“His daughter’s name is Abigail, right? Yeah, no, she tried to use the fact that her dad’s a cop to ‘convince’ me and Sana to vote for her. Valerie kicked her out of the pageant after we reported her.” That was a particularly fun part of the evening, happening shortly after Rob’s scene with sandwich guy.
Detective Park cursed, then collected himself. “Sorry about that. But don’t worry, I’ll handle it. Now tell me everything you saw, starting from the beginning of your run until I arrived.”
* * *
? ? ?
After the police had taken down our statements, Detective Park dropped Sana off at her studio and took me and Nisa home. He came inside with me and pulled Tita Rosie aside while I headed straight to the kitchen. All evidence of this morning’s failure was gone, and the kitchen was its usual sparkly, inviting self.
I sank down into a seat and laid my head down on my arms on the table. How could this have happened? I had just seen Rob the other night and he had been so . . . full of smarmy charm and himself, yes, but also full of life. So confident. So sure of his place, not just in this town, but the world. Yet all it took was one drunken mistake and he was gone? Just like that? If accidents like this could end the lives of people as rich and important as the Thompsons, and as good and simple as my parents, then—
I shook my head. No need to go down that road. I needed to focus on some sort of mindless activity—dwelling too much on Rob Thompson’s death could lead to a panic attack. I’d had more than I cared to count in the last few months. No, I just needed to deal with my pain the Macapagal way—work through it.
My thoughts suddenly turned to Valerie. She’d just lost the last member of her family. She didn’t seem particularly close to Rob, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be devastated. I understood how complicated love and family could be. I couldn’t do much to ease her grief, but I wanted to whip up something delicious, something that would bring a little sweetness during a bitter time.
As I racked my brain for a suitable gluten-free treat, I remembered Sana’s advice. I could easily bring her some kakanin, the various Filipino rice cakes that my grandmother was known for, but then that’d be a gift from her. Besides, she’d likely be seeking the comfort of something familiar. And what was more comforting than warm chocolate chip cookies? But I couldn’t resist mixing it up, just a little.
My style was hybrid Filipino-American desserts, giving a Filipino spin to what we think of as American and vice versa. It wasn’t about being fancy or technique-driven—it was about creating something delicious that made people happy. Period. I already knew that ube worked well in cookies, thanks to the ube crinkles I’d created earlier in the year. But would the subtle earthy sweetness of the purple yam pair well with chocolate? Guess there was only one way to find out. I grabbed my keys, hoping Mr. Weinman carried gluten-free flour at the One Stop Shop.
* * *
? ? ?
A couple of hours later, the cookies had cooled enough to pack in plastic containers: one for the regular ube chocolate chip cookies and one for the ube white chocolate chip. I wanted to see if the lighter, sweeter flavor of white chocolate worked better than the semisweet. Also, I was stalling. There was no way to avoid how awkward and tense this visit would be.
I located Valerie’s number on the Contacts form in the pageant info packet and called to see if she was up for some company. If not, I’d just drop the food off at her place. When she answered, she informed me she was at Sana’s apartment above her studio.
“I came here after I heard the news. I wanted to talk to you anyway, so thanks for saving me the trouble of looking up your number. Can you come over?”
This was even better than I’d hoped. I hadn’t been looking forward to being alone with her since I didn’t know her like that, but Sana did. Sana would be the perfect buffer for the sad, uncomfortable conversation that was sure to happen.
“Heading over now, and I’ve got some snacks.”
“Better make it quick. Sana’s whipping up her famous sangria slushies and I can’t promise there will be any left by the time you get here.”
* * *
? ? ?
Sana’s sangria slushies were exactly what I needed. Both to help me unwind and also remove any last bits of awkwardness among the three of us. Before leaving, Tita Rosie had given me a huge tray of chicken adobo and rice, which was delicious but did nothing to combat the effects of our drinks. We were already on the second pitcher and showed no signs of stopping.
The ube chocolate chip cookies I’d prepared were a hit, though I wasn’t sure if it was because Valerie truly loved them or if the wine had made her maudlin.
“These are so delicious! They remind me of this dessert I tried in Hawaii. Such a pretty purple color.” Valerie made a noise of appreciation as she picked up another cookie.
Sana took one as well. “When were you in Hawaii?”
Valerie tilted her head. “Maybe five or six years ago? It was right before Mom and Dad died. Family trip to attend a wedding. We all had such a lovely time.” Her expression changed. “Rob was there, too. Probably the only time the whole family was together and we didn’t fight.”
I put my hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry about Rob.”
She turned to me, eyes bleary, and a wave of alcohol fumes rolled off her, overwhelming my sensitive sense of smell. I tried not to gag as I braced myself for the question I knew was coming. The first pitcher had passed in small talk, and I guessed Valerie was relying on liquid courage to get her through this.
“What happened? What did you see? I know you both were there. The officers told me you were the ones who found the body.”
Nothing but professionalism from Shady Palms’s finest.
Sana and I exchanged looks, but she then busied herself with filling Valerie’s glass. Guess she was leaving this to me. “There’s not much I can tell you. Sana and I were jogging along the river and my dog started barking and pulling me toward the bridge. That’s how we found the . . . found Rob. Once we realized what we were looking at, I called 911. That’s pretty much it.”
“Sana, you saw the body, too? What were you doing while Lila was on the phone?” Valerie leaned forward, as if what she said next could be crucial.
“I leaned over to see if he could be saved, but it was pretty obvious it was too late. I didn’t want to move him in case the cops needed to preserve the scene, so I just sat on the bridge by him until the ambulance came.”
“Obvious how?” Valerie asked.
Sana bit her lip. “You don’t want to know. I wish I didn’t know. I can’t get it out of my head . . .”
Her voice had gone all far away and hollow-sounding, so Valerie dropped the subject. She held out her glass to Sana, who silently refilled it, emptying the pitcher. Sana left for a few minutes, leaving Valerie and me to sip our drinks in silence. Wow, were they delicious. And potent. I made a note to ask Sana for the recipe.