. “If we’re gonna do it, it’s gonna take some pressure because Piano Man got himself believing he didn’t do anything.”

  Cam spots the bombshell brunette and drops to his knees, begging. “I’m Cam Gibson and I’m a virgin. Can you cure me?”

  “Hey, sexy.” Angela takes his hands and Cam stands, drooling. “I’m Angela and I would be most happy”—Angela knees him in the groin—“to cut off your testicles to ensure you remain one.”

  Cam buckles over, holding his crotch. “Why do I keep meeting people with ethics? Like, where are all the normal chicks that just want to party hearty and then have wild, uncontrollable, unconscionable sex?”

  “I dunno. I’m just a piano player.”

  “Then how about playing me?”

  “Sure.” Angela rolls her eyes. “Killer Music. You good with that?” Angela smirks coldly at the bent-over writer.

  “I’m good. I’m totally fine.”

  “Stop it.” Liang confronts Jasmine gently but firmly. “Are you ready, Jasmine?”

  “Yes, I am, Baba.”

  “When we are done, we can move on, we can escape from limbo. Let’s get to work.”

  Chapter 11

  The living room is empty, yet there is an aura that something or someone is here. The little statues sitting on the pedestals seem ready to attack and grief seizes the atmosphere with the sound of an invisible young girl crying.

  “Don’t hurt me, Daddy. Don’t hurt me.”

  Shadows play on the piano and looking closely, the keys are shimmering but not with water. Like rivulets escaping from a spring, blood-red liquid seeps out of the keys, staining the ivory.

  The red fluid flows over the keys and onto the floor.

  And then, a melody of discordant single notes begins to play. There is something unnerving about the simple tune. The piano keys undulate automatically like a player piano but there is no visible pianist and no one pumping the pedals.

  Supernatural... unearthly... as if Lucifer himself was playing.

  Suddenly, the music and crying stop. It’s a deafening silence as the door opens and Todd enters the room.

  The young innocent looks around the room—everything is normal, pristine, civilized… as if what happened only seconds ago never happened.

  And then, a child’s multicolored ball rolls across the floor.

  Todd stares transfixed as the multicolored sphere rolls through an open door into the kitchen.

  Todd propels himself to the doorway of the kitchen but there is no sign of the ball. Stop it, Todd. It was just your imagination.

  Todd closes the door and steps to the piano. He takes out the short stick supporting the lid and lowers the lid. He progresses to sit on the piano bench, caresses the pure ivory keys and strokes the keyboard. All this running and finally where do I settle? It’s nuts and yet it seems like this is where I should be.

  He goes to the sofa and starts unpacking his backpack. All his worldly possessions are here—several shirts, underwear, jeans, a laptop, toiletry kit and his music anthology scores of Bach and Brahms.

  Todd carries his computer to the antique desk and draws his finger over the thin layer of dust on the Bible. “Best-selling book that nobody’s ever read.”

  He dusts off the sacred book and places it back on the desk.

  Christianity stopped meaning anything to Todd long ago. His family used to be active in the church; his mother taught Sunday school, and his father was a deacon. Then one day, one of the priests took Todd aside into his private room and God disappeared from his life, replaced by Satan masquerading as a man of the cloth.

  To make matters worse, his dad unwittingly came into the room with the church secretary with his arms around her and her blouse undone. Shortly after, his parents divorced and Todd hadn’t stepped foot in a church or had anything to do with religion ever since. “Bunch of hypocrites.”

  He plugs his laptop into a wall socket and powers it up. On the screen is a sheet of manuscript paper with two large black musical notes.

  Unseen by Todd, the piano lid eerily rises without any visible force pushing it up. Hearing it creak, Todd detours to the piano but by then it is fully exposed. Didn’t I just put the lid down?

  Todd clicks on the Firefox browser icon and types into the search engin
e, “Coronary Heart Disease.” More than a million websites come up and he chooses a video entitled “Symptoms and Prevention of Coronary Artery Disease.” The YouTube video comes on and there is an introductory ad for a new erectile dysfunction drug. Then a middle-aged physician with a white lab coat comes onscreen. “Hello, I’m Dr. Henry Morgan and today…” The computer screen suddenly goes black and the lights in the room start flickering.

