by Holly Plum
“Come on. I think you might be exaggerating here." Mari crossed her arms. "So Opal has a little posse. What does that have to do with Chile Fest?"
“Uh, look what happened under Opal's rule," Katerina explained with a wave of her hand. “One woman is dead. Poisoned from what I heard. And you can’t tell me it was just a tragic mistake. Those grounds were crawling with Opal’s minions, and any one of them could have entered that tent at any time.”
“Now you're accusing her of murder?” Mari rubbed her forehead. "Why would Opal want to murder Brandy Davos? I thought the two of them were friends?"
“Who knows?" Katerina shrugged. "The important thing is that it doesn’t happen again.” She pointed an unlit cigarette at Mari. “And to make sure no one else gets killed, we have to cancel the whole thing. I never want to see a Chile fest headed up by Opal Tims in this town again.”
“I still think the idea is a bit far-fetched,” Mari replied, choosing her words carefully for fear of angering Katerina.
But Katerina just rolled her eyes. “When a woman is poisoned, no idea is far-fetched.”
“Okay, but I’ve been attending the Chile Fest since I was a little girl,” Mari said. “This is the first time anyone has died.”
“I'm sure it won’t be the last.” Katerina looked at Mari matter-of-factly.
Mari felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up. “What are you saying, Katerina? I have to admit that you sound a little threatening. Let's hope that nothing else happens.”
“I'm just saying that you shouldn't be surprised if something else does happen,” Katerina responded. She rose from the table. “But before you start crusading to save the festival, there’s one more thing you should know. Your brother, Alex, has joined the cause. He thinks Chile Fest should be canceled as much as I do.”
Katerina turned and went into the kitchen.
Mari was left staring into her half-empty glass. The ice was slowly melting and diluting the root beer. Eventually, it would be mostly water. She wondered why Alex hadn’t told her about petitioning to end Chile Fest. She wondered if this was where he had been sneaking off to when he left work early.
Mari scratched Tabasco's ears. The rain outside picked up, and the bushes that guarded the window swayed fitfully. Mari felt pleasantly sleepy. She wished she could lay her head down and nap right there in her booth. The first customers were just arriving, and they seemed to walk through the restaurant as though in a dream, barely speaking. The blue pastel colors on the wall made Mari feel like she was in an aquarium at the zoo. The Athena Burger was so calm and relaxing. It was so different from the crazed and chaotic atmosphere of Lito Bueno’s. There was no arguing and no shouting. Just an unending blanket of quiet.
After a few minutes the spell had broken, and with renewed energy Mari rose from the table. She clung to Tabasco's leash as she glanced at the exit. With one last wave at Katerina in the kitchen, she walked out the doors into the warm rain.
It was only as she was pulling out of the parking lot that she saw it. A white van slowly cruised the street next to Katerina's Restaurant. The driver looked like he had been about to pull into the parking lot of Athena Burger when he saw Mari. Now, he was blocking her exit.
Mari adjusted her mirror to get a better glimpse of the driver. But he must have noticed because he suddenly sped down the street. Cursing, Mari tried to follow behind him, but he was already out of sight.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Back at her apartment, Mari sensed there was something wrong even before she stepped out of the car. They had just pulled into the parking lot when Tabasco sat up in his seat, teeth bared in a fury. She reached out a hand to calm him, but he jerked back at her touch.
Mari's conversation with Katerina had left her with a sick feeling that only increased as she approached her front door. All the talk of Opal Tims and her supporters might be overblown, but even if there was only a kernel of truth to it, it was still worrying. And then her own brother. It was like the whole town was taking sides, and neither side was right.
Mari unlocked her front door, and there was a moment of blind panic and confusion as she tried to assess what was different. Then she saw the shards of glass strewn all over the carpet. Someone had broken her window. A solid red brick lay dangerously close to her television.
After texting her brothers to let them know what had happened, Mari went carefully through each room of her apartment to make sure nothing had been stolen. She wouldn’t have put it past a clever burglar to be hiding inside somewhere. She checked in the bathroom. She checked every closet. Her nerves were on edge, and the yapping of Tabasco wasn’t helping.
Mari was on her way back into the living room to feed him and examine the brick when she got a text from David.
Don’t go inside until I get there!
A few minutes later, David and Mari stood over the brick.
“There's a message attached to it,” David pointed out. “Do you see that?” The note was on the brick was obvious.
Mari wanted to make a joke about his sleuthing skills, but sarcasm failed her. Right now it was comforting just to be in the same room as her brother. As much as she complained about her family, there were moments when she remembered how lucky she was to have them.
David bent down and tugged at the piece of string connecting the brick to the paper. Instinctively they both flinched, as though expecting a bomb to go off, but nothing happened.
“Let's see what it says,” David said, holding up the sheet of paper. “There’s also a newspaper clipping. It’s from the local newspaper. Interesting. It’s an article written by Brandy Davos.”
“What does the note say?” Mari asked.
The letter had been typed up and printed out.
You are looking in all of the wrong places.
“What does that mean?” asked David asked.
“No idea,” Mari replied, taking the letter from his hands and reading it again with a look of deep concentration. “You’d think instead of just being cryptic; this person could just tell me who they think killed Brandy. Did they have to throw a brick through my window?”
