Coconuts and Crooks Page 3

  Except Mom did come back, and when she did she asked how the land could have been sold. Auntie Chooney, who’d owned the plot next to Mom’s, said it was sold and there was nothing Mom could do.

  Mom went to the original owner and told him that he didn’t have the right to buy all the land. She proved to him that she was an heir of her parents, and that he did not have a clear title.

  Kim Lim said that he would gladly find Mom’s portion of land, but Mom said that she would gladly buy her brothers’ and sisters’ portions of the land back from him. He refused to sell. Mom threatened to sue.

  Kim Lim said he’d call her bluff. Mom got a lawyer and started the proceedings. Justice is very slow in the Philippines, and by the time Mom’s case came before Judge Hernandez, somehow Kim Lim produced a document that allegedly proved that Mom had given her power of attorney to Aunt Chooney, and she’d sold the land to him after he’d found out about the missing heir. But Aunt Lalaine told Mom that she wouldn’t sell the second time knowing that Mom didn’t want to sell, and Lalaine insisted that Mom would never give her power of attorney to Auntie Chooney. Nevertheless, the judge dismissed the case.

  “And that brings us to Auntie Chooney,” Mom said. “She’d been close to my mother, who died when I was young. When Papa died she did help us, but she’s always thought she should have inherited all the land. It’s no coincidence that she’s the one who arranged the original sale and the second sale. So she’s a suspect.”

  “But do you think she would have harmed Aunt Lalaine?”

  “I don’t think so, but she’s involved somehow.”

  “And what about Kim Lim?” I asked.

  “He’s definitely a suspect. It may have been the judge and him working together. But your aunt had told me that Kim was surprised that the power of attorney might be a forgery. He could have been lying, and the power of attorney document has been missing for years.”

  “So those are our main suspects,” I said.

  “So far,” Mom said, closing the folder, and then she got quiet.

  “Are you okay, Mom?”

  “I’m nervous.”

  I put my hand over hers. It wasn’t like Mom to be nervous, but I could understand why. “We’ve solved four cases already.”

  Mom smiled. “We have, haven’t we?”

  “We’re, like, famous for it,” I told her.

  Mom’s telephone dinged. “Someone commented on our Facebook page,” she said with a smile and picked up her phone. We talked about Facebook for a while, and then I decided to go pack.

  “I’m going to pack,” I said, “and then go to bed early.”

  “Good idea,” Mom said, not looking up from her new phone.

  I couldn’t help but check my phone just in case a certain handsome detective had called. He hadn’t. Mom said clothes were cheaper in the Philippines, so I decided to only pack a little bit and leave lots of room in my suitcase for souvenirs. I fantasized that I’d lose weight eating fresh fruit and walking along the beach and come back thin with a whole new wardrobe and a tan. Hey, a woman can dream.

  I slept with my phone under my pillow. That wouldn’t seem so pathetic if I used my cell phone as my alarm clock, but the truth was I had a digital alarm clock that was my parents’ on my nightstand. I didn’t even have to wait for it to go off. I was up at nine checking to see if DC had called.

  Wow. I was taking my first trip out of the country this afternoon, and my thoughts were consumed by whether or not a man called me. Sheesh. Isn’t this how I wrecked my life the first time?

  I wasn’t going to be that woman. Okay, since I kind of already was that woman, I decided I was going to remind myself that I’d chosen to be different.

  Gone was the Christy who’d dropped out of college to manage her boyfriend’s music career and had pressured him to get married, only to find out he was a cheater who dumped her at his first sign of success.

  Nope. Not going down that path. I chose to go on this quest and now it was time to prepare. Time for coffee.

  I headed to the kitchen and found Mom and Dar-Dar making breakfast. Dar-Dar, which was short for Darwin, was our house guest. Mom and Dar’s mom had been close friends growing up in the Philippines. We’d recently run into Dar-Dar while we were investigating another case. He worked and lived at a hotel that closed. He’d moved in with us and got a job managing the new coffeehouse, the Mocha Muse, here in Fletcher Canyon. He’d planned on getting his own apartment, but when Mom told him about our trip, he agreed to stay to watch the house, take care of some of the catering business, and of course pet-sit our cat, Moriarty.

  “Are you excited?” Darwin asked.

  “Yes!” I said, and I was determined to mean it.

  The rest of the day moved along without too much drama.

  Dar-Dar had taken the day off so that he could take us to the airport. He was really great at driving stick shift and our very large renovated catering van. I was almost jealous of how fast he acclimated himself to driving that monstrosity.

  Naturally, my cell phone was tucked into my pocket and I checked it a million times. Whatever had called DC away last night had kept him busy though the morning. The thing that made it particularly devastating is that we never talked about how we would communicate while I was in the Philippines.

  Mom wheeled her suitcase over to the front door, and then proceeded to angle it in the light and take a photo.

  “What are you doing?” I asked Mom.

  “What should I put for the pound?” Mom asked.

  “Do you mean how much does it weigh?” I asked Mom, not understanding.

  “No, what do I put for the pound on Instagram?” she asked.

  “Since when you are you on Instagram?”

