Mocha and Murder

by Christy Murphy

  Wenling looked disappointed. It dawned on me why her behavior was a little odd. "How many of those have you had?" I asked her.

  "Three," she said.

  "You mean including last night," I asked.

  "Oh, then seven."

  "Aye!" Mom said. I thought she was going to tell Wenling that's too many coffees, but Mom said, "That's expensive."

  "I got a card you punch, and if I drink ten I get one free."

  "You don't have to drink all ten in one day," I said.

  Wenling gave me a face to pretty much let me know that she knew she didn't have to drink all ten in a day. She turned to Mom.

  "If you go can I have your punches?" Wenling asked.

  "No, I want to have my own punches," Mom said.

  "Can I have yours?" Wenling said, turning to me.

  "No," Mom answered before I could agree. "She'll keep hers or I'll get them. You get your own daughter's punches."

  "Punches for what?" Jennifer asked.

  "Nothing," Wenling said, pushing her coffee cup into Mom's hand.

  "You're not having another one of those, Mom. You were up all last night."

  "It's Jo's," Wenling lied, and Mom remained silent.

  Not wanting to be a rat, I stayed quiet too.

  "You're cut off from those mochas, Mom," Jennifer said.

  Wenling argued back in Chinese, but Jennifer said, "It's not the caffeine, it's the sugar. You're all wired and hyper."

  "Not hyper," Wenling mumbled as Jennifer went to the kitchen.

  "Are you going to work on the case now?" one of the customers at a nearby table asked. He didn't look like someone from Fletcher Canyon.

  I stared at the man. I couldn't place his face at all. "Do I know you?"

  Wenling butted in. "He heard about us from the newspaper. He came here to watch us solve this next crime," Wenling said. "They're a mystery book group."

  "I'm the group's leader," the man said. "It's one thing to read about amateur sleuths in novels, but it never really happens. And then the paper said you found another dead body last night. What's that, the fourth one you've found?"

  "How did you know that?" I asked.

  Wenling interrupted. "The first thing that happens is we look for suspects."

  The man nodded.

  "Well, we can't be sure that there is a crime," I said.

  "So that's what you do first. You assess whether or not there's enough evidence to do an investigation?" the man asked.

  "Yes," Mom answered.

  "Are we teaching some sort of class?" I asked Wenling.

  Wenling laughed. "No, it's just that people are very interested in what it takes to be an amateur sleuth, and the restaurant got some calls, so…" Her voice dwindled off.

  A part of me wondered if Mom had known about this.

  I was about to say that I didn't really think that we should tell people what it took to be an amateur sleuth. Sure, we were caterers that found dead bodies, but that wasn't exactly a reliable thing.

  Mom decided to give the man a few pointers. "One of the things that helps us is my daughter has a very great memory. She's always had one since she was a child, but it's only triggered by a very traumatic thing."

  "Did she have a really traumatic childhood?" the man asked Mom.

  "No, she was very sensitive. She would get very upset even when something small happened, like she farted at assembly or something," Mom said.

  Yes, I do absolutely remember with every single painful detail the moment when I farted at an assembly at school, but I didn't want this stranger and his reading group to be in on that.

  I was about to put the kibosh on our little master class, when Jennifer rushed into the restaurant surprised to find a dozen or so customers already inside. Jennifer helped her mom run the Lucky Dragon. Actually, Jennifer pretty much ran it now that her mother had gone into crime-solving full-time. I got the vibe that Jennifer preferred it.

  She spoke rapidly to Wenling in Chinese. I always knew something major was going down when Jennifer and Wenling decided to speak Chinese. Wenling turned to Mom. "They're arresting, Dar-dar."

  "What?!" Mom said.

  "A police car is outside the coffee shop now," Wenling said.

  Mom led the rush to the sidewalk, where we saw Dar-dar pass by us in the back seat of a police car. He waved at us as they drove him away.

  "So I guess that would mean you had enough evidence now?" the leader asked. The entire group had come out onto the sidewalk or were watching through the storefront windows.

