Fortune Cookie (Culinary Mystery)

by Josi S. Kilpack

  Like angels.

  “I’m here!” she screamed. Her chest shuddered into a sob as she looked up through the growing hole in the roof. “I’m here!”

  Chapter 38

  The nurse finished taking Sadie’s vital signs and double-checked the IV bag hanging at the top of the apparatus next to Sadie’s bed. Sadie thanked her and then relaxed against the pillows once the nurse left, hoping she could fall asleep again. Pete had been in the chair next to her bed the last time she’d been awakened by the nurses, but he wasn’t there now. Daylight peeked through the edges of the mini-blinds on the windows of her hospital room. Perhaps he went down for breakfast, or to call their families.

  The pain meds made it impossible for her to stop the tears that normally she would have avoided. But this was the first time in almost sixteen hours that she’d been alone with her thoughts. Mario had meant for her to die. He’d orchestrated it even though he wouldn’t be there to see her panic. Apparently, just knowing she’d feel the true terror of her situation was enough satisfaction for him.

  And Pete had saved her. He’d insisted she was still inside even after Shasta and Annie were brought out and Shasta said the building was empty. She’d confirmed that she’d heard a struggle above her prior to the fire, though she’d turned up her TV in an attempt to drown it out.

  The firefighters couldn’t access the third floor by then, and it was Pete who demanded they go in through the roof, which typically they wouldn’t risk with an active fire still going.

  Amid the drama of the evening and night, Sadie had managed to tell the police that Mario and Rodger were meeting outside the wax museum at 8:00 that night. The police had arrested the two men, and a solid force of half a dozen detectives were now collecting statements, reviewing documents, and piecing together the convoluted investigation. Stephen Pilings had been arrested; his attorney couldn’t stop things now.

  Justice would be done, and there was some satisfaction in that. Sadie reflected on the fact that she’d come to San Francisco to learn about her sister, and, though she’d hoped for a redemption she hadn’t found, she had learned about the life Wendy had lived. And, ultimately, she had learned who—of the many people in Wendy’s life who had reason to want her gone—had killed her. It was all so sad, and though Sadie knew she would never overcome the regret of what Wendy had done with the life she’d been given, at least she could be laid to rest. At least Sadie could say she did her best by her to the very end.

  At some point last night—she wasn’t sure when—Jack had called Pete. He was worried when Sadie hadn’t returned his messages. With her phone broken and burned, she hadn’t even known he was trying to reach her. Pete filled Jack in on what had happened and reassured him that Sadie was going to be okay.

  Jack had already talked to Ji and taken over the arrangements for Wendy’s body. The two of them had decided to have Wendy cremated and her ashes interred in a burial plot shared by Jack and Sadie’s parents in Colorado. Sadie thought that was a fitting choice. They could visit her resting place together and continue to work through the complexities of their feelings toward their sister. Sadie had not found closure, not yet, but she was hopeful that if the concept really existed, she would find it one day.

  Beyond that, Sadie knew that having Wendy close to home was precisely what her parents would have wanted. They had never stopped loving their daughter.

  There was a light knock on her door, and Sadie began frantically wiping at her eyes as the door opened. She didn’t want Pete to see her upset. She wasn’t entirely sure where things were between the two of them, but she knew she didn’t want to appear undone. It was a taller, darker man who stepped inside her room, however. Ji carried a bouquet of flowers Sadie felt sure were from the hospital gift shop.

  “Ji,” she said softly, smiling with sincerity as he came to her bedside and sat in the chair reserved for Pete. He looked at her with a sympathetic expression, likely looking for the injury that had kept her in the hospital, but the stab wound in her right side was bandaged beneath her hospital gown. The bruises on her arms and face, as well as the bandages on her hands, would have to do. “You’re sweet to come.”

