Coconuts and Crooks Page 5

  “Mom!” I shouted, pointing at the spider. I now suspect that the spider heard me and thought its name was Mom, because it stopped and then turned as if it were looking at me.

  “It’s fine,” Mom said. “They have those here.”

  Then the thing darted right at me. “Mom!” I shrieked again. And as if responding to its own name, the spider skittered toward me. I jumped back.

  Wenling grabbed a hand cloth from the bathroom and hit the spider with it.

  “Don’t make it mad,” I said.

  The first few hits didn’t affect the spider, but the third one made it drop like a rock from the wall. It looked like it landed right behind my suitcase.

  “Got it!” Wenling said.

  She shuffled over to where it fell, looked down, and said nothing. Then she put the hand towel in the bathroom.

  “Is he dead?” I asked, inching over to where I suspected the body ought to be.

  “Mortally wounded, I’m sure,” Wenling said as if the case of the giant missing spider were as good a closed. “You look good in shorts. You never wear them.”

  “I always tell her that, but she never wears them in public,” Mom said.

  “It’s a good way to get a tan here, although your legs are so pretty and white, you might want to use sunscreen,” Wenling said.

  “I was planning on taking a nap,” I said.

  “You’re not coming with us to start the case?” Mom asked.

  A pang of guilt struck me in the chest. “We just traveled for over a day,” I said.

  “You’re right,” Mom said. “We’ll go, and you can rest.”

  I glanced down to look for the dead carcass of the spider, but didn’t see it. Between my guilt regarding letting down Mom and my fear of the spider, I decided I’d go with them. “Actually, the shower sort of woke me up,” I said to Mom. She smiled, and I knew it was the right thing to do.

  “I’ll just change into some pants,” I said.

  “You look fine like that,” Mom said.

  As I neared the suitcase and imagined the angry spider that might be lurking inside it, I decided Mom was right.

  Mom, Wenling, and I took the elevator to the lobby. “Maybe I could pop into the cafeteria and get a diet soda,” I said to Mom. I desperately needed the caffeine.

  “Good idea. We’ll get some snacks to bring to Gurley’s,” Mom said.

  We crossed the lobby and opened the glass door to the cafeteria.

  “Tita Jo, is that you?” a woman paying at the cash register said.

  I turned and saw a woman about my age, but about forty pounds thinner and with a darker tan and darker hair. But her nose looked just like mine and so did her smile.

  “Who’s that?” Wenling asked.

  “I don’t know,” Mom said.

  “It’s me, Tita Jo,” the woman said, grabbing her tray off the counter. “It’s me, Gail. Chonita’s granddaughter.”

  “Aye! Gail. You’ve grown up so much,” Mom said.

  “I graduated from college. I manage the movie theater in Robinson’s.”

  “This is my best friend, Wenling,” Mom said, “and my daughter, Christy. She manages the catering business with me.”

  “The divorced one,” Gail said, shaking my hand and then shaking Wenling’s hand. That comment kind of bugged me.

  “So you’re here seeking vengeance,” Gail said, making the conversation even more awkward.

  “What do you mean?” Mom asked, slightly offended.

  I thought I caught Gail in a smirk, but she switched it to an innocent smile. “Your picture. You’re famous,” she said, setting her tray on a nearby table and pulling out her cell phone. “Everyone’s sharing it.”

  Gail turned her phone around and showed Mom’s picture with the fork.

  “That’s just a joke,” Mom said.

  “I know,” Gail said. “But everyone thinks it’s also true.”

  “That’s why it’s funny,” Wenling said. “Whoever is responsible for her sister’s death. All of them. Even if someone is only a little responsible. They will pay in this life or the next.” Wenling almost looked threatening for a moment. Gail looked intimidated, and then Wenling laughed.

  “She’s joking,” Mom said.

  “My friends are waiting,” Gail said, and put away her phone.

  “We have to get some food to go. Say hello to your grandmother for me,” Mom said as Gail picked up her tray. “Tell her we’ll be stopping by to see her soon.”

