Seniors Sleuth

by Jennifer J. Chow

  “A hottie like you?” Alex stopped fiddling with the microphone. “Sorry, it just slipped out. I can’t believe you’d spend time glued to the screen when you could be lighting up a night club.”

  “I can keep up with both lifestyles. Sometimes I think I could even star in an eroge.”

  Alex let out a long wolf whistle. “I bet you could. You even look part Asian.” Winston himself shied away from those very erotic Japanese anime games. “So are you single?” Alex asked. Trust him to do pleasure before business.

  She looked Alex over. Even to Winston, a polished-up Alex wasn’t half bad-looking, with his tousled hazel hair and amber eyes. “Here’s my contact info, stud.” Winston craned his neck and did a double take. He recognized the address: 2255 Julian Street. Could it be just a coincidence? He needed to get into the place again and search for more clues. Maybe he’d missed something crucial the first time around.

  “Ready to test this baby out?” Alex asked Carmen.

  “Sure thing. Testing one-two-three.”

  “You’ll have to get closer.” Alex placed a hand and urged Carmen forward in her seat. “Why don’t you put that purse down and grab the mike with both hands?”

  Seeing nowhere to put it on the tabletop, Carmen plopped the purse below her mesh computer chair.

  “Here are the lines you need to read.” He held several sheets in front of her face.

  While Carmen read, Winston edged closer. His eyes remained locked onto the recording process like a good bystander, but his feet swept forward to grab the purse. Good thing he’d taken off his flip-flops, like a good Asian boy, when he’d entered the home. His bare toes pinched the bag and dragged it toward him. He sat down, cross-legged, and rifled through its contents, his motions covered up by Carmen’s loud, enunciated speaking. He’d fished out the house key and kicked the purse back under the stool when Carmen stopped talking. She turned around in her chair and asked, “What are you doing on the ground, Winston?”

  “I’m resting.” Winston’s hand—the one covering the key—swiveled in a tiny arc across the plush carpet. “This floor’s so nice. I almost want to take a nap here.”

  “No can do, buddy,” Alex said. “I don’t want to record the sound of your snoring in the background. Why don’t you grab a cup of coffee? In the kit—”

  “Great idea! I’ll make a Starbucks run and get some food, too.”

  Stomachs growling, they agreed and placed their orders with him. Winston took off to the hardware store first, then dropped by the coffee shop and fished out a couple of sandwiches from the refrigerated section. While standing in line, though, he noticed Kristy and Mark Gaffey in a corner table. She kept glancing down at her coffee, swirling it with a swizzle stick and looking back at the cop again.

  Every time she looked up at Mark, Winston could feel knots tying up his stomach. He could only imagine what Mark was feeling as Kristy’s luxurious lashes flicked upwards and uncovered her beautiful brown eyes.

  The barista had to get his attention twice when it came time to place his coffee order. Good thing they made drinks fast because he couldn’t wait to escape the shop and an overwhelming sense of betrayal.

  Although he shook with anger, Winston still had enough concentration to make it back to Alex’s place. He entered with three cups of coffee and a couple of gourmet sandwiches in his hands. He placed them in the dining area, a granite countertop surrounded by black leather barstools. He reached into his pants pocket, checking to make sure that two identical keys lay there.

  Winston walked over to the recording equipment. “All done?” he asked.

  Carmen sat facing him, arms clutched around her purse. “I’m ready to go.”

  “She’s a natural, Winston. We breezed through the recordings.”

  “Thanks, Alex,” Carmen said. She pecked Alex on the cheek, leaving a magenta stain on his clean-shaven face.

  “It was my great pleasure. I’ll let you know when the product’s done. Maybe I’ll host a party to celebrate.”

  “I’d like that.” She nodded her head at Winston. “I’ll eat my food on the road. Later, Winston.”

  Carmen swooped up her sandwich and coffee and moved to the exit where Winston intercepted her. He grabbed her wrist. “Wait, don’t go. It’s nicer to sit down and enjoy your meal.”

  “No, I should get home before Nana worries about me.”

