Ch. 57 – Discharged

Derrick sipped a cup of lukewarm water and sniffled. His fever had died down overnight, but he still wasn’t back to normal yet. He filled his cup and put it in the microwave again, and the microwave plate bumped and hitched as it spun around. The light from the small lamp inside microwave bathed the blanket he was clutching tight around his shoulders in a golden glow.

It was so weird. Nothing had changed. The sky hadn’t fallen down. Their shop wasn’t filled with White Leopards, questioning him, poking their gun barrels against the back of his head.

But the Leopards prowled the streets. They were searching for someone—everyone in Chinatown knew that much, judging from the whispers and meaningful stares people gave each other at the grocery store. And that someone was presumably him. Derrick was always peeking out his windows and out the peephole before he left the shop. Thankfully, only a few of the Leopards knew his face. Theo and Big Mike did. And Raymond did. Raymond had.

And no one had come asking for protection money. The Leopards usually picked up payment in cash if they could; although the cops didn’t come to Chinatown, the White Leopards had operations in New Shore City proper as well, so any electronic transfers had a chance of being audited.

Tony was going to be discharged soon. Derrick had cleaned the shop, swiped as many supplies as he could from Nathan’s hospital, and scheduled as many appointments as they could optimistically complete. If all those appointments panned out, they could scrape together enough money to pay their bills, and catch up on the White Leopard’s protection money, too.

The light from the microwave cut out, and so did the lights in the shop.

Ah. Their power bill was long overdue.

There was a moment of intense quiet, until the shrill double beep of their backup battery unit sounded and the lights started coming back on. The entire shop started pulling from the backup battery, including the microwave, which resumed spinning and warming the cup of water until it dinged and stopped. Derrick popped the door open and warmed his hands on the heated cup. He took a sip and shuddered. It was very good that they had bought the solar panels and battery array like Tony had suggested.

They just needed a few more days. And, if they crept unnoticed beneath the Leopards’ eyes, they might just have those few days.

Derrick hadn’t been back to his secret spot on the rooftop. He walked longer routes, took longer delays, to keep himself far away from that alleyway. Had they found the body yet? They must have. The alley wasn’t that deep; someone would have picked up on the smell.

Shit. There were so many other things Derrick could have done to cover his tracks, but there were just as many downsides to them. He could have taken Raymond’s wallet from his pocket or something to make it look like a simple mugging. But then again, it would’ve taken time to search through the Leopard’s pockets, and he already had to cut his search for the stolen money short.

He could’ve come back to dispose of the body, but he had one to help him, and no easy way to carry the body away to an incinerator, deep into the woods, or up to the shoreline.

All he could do was hope. Hope that no one connected the murder to him.

#

Derrick smiled as he held Tony’s bag of pills and other outpatient supplies, and helped Tony into the car.

“Finally,” Tony said. “I can’t believe I spent so long in the hospital. Made me remember why I decided to help my uncle with his shop instead of going to some big hospital; it was goddamn stifling in there.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay, and finally back,” Derrick said. “It’s been tough running the shop without you.”

“I know, my boy. I’m sorry that I won’t be able to help with everything immediately, but I can at least do some office work.”

“Of course; your recovery comes first,” Derrick said. He lowered his voice. “Don’t blame yourself. How could you have known you were going to get stabbed by a fucking maniac White Leopard? Or—well I guess the term is redundant for those bastards.”

Tony laughed. “That’s what I’ve been telling myself, but my shop’s on the line here. How’re we doing on money?”

“We might just be able to pay this month’s bills, if we get enough jobs lined up.”

“And the protection money? I think our exemption was supposed to have expired by now, right?”

“They haven’t collected all the protection money from us yet,” Derrick said. It was technically the truth, but missing a few key life-or-death details. “There is something you should know, though.”

“What’s that?”

“The White Leopards are prowling the streets. They’re searching for someone who murdered the guy who was working the beat in our part of town, and Hack Alley was on his list of places to collect from.”

“Dammit. Another gang war? Did they say who did it?”