  “Wenling showed me how to hook it up with my Facebook so that I can post to the group,” Mom said.

  Mom had really gotten into social media after our last case when a book readers’ group set up a mystery club.

  “You remembered to update the website, right?” Mom asked for the fifteenth time.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Can you make it so that my Instagram goes onto the website?” Mom asked.

  “I’ll try when we get to the Philippines. I packed my computer already,” I said. “Why are you taking a photo of the luggage?”

  “I’m letting people know we’re on our way,” Mom said. “I found one.” Not knowing what she was talking about, I went over and peeked over her shoulder to find out what she was talking about. “Mystery is one of the pounds,” she explained.

  “Oh, you mean hashtag.”

  Mom and Wenling had made cute luggage tags for the trip in case the luggage got lost, and the photo of it actually looked pretty cool.

  “Stand by the luggage, kid,” Mom said. “I want to take a picture and tag you. I made an account for you.”

  I couldn’t help but notice that Mom’s Instagram handle was MomSherlock.

  “Let me guess. I’m DaughterWatson,” I said.

  “Daughter was too long. You’re KidWatson,” she said.

  I nodded and let Mom take my picture and then took one of her. Of course, my petite Mom looked so much cuter getting ready to go to the Philippines. I’ve come to terms with my plus-size looks. It helps that DC Cooper thought I was beautiful. But even just thinking of DC made my heart ache. I still hadn’t heard from him and we were leaving for the airport in an hour.

  The doorbell rang. I opened the door to find Wenling standing there with her suitcase. “Where’s Jennifer?” I asked, but my question was answered as I saw Jennifer from the car window driving down the street.

  “She didn’t want to say goodbye?” Mom asked.

  “We said goodbye yesterday when we took my husband to the airport,” Wenling said.

  “Where is he going?” I asked.

  “I told him he can go and see his brother in Las Vegas while I’m gone,” she said. “He’s been wanting to go for a long time, but luckily I have secret bank accounts so he can
’t bankrupt us.”

  “I thought he was a good gambler,” Mom said.

  “It’s the good ones you have to worry about,” Wenling said.

  Mom nodded as if she understood, and then told Wenling to stand by the door so she could get a picture. Having leftover time, we sat in the kitchen to have a last round of coffees while Dar-Dar finished his makeup in the bathroom. Dar-Dar was a former Miss-Mister beauty pageant winner, and as such he spent a lot of time grooming.

  Mom took the opportunity while we were waiting to fill Wenling in on the backstory regarding the death of Lalaine. When Mom’s father passed away, Mom should have inherited her portion of the family land. But Mom, having recently met my father, was on her way to the United States. While Mom was gone, her Aunt Chooney had convinced all of Mom’s brothers and sisters into selling the land for cheap.

  But Mom had never signed away her portions of her father’s estate. Mom suspected that because her aunt owned the adjoining land that her aunt got a much better price than she said she did. Except Mom never sold her part—everyone had assumed she did. When Mom found out that the land was sold, she filed a lawsuit.

  But unbeknownst to Mom, the buyer of the land offered money to everyone again to clear the title. But Aunt Lalaine refused to resell knowing Mom wanted to buy the property. But someone forged a power of attorney that gave Mom’s and Lalaine’s rights to the land to a lawyer Mom had never met, and the land was sold again.

  They both vowed to fight the forgery and find out who was behind it. Aunt Lalaine had tried to petition the court for copies of the documents, but Judge Hernandez said the document had been lost. Nothing happened for years until Aunt Lalaine telephoned Mom and said she found the forged contract, but she died in an alleged accident that same week. Mom went to the funeral and began an investigation into what happened to her sister, but she had to come back home and work. After that, my father died and she never could get back to the Philippines to find out what happened. But Mom was sure it had been foul play.

  “Ready to go?” Dar-Dar said as he entered the kitchen.

  After taking a copious amount of pictures so that every single person’s Facebook, Instagram, Instastory, and whatever else everyone else wanted to do was done, we loaded up the van and headed to the airport.

  Since there were four of us, I opted to sit in the back of the catering van. I’m not sure if it’s even legal to have a passenger back here, but I wanted the chance to be alone if DC called. And even more so if he didn’t.

  Our flight didn’t leave until seven at night, but we figured we would get something to eat at the airport and leave extra time for LA traffic. Mom said lunch was on her, even though I’d insisted that I pay for the whole trip.

  The song that I’d written with my now-ex-husband had been doing really well on the charts. I couldn’t believe how much money I earned. It was an absolute “lie on the beach for the rest of your lifetime” kind of money, but since the dollar was strong against the Filipino peso right now, and I didn’t have a lot of expenses living with my Mom, the money was enough so that I could set it aside and pay for our trip.

  A part of me felt proud that I could do this for Mom. I needed so much help over the last couple of years, and I felt like a loser at the end of my marriage. This was going to be an adventure. Although, I worried that we wouldn’t be able to solve the case. Even though Mom and I had four successful cases under our belt, it all sort of felt more like happenstance and chance. It wasn’t something in another country that happened over a decade ago that we were trying to solve, but Mom did have a head start. The only problem was this case was more than ten years old, which meant it was going to be harder, and Mom was determined to stay in the Philippines until it was solved.

