“We’re too busy, and I’d worry that Dar-Dar won’t get it right. It took a while to get him to learn the mango cake how we like it. Just put the mango cake on special.”
“Great idea,” I said.
“I couldn’t help but hope that when I emailed Darwin about the new orders that he’d email me back that DC was asking about me. But with the time difference, I knew that Darwin was asleep.
“Tomorrow, we’ll try to find out about some of the judge’s other cases and talk to his colleagues. We also should go and visit your cousin Abigail in Cebu,” Mom said.
“How long of a boat ride is that?” I asked.
“We can take Ocean Jet and be there in five hours,” Mom said. “I’ll text your cousin and see what her work schedule is like.”
A little cruise sounded fun, and I was excited to meet my cousin. “Where does she work?” I asked.
“One of the hospitals. She finished nursing school a few years ago,” Mom said.
I sighed. How many cousins of mine were nurses? Couldn’t one of them be a college dropout like me?
The conversation dwindled. We took turns using the bathroom to get ready for bed. We turned in early for the night exhausted from our lack of progress, but determined to make headway tomorrow.
Once again Mom and Wenling woke up earlier than I did. Wenling had purchased earplugs to wear at night. She’d also decided that I should sleep on the bed closest to the air-conditioning, hoping my snoring would blend in with the noise of the compressor and fan. Since Mom didn’t like to sleep close to the air-conditioning, they opted to share, and I got to have my own bed.
The sound of the electricity in the room coming back on and the smell of hot coffee woke me up.
“We’ve got lattes, kid,” Mom said. “We took the key since we only went downstairs. I figured you could go without power for fifteen minutes.”
“You sure sleep soundly and loudly,” Wenling said.
“Is this half-caf?” I asked as Mom handed me the coffee. I always drank half-caf or decaf coffee, because the concentration of caffeine in coffee always makes me shake. People think that it’s ridiculous that I bother drinking half-caf, because I drink so much soda. But I have actually looked it up on the internet, and the concentration of caffeine in a smaller cup of coffee is significantly more than the caffeine in soda.
“They don’t do that here, and they only have real sugar. I figured with all the milk, you might be okay. Drink it slow,” Mom said.
Really wanting the coffee, I remembered that the concentration of caffeine is slightly less in espresso than it is in a brewed cup of coffee and decided Mom was right. I snatched the cup and vowed to drink it slowly.
“We’re going to the courthouse to get the skinny on the judge,” Mom said.
I nodded as I sipped my coffee. It was really good. “What time is it?” I asked.
“Half past eight,” Mom said.
“I’m up early,” I said, surprised at the hour. In Fletcher Canyon I typically slept until nine or ten.
“We were all asleep by midnight,” Mom said. “You’ll find the sun makes you tired, and it wakes you up, too.”
I looked toward the window. Even though the heavy curtains were closed, the bright rays of the morning sun shined out from the edges and lit up the room.
“We got you a breakfast sandwich,” Wenling said, handing me a paper plate and a small item wrapped so neatly in wax paper that it almost looked gift-wrapped.
I opened the package expecting some type of exotic sandwich, but found something very ordinary. “This looks like an Egg McMuffin.”
“It’s just like one of them, but they make it downstairs,” Mom said. “They call it English Muffin with Ham, Egg, and Cheese.”
“Not as catchy, but very tasty,” Wenling said.
After yesterday’s setback, all of us were eager to get to the courthouse and find some real clues. I ate my breakfast, finished my coffee, and jumped into the shower. We were on the road in Buboy’s pedicab within twenty minutes.
We whizzed down the Boulevard. Buboy waved to some of the people he knew. My back didn’t hurt as much as yesterday, and the ocean breeze and warm sun made me buzz with energy. Maybe I was finally adjusting to the heat. I smiled, thinking how even though Fletcher Canyon looked so different than here it was the same in some ways. The trees along the Boulevard weren’t the same as those at home, and instead of a mountain at the end of the street the Boulevard faced the ocean. I could see how in a small town Main Street, no matter what they called it, was always the center of everything.