“I don’t know,” Derrick lied. Would it be better if Tony knew the whole truth about how Derrick had killed Raymond, so that they could plan an immediate escape? Or was it safer if no one else knew?

“What’s the word on the street about it?” Tony asked.

“Well, no one knows who exactly they’re looking for. But I think there’s going to be trouble soon, and a lot of White Leopards busting down the doors of innocent people, trying to find the murderer.”

Tony hmphed. “Yeah, I wouldn’t put it past ‘em.”

“What if they come knocking on our door, convinced that we were involved?” Derrick ventured.

“I’d tell them to kiss my newly-discharged ass,” Tony said. “We’re mod-docs, not murderers. We save people, and I’m not about to lose my business and home because some Leopards can’t understand the difference!”

“Right. We save people,” Derrick echoed in monotone. A tear dripped down his cheek, and he wiped it away while pretending to scratch his nose.

The car ride was blissfully short: much better than taking a bunch of buses. After all, it would have been bad if Tony’s first long trip out of the hospital made him feel nauseous. There would be time for Tony to build his strength back up, by walking around the shop, and the few blocks near it. He’d have to encourage Tony to take his walks on weekend mornings, when the Leopards were fast asleep.

Tony leaned on Derrick as they stepped out of the sun, and into the alleyway they called home.

“Goddamn,” Tony said, looking up and down the door. Forgot how ugly the place got after the Leopards trashed it. “Thanks for putting the door back on its hinges at least.”

“Yeah, I mean, the door still worked. Didn’t want to waste money on getting a new door when the old one could still keep the weather out just fine.” Derrick unlocked the door and held it open as Tony stepped in. “I really tried to clean up the shop, though. It was a lot easier since we haven’t had as many jobs . . . since we haven’t had as many parts.”

“Yeah . . . we’re gonna have to do something about that. Man, I wish I could’ve done that job at my friend’s hospital. It would’ve been a good pay day.” Tony’s gaze swept around the shop, lingering on a few blood-stained mats that White Leopards had bled on, the night they brought Ah Jun in. “Well, I’m back home, at least. It’s a start. Say, Derrick, what can a man get to eat around here, eh? You been feeding yourself okay since I’ve been gone?”

“Yeah, there’s some fried rice in the fridge. Help yourself.”

“Lucky me! I’ve been starving this whole time, and fried rice’ll hit the spot.”

Tony ambled over to the back of the shop, and pulled the container of leftover fried rice out of the fridge. “Are you feeling alright, my boy?” Tony asked. “You’ve been sniffling the whole time.”

“Ah,” Derrick said. Tony had no idea how Derrick had been shivering and jumping at noises all throughout the night the past few days. “Yeah, I’m just feeling a bit under the weather. I think it was cold last night when I was sleeping and I didn’t cover up enough. I’ll be better soon.”

“My word, I hope you will be! If not for your sake, then for mine. Let’s hope you don’t pass the sniffles on to me,” Tony said, guffawing.

“If you’re in such good spirits, I’m sure you can beat a cold,” Derrick said, cracking a smile. He didn’t sound convincing at all, with such a congested voice. Derrick shifted Tony’s bags to be more secure in his sweaty grip. “I’ll put this stuff in your room,” Derrick said. “You should thank me for cleaning it, by the way; it looked and smelled like a dumpster when I started working on it.”

“Oh noooo, but I had my room just the way I wanted!” Tony said, chuckling. He had settled into his usual spot at the table, but was breathing abnormally hard.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derrick asked.

“Yeah . . . I’m fine. They let me walk around in the hospital, but I guess I’m just more out of shape than before, believe it or not.” Tony’s shoulders heaved a few more times as he sucked in air, before his breaths became slow and deep.

“. . . Tony, we should go over your treatment plan again tonight or tomorrow. Just to make sure you’re keeping to your treatment plan. I’m happy to help you clean your room, but you’re the only one who can take care of your body. And I hope you’ll do so, especially during the recovery.” Derrick smiled. Tony was a sloppy guy, but Derrick would make sure his mentor followed the doctor’s instructions exactly, no matter how many nudges it took. “And no drinking. You’ve been sober for this long already! Let’s keep it that way.”