  I couldn’t help but think that my fledgling relationship with DC might not last if the case took too long. Heck, I didn’t even know if it would last if I came back tomorrow. I glanced at my cell phone for the millionth time, and noticed there wasn’t a missed call. Everyone I knew that would call me, besides DC, was in this van.

  My phone buzzed in my hand, and I picked it up before my ring tone started. DC’s name flashed on the screen.

  “Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual. “How’s it going?”

  “Sorry I couldn’t call, but I didn’t get home until eleven this morning.”

  “I understand,” I said, attempting to hide the disappointment in my voice.

  “Have you guys already left?” he asked.

  “I’m in the van now,” I said, leaving out the part where I was in the back. I wasn’t sure I wanted a lecture as to whether or not it was legal. DC didn’t say anything, and I couldn’t think of anything to say either.

  “So this is it,” he said, breaking the awkward silence.

  My brain panicked. What did he mean by this is it? “I guess,” I said. It wasn’t the best response, but I felt pressured to say something.

  “Well, have a safe trip. Good luck with the case. I guess you can give me a call when you get back,” DC said.

  “Or I can call you before then,” I said, worrying that he was going to end the conversation this way.

  “I wouldn’t want you to call long distance,” he said.

  “I’m a rich songwriter now,” I tried to joke. “Besides, it’s unlimited minutes if I call through the internet.”

  “I’m not much of a phone guy anyway,” he said.

  “I really wish we could’ve spent more time together last night,” I said. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to be honest.

  “Would’ve been nice to say goodbye,” DC said.

  My heart broke. Did he mean goodbye for good or goodbye for now? It was so hard to know what he was thinking, and I didn’t want to sound desperate. “So are we breaking up for now or were we never together?” I heard myself ask.

  “You tell me,” he said. His voice was hard and not friendly.

  “We’re not breaking up and we were together,” I said.

  He laughed. “Is that so?”

  “If I get to say how it is, then we’re together and you’ll wait for me.”

  DC said, “Why don’t we just wait and see what happens. I was worried I’d be a rebound guy anyway. Maybe this break will do us both some good.”

  My mind went into a total state of shock and panic. Was he suggesting that we see other people while he was gone? Did he want to see other people or did he just think it was best? And I didn’t even get a chance to say anything, because someone else called to him. “I’ve gotta go,” he said.

  “We can’t leave it like this,” I said.

  “Take care of yourself. Don’t do anything dangerous,” DC said.

  “Yeah,” I heard myself say, but I think he hung up the phone just before I said it. The van made a turn, and I held one of the metal showing racks to keep myself from falling over. I was glad that I was sitting in the back by myself. It gave me a chance to be alone. Okay, I cried. Thanks goodness for LA traffic. There was time to cry and cheer myself up.

  I remembered this was an adventure of a lifetime. I wouldn’t be some sad sack wishing she could go back to be with a man she’d only been dating a few months. Yes, DC was great, but was it worth ruining this trip over? Mom had picked me up when I was down after my marriage fell apart. She helped me fight for myself when I didn’t think I was worth fighting for, and this was my chance to support her.

  Like they say in the movies, “This time it was personal.” We were going to find out the truth about what happened to Mom’s sister and win back Mom’s land.

  We arrived at the airport, said our goodbyes to Dar-Dar, and I managed to keep my optimism all way up until we boarded the plane. That’s when I realized that I was on a nineteen-hour flight in a middle seat.

  “Didn’t you two want to sit together?” I asked as Wenling slid into the seat by the window.

  “I need to be on the aisle to go to the bathroom,” Mom said, which I understood.

  “I need to look out the window so I don’
t feel trapped,” Wenling said, and then she added, “and I need to lean against the window for my sore neck from that time I fell down in the restaurant.”

  Wenling fell down in the restaurant kitchen six years ago. She recovered quickly, but she references a different injury from the accident every time she wants to get out of something.

  “Wouldn’t you like to be a little closer to the bathroom?” I asked with only a vague hope that it might work.

  “No, I got one of the diapers from your Mom,” Wenling said matter-of-factly.

  “Those were for charity,” Mom said, referring to her free supply of adult undergarments for active seniors.

  “They said you could keep a box,” Wenling said. “And charity begins with your best friend.”

  At this point someone needed to get by us, and I gave up the fight and took the middle seat. As a plus-size person, the middle seat is particularly devastating. I was lucky that both Mom and Wenling are very petite. I coveted the way their feet seemed to have more legroom than the rest of us, but I decided to make the best of my time on the flight. I’d get rest and use the time to heal my broken heart and refocus on the case.

  Wenling’s luggage had been overweight and rather than pay the overage charge, Wenling decided to remove two pairs of jeans from her luggage and wrap them around her neck. If you didn’t look too closely, it was a kind of a jaunty look. She proceeded to wrap the pants up to make a pillow for herself against the window. She offered me the other pair, but I declined. She offered them to Mom, and seeing how Wenling had made a pillow of hers, she accepted. With some origami-like jean folding, Mom managed to fashion a sort of wraparound neck pillow with the jeans that was quite impressive.