Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-six

I woke up Monday morning with the feeling it was going to be a big day. Well, even bigger than usual.

One, the health inspector was finally coming over to clear us. Two, I was meeting Terrence (old friend, ex-lover, Derek’s ex–best friend, and Janet’s fiancé) for lunch at our old high school hangout. I was not in the mood for “Hey isn’t it weird that my ex is dead, your fiancée is in a coma, both of them were possibly involved in the drug trade, and now I’m being accused of murder, assault, and drug trafficking? Wild, right? Anyway, what’s been going on with you these past few years?” but I couldn’t put it off any longer. And three, Jae had called to reschedule our nondate, so our dinnertime reconnaissance was back on for tonight. He even mentioned his brother calling to warn him away, which seemed to strengthen Jae’s resolve to spend time with me. Figured I’d deal with that weird family dynamic some other time.

“Good morning, Tita Rosie.” I greeted my aunt with a quick squeeze on the shoulder—it was the most physical affection my family could tolerate.

“Oh, anak, did you sleep well?” She ladled garlic fried rice onto a plate and topped it with a fried egg. She slid the plate, along with a platter of Filipino breakfast meat, toward me. “Kain tayo. We have a long day ahead of us.”

I was too anxious to eat, but she was right, I needed the sustenance to get through what was going to be a long day. I helped myself to a few slices of tocino, the slightly sweet cured pork pairing perfectly with the strong, salty flavors on my plate. “Where’s Lola? Usually she’s up before us.”

“What, I can’t sleep in a little? Not like we’re actually working today.” Lola Flor’s voice sounded behind me, making me jump. She’d been doing that a lot lately.

“Nay, we need to get ready for dinner service after we pass the inspection. Lila, you’re in charge of letting everyone know we’re open. Post on our Facebook and . . . Tweeter?”

I bit back a giggle. “Twitter, Tita. I’ll update all our social media accounts. Maybe we can even do a promo. First ten customers receive a free dessert or something like that?”

“That’s a great idea! Everybody loves your lola’s sweets. We should get a lot of customers with a promotion like that.”

Lola Flor snorted. “Hmph. Not bad.”

And with what constituted as high praise from my grandmother, the day began.

“Mr. Long?” my aunt asked. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my property, isn’t it? I have a right to know what’s going on in my buildings. Especially,” he said, eyeing my grandmother warily, who was staring daggers at him, “when my son was killed on the premises, and the police are calling in favors so you can open up again.”

Lola Flor made a dismissive noise with her lips. “He wasn’t your son, so stop pretending like you care. Spend more time comforting your wife, who just lost her only child. Also, everyone knows this man is your friend, so now who’s trying to call in a favor?”

Mr. Long’s jaw dropped and his face flushed an ugly, deep red. “Wha— How dare you imply—”

“Rosie, open up the door. Let’s get this over with. If we want to be ready in time for dinner, we have a lot of shopping and prep to do.” Lola Flor muttered a few more things under her breath in Tagalog, but nothing I could translate in polite company.

The health inspector, who introduced himself as Mr. Nelson, cleared his throat. “Yes, that would be best. I have other establishments to visit today, Mrs. Macapagal.”

Tita Rosie was so flustered, she didn’t bother correcting him on her title. “Of course, Mr. Nelson.” She opened the front door and gestured inside. “After you, sir.”

We all stepped into the dining area and I tried to look at the restaurant with fresh eyes, analyzing the space the way the health inspector probably was. Our restaurant was always spotlessly clean, but the space itself was a little rough around the edges. Not a hygiene problem, more of a “we haven’t updated the space in twenty years ’cause we’re broke” kind of an issue.

Back in December, when I had gotten the call that the restaurant was failing and my aunt needed me to step up, the first things I did were set up a social media presence and change the decor. We didn’t have the money to make any real alterations, but we did what we could. Adeena helped us paint the walls a lovely shade of terra-cotta to cover up the dingy white it was before. We hung family pictures and mementos and scattered Philippine memorabilia throughout the space: a giant wooden fork and spoon set hanging by the kitchen, hand-woven table runners, a print of Prayer Before Meal by the cubist artist Vicente Manansala, and several Barrel men figurines posed on a high shelf.

A painting of the Last Supper graced the wall where we seated large parties, so our diners could eat awkwardly below it as they contemplated their sins. I’d tried to get rid of it more than once, but that painting was the one thing my aunt refused to budge on. I’d already convinced her to remove the Santo Niño statue that used to watch creepily from the corner, so I figured a compromise was in order.

Mr. Long paused in front of the painting long enough to give a derisive snort before following the rest of us to the kitchen.