  “I will, Auntie,” Gail said in English.

  The three of us got in line. “Her grandmother is the one that sold the land, isn’t she?” Wenling whispered to Mom.

  Mom nodded. Ah! I’d forgotten. That’s the bit of tension I was sensing. I looked over to Gail and her friends. They were whispering and looking our way.

  “So you’re not really her aunt.”

  “I think I’m her first cousin once removed,” Mom said.

  “Are you sure it’s not second cousin?” Wenling asked.

  “No, there’s a generation between us,” Mom said and then turned to me. “Right, kid?”

  “I’m not really good with that stuff,” I said, which was true even if I weren’t so dead tired. Boy did I need a diet soda.

  “I’m adding her to my list of suspects,” Wenling said.

  “She was sixteen years old back then,” Mom said to Wenling.

  “Maybe, but she’s still on my list,” Wenling.

  I didn’t disagree.

  The shocks apparently varied greatly from pedicab to pedicab, or so I could gather from the two rides that I’d had so far. The first ride from the airport bounced around a little bit, but that trip made this one feel like I was in one of those bouncy castles that little children played in at a birthday party. I’d gotten a very large Coke Light—what they called Diet Coke—with a lot of ice, and for the first time in my life, I was grateful that I wore glasses. They protected me from having my eyes poked out by the straw.

  It’d taken a while for us to secure a ride to Gurley’s house. Apparently it was very out of the way. I didn’t have to worry about falling asleep in the pedicab, because there was no way to relax. I needed to clutch onto the metal frame to keep my balance as it continued to shake all the way down the highway.

  The breeze was nice as well as the ice-cold drink that I had. Although, the ice was melting at an unprecedented rate. I drank the soda as if my life and my entire being depended on it.

  After a half hour of an incredibly bumpy ride into the middle of nowhere, the pedicab turned onto a dirt road and drove up to a small wooden house on stilts. Wenling, Mom, and I posed for a photograph of us in the pedicab and then Wenling took a selfie with the driver. Mom paid the driver, and Gurley rushed out of her house out to greet us. Several of her neighbors and children appeared. Mom waved, and the little children ran by me and said hello.

  “Hello,” I said back to them. They screamed with laughter and ran away. It became sort of a game for each child to rush up to me say hello and then rush away when I said hello back.

  “They can tell you’re American by the way you talk, and the way you look,” Mom said.

  “That’s why they keep laughing?” I asked.

  “Yes, it’s like the doorman at the hotel. He couldn’t believe you are my daughter. He said you look like Angelina Jolie in the movies,” Mom said.

  My mind flashed back to his giggling and glancing at me, and I did seem to recall hearing the words Angelina Jolie. I started to like the way people thought of me here in the Philippines.

  “Hello!” one of the children said as she ran up to me.

  I leaned down and said hello back. She squealed with laughter and ran away.

  We went inside to talk to Gurley, and I hoped that it would brief so I could go back to the hotel to sleep.

  But as you know, the moment Mom heard that the judge had retired we were off to interrogate our first major suspect, which brings us back to the dead body.

  4
r />   Captain and Casablanca

  In all of our other cases, I was alone when I’d found the body. Now, I sort of wished I were.

  “Don’t you think we should go?” I said to Mom and Wenling.

  Mom examined the desk, and Wenling leaned closer to the judge. “Don’t touch anything,” Mom warned her best friend.

  I wanted to rush out of here.

  “You didn’t tell me he was Chinese,” Wenling said to Mom.

  “His family is Chinese. He went to school with Kim Lim,” Mom said.

  “Are you sure he’s dead? Maybe we should call an ambulance,” I said.

  “He’s been dead for a while,” Mom said, staring at the body.

  “How do you now?” I asked.

  “His eyes and skin,” Mom said. I glanced over and noticed his eyes were still open, but kind of milky.

  “How are you guys so calm?” I asked. Despite the fact that I’d found bodies before, I was still freaked out.