  “He’s right, Carmen,” Alex said. “It’s better to eat well, digest your food, and keep your car clean. Besides, isn’t it unsafe to eat and drive? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

  As Carmen looked back and forth between the two men, Winston said, “Oh, I see how it is. Three’s a crowd.” Then he launched himself at Alex but turned at the last moment, so that his shoulder only grazed Alex’s chest. He didn’t want to actually hurt his friend; he just needed to pretend fight. Even so, Alex got knocked around a little.

  “Ugh,” Alex said. “What’s wrong with you, man?”

  Winston pushed him down, but Alex attempted to scramble up and almost knocked over his own recording equipment. “Go with it,” Winston mouthed.

  “Be careful!” Carmen said. She ran over to them, dropping her purse, and attempted to break up the fight. Winston wasn’t sure if she was more worried about her precious work being lost or their potential broken bones.

  Winston and Alex moved out of her reach and rolled around several times on the floor.

  “You need to stop, boys. It’s silly to fight over me,” Carmen said, even as a smile ghosted her lips.

  Winston grabbed the purse during the acrobatics and whacked Alex with it, unlocking the button along the way. Its contents spilled all over the plush carpet, and Winston stopped fighting. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Carmen.”

  He scrambled on all fours to gather the things near him: loose tissues and old receipts. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alex and Carmen also trying to recover fleeing lipstick containers and stray breath mints. While they were busy, he slipped the original house key out of his pocket and into the miscellaneous items in his hands. He thrust it all back into Carmen’s purse.

  Winston clutched at his back. “I’m too old for this, Alex,” he said. “Our five-year age gap makes a lot of physical difference.”

  “That’s right, Grandpa.” Alex pinned Winston’s neck in a headlock and whispered in his ear. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but I went along with it. In my book, this will make us even forever.”

  Once Winston could breathe again after Alex’s tight grip, he apologized to Carmen. “Sorry, I overreacted.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I see it as a taste of what my future adoring fans will be like when I win that modeling contest and get featured in Women Warriors.” She left with a huge smile on her face.

  As he made his way to his own car, Winston rubbed his fingers over the precious piece of metal in his pocket. A sudden vibration from his other pocket made him freeze, though. Had he been found out? He looked at his offending cell phone and recognized his sister’s caller ID.

  “Hey, Winston, where are you?” Marcy asked.

  “What do you mean?” Why was his sister calling him now? At least, he was glad it wasn’t Carmen figuring out he’d duplicated her key.

  “I’m here at the airport,” Marcy said. “Did you forget I was coming?”

  He did, but he wasn’t about to admit that to her. “I’m stuck in traffic,” he said.

  “I’ve already been waiting for twenty minutes.”

  “Be there in no time,” Winston said and crossed his fingers.

  CHAPTER 35

  Winston’s sister Marcy spun around the mother-in-law suite surveying the room. She narrowed her eyes when she saw the electric blue inflatable chairs. Apparently, the fake leather throws hadn’t thrown off their aura of cheapness. “Do you honestly expect me to sleep in here?”

  Winston noticed that Marcy’s hand-embroidered floral suitcase still had its handle up, as if she was ready to bolt
. They’d been there fifteen minutes already, and she hadn’t settled in yet. “It’ll give you more privacy,” he said. “It’s got its own entrance and everything.”

  Marcy hooked her hands onto her hips. “Winston, there isn’t a bed in here.”

  He scratched his head and pulled away a gray hair. He hid it out of sight. How come Marcy didn’t have any white hairs? She was five years older than him. “Um, I think I’ve got a sleeping bag in the garage.”

  “I’m not sleeping on the floor.” She started pulling her suitcase along and entered the main house.

  Winston followed her mincing steps, her genuine leather heels clicking a military pace. He watched the back of her tailored black suit walk around like she owned the place, which of course, she did. Winston saw her open a door in the hallway a tiny crack. “Hey, that’s my room.”

  He saw her nose wrinkle up as she slammed the door. “What do you keep in there? Skunks?” She went down the corridor some more. “Aren’t there two more rooms in your home?”