My aunt wasn’t having any of that. As she flicked on the kitchen lights, she said, “Sir, you don’t have to agree with my choices, but I ask you not to insult the Lord in my—Susmaryosep, what is this?!”

Smashed dishes and bent-up cutlery littered the floor. Pots and pans were strewn around the room, far from their usual resting places. One of the windows was broken, shards of glass littering the sink and windowsill. Worst of all, the food stored in the fridge and freezer had been pulled out and left to rot in the open air. The food hadn’t been out long enough to begin to smell, luckily, but long enough that we’d have to throw it out.

All that food—and money—wasted.

My eyes swept over our beloved kitchen, my horror and nausea building as I took in the destruction. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

But before I could run off to the bathroom, Tita Rosie wailed and started to fall to her knees. I caught her and we both sank to the floor.

I held her as she cried, as she screamed, “Bakit?” over and over again. Why indeed. What had our family done to deserve this?

Meanwhile, Lola Flor was screaming at Mr. Long and the health inspector. “You had something to do with this, didn’t you? You’ve been wanting to kick us out for years! If you think this is your chance . . .” She trailed off, clearly thinking about a threat strong enough. She couldn’t seem to find one to convey her true meaning in English, so she switched to Tagalog to berate him.

Mr. Long went from barely concealing his pleased smile to alarm as my tiny grandmother advanced on him. “Get away from me, lady, or I’m calling the cops!”

Sensing a task that could occupy my aunt, I said, “That’s right, the cops! Tita Rosie, you need to call the police and report this. They’ll need to investigate, find out who did this to us.”

She waved her hand helplessly at the mess. “What’s the point? We don’t have the money to replace this. We’re done.”

This caught my grandmother’s attention. She marched over to us and yanked my aunt up with one hand. That old woman was strong. “I won’t have any daughter of mine talking like that. You are a Macapagal and we do not give up. Now go call that detective and tell him to do his job. I’ll start cleaning up.”

Tita Rosie wiped her face with a napkin I handed her. “You’re right, Nay. Let’s get to work.”

She scurried off to her office to make the call, but I stopped Lola Flor from walking into the kitchen. “Wait, Lola! We can’t disrupt the crime scene.” At her huff of impatience, I said, “We need to keep it preserved so the cops can document it for our insurance claim. We do have insurance on this place, right?”

Reluctantly, she nodded and stepped away. “Fine. But call your lawyer friend and tell him to get here right away. If the police are coming, we’ll need him.”

The health inspector sidled away as I waited for Amir to answer. “I’m obviously not needed today, so maybe we should—”

“Hey, you’re not going anywhere,” I said just as Amir picked up. “No, not you, Amir. I’m talking to the health inspector.”

I explained what had happened and he promised to head over immediately. “Don’t touch anything, make sure nobody leaves, and take pictures of everything for the insurance. Be there soon.”

Mr. Long and the health inspector tried to leave while I was distracted, but my grandmother planted herself in their way and refused to move. Detective Park and his team arrived just in time to witness these middle-aged men get crossed over by a woman in her seventies.

“Mr. Long and Mr. Nelson, are you trying to leave a crime scene? You should know I’d have questions for anyone involved,” Detective Park said, watching the tableau before him with amusement.

Mr. Long huffed. “I’m not involved and have nothing to say. Everything was like this when we got here. Also, why are you here? Does Shady Palms PD usually send a high-ranking detective to investigate vandalism? Or is this another favor being called in?”

“I’m here because this is still a crime scene in an ongoing investigation. I need to make sure these events are not connected in any way. If you’re not involved, then you’ll have no problem telling an officer what you saw when you got here.” Detective Park waved one of his men over to interrogate Mr. Long and the health inspector. “Talk to these two separately, will you?”

The officer nodded and led Mr. Long away first for questioning. Detective Park turned his attention back to my grandmother and me. “So what happened here? Where’s Rosie?”

Lola Flor pursed her lips. “We’re not talking until our lawyer gets here.”

Detective Park raised an eyebrow and looked at me. I shrugged. “What she said.”

A police photographer moved through the wreckage of the kitchen, taking quick shots of everything. I did the same from the doorway, careful not to enter. Not only did I not want to contaminate the scene in any way, it no longer felt like a safe space. It was no longer our kitchen.

“You don’t have to do that, you know. We could send copies of the photos to your insurance company,” Detective Park said.

“And we’ll of course be requesting those official photographs, Detective. But it never hurts to have a backup,” Amir said, the tinkling of the door chimes announcing his arrival seconds before his voice did.

The look on Detective Park’s face was difficult to read as he watched Amir make his way toward us. “Mr. Awan, come to save the day again. I sure hope this family is paying you well since you seem to be at their beck and call.”

