Chapter Thirty-seven

Chapter Thirty-seven

When I walked into Java Jo’s, Adeena was at the counter. She laughed and chatted with each customer until she saw me in line. The smile melted off her face like a bowl of halo-halo on a Midwestern summer day. She finished serving the customer in front of me, but when I stepped up, she called out, “Kevin! Time to switch!” then headed over to the espresso machine. She didn’t make eye contact with me once.

Kevin came to take my order, frowning, but chose not to ask any questions. “Hey, Lila. Coconut milk latte, right? You want that hot or iced today?”

Without taking my eyes off Adeena’s back, I said, “Give me a Java Jocinno.”

As a jab at the people who kept asking him if he served Frappuccinos, Kevin started selling “Java Jocinnos” with the tagline “Are you really going to keep pretending this is actually coffee?” They were basically milkshakes with a shot of espresso and super delicious, but very obviously not coffee. Coffee snobbery at its finest, and I was all about it.

Kevin blinked, but again chose not to question it. “Wow, mixing it up today, huh? So you wanna stick with your usual coconut or try one of our other alternative milks? We got almond, soy, rice, oat—”

“Nope. Give me the real stuff, Kev. And no messing around with that two percent. I want whole milk. One scoop each of double fudge and sea salt caramel. Triple shot of espresso.”

“You want whipped cream on top?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Kevin. You know I want whipped cream on top. And actual whipped cream, not the coconut cream kind.”

He sighed. “Lila, do you need to talk? Because I really don’t think—”

I slapped some cash on the counter. “I’ll be sitting in my usual spot. Call me when it’s ready.”

He shook his head but rang up my order and handed me the receipt. “Should be up in five.”

I nodded and headed over to my table, catching up on all the social media stuff I’ve been ignoring for the past week. I scrolled through my personal accounts, but nothing really caught my eye, so I switched over to the Instagram account I’d made for Longganisa. She was way more popular than I was, but I hadn’t uploaded a new pic in a week and her fans were not pleased. I made a quick post of her splayed out on the sidewalk the day she gave up mid-run. A quick caption of “My human is mad I stopped running to sploot, but doesn’t she know it’s important to stretch?” and there we go. Enough to appease her fans for a couple of days, at least.

Finally, I switched over to the business account I’d created for Tita Rosie’s Kitchen. Other than a quick post I made the day Derek died, explaining we were closed until further notice, I hadn’t bothered checking the account. So I didn’t notice the DM sitting in our in-box.

It was from Yuki, Derek’s former paramour if I’d guessed correctly. She’d sent it the day I visited her and her husband at Sushi-ya.

We need to talk. But not at the restaurant. Contact me here if you can meet me.

Hoping I hadn’t missed the window of opportunity, I messaged her back.

I’m at Java Jo’s right now. Could you meet me here? If not now, sometime today or tomorrow?

She answered back almost immediately.

Too public

That was it. No other suggestions or a hint of what she needed to talk about. Not even a “. . .” appearing to show she was composing another message.

Where are you? I could come to you

I’m at the funeral home

For Derek’s wake?

Yes

How long will you be there?

I don’t know. No one else is here, so get here soon

I calculated how long it’d take me to get there.

Gimme 20 min. Don’t leave before I get there

I’ll try but no promises

I started to message back, telling her to be patient, when my Java Jocinno was plunked down in front of me, sticky-sweet liquid trailing down the large fountain drink glass.

“Oh, shoot, sorry, Kevin. Can you make that to go?” I asked without looking up from my phone.

“Why are you doing this?”

I glanced up at Adeena’s voice to see her glowering at me. Ten minutes ago, I’d wanted nothing more than to finally have our heart-to-heart where I’d lay all my cards on the table. But now I had a lead with a time limit and did not have time to deal with her brotherly insecurities and demands on my future.

“You’re going to have to be a little clearer. Got a lot of stuff going on that you seem to disapprove of, so you’ll have to narrow it down. Oh, and can I get a to-go cup, please?”

She didn’t budge. “You’re super lactose intolerant. You only order something with this much dairy to punish yourself.”

I took a quick sip and holy sugar, was it ever delicious. “I also get it when I need a bit of cheering up. Don’t know if you noticed, but I could do with some cheer.”

“Don’t give me that. You order stuff like this when you’re depressed, thinking it’ll cheer you up, but again, you’re really just punishing yourself.”

I closed my eyes and counted to ten before saying, “Adeena, are you going to get me that to-go cup or not? ’Cause I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you running away again? Because that seems to be your go-to move.”

“Oh my God, are you serious right now? Why does everyone accuse me of running away?! Why can’t you all accept that I’m just trying to do what’s best for me?”

Adeena gave me a pitying look. “How long you going to keep lying to yourself?”

“You know what, I’m tired of all this high school drama. When you’re ready to talk to me, come find me. I got enough to deal with right now.” I pushed up from the table and put my coat back on. “Forget the to-go cup. I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Lila.” Adeena’s voice was so strained, I could almost feel it snap in the air between us.

Usually that tone of voice would have me bending over backward to accommodate her, but I couldn’t deal with her right now.

“Sorry, gotta go talk to a possible murder suspect while sitting next to my ex-boyfriend’s dead body. Come find me once you’ve gotten over yourself.”

“Lila—”

“Oh, and Mr. Long’s dead, too. Mrs. Long and I both found him. Knife stuck in his chest, lots of blood everywhere, that whole thing. Just so you know the kind of day I’m having. OK, bye!”

I waved cheerily at her as I got in my car and delighted in how she stood staring at me, mouth agape, even as I started backing out of my spot. Petty? Yes. Cruel? Well, maybe a little. But because of her, I not only had to deal with the uncomfortable feeling that she was right, I was also going to face a potential murder suspect alone and uncaffeinated.

That had to count for something, right?