They were taking down the decorations for the Founders Day Fiesta. “Looks like we missed everything,” I said.
“We came to town on the last day,” Mom said. “Don’t worry, though. There’s another one next month for the university. Filipinos fiesta all the time.”
“That’ll be fun,” Wenling said.
“And we should do some sightseeing while we’re here,” Mom said.
I nodded and smiled. It was nice being on vacation. But then my brain remembered that if we were here next month, it would be a month without seeing DC.
“That’s him!” Buboy said, pointing to a man in a white long-sleeved, linen shirt walking on a sidewalk that led to the courthouse.
“Follow him!” Mom said.
“Who? Where?” Wenling asked.
“The one wearing the barong,” Mom said, pointing. I clutched onto the metal rail of the pedicab as Buboy picked up speed.
“What this ‘barong’?” Wenling asked, her excitement causing an uncharacteristic break in her English.
“The white dress shirt,” Mom said. “Lawyers and people going to weddings wear them.”
“I thought it was like a thong,” Wenling laughed.
“Pull up near the lawn so we can catch up to him,” Mom said to Buboy.
“Don’t let him get away,” Wenling added.
“Buboy and the Mystery Machine won’t let you down,” Buboy said, stepping on the gas, or maybe it was turning the gas on a handlebar or something. I have no idea how motorcycles work and no idea when he decided to name his pedicab the Mystery Machine.
The atmosphere in the pedicab had taken on a chase-like urgency, except the man we were chasing was only walking at a normal pace and had no idea he was being followed. Well, that is until Buboy decided to roll over the curb and drive up onto the sidewalk. Then the man thought he was going to be run over.
“Wait!” Mom yelled to the man. “Attorney Torres, we need to talk to you.”
Buboy stopped the pedicab. Mom and Wenling jumped out. “Who is Attorney Torres?” I whispered to him.
“He used to clerk for the judge. They’re very close,” Buboy said. I nodded and rushed to catch up with Mom and Wenling.
“I’m Jo—”
The attorney interrupted Mom. “I know who you are, and I’m not one to concern myself with vengeance. I’m a man of justice.” Then, he turned back and continued down the sidewalk to the courthouse.
“It wasn’t vengeance that killed the judge,” Mom said. “Unless it was someone else who had an axe to grind?”
Attorney Torres stopped and turned around, “Judge Hernandez was a wise man.”
“He may have been a wise man, but he was also a corrupt man, and you know it.”
Attorney Torres shook his head. “You know nothing about him. He isn’t the man you think he was.” He headed up the steps of the courthouse.
We followed him, but had to stop to be checked by the security guard. Mom walked right up to him while the guard was using the metal-detecting wand.
“Then tell me what you know. Tell me who wanted to kill him.”
“No one! He was a changed man,” Attorney Torres said, and then entered the courthouse.
Mom started to follow, but the security guard stopped her.
“You can’t go inside unless you’re a member of the court or have a pass,” he said.
Mom stopped. I’d stopped, too. For a smal
l island, the security guards were armed to the teeth. I didn’t know what kind of gun it was. It wasn’t the handguns police carried in the States. It was a big machine gun-looking thing that was worn across the torso with a strap. Everybody seemed so calm about it though.
Just looking at it made my heart palpitate a bit, and even my hands felt a bit trembly.
“Are you the famous detective?” the security guard asked.
“We all are,” Mom said pointing to us.
“Can you tell your driver that he has to go back to the street?” the guard asked.
“Oh yeah,” Mom said, and called out to Buboy that we’d meet him at the curb.
The guard smiled at Wenling and me and then turned back to Mom. “You were asking about the judge?”
“Do you know something?” Mom asked.
“No, he never stopped to talk to me. I’ve been at this post twenty years, and he never stopped, but the judges rarely do. I guess they have a lot on their minds.”