  One was filled with tons of electronics. Some were broken pieces of computers that he’d meant to refurbish. Other things were intact but useless, like his crates of Atari games that he kept for nostalgia’s sake.

  The second room was filled with boxes. He kept all his financial papers in there, tons of documents about his previous failed investments. Tax documents. Random receipts. Marcy chewed on her lip. “You would think that with all this space, you’d have one guest room ready.”

  “I don’t have people over.”

  “I can see that.” She wiped a layer of dust from one of the cardboard containers. “I can also tell that you forgot about my visit.”

  “C’mon, Marcy. You know this is unusual. You don’t typically have time to chitchat in my house. I’m normally a tight coffee squeeze on one of your conference days.”

  “Well, this time I flew in one day early to see my little brother.”

  “I know. Thanks for thinking of me.” He saw her press a finger against the side of her nose to stifle a sneeze, so he led her away from the dusty room. “What about the den?”

  Winston plumped the pillows on the futon in the den. Good thing his sister had a petite four-foot-eleven frame. She would fit on the tiny mattress. “It’s not the Westin, but at least it’s a bed. It’ll have to do until tomorrow when you get to check into your fancy hotel.”

  “I didn’t say anything negative about the futon.”

  “Your thoughts were so loud I could you hear you thinking them.”

  “Don’t be so defensive, Winston. You don’t need my approval.”

  “Don’t I?” Winston crossed his arms and glared at his sister. “Tell me the truth, Marcy. What’s the real reason you came out? Maybe it’s to check on your housing investment.”

  Marcy snapped the handle down on her luggage. “What are you talking about?”

  “The property you bought, this house. I think you’re just fishing to see how it turned out, and you’re not impressed.”

  “You’re a bachelor. What else could I have expected?” She stowed her suitcase under the coffee table; the luggage’s pretty petal embroidery looked distorted through the murky, scratched glass surface.

  “I’m sorry I’m not perfect like you with your solid career, a sprawling mansion, and a doting spouse.”

  “Shut up.” Marcy’s voice rose an octave. “Ding lay go fai.”

  Hit your lungs? He scratched his head. His Cantonese needed some brushing up. Marcy excelled at the language, though he normally knew curses and put-downs pretty well, having heard them directed at him all his life via his mother. Ah, that’s right. Lungs played a role in the literal definition, but “go to hell” was the better English equivalent.

  “You didn’t have to bail me out like a little kid, Marcy.”

  His sister clenched her hands into fists and counted to ten (in Cantonese) under her breath. Her snipped words came out between heaving breaths. “I wanted to partner with you and help you, not bail you out.”

  “It was a rescue mission, Marcy. You know I couldn’t put in squat, not after my money troubles…” Winston squished the throw pillow, its stuffing squirting out through the broken seam. “Of course, you wouldn’t know anything about that. Money takes care of all your problems.”

  “You don’t know the half—” A doorbell stopped her talking, and the anger seemed to drain out of her with the prospect of a stranger. She took off her heels and settled down on the couch. “Get the door,” she said. Her voice sounded muffled with the frayed throw pillow over her head.

  Winston turned to the front door. Didn’t those salespeople see his “No Soliciting” sign? He opened it to find Kristy on his doorstep. “Hey,” she said. “I’m sorry I got mad at you about the cat.”

  “You don’t blame me for Blueberry disappearing?”

  “Well, he came back to me this morning. Officer Gaffey found him wandering the streets, looked at the tags, and located me. I bought him a drink at Starbucks in thanks.” That explained coffee with a cop from this afternoon. Maybe it was nothing more than a gesture of gratitude.

  “I took Blueberry to the vet to get him checked out.” Kristy almost nibbled on one of her perfect moon-shaped nails but stopped herself in time. “She told me that he should get out more often. It seems like exercise really helps to lower his blood pressure. So I actually owe you for letting my cat see the neighborhood.”

  “You’re welcome, I think.”

  “Maybe we can take Blueberry outside together sometime. I would feel so silly walking a cat alone.”