“Don’t worry,” Tony said. “I just had a major surgery; I know the recovery can get real tricky. But yeah—be a pal and remind me if I’m doing something wrong. You know how I get sometimes.”

“Of course, Tony.”

Tony let out a loud and exaggerated sigh, and chuckled again. “Boy, I’m really lucky to have you around. If I never end up having kids, how about you take care of me when I’m old and crippled?”

“Won’t you have Sally for that?”

Tony sighed even louder. “Women are a mystery, my boy. I’m just trying to enjoy every day with her while I can. Thinking about the future gets me all fussed up.”

“Okay, fair enough.”

Tony’s mouth twitched, holding back one of his toothy grins. “So what’s it gonna be? You never answered my question.”

Derrick smiled back. “Sure, but only if you pay me.”

“HAHAHA. Never thought I’d raise you to be a male gold digger! I guess that’s my own damn fault!”

#

Derrick knelt down and left a cup of lukewarm water on Tony’s nightstand, and then slipped out the door, closing it behind him.

Tony had fallen asleep early, after a few coughing fits—apparently the air in the shop could irritate his throat, since it was dirtier than the hospital’s filtered air—so it made sense to prepare him some water to soothe it. Although he had already been resting for weeks, coughing too hard after an abdominal surgery might put him at risk for developing a hernia, on top of his inherently higher risk from obesity. It was a common-sense precaution to make sure Tony had something to drink to suppress the coughing. It was also a reminder for Derrick to check out the shop’s HVAC system and clean it out.

There was enough time left in the day to go for another round of dumpster diving, but something else picked at the corner of Derrick’s mind.

Mister Kim.

Mister Kim had tried to intervene when Raymond was beating the drifter to death, only to gain the Leopard’s ire himself. And he might have died, had Derrick not dropped a brick straight onto the Leopard’s head.

No one had seen Derrick drop the brick. But two people had heard him who were still alive: Mister Kim, and the drifter.

The drifter might have been out cold, or might not have remembered it very well, but Mister Kim would have recognized Derrick’s voice for sure. He had run off into the street, driven by Derrick’s cry for him to run, and Derrick hadn’t seen him since.

Derrick had been tempted. So tempted, to send a message to Mister Kim, to see if he was okay, and to find out who—if anyone—he had told about the falling brick. He had probably told his wife; that much was obvious, as they were a very close couple. And they were smart enough to survive in Chinatown for this long, so they wouldn’t have gone blabbing about the experience to just anybody. But what if they had been coerced into talking about what they saw? Or if someone had overheard them, or tricked the information out of them? Sending Mister Kim a message asking about it would leave digital evidence of their contact. Derrick could use an anonymous contact method, but the Kims weren’t the tech savviest, and they might accidentally name him in their back-and-forth conversation.

It was better to meet in person, in an area without surveillance cameras or microphones. That way, Derrick could probe Mister Kim for the full story, and maybe get a lead on the drifter’s status as well.

The drifter was the real wild card. If he had been conscious during the murder, and was later brought in for questioning, the best he could do was pick Derrick’s voice out from a selection of audio samples. But who knew what had happened to the man after Mister Kim and Derrick had run off? When he split off from Mister Kim, which had presumably happened some distance away from the alleyway, what if the White Leopards had found him there? They would have tried to squeeze information out of him, especially if it helped avenge their dead.

But even if the drifter hadn’t been found by the Leopards, he might’ve had loose lips. A troubling thought: even if Derrick was able to find him, there was no guarantee that he would be willing to stay quiet to help Hack Alley.

If that was the case, what could Derrick do for this person to keep him quiet? Do to this person?

Silence him forever with a brick to the head? That would cause even more trouble, even if it was a quick way to solve the problem. And plus, Mister Kim had put his life on the line to save the drifter from betting beaten to death. If Derrick put the drifter in a permanent sleep, then Mister Kim would have gotten involved for nothing . . .

But first things first, it was time to find Mister Kim, and figure out what he knew.