Chapter Six
six
AUGUST 2024
DAY 2 IN THE HOUSE
MADELINE liked wandering the house. As she made her way down the carved, creaky staircase, the wood gave just slightly beneath her feet. At the bottom was the foyer, complete with a chandelier, this magnificent circular structure with layered, tapering rows of delicate glass like sheets of rain. To the right was the closed library study and to the left, the dining room. She walked past them both into the hallway and emerged into a grand living room. She sunk into the cracked leather couch, eyeing the grandfather clock across from her on the marble mantel. It felt strange to be this deep in the house. She had never made it farther than the foyer when Wài Pó had been alive.
Quick footsteps sounded behind her. Mā was at the entrance, back to the hallway. “Go to the library. I need to get your aunt.”
Madeline stood. Her mother looked alarmed. There were two scratches down the side of her cheek. “Everything okay? What happened to your face?”
But her mother turned without a word.
Madeline made her way into the library just as Nora was emerging from the branch of the hallway to Madeline’s right. They almost ran into each other. Nora averted her gaze and pushed past Madeline as if she didn’t exist, toward the kitchen. Madeline stared at her retreating figure. Moments later she heard the hushed voices of Mā and Yí Mā as they descended the stairs. They all gathered in the library. Mā waved them over to the desk.
“The preliminary autopsy came in.” Mā pulled something up on her phone and showed them. “Toxicology is inconclusive. Which means that there must have been something in her system.”
Madeline sucked in a breath through her teeth and stared at the small words on the glaring screen. An eerie tension hummed throughout the room.
“My God,” Aunt Rennie whispered. “What toxic substances?”
“It doesn’t say. It will be weeks before we have the full report. Months, maybe.” Mā set her phone down. “But now we know it wasn’t a heart attack. It wasn’t a natural death at all.”
Aunt Rennie looked faint. “So you’re saying…”
“She could have been poisoned,” Madeline heard herself say.
“She was .” Mā started to pace. “Now we know Elaine’s behind all this. She changed the will and killed our mother.”
“Hold on,” Aunt Rennie said. “Someone else can change Mā’s will? What did the lawyer say?”
“Not exactly,” her mother said. “Mā did change the will herself.”
Madeline spoke up. “Well, that doesn’t add up, then. You’re implying Elaine forced Wài Pó to change her will, and then she poisoned her?”
Her mother fixed her with a calculating stare. “That is exactly the scenario I’m thinking of.”
Madeline shifted uncertainly. “It just… seems a little extreme.”
“And what’s extreme about it?”
“That Wài Pó would just… go along with it?” Already Madeline felt herself withering in the face of her mother’s resolve. She looked away. Her gaze trailed past the bookshelves and to the windows.
Small cracks branched out from the window casing into the walls, but they seemed to be… growing? Moving? Was it a trick on her eyes? And then she realized that they were vines. It was as if they had crept indoors somehow through the cracks in the window trim.
Her mother’s voice snapped Madeline back to the conversation. “I just talked to her nurse. She said that Mā had been exhibiting strange behavior. That it resembled dementia.”
“How so?” Aunt Rennie asked.
Mā hesitated. “She said some weird things. Point is, our mother was already in a fragile mental state.”
“You don’t think she could have…” Aunt Rennie’s voice lowered. “Done it to herself? Overdosed?”
“She would never ,” Mā snapped. “Don’t you even say that.”
Aunt Rennie shrank. Madeline protectively inched closer to her aunt.
Her mother’s voice rose. “It’s clear. Elaine coerced Mā into changing the will and then she murdered her to get the inheritance. And now we have proof. At the very least we could settle. And at most, well, we can prove murder.”
“Okay,” Madeline said cautiously. “What now?”
“We just have to buy time. I found some things the other day. I—”
But Madeline never heard the end of the sentence, because Mā fell silent for a long minute. She tilted her head and slowly looked off to the side. Before Madeline could ask what she was doing, Mā was wrenching open the door, revealing Nora Deng in the hallway.
NORA ran. She heard Lucille shouting at her across the foyer as she ducked into the hallway leading to her and her mother’s rooms.
She knew the Yins had been plotting something with their whispered conversations and secretive meetings.
She murdered her to get the inheritance. And now we have proof.
Nora knew they were talking about her mother. But what was the proof?
She raced straight to Mā’s bedroom. The curtains were drawn. Mā shifted in bed, blinking against the light. Nora tried to keep calm. “They think you had something to do with Vivian Yin’s death to get the inheritance. They say they have evidence.”