  Thank goodness she was still planning a future together with him. “I’d love to. You know, you didn’t have to come over to apologize. You could have just called me.”

  “I got off work early to make it up to you.” She thrust a bag of groceries into his face. “I wanted to make dinner for you.”

  He juggled the laden paper bag back and forth between his hands. “By the way, my sister’s visiting for the evening.”

  Kristy shrugged. “Oh good, I would like to meet your family. The more, the merrier.”

  CHAPTER 36

  Winston and Kristy walked over to the couch, where Marcy’s head remained buried under the pillow. Winston prodded his sister in the stomach.

  “Stop it.” She groaned, a prolonged soft whistle. “I’m trying to rest here.”

  “Sis, we’ve got company.”

  Marcy sat straight up and smoothed back her tousled hair. “Oh, hello.” She extended her hand to Kristy. “I’m Marcy, Winston’s sister.”

  Kristy introduced herself. Then she glanced sideways at Winston. “Your brother and I are sort of seeing each other.”

  Did that mean they were serious? Winston halted his automatic fist pump, as he noticed his sister swivel her head toward him. She raised an eyebrow, and he gave her a quick nod. Yeah, I got a girl.

  Kristy rearranged the pillow behind Marcy’s head. “Do you have a headache? Would you like a cool compress?”

  “No, no.” She waved the ministrations away. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, why don’t you sit back and let me cook dinner? Winston, you can help me prep the ingredients.”

  He helped “cook” the salad, one of the few items he couldn’t mess up. There was something intimate about being in the kitchenette together. The way the tiny space filled up with tantalizing smells and the fiery heat closing them in.

  They dug in minutes after the spread was laid out on the table: honey-glazed pork chops, buttered corn on the cob, a Caesar salad, and fresh baked bread. The dishes Kristy made tasted better than any he’d ever eaten at a fancy restaurant. He chowed down while the girls talked shop. Kristy spoke about her nursing work with seniors, while Marcy droned on about her research and her numerous speaking engagements.

  He looked at his empty plate and realized that one thing was missing. He found a carton of green tea ice cream in the back of the freezer and pried it open. Iced over, but still fine. He scooped some out for e
verybody. After dessert, he burped and patted his stomach. Compliments to the chef.

  Unfortunately, the chef’s eyes started blinking with sleep, so Winston led Kristy to the front door. He felt his sister behind him and decided to give Kristy a chaste peck on the cheek instead of the longer kiss he’d intended. He whispered in Kristy’s ear. “You don’t know how much you saved me back there from my sister’s griping.” Louder, he said, “Drive carefully.”

  After the door closed, Marcy said, “Buddha belly, let’s clear the table and wash up—by hand.” She pointed to the bamboo drying rack on the kitchen countertop. “You’re so Asian. I know you use that dishwasher on the side for storage only.”

  They divided the work, with Winston scrubbing and Marcy rinsing. She’d taken off her suit jacket and was left standing in her silk camisole. He noted a mark, the size of a dime, on her upper right arm. Winston recoiled. “What’s that?”

  He gripped his sister’s arm and stared. “Wait a minute.” He remembered another figure-eight mark—on a dead body. It was the exact shape and color as Joe’s had been. “How did you get that?”

  She tried to pull away, but he held on. “Please, Marcy, tell me.”

  She sighed. “It’s there for some medicine I’m taking.”

  “Medicine?” His sister had an illness? Now, he recalled that Ruisa, Marcy’s botanist friend, had talked about some pills. He snapped his fingers. “Valerian, right?”

  “What?” She laughed. “I see Ruisa must have passed the message on to you. She can’t understand why I’m taking this new-age medicine, but valerian alone doesn’t work for me. The stress doesn’t disappear like it does with this enhancer.”

  “You’re stressed out?” Winston let go of her arm.

  “You might think I have the perfect life, but you don’t know the half of it.”

  Winston tsked at her. “All your work and traveling.”

  She flung the water from her hands at him. “You’re so blind. It’s about having kids. Gary’s always wanted them and we just couldn’t…”