  Todd looks in the direction of the light switch when…

  BANG! Todd snaps around to see that the piano lid has slammed down. The sound of reverberating piano strings fills the room.

  Todd, shivering with terror, gapes at the frightening instrument. “Everything is okay, Todd. You just put the piano stick in wrong. That’s all that happened.”

  The lights continue to flicker and then they go black.

  Todd steps backwards toward the wall and spots Jasmine’s reflection in the piano’s soundboard. “No, no, not yet... that’s not you.”

  He pivots and shoots out of the room, flies down the stairs and bangs on the Shanghai Gallery’s door. “Open the door. Liang, open the door.”

  Light barely nudges through the door before Todd yanks on it to see a stone-faced Liang.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m coming in.”

  Todd’s apprehension grows as he enters to see the gallery lit only with the candles. “The piano lid just slammed down by itself and I saw… I saw...”

  “What did you see?”

  “I saw… I saw… the lights went out in the room. Maybe there’s a problem with the power.”

  “I will come and check it out.”

  ***

  Liang, armed with a toolbox, unlocks the door. The lights are on. “Seems there’s not a problem with the power.”

  Todd offers, “May have been a sporadic power outage?”

  “There is no reason for that to occur. The Shanghai Gallery was fine and all power in the building comes through it. I also have my own back-up generator.”

  “Are you serious? I thought only hospitals and emergency shelters would have stuff like that.”

  “I take the welfare of all that I am responsible for most seriously.”

  Todd can’t figure out whether to take Liang at face value or whether there’s a hidden meaning to his words. Whatever it is, there’s something about Liang that he’s growing increasingly uneasy about but he has no reason to suspect—or not suspect.

  Todd and Liang amble to the piano where Liang raises the lid, noiselessly swinging it back and forth several times, before letting it sit. Liang then looks inside with Todd standing over his shoulder.

  “There are twelve thousand parts in a grand piano. I restored this one completely, re-finishing the wood, even custom-making the hammers.”

  “Nobody does that.”

  “I did. I wanted an impression, a touch, a sound that was unique, and I won’t let anybody harm my baby.”

  “Right.”

  Liang finds something on the piano lid. “See this? He takes it off and shows Todd a stray clasp. “The screw came out. There’s always a reason for everything.”

  “A loose screw? But I put the lid down. I recall distinctly. Has nothing to do with that.”

  “Memories can be faulty. They need to be nudged at times.”

  Liang strides to the window, which is covered by curtains. “There’s a bonus here that I forgot to tell you about.”

  He pulls the curtain back to reveal what seems to be a solid boarded-up wall.

  “Glass allows sound to easily pass in and out so I’ve done an acoustical treatment to this wall and window.”

  Liang goes to a camouflaged corner at the wall, where he moves a lever to unfasten the window a tiny sliver.

  “I designed the rooms to be solid. This will let you play the piano any time without disturbing anyone.”

  This guy is crazier than I thought. “Insomniac pianists owe you a mountain of gratitude.”

  Jasmine appears behind Todd, pained, confused and full of heartache.

  A hint of a smile appears on Liang’s face. “Or you can torture someone and have nobody hear but that’s not why we’re here, is it?”

  “No, no.” Todd twitches, sensing something but seeing nothing.

  “Is everything all right, Mr. Mathers?”

  “It’s all good,” are the words that come out of Todd’s mouth but definitely not how he feels. “This place is gonna be epic great.”

  “I hope so.”

  Jasmine’s eyes track Todd as he accompanies Liang to the front door. “This is totally awesome. Is there anything else that I should know about?”

  “In this old building, there are always surprises. Good night, Mr. Mathers.”

  “Yeah, right. G’nite.”

  Liang leaves. Todd closes the door and whirls around but Jasmine is gone.

  Todd reaches into his pocket and pulls out the little medicine bottle. He takes out two nitro pills and puts them under his tongue.

  He sits on the sofa. Things aren’t as friendly as before. Shadows are moodier, images more perilous. It’s a feeling he knows too well—it’s what he felt in Pol Pot’s killing fields in Cambodia and what he felt when he visited the Auschwitz concentration camp. It’s the sickening sensation of unseen agony from those who are no longer here.

  Todd stumbles to his feet, straggles across the floor and goes into the kitchen.

  Liang’s trademark care is evident in the large room, remodeled with yellow floral wallpaper, wood trim, restored fridge, stove, counters and eating nook by the window.

