Fortune Cookie (Culinary Mystery) (5 page)

Sadie was slightly annoyed by the good-ol’-boys discussion at first, but by the time they stopped talking about Corney, she hoped she’d get the chance to meet him sometime. He sounded like a great guy. Somehow Pete transitioned the conversation to questions about the case—more detailed questions than Sadie had thought to ask, things like procedure, document forensics, and Wendy’s history with the department.

By the time they’d finished the call Detective Lopez had agreed to talk to his superior about the possibility of Pete coming into the station and talking through the case file with them after he and Sadie arrived in San Francisco. Sadie tried to hide her envy—police had never been that excited when
she
was involving herself in a case.

Pete hung up and handed her the phone, grinning with satisfaction.

“Are you sure you were really ready to retire?” Sadie asked cautiously. It had only been a couple of months since he’d turned in his badge, but talking the lingo seemed to have lit a fire inside him.

He came closer to her, putting his arms loosely around her waist. “You know I’ve missed it,” he said, sounding meek and a little vulnerable.

Sadie nodded; she did know. She also knew that he’d put in some applications for different part-time positions within the department that would keep him involved, but not quite so obligated. She supposed she simply hadn’t realized what a big part of him was still a cop. “Detective Lopez sounds pretty open to having you look around.”

“Does that bother you?” Pete asked.

“No,” Sadie said. “But it does sound as though you’re taking the case, so to speak. You think it was a homicide?”

“The San Fran PD doesn’t seem to think so—there were no obvious signs of trauma to the body. But we know that at least two crimes were committed by someone—the theft of the missing items from her apartment and the desecration of a human body.” Sadie suppressed a shudder at the clinical language, and Pete stopped. “I’m sorry,” he said. “If it bothers you to—”

“No, it doesn’t bother me,” she said, determined not to shy away from things. “It’s just that . . . with all the other cases I’ve worked on, it was someone else, you know? They didn’t belong to me. It’s just shocking when I let myself think that this was Wendy. My sister.”

Pete paused, then spoke with a bit of hesitation. “You said you wanted to know more about her.”

Sadie nodded. “I guess that’s where my focus is—learning about her life. Thinking so much about her death is harder for me to do—heck, thinking about her
life
is hard for me. She discarded all of us so long ago.”

Pete nodded his understanding. “What if I work with Lopez on the cop side of things—the death part. Then you can focus on the life she lived and the people she knew.”

Sadie cocked her head to the side, considering. It did feel more comfortable to emphasize Wendy’s history, but she didn’t want to be left out. “If I agree, that doesn’t mean you’ll keep information from me, does it?”

Pete laughed. “I’ll share whatever it is you want to know,” he said. “And if at some point, you want to be the detective, I’ll be more than happy to move out of the way.”

Sadie put her arms around his neck, careful not to touch his clothes; her hands were still floury from the pie crust that was likely getting dryer by the minute. “Well, maybe just move over so there’s room for both of us . . . if I decide I can handle it.” Her smile faded as the reality of what they were facing moved into the confusing thoughts cycling through her mind. “I couldn’t do this without you, Pete. And I do want answers.”

Pete leaned in and kissed her. “We’re in this together,” he said quietly, pulling her half an inch closer.

Sadie nodded and kissed him back, grateful for his confidence since she was still unsure about how she felt. “Thank goodness for that.”

Chapter 4

The flight from Denver to Oakland on Thursday landed just after ten o’clock in the morning, Pacific Daylight Time. Pete and Sadie picked up their rental car—a white Chevy Malibu—and put their carry-on luggage in the trunk. Sadie hated traveling with just a carry-on. She preferred to bring enough clothes that she was prepared for a variety of weather conditions and possible events she might need to dress for, but there was an extra baggage fee to bring a checked bag, so she’d picked four coordinating outfits that could be rearranged over seven days, though she had no expectation they would stay so long. According to her research, the temperatures were supposed to be in the low 70s, which seemed impossible for July, but she’d been sure to bring close-toed shoes, jeans, and a jacket in case the evenings were cool. Wasn’t California supposed to be warm?

The GPS guided them expertly from this freeway to that belt route to this connection to that exit until they found themselves going over the San Francisco–Oakland Bay Bridge, or Bay Bridge for short. Sadie already felt dizzy from the driving portion of the trip and they weren’t even in the city yet. How had people ever driven here without a GPS?

She stared out the window and tried to hold on to the good feelings from the holiday yesterday. Things had gone so well with Pete’s daughters and their families, and each time Sadie was with them, their relationship felt a little more comfortable. Brooke, the older, had asked for the recipe for Sadie’s famous potato salad and had invited her to attend a community theater production the next month to see her oldest son perform in an adaptation of
An American Tail.
It was the first time Brooke had specifically invited Sadie to anything, and it filled her with confidence that good things were happening within these new relationships. After the fireworks were over,
both
of Pete’s daughters had initiated hugs good-bye. It had been such a fantastic day. But they weren’t in Pete’s backyard enjoying hamburgers while the kids played on a Slip ‘N Slide anymore. Sadie wished like crazy that they were.

Pete used something called a FastTrak pass to get them through the toll booth. The pass had come with the rental car, but she wasn’t sure what was so fast about it as they seemed to move as slowly across the enormous structure as every other car. While they crept forward a few feet at a time, Sadie took in her first sight of a city that didn’t seem as though it could possibly fit on the small patch of land ahead of them.

“It’s too early to check into the hotel,” Pete said, “but we could have the concierge hold our bags while we grab lunch at Ji’s restaurant. It’s just a few blocks from the hotel.”

