"Damn," Ernie said. "This Fifi would fit right in on Madison Avenue."
"She's not exactly a bashful maiden."
We pushed through the door. A bell tinkled.
An attractive young woman in a short skirt and silk blouse stepped out from behind a glass counter and bowed. "Oso-oseiyo." Please come in.
She must've been about nineteen, short hair, cute as one of the hand-painted dolls lining the shop's shelves. After a long day of interviewing sullen merchants, Ernie couldn't help but grin.
He ran his hand through his short hair, flicked monsoon rain onto the wood-plank floor, and pulled out a package of ginseng gum. He offered her a stick. She took it in her soft hand, smiled, and bowed again.
"Fifi oddiso?" I asked. Where's Fifi?
The girl shook her head. "Fifi's not here. Can I be of service to you?"
I decided not to translate that for Ernie. Vulgar retorts we could live without.
"It's very important that I talk to Fifi Kang immediately," I told her. "It has to do with Lady Ahn."
The color in the girl's cheeks began to fade. She shook her head.
"Fifi is not here now. If you give me your calling card I will be sure that she contacts you."
I glanced at Ernie, rolling my eyes. A look of disappointment descended on his face as he deciphered the signal-I suppose he had been looking forward to being nice to this girl-but he shrugged and shook the expression off almost as soon as it appeared. His eyes darted around the room, searching for something to smash.
"We must talk to Fifi," I told the girl. "If we don't, my friend will become very angry."
Her slim fingers began to quiver. "You can't talk to Fifi," she said. "She is busy. She must not be disturbed."
Ernie snatched up a crystal carving of Kuan Yin, the Buddhist goddess of mercy. Her long robes draped gracefully to her feet. Her face was as calm as the face of an eternally youthful goddess should be. No expensive salves. No face-lifts. Just eternal beauty. She would put Max Factor out of business.
Ernie surprised me. He didn't pulverize the statuette immediately. Instead, he walked slowly up to the frightened girl and faced Kuan Yin toward her blinking eyes.
"Do you know who this is?" he asked.
I translated. "Nugu inji allayo?"
When the girl didn't answer, Ernie continued. "It's you," he said, "and if you don't tell us where Fifi is, this is what's going to happen."
As soon as the last word of translation had emerged from my mouth, Ernie flicked his wrist and slammed the goddess into the glass counter. Shards of crystal exploded into the air. The girl leapt away, shoving her cupped fists against her mouth, her eyes wide with fright.
"Fifi oddiso?" I shouted. Where's Fifi?
"The bathhouse," the girl stammered. "In the alley behind the shop. Not far."
"And Lady Ahn?"
'Yes," she said, nodding, pressing herself up against the wall, as far away from Ernie as she could get. "She's there, too."
Ernie looked at me.
"Jackpot," I said and started toward the back door.
He gazed at the still intact Kuan Yin, kissed her on the top of her tiny head, and set her very carefully down on what was left of the shattered counter.
13
Since the Korean war, plumbing has come a long way. But in many areas of the country it's still primitive. People don't drink tap water, not unless they boil it first. Cold water service is provided almost everywhere, but hot-water heaters are still something few people in Korea can afford.
For bathing, people go to bathhouses. It's cheap and convenient and for many people somewhat of a social event.
Unlike the Japanese, Koreans don't take community baths. Women use one side of the bathhouse, men the other.
The Seven Luck Bathhouse was a long cement-block building painted powder blue. At the entrance sat a young woman nursing a baby.
The woman leaned back in fright when Ernie and I emerged from the rain. Her long bruised nipple popped out of the infant's moist mouth. Immediately, the child began to wail, grasping with its tiny claws until the mother regained her composure and managed to shove her breast back into the baby's greedy reach. All was quiet again.
"Kang Kuabu oddiso?" I asked. Where's the Widow Kang?
The woman glanced toward the entrance marked yoja. Women. "In there," she said.
Ernie understood and started to push through the swinging door. The young mother shouted. "Women only!" She pointed. "Men must enter on the other side."
Ernie looked back at her, smiled, then pushed on through into the steaming darkness.
I slapped two thousand won, about four bucks, onto the rickety table in front of her.
"Police business," I said. "It will only take a minute. Don't worry."
The woman's face was still crinkled with concern but she grabbed the wrinkled bills and slipped them into a pocket in her long dress.
I pushed through the women's entrance and felt the steam grab onto my face.
The bathhouse reeked of mint-scented lather. At first I couldn't see Ernie. But my eyes became accustomed to the darkness and I made out his shadow down the long hallway. As I stepped down the corridor I felt the spongy spring of wooden slats beneath my feet. The walls were made of cement, and in each large room, water spit freely from nozzles onto women in various stages of undress. They were all busy. Scrubbing themselves with pumice stones, shampooing hair in great billowing cathedrals of suds, or drying themselves carefully while seated on short wooden benches.
Up ahead, Ernie stopped at the entranceway to each room and peered in, studying something carefully. I caught up with him. He glanced back over his shoulder.
"Checking the whazoos," he said.
"What?"
"Whazoos. When I find breasts large enough, I'll know we've found Lady Ahn."
What an investigator.
The women inside the bathhouse were so preoccupied with their own cleanliness, none of them had noticed us yet. We moved down the hallway. At the end, we heard wood slapping on flesh and the voices of two women. Laughing.
As we approached the room at the end of the hall, the slapping became louder. So did the laughter.
Inside, two tall Korean women, completely naked, were beating one another with willow branches. Both had their hair knotted up inside of white towels. With each slap, the women laughed louder, and each slap was delivered with more fervor. More joy.
Ernie and I stood mesmerized.
He mumbled through wet lips. "The whazoos," he said. "I'd pick 'em out of any lineup."
Lady Ahn was built like Venus, only better. Her limbs were long and straight, hips round, waist narrow, breasts heavy and ripe. At the V between her legs, jet black pubic hair stood out straight and lush with no hint of curl.
The other woman wasn't bad looking either. A little older, a little thinner, not quite as tall. Fifi Kang. She had a right to be proud of her figure, too. Still, she looked skeletal compared to the ravishing Lady Ahn.
The two women twirled, still beating one another with the quivering twigs. I was worried they might actually cause bruises, even cuts, on their golden flesh. But their swats were practiced. The flicks of the wrist delivered with just the right amount of snap. It was clear they'd enjoyed this ritual before.
Finally, Fifi Kang stopped, standing perfectly still, her eyes wide. She lifted the white towel higher up on her forehead.
Lady Ahn, waiting for the next blow, turned when she didn't receive it. She saw Ernie and me standing in the doorway.
I was beginning to sweat. It was hot in here, and I felt like taking off my shirt. In fact, after soaking up the beauty of Lady Ahn, I felt like taking off my shirt and my pants and everything else.