  Todd, as if expecting the unexpected, cautiously turns on the faucet—water pressure’s good. Okay. What did you expect?

  He gingerly opens the cupboards—complete set of dishes, some spices and instant coffee. Hate instant coffee but what the hell. It’s free.

  He opens the cupboard below the sink and jumps back, startled, when a brown mouse scurries out and darts away. Where did you come from? There’s not a scrap of food anywhere close to here.

  He checks out the contents of the fridge—empty. At least there’s no mice or cockroaches in here.

  Todd sighs in relief and relaxes his guard. It was just a loose screw. No other explanation.

  He carefully paces into the bedroom, where a goose-down quilt covers a soft double bed. I totally need sleep.

  He turns out the lights and sits on the edge of the bed. He rubs his weary eyes and a strained, haggard face stares numbly out the window.

  Troubled eyes roam the room and he mutters, trying to convince himself of something he doesn’t believe.

  It was just a loose screw. It was just a loose screw...

  Sweat beads on his brow and Todd drags his sleeve across his forehead. Terrorized, Todd stares at the ceiling, abandoned and terribly alone.

  He takes a locket from around his neck and opens it. There is a smiling picture of Jasmine. Her almond eyes are captivating… enchanting. He hears her voice, sensual and inviting…

  “We shouldn’t be doing this, Todd.”

  “I totally agree.”

  With their clothes tossed aside, Jasmine and Todd are lying nude on the top of the grand piano on the stage of the Double Stars Theater.

  Jasmine moans passionately as Todd’s hands caress the taut nipples of her small, firm breasts.

  “Oh… oh…”

  His hands slide gently down her lithe, lean body.

  “Todd… Todd…”

  Their intertwined legs pull even tighter together. They are one. In passionate embrace, they grasp, they purr…

  Jasmine pants, “You are a very evil man.”

  “That’s why you love me.”

  “This isn’t right.”

  “Does that mean you want me to stop?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Over my dead body.”

  The thrusts become stronger, the passion more heated, the kissing to depths never explored before.

  “Oh, this is…”

  “Yes, yes�
� no, no… YES!”

  “YES!”

  The two lovers pull themselves off each other, gasping. Jasmine takes Todd’s hand and kisses it again and again and again…

  “I will never leave you, Jasmine.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “I will love you forever.” Todd climbs on top of Jasmine again, staring deeply into her hazel eyes…

  … which become Jasmine’s tear-filled eyes as she stands at the bedroom door watching Todd struggling to find that elusive peace.

  Todd bolts upright.

  “Jasmine!”

  Todd turns to the door but Jasmine is gone. He looks around the room, positive that someone, something, is there but nothing is to be seen.

  I didn’t do anything wrong.

  He sprawls on the bed, senses heightened. He grits his teeth, forcing his eyes shut, and plunges his head face into the pillow. His breathing accelerates as he pounds the bed with his fists. Leave me alone. Despair at the edge of consciousness.

  On the other side of the bed, away from Todd’s vision, Jasmine stands waiting, wondering and watching.

  ***

  Disquieting pools of light from the candles disperse the Shanghai Gallery as a mournful Liang sits by the window playing a melancholy Chinese melody on the erhu. It is a composition he has played more than five thousand times in the last few years as it helps him through the pain. A man of patience, he has been biding his time, waiting for now, waiting for today.

  Liang stops playing and releases the erhu. The Chinese two-stringed violin floats in the air and continues playing by itself. In time with the music, Liang begins a series of slow Tai Chi movements, a tranquil, meditative sequence of martial arts exercises. Each motion gracefully transitions to the next, bringing peace, reflection and harmony… the flowing of the wild horse’s mane to the spreading of wings of the white crane… elegance personified.

  In the front window is the reflection of the erhu playing by itself—but there is no image of the Tai Chi master.

  Liang stops and walks to his desk, opens a drawer, pulls out a Tibetan short knife. He grips the handle, beautifully carved from antelope horn and covered with a floral design. He runs the knife’s blade back and forth, forth and back, over a whetstone, honing it ever sharper. Finally satisfied, he tests its sharpness by slicing a piece of flesh off his finger. The tissue is cut off easily like a hot knife through butter, but despite the size of the wound, no blood comes out.