  Ji placed the bouquet on the bedside table. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I was stabbed,” Sadie said with a smile. Her son, Shawn, could say things like that in dark moments and lighten the mood, but it didn’t work as well for her, and she wished she hadn’t tried it when Ji winced. “But I’ll be okay.”

  “How long will you stay in San Francisco?”

  “They said I would be in the hospital for one more day, to make sure everything’s alright. Then I’ll probably stay in a hotel a few more days before I travel home. Perhaps I’ll still get a chance to see some of the sights.”

  “I wish we had room for you to stay with us while you recover, but I’m afraid our apartment is very small.”

  Sadie appreciated the sincerity of his offer. “You get full nephew-points for the thought.”

  Ji smiled.

  “How are things with Lin Yang?”

  His expression turned heavy. “She was released about an hour ago on bail. She’ll stay with her sister for a little while.”

  “That might be a good idea for a number of reasons,” Sadie said rather boldly.

  Ji looked at her, hesitant.

  She smiled to soften the rest of the words piling up in her uninhibited mind. “Arranged marriage or not, you deserve to be happy with your partner.” She thought of her own situation and wondered if Pete could really be happy with her as his partner. Had facing his memories of Pat made him reconsider their compatibility?

  Ji looked at the floor.

  “Ji.” Sadie waited until he looked up at her. “Do you like working at the restaurant? You said you were pursuing your art at one point but gave it up—it wasn’t practical, but is it your passion?”

  She saw a flicker of unease on his face, and then he scrubbed a hand over his forehead. She didn’t rescue him from the answer he was obviously uncomfortable giving. Finally, he let out a breath. “The restaurant saved my life,” he said quietly, looking at Sadie. “When you’re thirteen years old and no one cares what you do or where you are, most of your options aren’t good ones. Lin Yang’s father offered me a life—a real life—and he entrusted me with his daughter and his legacy. I can never repay that debt.”

  “Is it a debt you’re meant to repay? Does your unhappiness pay that kindness back to her father?”

  She moved her hand so it touched his. He flinched, which made her wonder if he was used to any kind of affection or touch.

  After a few seconds, Ji said, “I will admit that all of . . . this has had me thinking of things differently than I have ever dared to do.” It was obviously difficult for him to say such words.

  “A lot of your life has been something you didn’t get to choose. If nothing else, now you have some new choices, and if you decide not to change a thing, at least you chose it.” Sadie patted his hand and smiled, relaxing back against the pillows.

  “There is something to be said for that,” Ji said. “For now, I have contacted a criminal attorney to help Lin Yang.”

  “I hate for the life insurance to end up going to an attorney,” Sadie said. “But at least—”

  “I’m not taking the insurance money,” Ji said, squaring his shoulders proudly.

  “Why ever not?” Had she heard him correctly? She was heavily medicated.

  “It feels like blood money,” Ji said. “My mother couldn’t be bothered to give me what I really wanted from her when she was alive, and her money gives me no solace now.”

  “Ji, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” Ji startled at her directness, but Sadie continued. “Take the money.”

  He shook his head. “I’m sure she only got the policy so she could use it to manipulate me into helping care for her as she got older and sicker—that’s probably why she came to see me that day she met Min. It doesn’t feel right to take th
at money.”

  “Of course it doesn’t feel right,” Sadie said. “Nothing about Wendy feels right to any of us, but she went to the effort of getting herself a life insurance policy, and she chose you to be the person to receive that settlement. Money will never make up for those things you would rather have had from her, but it is something. Perhaps it’s the best she was capable of.”

  Ji shook his head. He really was a proud man. Too proud, in Sadie’s opinion.

  “Instead you’ll go broke paying for an attorney?” Sadie asked rhetorically. “Will that mean your daughters no longer get to go to their schools? Does it mean you’ll have to sell the restaurant? Are you willing to lose everything you’ve worked for because of Wendy? And stay in an unhappy marriage and career for Lin Yang’s father?”

  Ji clenched his jaw and looked away.