“Yeah,” Mom said, disappointed.
“How long ago did he retire?” I asked.
“Only recently, like in the last month. But he didn’t come here as much as the other judges. I guess being the senior judge he got to take more time off. He left early on Wednesdays, and he wouldn’t be back in the courthouse until Friday morning.”
Mom nodded. “Do you know where he went?”
“No one knows for sure,” the guard said with a smile.
“But you have an idea, don’t you?” Mom said. She had an ear for gossip.
“No one knew where the judge went,” the guard said with his eyebrows raised. “Everyone asked, but the judge never told.”
“Oh,” Mom said, as if she understood.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“A mistress,” Wenling said.
“He was a widower,” Mom said. “This started long before Mrs. Hernandez passed?”
The guard nodded his head yes and said, “Not that I’m saying he had a mistress.”
“Any talk about who it might be?” Mom asked.
“The judge is a smart man,” the guard said.
“So nobody has a guess as to who it might be,” Mom said.
The guard shrugged.
“Did the judge have many enemies?” Mom asked.
“You mean besides you?” the guard asked.
Mom shot the guard an incredulous look.
“The whole island follows you on Facebook,” he said.
“You Like on Facebook,” Wenling corrected.
“No,” the guard said, and he showed Wenling how he got updates on the phone when we posted new things to the group.
“They make good sandwiches at Bethel, but I like McDonald’s better,” the guard said.
“We didn’t want to drive, and we can get McDonald’s in California,” Wenling said.
A group of people were approaching the steps of the courthouse, “I have to work,” the guard said.
We all nodded and walked down the steps. I was surprised at how much the architecture of the courthouse looked like something I would see in the United States.
“What now?” Wenling asked Mom. It seemed as if we’d hit another dead end.
“The clerk is hiding something,” Mom said.
“I don’t know,” I said to Mom. “He seemed to be very upfront about not wanting to talk to us.”
“I’ve just got the feeling,” Mom said. “Do you remember the last thing that he said to us?”
Wenling and I both shook our heads no.
“He said the judge was a changed man,” Mom said.
“So?” Wenling asked.
“We need to find out what changed him,” Mom said. “Let’s go check out that food stand over there.”
Even though I just had breakfast, I was definitely up to check out the local food stands. There were a bunch of different little tables set up in the sort-of park area surrounding the courthouse. Wenling was excited to continue her quest for balut.
Mom and I approached a young woman standing beside a small grill with little shish kebab-like sticks on it. “What’s that?” I asked Mom.
Wenling looked at the grill and then said she was going to check out the other vendors to see what they had.
The young woman giggled. “That’s tocino. It’s marinated pork on a stick. You like?”.
I turned to Mom. Mom spoke to the clerk and then held up two fingers and said, “duha.” The woman handed Mom two skewers, and Mom gave them to me and in the process I think I might have just learned my first word in Visayan—two. Or maybe even two words—duha and tocino.
Since it wasn’t lunchtime yet and we were the only customers, mom struck up a conversation with the young woman behind the little table. I set about eating my snack but noticed my hands were shaking a bit. It made it difficult to eat the pork, but I powered through.
Mom and the young lady spoke in Visayan. From what I could gather, the young woman didn’t know much, but she’d also heard the rumor about the judge.
I finished my snack and Mom suggested that we sit on a nearby bench and wait for the lunch crowd. Wenling joined us, looking disappointed. I guessed none of them had balut—whatever that was.
“Did you find any leads?” Wenling asked Mom.
“The woman said the judge used to come to her stand to get a snack a long time ago, but then he stopped coming by.”
“What are we waiting for?” Wenling asked.
“Midmorning break is at ten thirty. The workers will come out, and we can ask them questions,” Mom said.
Mom turned to me and looked at my face. “Are you all right, kid?”
My instinct was to say that I was fine, but I was feeling pretty woozy. “I don’t know,” I said.
