by Holly Plum
“Just be glad we didn't order the guacamole," the old man's wife responded.
Mari didn’t have to look at them to know they were gawking in her direction.
“Do you think any of them will talk?” Mari said to Chrissy. But she knew it was too late—every single person leaving the restaurant was being approached by members of the press.
“I'm just doing what the police would have done,” Chrissy replied. “This is a crime scene now, and it’s weird to have people eating with a dead body sitting at one of the tables.”
Mari nodded. “You're right. That's weird.”
Hazel used her napkin to dab away tears. Robin patted her consolingly on the arm and whispered that everything would be okay. They both seemed to be in a state of mild shock.
Mari decided to busy herself by clearing off the surrounding tables while she waited. By the time she was finished, the handful of photographers that had managed to get inside the restaurant were taking pictures of the body and trying to interview Hazel and Robin. Mari came running through the dining area toward them, her face distorted with anger.
“What are you doing?” she shouted. “How did you even get in here?”
“Your dad let us in,” said a man wearing a fedora as he circled the table. “He seemed to think it would be good publicity for the restaurant.”
“Well, get out of here,” Mari replied. “Take your cameras and get out of here.”
The photographer wearing the fedora snapped his fingers briskly and said, “You heard her, boys. We’d better beat it before the cops arrive. Besides, I think we’ve got our story.”
The rest of his colleagues followed him out of the restaurant. Just as the doors were closed behind them, they opened again, and Detective Price strode into the restaurant.
The detective wore a coffee-colored trench coat, and he looked distinctly uneasy as he neared Karlie's body. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pen and notepad, on which he began scribbling furiously as he glanced up at Mari.
“Do you mind if I ask you ladies a few questions?” he asked.
Mari, Hazel, and Robin all agreed. They followed the detective to another area of the restaurant as police officers began the process of collecting evidence.
Detective Price asked the women to relay how they had each spent their day before coming to the restaurant. Mari told the detective that she had been working, and her two friends gave similar answers. Hazel had been unloading shipments at the furniture store until about an hour ago, while Robin had spent the day filling prescriptions.
“And when did you become aware that Ms. Lam was back in town?” Detective Price asked.
“She came here to see me this morning,” Mari answered. “She wanted to borrow my dog Tabasco for a photo shoot. I suggested that we have a little get-together tonight.”
“I’ve been so busy working,” Hazel said. “I didn't know Karlie was back until Mari called me.”
“When did Mari call you?” he asked.
“Sometime this morning, I suppose. She wanted to know if I wanted to join her and Karlie for a little reunion this evening, just her and a couple of old friends.”
“Karlie is all my customers have been talking about,” Robin chimed in, who was still sniffling. “But I didn’t know about the reunion until I came home at about five and checked my voice mail. I got dressed and hurried over here.”
“What was your impression of Ms. Lam from the time you spent with her today?” The detective glanced at all three women.
The three of them glanced at each other remembering Karlie's attitude throughout the evening.
“Well, she's a supermodel, and she hasn't been home since she graduated from high school,” Mari said first. “She could have been nicer.”
Hazel and Robin nodded.
“You're too modest,” Robin added. "She was the worst."
Detective Price scribbled down their comments with interest. “Why do you say that?”
To Mari’s surprise, it was Hazel that spoke next. “Big-city living went to her head. All she talked about was how much better life was in New York City. She kept rubbing it in our faces that she had broken out and made it while we were stuck here doing nine-to-five jobs for pennies.”
“Even before she died, I felt like I was already mourning the loss of the Karlie I used to know,” Robin said. “The woman I met today was someone completely different.”
“I see,” Detective Price responded. “Now, what did you talk about during dinner? Did Karlie mention anything worth noting?”
Mari told him about how Hazel and Robin had left the table to use the restroom, and how she had reprimanded Karlie for being insensitive. “Oh, and there was one other thing. Karlie asked me about someone from high school. Someone who still lives in town.”
“Who?”
“Rex Jones is his name,” Mari answered. “He’s a history teacher at the high school. He knew Karlie when we were teenagers.”
Detective Price turned to Robin, but before he could ask his follow-up question, a scuffle broke out near the front entrance. To Mari’s surprise, Mr. Chun, owner of the Lucky Noodle, was standing near the benches by the hostess' stand, his fists raised at Mari's father.
“You have to do something,” Mr. Chun shouted, spit flying everywhere. “All these policemen and reporters are blocking my parking lot, and keeping out paying customers!”
“Oh, poor you,” Mr. Ramirez said. “Come back when you have a real problem to discuss.”
“I’m serious” Mr. Chun yelled. “Either you get rid of the press, or I'll give them all something to talk about. I'm sure the local paper would love hearing about the actual state of your kitchen."
“You wouldn't dare make up another lie about my restaurant," Mr. Ramirez answered narrowing his eyes. "I'm tired of your childish games, Chun."
"Watch me."
CHAPTER THREE
Mari awoke the next morning on her sofa after a long and restless night. She glanced out the window and thought about the events of the previous day. All of the emotions she had felt seeing an old friend dead at one of her booths came flooding back. It made her feel sick. Mari knew that the madness wasn't over. A crowd of reporters and photographers were sure to be at the restaurant again.