  Sadie knew she’d been too harsh, and she softened her voice before she spoke again. “Ji,” she said, reaching to put her hand on the side rail of her bed. “You are a good man.”

  He stared at the floor.

  “Ji,” she said stronger, then waited for him to meet her eyes. “You are a good man. You have taken a really lousy set of cards and built a family, a life, a future that no one—not a single person—thought you capable of doing. You did it. Without support from your parents. Without support from your aunt, uncle, and grandparents, who should have fought harder to be a part of your life. Those accomplishments are worthy of your pride, but don’t let that pride destroy this opportunity. Life doesn’t have to be something we tolerate, Ji. There is happiness to be found here. This money could help you.”

  “You make it sound so easy,” Ji said in a tired voice. “As though there’s a price that can—”

  “It’s not a price,” Sadie cut in. “Money will never heal what you didn’t have any more than keeping the restaurant will make Lin Yang’s father more comfortable. Money will never make up for what Wendy didn’t, couldn’t, or wouldn’t give you. But it is the one thing from Wendy—other than having created you in the first place—that can do some good.”

  The door opened again and Pete entered the room.

  “I’d better get going,” Ji said, standing up. “Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

  “You can take the money,” Sadie said, filterlessly. “You can bless your family with it, and then you can paint me something beautiful that I can put on my wall and brag about to all my friends when they exclaim over the talent of the artist. I don’t want to have to pull out those jewelry boxes every time I want to impress someone.”

  She was glad to see Ji’s smile at her suggestion. He gave her a slight bow, chatted with Pete a few moments before saying good-bye, and left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

  “Oh, I forgot to ask him about Min,” Sadie said right as the door closed.

  “I talked to him last night. He said that he’d put off letting her grow up long enough. I’m not sure what that will translate into exactly, but it’s got to be better than things were before.”

  “Good,” Sadie said, but she couldn’t look at him; she didn’t know how to act.

  With the bad guys in jail and the mystery solved, she and Pete would have to address everything that lay between them now. She looked down and smoothed the blankets across her stomach in an attempt to quell her anxiety. Too much had been happening last night for them to address their personal situation, but the crisis had passed, and Sadie knew they would be discussing it now.

  In order to avoid Pete’s gaze, Sadie closed her eyes, but then startled when he touched her hand. Her right forearm and hand were less cut up than her left, but she still had gauze wrapped around the thumb and across her palm.

  Pete lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist, just above the bandage. “I love you, Sadie,” he said, so soft and sweet that her tears were impossible to hold back. She lifted her other hand to wipe at her eyes—embarrassed to have such little control over her emotions—but found it heavy with an IV, bandages, and tape. She opened her eyes to find him looking at her.

  “Sadie?”

  “I love you too, Pete,” she said in reply, a lump in her throat. She pulled her hand away from his so she could wipe at her cheeks. She wanted him to leave and take all this intensity with him. But she also really wanted him to stay.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault, Pete.”

  “But if I’d been paying better attention and gotten your first text, I’d have gone to the apartment immediately and none of this would have happened.”

  “Oh, you’re talking about the attack,” Sadie said, though she’d only meant to think it. Darned narcotics.

  Pete pulled his eyebrows together for a moment and opened his mouth before he realized what she meant. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looking between his feet. “The last time Pat and I came to San Francisco, she seemed strong and healthy and well. We walked the streets, hiked the redwoods, and tried to see all the things we’d missed on our earlier trips. By the end of that week, she was worn-out. I teased her about getting old; she said it felt like more than that and I paid it no mind. We returned home, and I went back to work. She struggled to get her strength back, but rather than make sure she went to the doctor, I told her to eat better and be more active.” He paused and took a breath. “By the time she went to the doctor—almost three months later—her cancer was advanced. We opted for surgery anyway. Radiation, chemotherapy—anything to buy her more time, but I wondered how much time we’d lost because we hadn’t taken her complaints more seriously—because I hadn’t taken her complaints more seriously.”