“ What? ” Mā pushed herself off the bed. She staggered past Nora and into the hallway to the foyer. Nora followed her. The other family had emerged from the library. Lucille marched toward Nora. “You had no right—”
“I’m kind enough to let you stay in my home,” her mother said with a shaking voice. “And you’re investigating me?” Lucille stopped in her tracks.
“ Your home?” Lucille said incredulously. “Fuck off.”
Her mother drew herself up. “She gave it to me.”
“You took it.” Lucille gave Mā a withering stare, looking her up and down in disgust. Nora realized then that she was self-conscious Mā was wearing mismatched pajamas. “We got the autopsy results. Her toxicology report was positive.”
Silence fell. Nora glanced at Madeline. The daughter’s eyes flickered uncertainly between her mother and Nora’s.
“Mā didn’t die of natural causes,” Lucille continued in a steely voice. “She was poisoned.”
“I see. And you’re trying to imply that I had something to do with this?”
“ I didn’t say that.” Lucille’s eyebrows raised, clearly implying but you did.
Nora blurted out, “You can’t be accusing her of murdering somebody. That’s insane.”
“Jiā-Jiā!” Mā said sharply, and Nora swallowed, her cheeks burning. Mā turned back to Lucille and took a deep breath. “I had nothing to do with Vivian’s death. I didn’t even know I was being put in the will.”
“That’s a lie,” Lucille retorted. “You’ve had it out for us from the start. This is an estate in the San Gabriel Valley. These don’t just fall into people’s laps.”
They stared each other down.
“There could be many explanations for this toxicology report. It could have been anything. An overdose. A suicide.” Her mother looked between Renata and Lucille. “Or… even someone in the family.”
Nora watched Lucille’s younger sister tremble in the corner. She hadn’t said a word during this entire exchange.
“You’re saying that one of us killed our own mother?” Lucille scoffed.
“You do seem desperate to inherit the house.”
Clever, Nora thought, how Mā now shifted the suspicion onto them. This seemed to touch a nerve in all of them. Lucille started, “You—” But Mā stopped her, raising a hand.
“You know what? You should leave.”
“Absolutely not,” Lucille declared.
“If you had time to pursue this ridiculous accusation, I assume you’ve already collected your mother’s things. Get out or I’ll have you thrown out.”
Lucille planted her feet. “Let’s play this scenario out. The moment you kick us out of our home, I will contact the nearest police department. I will hire a detective. I will have them open an investigation. And no matter what, I will sue the hell out of you.”
Nora saw her mother’s expression fall slack.
“But,” Lucille continued, “there is an alternative. Like you said, there isn’t full clarity around what happened to our mother. So, I propose we investigate this ourselves. You let us stay in this house until the end of the week. If I can’t find any evidence of wrongdoing in this home—”
“Which there hasn’t been.”
“If there isn’t, then the house is yours. We will put this matter to rest and leave for good.”
Mā straightened up. “And you will never contest the will or contact us again.”
Lucille paused for a long moment. Then she nodded.
“Fine. You have until the end of the week. That’s it.”
“Thank you,” Lucille said evenly.
“But I want all of these terms in writing. And once the week is up—”
“We will leave promptly,” Lucille said. “We promise.”
Nora’s mother retreated to her room and Nora followed. The blinds were still closed, and the bedroom was dark and stuffy. The moment she sat down, her mother seemed to deflate and sag back into the bed.
“Mā, you have to tell me something ,” Nora insisted. “None of this makes sense.”
Her mother closed her eyes. “My parents worked for the Yins,” she admitted faintly. “Mā was their housekeeper. Bà was the groundskeeper. We moved into the house when I was a kid.”
Nora started pacing. So this was how Mā knew her way around the house. She had lived here. And in coming back together, the families had snapped back into a hierarchy that Nora hadn’t known existed.
Now she was angry. “Then Vivian did know you. You have a right to the house. You grew up here, too. Maybe she hated her daughters.” Or maybe it was more theoretical. What was the likelihood an elderly movie star was interested in wealth redistribution? “They shouldn’t stay here, then.” Nora nodded to herself. “They made it out like you were a stranger, but you’re not. And the house is legally ours. You can kick them out now.”
Her mother’s eyes flew open. “And what? Give them free rein to frame me for murder? Or sue us into bankruptcy, regardless? I didn’t have anything to do with Vivian’s death, but they will have come to that conclusion themselves.” Her voice rose sharply. “Please, Jiā-Jiā. Leave me alone. My head is still killing me.”
