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Ning, had taken a swan dive off a sixth-floor balcony, and it seemed certain he would have a closed-casket funeral. No matter how good the Chens were at their profession, they weren’t miracle workers.
    Joe Ning, head of the Five Brothers tong, had been murdered by Susan Yee because he’d financed Ted’s film after the first backer died (also killed by Susan). But apart from me, Lucky, and Max, no one recognized the significance of the broken gourmet fortune cookie found near the spot where Uncle Six had slipped and fallen to his death. To the mundane world, Joe Ning’s death appeared to be accidental—or possibly a suicide which his immediate family members, the only other people in his apartment that night, were determined to conceal. Because Ning was a kingpin in Chinatown’s criminal underworld, I assumed the cops also considered murder a possibility—but death by cookie would never occur to them. And they would never believe Susan had killed him with a curse, not even if she confessed to it.
    Looking at Danny now, I hoped for Ted’s sake that there was never even a vague rumor about Susan’s involvement in the tong boss’s death. Danny was so amoral and bloodthirsty, he might retaliate against Ted if he ever suspected the ex-filmmaker’s sister had whacked the old man. And with someone like Danny, retaliation would mean another funeral.
    As
dai lo
of the Red Daggers, Danny had reputedly done a lot of special jobs for Uncle Six. In fact, Ning had assigned Danny to watch over his newest investment, Ted’s film, which was why Danny had been hanging around the set of
ABC
lately. He was on the set when he got the news of Ning’s death, and he’d been so enraged and out of control, I was afraid he’d lash out and hurt me or Ted. It was a relief when he stormed off to go commit mayhem somewhere else, and I had hoped never to see him again.
    Not happy about seeing him now, I noticed he was swaying slightly, and I supposed he’d been drinking—as was often the case.
    “When you get Uncle Six here,” Danny said to Nathan, slurring his words a little, “you gonna do right by him, you hear me? You gonna make him look good.”
    “Yes, of course,” Nathan said soothingly, with as much confidence as if Ning had died of a something much less messy than a very long, hard, fast fall onto a city street.
    “Uncle Six deserves the
best.
”
    Danny, who was about my age, spoke English with a slight Chinese accent; his first language was Cantonese. His long hair was slicked back and tied in a ponytail, as usual, and he sported a little mustache and goatee that didn’t suit him. He habitually wore blue jeans, boots decorated with silver studs and chains, and a black leather jacket. And he was almost certainly armed.
    “Uncle Six
will
get the best,” Nathan assured him.
    “If he don’t,” Danny warned blearily, “then I’m gonna cut you.”
    John rose to his feet, openly angry about seeing his father threatened. Striding forward, he said tersely to Danny, “You need to leave. Right
now.
”
    Nathan turned his back on Danny (which I wasn’t sure was wise) as he stepped into John’s path, put his hands on his son’s shoulders, and met his gaze. “John,” he said quietly, “let me handle this.”
    John ignored his father’s request. “Get out,” he said to Danny—who started laughing.
    I didn’t like to intrude, but I rose to my feet, too, and placed a hand on John’s arm. “Your dad’s right,” I said quietly. “Let him deal with this.”
    I had seen on a previous occasion that Nathan had an enviable ability to deal calmly with thugs like Danny and take some of the edge off their aggression. Probably because he was a respected elder in the community. Whereas a tall, muscular young man like John would just make Danny feel challenged—especially the way John was glaring at him right now, as if ready to throw down with him.
    Nathan and I exchanged a glance, and I said more sharply, “John! Your father