  "Yes," Mom said. "It always starts with the police arresting the wrong person."

  I didn't know if that was necessarily the wisest thing to say, but the man nodded. "Just like in the books."

  "So you got a lot of action in for your first day visiting the Lucky Dragon mystery restaurant," Wenling said. "Perhaps you'd like to sit down and discuss everything you learned with the other customers over our lunch special—Sweet and Sour Pork." Wenling said.

  The man nodded in agreement and Wenling led the crowd inside.

  "Should we go to the station to pick up Dar-dar?" I asked Mom.

  But before Mom could answer, a certain sexy detective came up to us on the street.

  "Don't go to the station," Detective Cooper said to us.

  "My nephew has just been arrested," Mom said. "I need to get him a lawyer."

  "He hasn't been arrested. They just took him down to the station for questioning."

  "Is this about Burt's death?" I asked Detective Cooper.

  "Listen, I can't comment on an ongoing investigation."

  "Are you saying that Burt's death is now an ongoing investigation?" I asked, annoyed.

  He let out a sigh.

  "You know Dar-dar is living with us now, right?" I asked him.

  Detective Cooper nodded.

  "So you also know that the moment he comes home, he's going to tell us what happened. Either we're going to the station right now, or you tell us what's going on." I was tired of Detective Cooper ignoring our previous flirtation, and now our friend was in need. I was in no mood to get into this verbal back-and-forth.

  "Okay, yes Burt's death is an open investigation. The man was strangled to death with his scarf. And your friend's DNA is all over it."

  An inconvenient memory flashed into my mind. Mom and I hadn't seen Dar-dar when we'd gotten to the party. I remembered that Darwin had been in the back room for quite a while. The truth was I hadn't seen him until just minutes before I'd gone outside. Maybe fifteen minutes.

  "I'm sure there's a logical explanation for that," Mom said to Detective Cooper. She was talking about the DNA, but my mind hoped it applied to him being in the back room as well.

  Wenling entertained the readers' group inside, and Mom tried to get a hold of Darwin on her cell phone. No luck. Mom and I watched for the police car to return to Main Street, but after a few hours we decided to wait for Darwin at home.

  When we got inside the house, we found Darwin was there watching television. "I'm glad you came back," he said. Mom and I were surprised that he was so relaxed.

  "I've been working every day for weeks. So when they asked me to the police station, I told Jenna that she could run the place today."

  "Are you okay?" Mom asked.

  "You're the one who told me there was friendly po-po," Darwin said.

  "They think you killed your boss," I said.

  "I know. Something about my DNA on the scarves and his costume, but I'm the person who helped him put together that costume. I bought it from the second-hand store. I showed the officer who drove me home the receipt."

  Relief washed over me. That explained the DNA.

  "So they don't think you killed him?" Mom asked.

  "I think some of them think I did kill him, but I'm not worried," Darwin said.

  "Why not?" I asked.

  "Because I didn't kill him," Darwin said, turning off the television. "And you two can find out who the real killer is. You guys do it
all the time."

  "We're on the case," Mom said.

  I wasn't sure that we would actually be able to solve the case. Somehow it always felt as if we got lucky. But since Mom had decided that we were in, we might as well give it a try.

  6

  Sweets and Suspects

  "Okay, did everyone buy their mochas and desserts?" Darwin asked the group. There were about a dozen "customers" from the San Fernando Valley Mystery Club.

  "Thanks for the mystery club discount," the leader said.

  "Great, but remember no talking about it. We had each one of the suspects coming in today," Mom said.

  "This is so great," one of the women in the readers' group said to the other. "I bought three of my favorite mysteries at the bookstore next door, and I can read them while waiting for a real-life mystery."

  "Don't forget, we're undercover," Mom said.

  "That's right, guys," the leader of the group said. "Remember we can't discuss the case here. We can go down the street at the Chinese place from yesterday. The owner says we can get two dollars off the special, and she won't seat any potential suspects in our section."

