Do I know you?” he asked.
“We haven’t met, if that’s what you mean. I knew Minnie. I’m so sorry for your loss.” He flinched and started walking again. I fell into step next to him.
“She didn’t come home, but I thought maybe she had to close,” he muttered. “I fell asleep. I woke up freaking out because she wasn’t home. You know how I knew she wasn’t home? First thing she does when she comes home after working, is she sets up the coffeemaker. She says I can’t make coffee—Said. Said it was like mud, so she would set it up, and I always woke up to the smell of coffee. There wasn’t any coffee smell when I woke up.”
“I understand,” I said. “My mother died when I was eighteen. She’d had a massive heart attack in the middle of the night. She always watched the seven a.m. news, so silence in the morning woke me up.” It was an old memory and didn’t hurt too much anymore, but I will never forget that lead-weight panic and disorientation while my subconscious screamed at me to wake up because something was terribly wrong.
Gerald shook his head. “I don’t understand how anyone could hurt Minnie. She was nice to everyone. Said you couldn’t judge people because you didn’t know how much crap they were trying to rise above. She was seriously Confucian.”
“It’s a Korean thing.” I said. “I suppose you knew—”
“I didn’t care,” he said flatly. “Minnie was an amazing human being, no matter what…what plumbing she started with. We were…you ever just feel better with someone? You know they’re the person who makes you right. That’s what Minnie was.” He stopped at his door, key in hand.
“Even now, you know, I think I’m going to walk in, and she’s going to yell, ‘Got you, fucker!’ and…and laugh.” He choked on the last words, his face contorting with the struggle to hold back the tears.
I waited until he regained control before saying, “I have a question, if you don’t mind. About a guy named Jun-seo Lee? I was wondering if he and Minnie knew each other.”
Gerald frowned. “Who?”
“He might have introduced himself as John or Johnny Lee. Scrawny Korean dude, shaggy hair, bad weed habit.”
Gerald sat down on the step. I knew he was only talking with me to delay going into a more-than-empty apartment. “Oh, him. He’s a friend of Minnie’s from way back. More like an adopted idiot brother, really. He comes over for food or money, or just to sleep, and she lets him, sometimes spots him a twenty if tips are good. His dad has some kind of terminal cancer. Johnny takes care of him so he doesn’t have a job or anything. He shows up when his dad gets checked into Wake Med for treatments. Most of the time he just sleeps until the hospital calls for pick-up. Minnie kept trying to get him involved in something besides being a nurse, and he kept saying he couldn’t leave his dad. Guy had no life.”
“Do you know why he might confess to killing her?”
“Why he…what?! No. I…I don’t know why he would do that.” Gerald looked genuinely confused. “The guy was baked most of the time. Maybe he finally blew a fuse, but he couldn’t have hurt Minnie. Minnie would have kicked his ass. You know, that’s the weirdest thing about…what happened.”
“What?”
“The way she was…hurt. Like hand-to-hand, up close? Minnie was second-degree black in Tae-Kwon Do. By international ranking, not some strip mall dojo. And she was ranked expert in some weird kick-boxing style on top of that. She won tons of competitions growing up. Her dad was Special Forces and taught her like, eighty ways to kill people with her bare hands. I never worried about her getting hurt. Never.”
I paused. “So if you had to make a guess as to what happened…”
“I’d figure you’d have to shoot her first, or she’d feed you your own arm. But then why bother with the beating? It’s just…it was so unnecessary.” He rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger. “I can’t imagine anyone hating her so much to…to do that. Everyone liked her.”
I frowned. I hadn’t seen any signs of Minnie’s martial arts training while I was watching her. It wouldn’t have been something a stranger would expect. “Thanks for talking to me about her. Have you had dinner yet? I’ve got a car and I’ll pay. It’s the least I can do.”
Gerald stared at me blankly, as if the concept of getting food seemed as incomprehensible as string theory. “I… No, thanks. I don’t want to go anywhere.”
I talked him into letting me order him a pizza, and I left.
On the way home, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jun-seo. It didn’t make sense that he’d suddenly jumped from marijuana to heroin and decided to confess to a murder he couldn’t have committed. Either would leave his father without a caregiver. On a hunch, I started calling funeral homes until I found what I was looking for.
“Yes, I’m afraid the funeral was yesterday. The wake was held early and the service was expedited. The son had an unbreakable commitment, but insisted on standing as chief mourner.”
“Do you mind if I ask if all the services are…taken care of? I know the family wasn’t well off, and I’d like to contribute, anonymously of course, if they need help.”
“Paid in full, but I believe the family asked for donations to a certain charity in lieu of flowers. I don’t have the details in front of me, but they’re on our website, under the announcements section. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful at the moment.”
“No problem, I’ll check there. Thanks for your help.” I hung up and leaned back in my chair, propping my feet up on the half-open bottom drawer of my desk.
Jun-seo’s father had died the day before Minnie’s murder, probably shortly before Jun-seo had overdosed. Before he’d confessed to killing Minnie, he’d made arrangements for his father’s funeral and burial, and stood as sangju, or chief mourner. Paid in full. Too quickly for a life insurance check. And Jun-seo didn’t have a job. So they were living off what, disability? Social Security? If Minnie was spotting him tips, they didn’t have family money. So where did the money for the funeral come from?
That answer came to me quickly. I called Shouft and got his voicemail.
“Hey. Jun-seo paid for his father’s funeral yesterday morning, in full. Find out who paid him to confess, and you’ll find your murderer.”
I sat at my desk for a while, thinking. Then I got my car keys. I couldn’t shake the thought that Minnie’s murder was caused by love, not hate. If I was right, then her death was my fault.
I knocked at the door that was still hung with a black wreath and the traditional funeral notice for Ms. Kim’s husband. A few minutes later, Mrs. Kim opened it. She looked even smaller and older than before, her hair still up in its tight bun, dressed in a housecoat and slippers.
“Mrs. Kim? I came to talk to you. About Min-jun, and Jun-seo Lee.”
“Jun-seo? He is a good boy. A good son. My son is dead. What can be said?”
“You wanted me to find Min-jun so he could stand as the sangju for your husband, didn’t you?” Korean culture dictates that the eldest male son is responsible for officiating at the death of a parent, in the role of the sangju. The sangju takes
