Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-two

After church, I’d planned on heading straight to Sushi-ya, hoping to get a chance to talk to Yuki before Janet got there. Unfortunately, my grandmother had other plans for me.

Any other Sunday, we’d be heading back to the restaurant for Sunday lunch. Much of the congregation would follow us for a good meal and a good time. Those Sunday lunches were what had sustained my aunt’s business through the rough times. If nothing else, my family could count on Sunday to turn a profit.

But not today.

Tita Rosie’s Kitchen was closed until the health inspector came to clear us. In the first bit of good news we’d had in a long time, Detective Park called my aunt after Mass to say he’d convinced the health inspector to interrupt his vacation for a quick evaluation of our restaurant. Monday he’d be over and we’d pass, like I knew we would, and everything would go back to normal. But until then, nothing was normal. Until then, we had to keep busy or go bananas.

Because of this, Lola Flor was in a worse mood than usual—which was really saying something—and had commandeered me to be her personal valet for the day. She made me drive her around to all her errands for the rest of the morning. I only managed to dump her on my godmothers by begging them to take her out to the casino so I could do some investigating.

I dashed into the sushi restaurant right on time (which was actually late in Janet’s world), expecting to see her sitting there, looking at me with her disapproving scowl, but a quick sweep of the room showed me she wasn’t there yet. I settled into a table near the door and played a phone game while I waited for Janet.

And waited. And waited. Ten minutes passed by, then fifteen. I texted her. No response. Called her cell phone. No response. I even looked up her office number and called her there. Nothing.

After thirty minutes, I knew I’d been stood up. Since that source of info turned out to be bupkis, I might as well treat myself to a nice lunch and work the Yuki and Akio Sato angle. I hadn’t seen Yuki yet, but was pretty sure that was her husband behind the counter. I moved from my table over to an open spot in front of him.

“Konnichiwa! Welcome to Sushi-ya. What can I get for you?” the man I assumed to be Akio greeted me as he put together a plate of California rolls.

Did I start with the full court press right away? No, better to ease into it. Yuki wasn’t around, so he was unsuspecting. Plus I didn’t have Adeena with me to lighten the mood if it got too tense. Luckily, Ninang June’s list included bits of Derek’s reviews, so I knew which areas to poke.

I skimmed the menu. “Hmm, I usually go for the tempura bowl, but I remember reading a bad review about it.” I glanced up and caught the man’s stormy expression. “Oh, sorry! That was rude of me. But a friend told me she loves this place and comes all the time for lunch, so I thought I’d check it out myself.”

His expression softened, ever so slightly, so I added, “You’re the owner, right?”

He grunted in acknowledgment.

“So then what would you recommend? You’d know what’s best.” I smiled, trying to butter him up.

“Ah, so then it’s the omakase? Chef’s choice?”

I nodded and he grinned, sharpening his knife so enthusiastically I leaned back, even though the counter and glass pane separated us. “No one ever picks the omakase! Miss, I’ll prepare you a meal you’ll never forget.”

As he got to work, a sullen-faced pre-teen girl handed me a steaming hot towel. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“Can I get a glass of water and some hot green tea as well?” I asked as I cleaned my hands with the towel.

She left without saying anything, but I assumed she was getting my drinks.

Akio leaned over, brandishing the first plate. “So for the first course, we have flounder sashimi served with green onions and momiji oroshi, or daikon radish with chili pepper.”

The fish was delicate and subtle, with a nice, firm texture. What followed after this opening course was an onslaught of fantastic nigiri, small balls of pressed sushi rice with various toppings, served two at a time so I could fully appreciate each perfect morsel.

Sea bream was followed by sweet shrimp, tamago, yellowtail, salmon, soy sauce-braised octopus, crab, grilled eel, and the final two pieces were otoro, or tuna belly. The richest, fattiest, most melt-in-your-mouth pieces of tuna I’d ever had.

Between the tamago and yellowtail courses, the chef’s daughter (he’d told me who she was after she’d left so abruptly) returned with my water but no tea. “Oh excuse me, I also ordered some green tea?”