  "Mom," I whispered across the table. "Do you think this could really work? This doesn't seem very investigator-y."

  "Darwin called all of his coworkers to come visit him for a free coffee to talk about how he got taken to the police station. It doesn't even matter if they come at the same time, they all know each other," Mom said.

  "But aren't you worried one of these readers will blow our cover?" I asked.

  "No, they're like us. They read all of the mysteries. It's just like watching the Crime Channel. They could probably solve this crime themselves."

  This plan felt doomed, but I didn't have a chance to say anything. Our first suspect entered the café.

  I was impressed that the readers quietly spoke to each other, and barely looked up from their books. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought they were just here to read and drink coffee.

  "Oh my God, Darwin," Madonna said. She was wearing all black, as usual, but she had a few less piercings. I wondered if the extra earrings and nose ring the night of the party was part of her evening attire.

  "I know!" he said. "They totally think I killed Burt."

  "It obviously was an accident. He'd been sick the whole two weeks before he died," she said.

  "I didn't know that," Darwin said.

  I could see several of our readers jotting down that note, but seeing as Burt was strangled, I didn't think it made a difference.

  "He died right out here. Did you see anything when you came into the coffee shop? You came in after my aunt," Darwin said, pointing to Mom. "They didn't see anything, and they were parked on the street not far from where he was found."

  "I didn't see anything, but I was parked in the lot you told us to park in. The one right next door. We just came into the shop. There were so many cars on the street, if someone was killing him, we didn't see a thing."

  Dar-dar handed Madonna her coffee, and I was beginning to think she wasn't much of a suspect. I was also surprised at how well Madonna and Darwin got along considering Dar-dar and Burt might have been having an affair.

  "Let's sit down with my aunt," Darwin said. "I don't know if you know this but she is really good at solving mysteries."

  "I read about her. You showed me the article," Madonna said.

  "That's right, I forgot. It was the article where she figured out that guy that lived in town was the one who died. The one who once stayed at our motel," Darwin said.

  The two of them joined Mom and me at the table. "How are you holding up with the death of your husband?" Mom asked.

  "It's very surreal," Madonna said. "I knew this was going to happen, but—" Madonna stopped herself from finishing that sentence. "I mean, I knew that he would go first, because of our age difference, but I didn't expect it to be this."

  I could tell that Mom didn't believe Madonna's save either.

  "Did the autopsy say anything else about how he died?" Madonna asked.

  "Like I said, they think I strangled him," Darwin said.

  "I mean did they find anything else in the autopsy?" she asked.

  Mom and I traded looks. We weren't sure what she meant by that, but it seemed darn suspicious.

  "Sometimes these things take a little more time," Mom said. "Signs of strangulation can show up as bruises they can see after a matter of hours, but internal stuff might take a while. What makes you think they'll find something else?" Mom asked.

  Madonna shrugged. "I just can't believe that someone strangled him. He was such a big man. They would have to be pretty strong, and their hands would have to be very strong. He had a really thick neck."

  Darwin nodded. "That's true," he said. I couldn't help but notice that Dar-dar had large hands, and he was very strong.

  "They say they found Darwin's DNA all over the scarf, but that's because he helped him get ready for the party," Mom said, turning to Darwin.

  "Were you with Burt when he was getting ready?" Madonna asked Darwin.

  "No," Darwin said, looking down at the table. "I dropped off the outfit late the night before. I had to work to get ready for the party that day."

  Mom turned to Madonna. "So you weren't there when he left for the party."

  "No, I was already here, remember?" Madonna said.

  "Okay," Mom said. I knew she was just pretending to misremember hoping catch Madonna in a lie. Something about her story didn't match up. "But before that, were you at home?"

  "I have a job tutoring," Madonna said. "I came from that. It's just strange that he's gone. We were only married for four and a half years, but I've known him for almost my entire life."

  Mom and I exchanged a look.

  "His family on his mother's side is Greek, and my family's from Greece. So when he went over to visit them when I was a kid, I would see him," she said.