“Hey, listen to this.” David began reading the newspaper article out loud.
Lucky No Longer? Local Landmark Losing Locals with Lackluster Food, Lax Regulations
by Brandy Davos, Daily contributor
The knives are out for one local restaurant.
Investigations of the city health department’s records recently revealed an entire filing cabinet of complaints about the Lucky Noodle. One customer claimed that the Kung Pao chicken was not all chicken. Another customer reported that the bathroom was covered in grime. Not only have customers been hospitalized because of unhygienic food practices, one customer even claims that his young daughter fell ill after drinking from the soda fountain.
“I can't believe what goes on there,” said Katerina Georgiou owner of Athena Burger, “when you have people who can’t even eat at your restaurant without getting sick, that’s a real problem. Something has got to be done.”
“Obviously I would be very happy if the Lucky Noodle closed down tomorrow,” said Jose Ramirez, owner of Lito Bueno’s Mexican Restaurant. “But we don’t live in a perfect world, and I would settle for just a state health department investigation into their wrongdoings.”
Jun Chun, founder and long-time owner of the Lucky Noodle, denies all allegations of misconduct stating that his restaurant has been in good standing with the community since it opened its doors.
“What a crazy article." David stopped to take a breath. "I had no idea Dad gave a statement for this."
Mari stared at the newspaper clipping with wide eyes, as though she considered it single-handedly responsible for the death of Brandy Davos. “I think if someone had written such a scathing review of my restaurant. I’d want to kill them too.”
“This certainly looks bad for Mr. Chun,” David replied. “I mean, obviously I would never eat at the Lucky Noodle, but now I’m def
initely never going to eat there.”
“That article sounds pretty bias,” said Mari commented. “I wonder what inspired Brandy to write it.”
“Mr. Chun must have caught on fire after he read it,” David said.
“I’m surprised the restaurant wasn’t completely shut down. How long ago did this come out?” Mari eagerly waited for David to answer.
“Two years ago,” David answered. “What you’re going to have to do now is dig through your memories of the morning Brandy died. When did you arrive at the festival?”
“It was about 11 AM. I left the restaurant and pulled into the parking lot of the church, I think. From there I went straight to the judge’s tent, where I met Brandy.”
“Was Mr. Chun there yet?” David asked.
“He wasn’t in the tent, but his food was. Either he had already left, or someone else had brought it in for him.”
“And when did you first see him?” David continued.
“It was about half an hour later. I was talking to Bubba Jones, who as it turns out is a much better artist than he is a chef. He kept trying to sell me paintings. Mr. Chun showed up out of nowhere. I don’t even remember what we were talking about. It’s been so long.” Mari ran her fingers through her hair, trying to remember more.
“Okay, now it’s really important that you remember," David responded. "How long were you talking to Mr. Chun before the ambulances pulled up?”
Mari shook her head. “Couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes at most.”
“So there’s a possibility, even a slim one, that he might have slipped into the tent while you were arguing with Bubba Jones, poisoned your salsa, and then came and talked to you?”
“It would make sense if he were trying to establish an alibi,” Mari added. “Brandy wouldn’t have tasted the food immediately, which would give him ample time to get away. The question is whether he was ever in the tent between the time I arrived and the time he showed up at the art booth.”
“It's possible." David nodded.
“It’s a stretch,” Mari said. Her head hurt, and she wanted to be alone. “Mr. Chun would have really had to run to do all that without being seen. Someone would have noticed him sprinting like that. Given what we just read in that article, it wouldn’t surprise me if there are multiple people who wanted Brandy dead.”
CHAPTER NINE
When Mari came into Lito Bueno’s Mexican Restaurant an hour later, she found her dad and Alex in the kitchen. Mari led Tabasco to her father's office and shut the door before joining them.
“This fryer is going to be the death of us,” her dad said, gesturing emphatically at the grease-streaked silver fryer. “It’s caused two small fires in the past week. That’s more fires than we’ve had in this restaurant in twenty years.”
“You need to throw that thing out before something horrible happens,” Mari suggested.
“How are we going to cook?” José replied. “Your Abuela can’t stand here and fry everything that comes into this kitchen by hand. It would be the death of her.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Mari responded. “This is the reason I entered our salsa into the contest. Think of all the improvements we could make around here with an additional thousand dollars.”
But the mention of the contest only further soured Mr. Ramirez’s already foul mood. “Yes, and just think of how much less trouble we’d be in if you hadn’t entered.”
“Hey, that’s a little unfair,” Alex chimed in. “If it hadn’t been the salsa, the killer would have poisoned someone else’s plate.”
“And that would be just fine,” José stated. “Get someone else in trouble, for once. Poison Mr. Chun’s egg rolls, and see if they can weather all the bad press and legal troubles.”
“They seem to be quite good at it.” Mari told her family about the article in the local news though she neglected to mention how she had come across it. José chortled, and by the time Mari had finished her story he was positively radiant again.
“You know,” José said, “I completely forgot about that article.”
Alex excused himself, slipping out of the room before Mr. Ramirez could finish asking where he was off to.