She glared at her father, as if it were his fault she’d forgotten, then said, “OK. I’ll be back.”

She left and Akio placed the salmon nigiri in front of me. “I’m sorry about my daughter. Both she and my wife are grieving right now. A friend of theirs passed recently.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. My condolences to you and your family.”

He picked up his knife and sliced the octopus with a little more force than necessary. “Save your condolences. He was no friend of mine.”

I raised my eyebrows but said nothing, choosing to savor the fresh fish in front of me. When he saw I was properly enjoying my meal, he said, “You understand food. You appreciate it, I can tell. Not like him.”

Ooh, was this it? Was this the opening I was hoping for? I swallowed a little too quickly and began coughing. I sipped at my water glass (still no tea) and asked, “Not like who?”

“That damned food critic or blogger or whatever he claimed to be. Started coming over a lot in the summer and I thought he loved my food. Till I saw his reviews.”

I was working through the octopus, the softest, most flavorful octopus I’d had in a while, but managed to ask, “Oh no, what did he say?”

“Nothing but lies that don’t bear repeating.” His grip on the knife tightened briefly before he set it down. “It’s fine though, he got what was coming to him.”

My eyes widened. “You mean because he was murdered?”

Akio looked confused for a moment, then said, “Oh, no, not that. I mean, I’m not exactly sad he’s gone, but I don’t think killing him was the way to go.” He set a plate in front of me. “Here’s the last sushi course, lightly seared tuna belly dressed with yuzu salt.”

I could tell the tuna belly deserved my full attention, so before I tasted it, I asked, “So then what did you mean ‘he got what was coming to him’?”

“He beat him up,” a familiar voice behind me said. Yuki stood there, holding a small pot of green tea as well as a carafe of warm sake. “Sorry for the wait. The sake is on the house.”

I eyed the offering, wondering what her game was.

She snickered. “I haven’t poisoned it, if that’s what you’re wondering. I understand my daughter wasn’t being the most attentive server, and we pride ourselves on our service.”

I nodded and sipped at the sake, feeling the warmth course all the way down to the tips of my toes. “This is delicious! And I’m sorry, did you say your husband beat up Derek?”

Akio lifted one disinterested shoulder. “He shouldn’t have lied about my food like that. I take those kinds of comments very seriously.”

“Yes, your food. All you care about is your precious food,” Yuki said with disgust. “Never mind your family. He would’ve pressed charges if I hadn’t smoothed things over with him. You got lucky.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Smoothed things over? How?”

Akio grunted and walked away to the kitchen without answering. Yuki’s hand went to her hair, which she patted nervously. “Oh, nothing special. Just promised him a few free meals. He wasn’t so bad once you got to know him. After he helped with the health inspector, we started chatting over sake almost every night last summer.”

She looked sad, then scared when her husband marched back, a scowl still darkening his features. “But you two stopped talking soon after that, right, Yuki? You never saw him again?”

Yuki nodded slowly, saying, “Yes, of course. I never saw him again,” before drifting away.

Akio placed a plate containing three pieces of mochi ice cream in front of me. “Here. Dessert.”

Compared to the rest of the meal, the ice cream was clearly an afterthought, bought from the supermarket and slightly freezer burnt. Not terrible, but nowhere near on par with the rest of the meal. Still, I’d gotten one heck of a meal and plenty of food for thought. I just wished Yuki was easier to pin down.

I paid the bill, which was shockingly low for omakase. The same meal in Chicago would’ve cost twice the price. Probably better service and dessert though. I thanked Akio (Yuki had disappeared into the back and seemed content to stay there till I left) and promised to be back soon.

The delicious meal had done a good job of placating me over Janet’s absence. Still, the fact she supposedly knew something that could save me from jail, and was not only choosing to withhold it from me but had done something as childish as stand me up, was infuriating. What was her endgame? To humiliate me? Make me beg for her help? So much for turning over a new leaf for Terrence.

Emboldened by a tummy full of yummy fish and free alcohol, I decided to pay Janet a visit. She probably thought I’d be too chicken to go confront her, and usually she’d be right.

But not today.