  “He’s a stranger, and we don’t like him,” Wenling said matter-of-factly. “It’s okay. Calm down.”

  “No,” Mom said. “If she’s traumatized her weird memory thing will kick in.”

  My weird memory thing is this odd hitch in my brain that under periods of trauma or duress, my mind seems to remember everything it sees. It’s come in handy for several of our cases, but it’s kind of the opposite of handy in life. When you can remember every single face of the people laughing at you at a school assembly when you farted, it makes it a little harder to get over a somewhat basic middle school moment.

  “Oh that’s right,” Wenling said, coming up to me. She grabbed me by the shoulders and said, “This is so traumatic. He died! He died, died, died!” Then she turned me around to face the crime scene. “Look at all the sad things about how he died.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Mom said. “She’s very sensitive. She traumatizes easily.”

  I wasn’t sure if Mom’s defense was all that flattering, but I did appreciate it nonetheless.

  Wenling’s somewhat ferocious directive that I take in the entirety of the crime scene was indeed that much more traumatizing. I won’t go into the details, but it was obvious the man had died from a gunshot wound. It was likely the gun on the floor by the body was the murder weapon. But I wanted to get out of there.

  “We need to call the police,” I said.

  “Are you still nervous?” Wenling said. “Are you afraid in your heart?”

  “Of course,” I said. “Somebody was just shot to death. For all we know the killer will be back.”

  “But the gun is here,” Wenling said, pointing to the gun on the ground.

  “Unless he has two,” Mom said, “and he lost this one in a struggle and ran out.”

  Wenling nodded. “I wish we could move the body to see if it’s stiff yet,” Wenling said as she snooped around. “I’m so glad I came. I never got to be in on any of the good stuff on the other cases.”

  “The kid is right,” Mom said. “We need to call the police so that they can estimate the time of death. Let’s go outside and see if we can find someone to call. That reminds me. We need to get local SIM cards for our phones.”

  Wenling turned to me and shouted, “SIM card! Scary death and SIM card!”

  The randomness of her shouting rattled me all the more.

  “Stop that!” Mom said to Wenling.

  “But she’ll remember it for us, and I don’t have a pen,” Wenling said.

  I led the way out of the office and onto the street. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. “Where should we go?” I asked Mom.

  “Where’s Buboy?” Mom asked.

  I looked around, but I didn’t see him.

  “Some lookout,” Wenling said.

  “Let’s go into that store across the street,” Mom said. “They should have a phone.”

  As we crossed the tiny street, Buboy pulled up beside us. “I looked for that balut you wanted, but no one had it. Most of the street vendors moved to the other side of the Boulevard to be where the parade ended.”

  “We need the police,” Mom said. “The judge has been shot.”

  “I know CPR,” Buboy said.

  “No, he doesn’t need that. He was shot dead,” Wenling said matter-of-factly.

  “Did you kill him?” Buboy asked us.

  “Of course not,” Mom said.

  “Not even for vengeance in this life or the next?” Buboy asked.

  Mom glared at Wenling.

  “We’re going to see if the clerk in this store can call the police for us,” Mom said.

  “There are some of them in the parade. Important ones in their uniforms and everything,” Buboy said. “It just ended. I’ll go get them,” he said.

  “We’ll wait here,” Mom said.

  Buboy rushed off toward the parade. “Why didn’t we go with him to get the police?” Wenling asked Mom. I could tell by her wistful look at Buboy speeding down the Boulevard that she wanted to keep up with the action.

  “We need to ask around. See if anyone heard the gunshot or saw anything suspicious,” Mom said. “I’m thinking Kim Lim might have paid the judge a visit or hired someone to keep him quiet.”

  “Oh, good idea,” Wenling said.

  The three of us could barely fit inside the tiny shop. I was happy to see they sold diet soda in cans here. I grabbed a Coke Light and brought it up to the counter.

  “How much is it?” I asked.

  “You’re American,” he said.

  I nodded yes.

  “Just one dollar.”