“Your face is all white, which is weird, because it’s usually all red when you’re in the sun,” Wenling said.
I nodded, but I wasn’t fully understanding what was going on.
“It’s the coffee,” Mom said, but I couldn’t entirely focus on what she was saying.
I assumed a cloud had gone over the sun at the time, but now I realized my field of vision must’ve been darkening, because I passed out.
5
Decaf and Doctors
I felt something metallic and cold on my forehead, and it made me open my eyes.
“Are you okay?” a very handsome man with jet-black hair, full lips, and perfect straight teeth asked me as he took the can of Coke Light from my forehead. Good looks and bearing diet soda, it was like he was an angel.
“Does dying of embarrassment factor in?” I asked.
“Suck on this,” the man said, giving me a lollipop. “Your blood sugar must’ve dropped. Either that or the heat. Maybe both.”
“I’m not supposed to take candy from strangers,” I said, my voice crankier than I expected. What was it about good-looking men that made me sort of stupid?
“My father knows your mother, does that count?” the man asked.
That’s when I remembered Mom and Wenling must be watching me embarrass myself in front of the tall, dark, and handsome stranger. Well, I wasn’t sure how tall he was. He was bending at the knee, and most of the people I’d seen so far in the Philippines were Mom and Wenling’s height or just a few inches taller.
My mind was everywhere.
“This is Dr. Acostas,” Mom said. “He’s a pediatrician.”
“That explains the lollipop,” I said.
“Sorry you had to get the green one. The kids never pick that flavor so those are always the ones I have left,” he said.
“Fainters can’t be choosers.” I was glad we were surrounded by grass, otherwise I could have really hurt myself falling down. I pushed myself into sitting position and went to stand up a little too quickly.
“Careful,” he said, grabbing my arm and steadying me.
Yeah. He had the strong-guy thing going on, and I felt like a total cliché needing help after fainting. I looked over to Mom and Wenling, and they were smi
ling and moving their eyebrows up and down. Not at all subtle. And besides, I had a boyfriend. Or did I?
Well whether I did or didn’t, I had enough man problems with just DC, and let’s face it... I’m stuck on that guy.
“I’m okay,” I said, making sure my voice didn’t come out all damsel-in-distress-y.
The handsome doctor let go of me. I worried that I’d been a little too short when I said I was okay so I was quick to add, “But thank you, Doctor.”
“Please, call me Joshua,” he said. “If you need anything or for any reason at all.”
He was flirting with me. He was definitely flirting with me. My brain didn’t know what to do with this information. I decided he was just one of those guys that flirt with women at large.
“Thanks, but I’ll be all right. Unless of course you were good friends with Judge Hernandez,” I said. “You probably know that we’re trying to find out what happened to him.”
I was proud of myself for turning the conversation back to business. “I didn’t know the judge, but a friend of mine in Cebu used to go to lunch with him. I’d run into them from time to time when I’d visit my sister.”
“Who’s your friend?” Mom asked.
“Dr. Rinaldo, he works at Chong Hua Hospital. He knew my father in medical school.”
“We might be in Cebu to visit my niece,” Mom said. “If we go, do you think you could arrange a meeting with us and Dr. Rinaldo?”
“He’s a very busy man, but I go to see my sister pretty regularly. Perhaps we’ll go at the same time, and I can bring you by his office to introduce you.”
Mom and Joshua started talking in Visayan, and that’s when I realized that he didn’t have an accent. When he turned to me to say goodbye, I couldn’t help but ask. “Are you from the States?”
“I was born here in Lapitan,” he said. “It’s my accent, isn’t it?”
I nodded yes.
“People say I talk like the people in the movies,” he said, which sounded a little conceited, but it was true.
“You sound very American,” I said.
“It’s because I went to an American school,” he said.
“He graduated top of his class,” Mom said.
“Congratulations,” I said.
Coconuts and Crooks Page 7