  Mom and I traded a look.

  "It wasn't anything creepy," Madonna added.

  "Greek," Mom said, changing the subject. "He said you made great spaghetti, and your name is Madonna. So I would've thought you were Italian."

  "My mom was a big fan of Madonna, and I secretly believe she always wanted to be Italian like Madonna."

  "But you learned to make good spaghetti," Mom said.

  "Yeah," Madonna said. "Burt loved that spaghetti. It was the only thing he didn't give up for his diet."

  Mom and Madonna talked about recipes. Mom was always curious how to make things from scratch. Madonna grabbed a pen out of her purse, and broke down the ingredients for Mom.

  "When do you add the fresh mushrooms?" Mom asked.

  "I don't usually use mushrooms, but you can sauté it with the meat. The most important part is that you put the spaghetti into the pan with the sauce at the end to coat it. Don't do the thing where you have the spaghetti on the plate and put the sauce in the middle."

  "That's good to know," Mom said.

  At that moment, Jenna came in dressed for her shift.

  "Hey Dar," she said.

  "Hey!" he said. "I'm just visiting with some friends, but I'll help you if we get busy."

  "Looks like it was busy earlier," Jenna said, glancing around the room at all of the full tables.

  "They came in one at a time," Dar-dar lied.

  Jenna went into the back, and Mom resumed questioning Madonna.

  "Do you think anyone would have a reason to kill Burt?" Mom asked.

  "Everybody was upset that he had to sell the motel," Madonna said.

  "Had to?" Dar-dar asked.

  "Well, I guess not had to," Madonna said, staring down at the table.

  "Was anyone in particular mad about the motel closing?" Mom asked.

  Madonna shrugged, but I got the distinct impression that she was holding something back.

  "Lisa wasn't happy," Dar-dar said.

  "That's true," Madonna said. "She's been working there for over twenty years."

  "What
about her son?" Mom asked.

  "He pretty much just did the books, but I don't think he cared that much," Madonna said.

  Dar-dar rolled his eyes when she'd said that Lisa's son did the books.

  Our conversation was interrupted again when Officer Keller entered the coffeehouse.

  "Hi," Dar-dar said, getting up to wait on the officer.

  Just as Dar-dar stepped behind the counter, Jenna came out from the back. "Hi, Officer Keller," Jenna said, her voice flirty.

  I forced myself not to roll my eyes. Did she flirt with everyone?

  "What will you have?" she asked.

  "I'll take care of him," Dar-dar said.

  "But your friends…" Jenna said.

  "If you don't mind," Officer Keller said. "Dar-dar knows how to make my cappuccino exactly how I like it."

  Dar-dar smiled and the officer smiled back at him. I beamed. For once, someone hadn't fallen for Jenna's young-for-her-age charm. Jenna returned to the back to do whatever it was she was doing back there. She probably didn't like being up front and not getting any type of flirty attention.

  Dar-dar made the officer's coffee, and Mom and Madonna talked more.

  Bored, I looked back toward the counter and watched Dar hand Officer Keller his cappuccino. "I don't mean to be ungrateful, but can you step outside so I can ask you a few questions about that other night?" the officer asked.

  "Of course," Dar-dar said, as if the man had asked for makeup tips. His faith that we'd find the real killer made me nervous.

  "I wish I could hear what they were saying," Madonna said. "But now that Dar can't hear us…" Madonna said, leaning closer and lowering her voice. I could almost see all of the mystery club members strain to listen to what Madonna was going to say. "Dar-dar and Burt had a huge fight the day that he quit. And then they had it again the night before the party when he brought the costume over."

  I looked through storefront glass and saw Officer Keller talking sternly to Dar-dar. Dar-dar's expression looked a bit strained, like he was trying not to look upset even though he was.

  "I've got to go," Madonna said. getting up to leave. "Let me know if you find out anything." She paused and then turned around. "Even if it's suicide. I'd still want to know."