“It’s weird,” she had told Chrissy as they were closing up that night. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say she deserved it, exactly. No one deserves to be murdered. And yet…”
“And yet?” Chrissy had replied.
Mari hadn’t known what to think. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Karlie had invited trouble by the way she had treated people. At the same time, Mari had never felt more sympathy for her than she had seeing her slumped over her food, helpless and dead.
“Are we so sure it was murder?” Chrissy had asked as they'd finished cleaning the restaurant after the police had gone.
“I guess she could have had a heart attack,” Mari had suggested. “We won’t know until the police finish their investigation.”
“But she certainly had a lot of enemies,” Chrissy had responded. “I'm sure there is someone out there who wanted some kind of revenge.”
That was what had led Mari to suspect murder above anything else.
Mari rose from the couch, changed out of her pajamas and put on her work clothes. She went through the motions of her morning routine, but her head was somewhere else. It was strange how much sympathy one could feel, in death, for such an unsympathetic person.
It was only on her second trip back to the living room that Mari noticed something different. During the night, Tabasco had seized one of the couch cushions with his teeth and dragged it onto the floor, ripping a huge gash through the center in the process. Bits of white fluff had spilled all over the carpet, and the dog now lay huddled in a corner looking incredibly guilty.
Mari rolled her eyes. “What am I going to do with you?” she asked. “I guess it’s my fault for not putting you in the kennel last night.” By the time Mari had r
eturned home, she had been too dazed and disoriented to think about it. It was also comforting to have him next to her as she fell asleep.
Mari already had several errands to run before work, but now she found herself in need of a new cushion for her couch. Before picking up more dog food, she stopped by West Oak Furniture in the main shopping center.
The furniture store was a single sprawling room filled with every kind of home accessory—chairs, sofas, rugs, ottomans, entertainment centers—laid out haphazardly in no discernible order. Trying to find her way from one end of the room to the other was like walking through a labyrinth. Desks, bookshelves, and nightstands were piled on top of one another like buildings on a city block.
The store’s lack of order made it difficult to find anything. There were couches scattered all over, but no one had thought to group them all together in a single place. Mari spent half an hour wandering from one couch to another with a tight grip on Tabasco's leash. None of them matched the color she was looking for. She was beginning to think she would never get her cushion replaced when she ran into Hazel. Hazel looked frustrated as she was trying to put together a coffee table. Beside her, a small box television was blaring, but she hardly seemed to be paying attention to it.
“Hey Hazel, how are you doing?” Mari asked.
Hazel jumped, pushing herself out from beneath the table with a startled look. Tabasco let out a low bark. “Oh, Mari. It's just you and Tabasco. When did you get here?”
“A while ago,” Mari replied. “I am looking for a couch cushion.”
“And you just thought you would drop in on your old friend?” Hazel said. “Well, if it's a cushion you want, you are in the right store.”
Mari let out a long sigh. “So, how are you doing after last night. I hardly slept.”
“I honestly don’t know how you managed to sleep at all.” Hazel shook her head. “This is the first time anything like this has ever happened to me. I've never seen a dead body before. I just kept seeing Karlie's face in my head. In fact, I still see it.” She shuddered and fell silent.
“Believe me, I understand,” Mari responded. “Seeing death changes you.”
“You must have nerves of steel to still be working at the restaurant,” Hazel continued. "I would need a consider amount of time off before I could ever look at the booth where it happened again."
“Time off is hard to come by,” Mari replied. "You know my dad."
For a moment they both stood looking at the half-put-together coffee table. A man in a red baseball cap walked down the aisle past them carrying a rolled-up carpet that was twice the length of his body.
“You are okay, right?” Mari asked, keeping one eye on the man as he walked by. "Karlie said some pretty hurtful things."
“Of course,” Hazel answered. “It's not like she hasn't spoken like that to me before. She wasn't so nice in high school at times. I’ll be fine in a day or two, once I’ve had time to process everything.” Hazel gulped but forced a smile. "At least, I don't have to worry about being charged with murder."
"Huh?" Mari narrowed her eyes.
Hazel motioned to the TV and turned up the volume. A local news reporter was standing outside Lito Bueno’s Mexican restaurant. Mari's eyes went wide.
“The police department has confirmed that the death of international supermodel Karlie Lam was a result of foul play,” the man on the TV said. "The details of the investigation have not been released, but police in our area are treating this situation as a homicide."
“What?” Mari asked, but Hazel raised a finger to her lips and motioned for her to keep watching.
“Moreover,” the reporter went on, “a source at the station has confirmed that there is a range of possible suspects. This includes the staff of Lito Bueno’s Mexican restaurant, the very establishment where Karlie Lam breathed her last breath. We will keep you updated with the latest information about this ongoing investigation.”
With a panicky feeling in her chest, Mari marched through the labyrinth of furniture to the front of the store. Tabasco happily trotted beside her, not nearly as frustrated as she was. She burst through the door into the cool air and stood there for a moment looking out on the concrete boulevard in front of her, trying to regain her composure.