Nora felt another tremor that night. This time it was strong enough that the bed lurched back and forth. Nora scrunched the blankets to her chest and curled up in a ball. One of her study books thumped to the floor. It went on for what felt like minutes. After everything had gone still, she sat up and looked around her.
Another earthquake? What the hell was going on? Two earthquakes in a week wasn’t necessarily alarming in California, but she still felt an inching sense of dread. She stared at the study book that now lay on the ground. She was probably just stressed about this test. Sometimes anxiety gave her nightmares. Being in someone else’s weird house didn’t help, either.
She needed a walk. She threw her blankets off and shuffled out of her room. The first night here the hallways had been freezing. But now it felt warm and damp. Humid, almost. Like the walls were sweating. She paused in the kitchen and turned the light on. It flickered.
Nothing here worked. Moonlight streamed in through the glass door to the terrace. The door was ajar; Nora moved toward it. Outside, a figure stood on the terrace steps. Nora sucked in a breath when she realized that it was her mother.
She stepped outside. Her bare feet touched the cold stone ground. In her thin T-shirt, she crossed her arms against the damp chill. “Mā?”
Her mother didn’t respond. Nora called louder, “Mā?”
She crept down the stairs. Sharp leaves and debris jabbed into her feet and she grimaced. Still she tread carefully over to her mother, who faced the garden. “Mā?”
“She’s there.” Mā stretched her hand out. Her fingers were streaked with dirt as if she had been tearing at the ground with her bare hands.
“Who is? What happened?”
Nora reached out to put a hand on her mother’s shoulder. Her mother jerked around, and Nora scrambled back.
Mā’s lips cleaved apart in a silent scream. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She took short, fast breaths and turned her glassy eyes to Nora.
Then her features relaxed. She said softly, “You’re here .”
“Yes,” Nora said. “I am, in fact, here. You should go inside. 你会着凉的 .” You’re going to catch a cold.
Her mother stared at her, unblinking.
“Come on,” Nora urged. A small laugh of disbelief escaped her. This felt wrong.
She was about to head back when she felt fingers clamp down on her wrist. Nora gave a yelp and whipped back around to see her mother’s eerily calm face again.
“You’ve been here all this time,” her mother whispered tenderly.
Nora tugged, harder than she should have. “Come on , 妈 .” Her voice rose, as though the problem was Mā’s hearing. “Let’s go in.”
Her mother stood shakily, squeezing Nora’s wrist. She followed Nora back to her room without easing her viselike grip, until she was settled into bed. As Nora tucked the blankets around her, her mother finally looked up at Nora’s face. “You haven’t left,” Mā said. “You’ve always been here waiting for me.”
Nora didn’t respond. Mā pulled the blankets to her neck like a child while Nora carefully stepped away. When she slipped out the doorway, she felt her mother’s eyes on her back.
Nora brought her mother a cup of hot water in the morning. When she walked in, Mā stirred and shifted toward the direction of the steps.
Nora put the cup on the dusty nightstand and sat at the edge of the bed. “How are you?”
“Migraine’s worse today,” her mother mumbled. She eased herself up. Her wispy hair, which was usually tied back, fell over her shoulders. The curtains were still drawn.
Nora looked toward the side table, where tissues were crumpled with dried blood. “Are you okay?”
“ 出鼻血 . It’s too dry out here.”
Nora had seen Mā get nosebleeds before, but still, it worried her to see her mother in this state. Especially after last night.
“You shouldn’t have been outside,” Nora said. “It was cold. I knew it wouldn’t be good.” She paused. “What happened, anyway?”
Mā stared at her. “I wasn’t outside.”
“Yes, you were.” Did Mā not remember any of it? Nora had seen the pain on her mother’s face with perfect clarity every time she closed her eyes last night. “You were out in the garden. You spoke to me. Don’t you remember?”
Her mother sat up and narrowed her eyes. “Nora, I was asleep.”
Nora reached for her mother’s hand and held it to the light. Dirt was still caked under her nails. “Look. Look at this. You were walking in the garden. I came out because there was an earthquake earlier in the night, and—” She faltered. “You really don’t remember?”
Mā looked from her hands to Nora, her eyes blank. Then she winced, holding her fingertips to her temples as she sank back down and curled up again.
Was her mother lying? Confused? Or did she truly have no memory? Mā had never sleepwalked before, as far as Nora knew, but it was the only explanation that made sense. Stress could make your body do strange things.
She pulled up the sleeve of her sweatshirt. There was a small bruise. Nora could remember her mother’s fingers digging into her wrist, her glassy stare.
She didn’t dream any of this up. Not this time.