“And I hope you find out who is so obviously trying to put my clients out of business that they’re willing to not only trash their restaurant, but also frame one of them for murder.” Amir’s smile was so sharp and cold I flinched, even though it wasn’t directed at me. “We’ve both got a lot of work to do, Detective, so why don’t you cut to the chase. Lila will go grab her aunt and the family can answer your questions.”

“With you present, of course.”

“Of course.” Amir’s expression relaxed a bit as he turned to me. “Can you call Auntie so we can get started?”

“It’s OK, I’m here.” Tita Rosie plodded toward us, her face still filled with grief but her voice clear and strong. She smiled at Amir and nodded at Detective Park. “Jonathan. Let’s get this over with. I want to start cleaning as soon as your men are done in my kitchen.”

Detective Park’s face softened as he looked at her. “Rosie, I’m sure you don’t believe me, but I’m very sorry about all that’s happened. I just need your statement and I can assign some men to this case.”

“You’re not going to look into it yourself?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Already have my hands full with the Winter case and now the Spinelli assault. But don’t worry, I trust—”

“Wait, don’t you think this vandalism and your case are connected?” I asked.

“No comment,” he said, readying his tablet. “Now, on to the questions.”

We walked him through everything we’d seen and done, starting from when we got home last night until the cops arrived at the restaurant this morning.

Other than the questions he asked, Detective Park made no additional comments, just noted down the information as we gave it. When we finished the interview, he said, “OK, give me a moment while I go check on something.”

We watched him converse with another officer, who pulled out his own tablet and seemed to be comparing notes with Detective Park. The detective nodded, seemingly satisfied, and made his way back to us.

“OK, your story checks out. The officer tailing Ms. Macapagal confirmed your alibis for last night.”

Wait, someone was tailing me yesterday and I never even noticed?

My hands balled into fists. “You had someone spying on me? How dare you!”

“Ms. Macapagal, forgive me, but you’re a suspect in both a homicide and a narcotics case. On top of that, you were also found at the scene of an assault. Only a fool would’ve let you out of their sight after that series of events. At the very least, we can clear you of vandalism. Judging by the lack of smell, the earliest this could’ve happened was last night. Your tail confirmed your whereabouts early Sunday. Also, the patrols were adamant neither you nor any member of your family left the house after our talk yesterday.”

“Oh, goody for us.” My initial instinct to react with sarcasm was quickly brushed aside when what he said sank in. “Wait, did you just say I was cleared of vandalism? You thought I destroyed my own restaurant? Me? Ruin the years of hard work that my aunt and grandmother put into this place? How could you even think such a thing?”

He shrugged. “It’s not unheard of. You could’ve done it to throw us off your scent. Make your family out to be the victim, so that we focus on some phantom vandal instead of you. Or maybe you did it for insurance reasons.”

I thought Lola Flor was going to spit in his face, she looked so disgusted with him. I put a hand on her arm and almost shook my head at her, but that would make her more likely to act out of spite.

Amir stepped between my grandmother and the detective. “Well, unfortunately for the Macapagal family, they are the victims.” He gestured toward me. “My client is innocent of all these heinous crimes you seem desperate to pin on her, and I hope your department works quickly to find the true culprits.”

Detective Park ignored him, closing his tablet with a snap. “Our interviews are done and we have the pictures we need. You might want to talk to Mr. Nelson and reschedule that health inspection, Rosie. Hate seeing this place closed down for so long.”

My aunt didn’t answer him, just turned around and marched back to her office. Lola Flor followed her. I stayed put, watching the cops pack up and leave as a unit.

Detective Park lingered for a moment before saying, “I was serious about hating to see this place closed down. Rosie is a good woman. You need to take better care of her. I don’t think she’s handling this well.”

How dare he accuse me of not taking care of my aunt when he was one of the main reasons she was so stressed out?

The fury in my eyes must’ve been palpable because he took a step back. “Look, I’m just saying . . . call a cleaning service. Have it charged to the insurance. Don’t let her put everything on her shoulders, OK?”

I didn’t give a response and he didn’t seem to be waiting for one. He turned his attention to Mr. Long and the health inspector, and I watched, confused, as Detective Park issued a warning to them. Something about not pulling any of that “funny business” here. What the heck was he talking about? Was Detective Park also investigating the scam Derek seemed to be pulling on local restaurants? That dude had his fingers in a lot of pies.

After the detective left, Amir cleared his throat and handed his business card to the health inspector. “I’ll be contacting you with some concerns I have about your business practices, Mr. Nelson. You too, Mr. Long.”

The health inspector nodded and hurried away without a word, but Mr. Long narrowed his eyes at us. “We’re not done here. Not by a long shot.”