Breathe, she told herself again and again. It’s going to be okay. Just breathe.
But she didn’t know that for sure.
When she finally thought she could hold a conversation without cursing, she pulled her phone out of her purse and called her dad. The phone had ringed three times before it went to voice mail.
Mari called him again. No answer.
She shook her head, disappointed. Tabasco nudged her leg as if telling her that everything would be just fine. But as she was putting her phone away, it buzzed I her hand.
“Dad, I just saw the news,” Mari answered in what was decidedly not a calm voice. “What’s going on over there?”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Mr. Ramirez said. “The police are crazy. They think we had something to do with it. Like I would murder a celebrity in my own restaurant. That would be horrible for business.”
“Not to mention that it is horribly wrong, Mari added.
“Yeah, that too." Mr. Ramirez cleared his throat. "That detective came in this morning. They've been searching the kitchen and all of the computers. You better get down here.”
“Well, we have nothing to hide," Mari responded. “They won't find anything. They won't find anything, right?” Mari paused, waiting for reassurance.
“Who knows with these guys,” Mr. Ramirez answered in a low voice. “They won't tell me anything.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Mari was still cursing under her breath as she made the short walk over to the local grocery store to pick up food for Tabasco. Every customer and cashier seemed to be looking at her as if wondering whether she had committed a murder and might commit one again. A woman leading her three kids through the produce aisle pulled them away when she saw Mari coming. A service dog leading a blind man barked at her approach. She couldn't believe how quickly the news had traveled through town. Everyone around her must have seen the news this morning.
Mari tried to ignore them by focusing on the few items she had gone in for—milk, eggs, coffee filters, and a few cans of wet dog food. On ordinary days there was something soothing about wandering through the aisles of a grocery store without being asked for a drink refill or explanation of the day's special. But today, she failed to find comfort in it. The harsh fluorescent lights hurt her eyes, the overhead music irritated her, and the townsfolk wouldn't stop staring.
She and the grocery store’s manager had had a couple of run-ins in the past. He had once even called security to escort her out when he found out Tabasco was intimidating the man at the meat counter. Service dogs only is what he had yelled, pointing to a sign above the customer service counter. But then the last time she had gone to the store, she had left Tabasco in the car, and he kept honking the horn with his paw. One of the cashiers had eventually called her name on the loudspeaker.
Realizing that she couldn’t win no matter what she did, she had hidden Tabasco in her cart as best as she could. As long as he didn't bark, he wouldn't draw attention.
But as she was perusing the baking aisle, Tabasco wriggled free and tried to jump out of the cart. Mari scolded him, drawing the attention of a mother with children. Mari smiled as politely as she could, picking up Tabasco to place him in a more comfortable spot. Tabasco made a run for it and escaped Mari's hold. Mari knew exactly where the bulldog was headed.
“You get back here,” she snapped as she ran after him. “You’re going to get us both into trouble."
The dog ran until he was stopped by a man wearing jeans and a slim fitting t-shirt that emphasized the bulk of his biceps. It was Rex Jones, her old friend from high school. Mari smiled at him gratefully.
“It’s okay,” Rex said with a sly wink. “I won’t tell anybody.”
“W
hat are you doing here in the middle of the day?” Mari asked. “Sorry, I'm nosy by nature.”
“Actually,” said Rex replied. “This is my off-period. I’ll need to be back in about an hour to teach a class, but my schedule is flexible.”
“Oh, of course.”
Rex grinned. “Honestly this year I've got the hardest bunch of kids I’ve ever had to teach. Just getting them to sit still for a minute feels like a major accomplishment. Anyway, I heard Karlie Lam was back in town.”
Mari stared at him in disbelief. It was inconceivable to her that he hadn’t heard the news. “She was back in town."”
“Have you seen her? How is she?”
Mari inhaled sharply. She felt the familiar tautness gripping her stomach as she forced herself to remember the events of last night. “Does that flexible schedule of yours allow you to watch the morning news by chance?”
"Huh?" Rex wrinkled his nose.
"Rex, Karlie is…dead."
Rex’s face went pale. “You're joking?"
“It happened last night,” Mari said. “I'm sorry. I thought you knew. I saw her last night. She came to the restaurant to meet up with some of the girls from school. During dinner, she just…passed out. I don't know how else to describe what happened. The police are conducting a murder investigation.”
“Murder? But who would want to kill Karlie?” Rex asked. “I can’t believe we’re even talking about this.”
“Tell me about it,” Mari replied. “I feel like this is all my fault. Karlie wouldn't have been at the restaurant last night if it weren't for me.”
“My kids are going to be devastated when they find out.” He paused for a second as he processed the news. “When I went to work this morning, everyone seemed upset about something. One girl even cried as I took attendance.”
“The whole town seems to be in mourning,” Mari pointed out. Though after what she had seen of Karlie yesterday, she couldn’t help but wonder how many of them had really known Karlie. "Someone should do something to help ease the pain."
“We ought to do a service at the high school,” Rex suggested. “Karlie grew up here. This town talks about her nonstop. So do the kids at school. Even now, all of these years later.”