“Excuse me too for a minute,” said Mari interrupted. She grabbed Tabasco from the office and raced through the dining room and into the parking lot. Alex had already driven away, so Mari hopped in her car to follow him.
The remarkable thing about her little town was how easy it was to lose someone, even when driving right behind them. Mari hadn’t gone more than a few blocks before Alex’s blue Honda suddenly veered right and flew over the train tracks. It was a risky move. The guard rails were already coming down, the alarm sounding. Somehow he'd managed to clear the tracks without a lot of effort, and when Mari attempted to follow him, she found herself stuck waiting for a train that seemed to have no end. After twenty minutes of waiting, she realized she had lost all hope of finding Alex and decided to turn around and head home.
Mari glanced into her rearview mirror, and her heart gave a jolt. Behind her, a plain white van was slowly cruising down the street. The fact that it was going well below the speed limit strongly suggested that it was the van she had encountered twice already. Catching her brother was a lost cause, but here was someone else Mari could tail. She made a U-turn.
The driver made no effort to lose Mari as he crept past Athena Burger, past Bubba’s Pizzeria, and past the honky-tonk bar where many of the town’s older couples went to line-dance and play bingo.
The van left the main part of town. Mari slowed her own car, hoping to avoid attracting the other driver’s suspicion when he looked up and noticed she was still behind him. After another few minutes of a tense game of cat-and-mouse, the van pulled into the parking lot of a building that was a gas station on one side, a bar on the other.
“No one can stop me from parking here,” Mari said to Tabasco as they pulled into the parking lot right outside the bar. A car in a parking lot was far less conspicuous than a car cruising slowly around him, trying to see what he was up to. The driver of the van had pulled up to one of the gasoline tanks, but instead of refueling his van he appeared to be texting someone. Mari decided to wait.
A minute later the door of the gas station swung open, and Bubba Jones came walking out. He wore a baseball cap with a crocodile on it, and he was sweating badly. Mari watched as he jogged through the parking lot to the gas tank where the white van was waiting.
“Are things working out for you?” the driver asked, who was wearing a white polo shirt splotched with sweat stains. His dark hair was thick around the sides but fading at the top.
“They’re alright,” Bubba answered. “No one has joked about the sausage tasting funny.”
“Perfect. Then you’re ready for another shipment.”
“Yeah,” Bubba responded, glancing around the parking lot and wiping his brow. “Only, not here. Bring it around later. I’ll text you the time and place.”
“I’ll need the cash in advance,” the driver informed him. Bubba looked unhappy about this arrangement, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet again. “Don’t make it obvious.”
The driver gestured to the parking lot in front of the bar. Mari's car was among many others. She ducked low in her seat and pulled Tabasco down with her.
Mari had to decide fast whether making a sudden break for it would give her away, or if she should lay low. Luckily, the two men made her decision for her. Bubba nodded and whispered something. He handed the driver the last dollar bill. The man swung into the front seat of the van in a fluid motion and started the engine. He took off before Mari could catch him.
CHAPTER TEN
Mari’s absence from the restaurant that afternoon did not go unnoticed by her father. To make up for having run out unannounced in the middle of a shift, Mari was forced to spend the evening in the office doing inventory with Mateo. This wasn’t as bad as it sounded, though Mateo’s contribution chiefly consisted
of making paper balls and trying to sink them into her dad’s waste basket.
“Since it looks like the Best Bite in Town has officially been canceled,” Mari said, “I’m going to have to think of a new way to get the money to pay for a new fryer. Which sucks, because I was really counting on that.”
“Look at it this way,” Mateo responded, trying and failing to sink a basket. “Even if no one had been murdered and the competition had gone on as planned, there’s no guarantee you would have won.”
Mari glared at him. “I would have won. Have you tasted our salsa?"
“You never know. Mr. Chun’s egg rolls might have been really good. Maybe he would have bribed the judges. There are just so many things that could have gone wrong.” Mateo crinkled up another piece of paper.
“Either way, I’m stuck trying to find a new way to raise money,” Mari commented.
“How much do you have on hand?”
“About enough to afford one of Mr. Chun’s famous egg rolls, so we’re going to need to do some serious brainstorming if you want to keep making your extra-large churros after closing on Saturday nights.”
“Hmmm,” Mateo said with mock-thoughtfulness. “Something that brings in money without costing you, even more, money. That’s going to be difficult.”
“I’m glad you understand my dilemma here.”
"Well, my churros are on the line," Mateo reminded her. “You could always charge a penny per napkin.”
“Customers will hate that,” Mari responded. "We would probably lose more business. No, that's a terrible idea."
“I’ll admit it’s not the best. What about becoming a street vendor? You could sell pizzas. You can’t go wrong with pizzas.” Mateo tilted his head and watched Mari's reaction.
“You want me to sell Italian food?” Mari said. "Are you nuts?"
Over the next hour, Mateo came up with hundreds of ideas. They ranged from a petting zoo to birthday parties for dogs. Curiously, none of them were helpful, but they made her laugh. For a pleasant while, Mari was able to forget about the murder investigation, and the white van, and the rumors that were threatening to put them out of business.