  Tears streamed down Sadie’s face again.

  His forehead was all she could see until he lifted his face to look at her. “I have mourned her, Sadie. I have come to accept the way things are, and I know that what happened to her was not my fault and that she would not want me to be alone. Because of how strongly I know all of that, I wasn’t prepared for what coming here would do to me. It took me back to that place before she was sick—or before we knew she was sick, anyway—before I felt all that pain and heartache and guilt. I missed her more than I have for a long time, and yet I love you. I found myself wondering what I would do if something happened to you. Could I go through all that pain again? If I had kept from falling in love again—which is precisely what I’d planned to do when Pat died—I would have prevented myself from ever feeling that kind of loss. The complexity of all those thoughts took me off guard, and I didn’t handle it well. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” Sadie said, putting her hand over his. “I wish I knew how to help.”

  Pete smiled. “That you want to help me through this is one of the many reasons I love you like I do.”

  Sadie repeated the words in her mind and realized that his love for Pat was one of the reasons she loved him like she did as well. Despite the awkwardness of knowing he loved someone else, that he’d shared so many years of significance with his first wife, knowing that he could love like that was further proof of the caliber of man he was. She shifted without thinking and pain shot frontward and backward and side-to-side, causing her to gasp.

  Pete stood quickly. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine, just moved too fast. I’ll probably do it two hundred more times before I learn my lesson.” She took a breath and looked up into his handsome face. “We can put off the wedding and—”

  “I accepted the offer on the house yesterday morning. My girls are going to start organizing Pat’s things so that some of it will already be sorted when we get back to Garrison. Pat’s sister is going to come down from Cody to help out as well.”

  “Are you sure you’re ready?”

  Pete smiled and leaned in, planting a kiss, as soft as silk, on her lips. As she’d told Ji, the past was the past—good or bad there was nothing the present could do to change it. What held power, however, were the choices they made today and the effect they could have on the future.
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br />   “I brought you something,” Pete said. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a paper napkin, which he unfolded to reveal a fortune cookie.

  She looked at it and then at him. He smiled and nodded toward it.

  She picked it up from his hand but needed his help to break it open. He held the end with the paper toward her and she slid the paper out.

  No one can walk backwards into the future.

  Pete smiled at her inquisitive look. “There’s a little factory where you can do special orders. I think we should order some for the wedding.”

  “Or maybe make our own,” Sadie suggested as she considered how much fun it could be to put their own fortunes inside. “I used grenadine syrup in place of some of the liquid in order to make some pink ones for a baby shower once. I bet I still have the recipe somewhere.”

  “Sounds a little too Shasta Winterberg for me,” Pete said.

  Sadie laughed.

  “It’s a good fortune though, isn’t it?” Pete said. “That we can’t hold on to the past too much.”

  “It’s a very good fortune,” she said, then raised her chin and pursed her lips, inviting him in for another kiss. He did not make her wait long.

  Pete loved her. She loved him back. The past was gone. The future was wide open. What could be more healing than that?

  Acknowledgments

  This series is getting harder and harder for me. In the hope of keeping each story fresh and interesting in its own right, I have less to work with, in a sense, each time I begin a new book. I need new motives, new plotlines, and new ways for people to die. You should see the lists I have of how many horrible ways there are to kill someone—it’s disturbing, to say the least.

  It has also gotten harder for those people I depend on to make these books work. Namely:

  My writing group: Nancy Allen (Isabelle Webb Series, Covenant, 2010–2013), Becki Clayson, Jody Durfee (Hadley, Hadley Bensen, Covenant, 2013), Ronda Hinrichsen (Betrayed, Covenant, 2014), and Jenny Moore (Amelia and the Captain, Covenant, 2014). They go through tedious rewrites of the early chapters over and over again and help me keep Sadie true to her character. I’d be lost without them.