  I reached into my wallet, and Mom stopped me. She spoke to the clerk and gave him a stern look. He shrugged his shoulders. Mom gave him some coins, and I took my soda.

  “Did you hear any loud sounds or anything?” Wenling asked.

  Mom elbowed her friend.

  “What do you mean?” the clerk answered back in English. I was impressed at how many people spoke English. “Wait a minute,” the clerk said pointing to Mom. “I know you.” He pulled out his cell phone and showed Mom the meme of herself.

  “I made that!” Wenling said.

  “Very nice,” the clerk said, admiring the picture.

  “I took the photo too,” Wenling said. The clerk nodded and was impressed.

  “What do you mean loud noise?” he asked Mom.

  “Just wondering if you saw anything suspicious like someone running or a stranger walking by outside,” Mom said.

  “Nothing,” he said. “Why?”

  “Maybe you saw a man with a gun?” Wenling said.

  “No,” the clerk said. “Did somebody have a gun?”

  Mom elbowed Wenling again.

  “Have you guys gone to see the judge yet?” the clerk asked.

  Mom’s mouth dropped open with surprise and she started speaking to him in Visayan.

  “You’re the famous detectives from California who are coming to investigate the death of your sister,” the clerk said. “This time it’s personal.”

  My heart was still pounding from finding the dead body, and the heat in the small store made me woozy.

  “Mom, I’m going to drink this outside,” I said. She nodded, and I left.

  I figured since the clerk hadn’t seen anything, and he and Mom weren’t even speaking English anymore, I wasn’t missing anything. I sat down on the sandy sidewalk and looked out at the ocean and down the abandoned street. I saw someone that I thought was staring at me from the judge’s office. The woman looked familiar, but I was so tired everyone sort of looked alike.

  Buboy pulled up in front of the store with a well-dressed man in what looked like a military uniform riding along in the back of the pedicab. “Where’s your mom?”

  I rushed into the store and told her the police were here.

  Mom and Wenling rushed out of the store in front of me. The moment Mom saw the police officer she gasped.

  “Captain!” she said.

  “Jo,” the man replied. He was an older man with
a lean yet muscular frame and a full head of white hair.

  “Are you working for the police?” Mom asked.

  “I am,” he said. “I’m the chief of police.”

  “Congratulations!” Mom said. “We should catch up, but I guess you need to see the body right now.”

  “Lead the way,” he said.

  Mom seemed relaxed, and Wenling seemed like Wenling, but I got the distinct vibe that the captain wasn’t as happy to see us as Mom was to see him.

  “I understand you’ve been working in the states as a private investigator,” the captain said.

  “We’re caterers, but we do solve a few cases on the side. We’ve become quite famous. It’s a bit of a burden, but I’m sure you understand,” Mom said.

  “That I do,” the captain said. I noticed that Mom had sort of adopted his formal tone, and she was bragging just a little bit. I got the distinct impression that the man was someone Mom wanted to impress, which didn’t happen often.

  “And I hear you’ve come to town to seek vengeance,” he said, stopping in front of the building and looking pointedly at the three of us.

  “It’s a quote from Gladiator,” Wenling said.

  “I know it’s a quote from Gladiator, but have you come seeking vengeance? Or at the very least seeking something other than a vacation?” he asked.

  “Captain, there’s no need to worry,” Mom said. “We won’t get in the way of you investigating the death of the judge.”

  “Because you’ve come to investigate the death of your sister. The death that the police have already ruled as an accident,” the captain said.

  Ah. That’s why he wasn’t happy to see us.

  “You weren’t even a part of the police when it happened. You were still in the Navy,” Mom said.

  “I am head of the police now,” he said. “And I can’t have you undermining our credibility. We need the trust of the public. We need criminals to fear being caught. If you discover someone has gotten away with a crime ten years ago, a murder even, it can be horrible here. Reputation is everything.”

  “No one will know,” Mom said.

  “Everyone knows. The entire island knows. Everybody is following you on the internet and talking of your vengeance. You think the judge did it, don’t you?”