“Um, sure,” Sadie said, internally acknowledging her hesitation at meeting her nephew. He’d asked her to call when they got into town. Showing up at his restaurant was as good as calling, right? She didn’t want their relationship to start off badly; he’d been so formal on the phone that she worried he might not like her changing the initial contact. But she didn’t want to overanalyze things either. Pete obviously wanted to go, so she kept her concerns to herself.

Over the last few days Sadie had attempted to sort through her feelings about stepping into Wendy’s life. Everything weighing her down created a jumble of thoughts and emotions that meant she felt more introspective than usual. Pete allowed her the uncharacteristic silence, for which Sadie was grateful.

She thought back to what Pete had said on his porch two nights ago: “She can’t hurt you anymore.” Sadie knew what he meant, was even sure it was true, but the pain that she feared was not physical. Some childish part of herself—a remnant of the little girl she’d been when Wendy had embodied all of Sadie’s fears—wished she could simply hide like she used to.

The automated voice of the GPS instructed Pete to exit the freeway at Fourth Street. “Or we could park at the square and worry about the hotel when it gets closer to check-in time,” Pete mused while merging toward the off-ramp.

“It doesn’t matter to me,” Sadie replied. “What’s the square?”

“Portsmouth Square,” Pete said, glancing at her quickly. “It’s in Chinatown. It’s kind of a park with a playground and some benches, sort of a local hangout with underground public parking.” He transitioned smoothly to a four-lane road with rail cables stretched above and across it and a landscaped divider running down the center. The blocks were small—a hundred yards or less—and there were people everywhere.

The sun went behind the clouds, but when Sadie craned her neck to look at the sky through the passenger window, she found herself looking up at enormous buildings, some of which disappeared into a blanket of fog that hovered in the air. It was eleven o’clock in the morning—shouldn’t the fog have burned off by now?

Sadie sat back in her seat and looked at Pete. “I know you said you’d been to San Francisco before, but you seem awfully familiar with it.”

“I love this city,” Pete said with a wistful tone.

Sadie turned her full attention to her fiancé. She had no idea he felt so strongly about a city she had always avoided. Her daughter, Breanna, had done an internship at the San Francisco Zoo the summer after high school, and Sadie hadn’t even gone to visit. Sadie’s father had been sick at the time—and she was his primary caregiver—but she knew she could have arranged a trip if she’d really wanted to.

Pete continued, “It was one of Pat’s favorite places to visit. Mine too. If we’d ever wanted to be urban dwellers, this is where we’d have done it.” He stopped for a red light and glanced at Sadie. “You’ve really never been here?”

Sadie shook her head and swallowed the envy that sprang up at the realization that he’d shared this city with his first wife. It was silly to be jealous, though, and she worried that she was trying to find something to transfer her negative feelings to instead of thinking about Wendy. “How often have you visited?”

“At least half a dozen times.” He looked straight ahead, a nostalgic expression on his face. “Pat and I honeymooned here and then came back on anniversaries when we could. There are so many things to see and do in this town, and it has such a rich sense of character. When the kids were teenagers, we came out for an entire week and never ran out of things to do. It was a great trip.”

“That’s wonderful,” Sadie said, hoping her voice sounded upbeat. They’d both talked openly about their late spouses and understood they’d lived plenty of life before they met each other. But something about her fragile emotions regarding this situation, added to the realization that this city was full of memories of Pete’s first wife, and the fact that they were supposed to be taking a honeymoon of their own in three weeks, blended together to create a pit in the middle of Sadie’s stomach.

As they continued past the high-rise buildings and crowded sidewalks that banked the narrow streets, Pete remained silent. Perhaps he was experiencing some uncomfortable feelings, too.

There were restaurants and boutiques and cell phone stores on the ground level of the towering buildings all built side by side. Pete slowed down and pulled into the underground parking structure beneath Portsmouth Square, and they exited on foot a few minutes later to join the throngs of people enjoying the Chinatown district. The square itself had light posts painted red with lantern tops. Older Asian people and smatterings of tourists occupied the benches and checkerboard tables, relaxing and talking beneath the trees. Children laughed and squealed as they played on a slide and chased one another through the relatively small, grassless park.

“I think Choy’s is just down here,” Pete said, pointing. He took Sadie’s hand; his touch went a long way to relieve her growing insecurities, though she worried that she held on a little tight. Whether it was some attempt to remind him that he was making new memories here with Sadie or because she was becoming increasingly anxious about meeting her nephew, she couldn’t be sure.

Bright Chinese lanterns were strung across the streets, and Asians dressed in bright silk tunics handed out coupons and advertisements. Stone statues flanked doorways, and tables loaded with trinkets were set out in front of windows full of brightly colored shirts, flags, silk scarves, and jewelry. They passed a family speaking German, and a few seconds later Sadie heard someone yell at a child in what sounded like Italian. There were
so many
people.

“There it is,” Pete said, increasing his pace as though they were at an amusement park and he was excited to get in line for the next ride. Sadie wasn’t in nearly that kind of hurry but kept in step with him. The sign for Choy’s was bright yellow with the Chinese characters to the side of the English translation written in contrasting red. In the window were posters of different foods with both the English and Chinese descriptions. The posters looked several years old, some of them more tattered and faded than others. Beside the glass front door was a green dragon statue, one paw resting on a ball. People had used the open mouth as an ashtray.

“Did you know there are both male and female dragon statues?” Pete asked, nodding to the statue, his hand on the door handle.

“I’m not sure I want to know how you can tell,” Sadie replied, eyeing the statue warily.

Pete laughed. “The female dragon statues have baby dragons under their paw, and the male dragons have their paw on a ball.”