Fortune Cookie (Culinary Mystery)

by Josi S. Kilpack

  Sadie retrieved some Tylenol from her purse and looked at the clock. It was eleven o’clock. No one from Next Faces had returned her call, and Ji hadn’t arrived either. Would it seem impertinent of her to call him to see if he were still coming? Why would he have changed his plans and not told her? She didn’t want to do anything that interfered with the progress they’d made so far.

  She decided to call Jack, but caught him in the security line at the airport. He sounded upbeat, and she imagined Carrie with him, both of them nervous about this step they were taking. Not wanting to interrupt what the two of them were building, Sadie gave him a basic overview and informed him that Wendy had money to cover her own final expenses. Jack was relieved, thanked her and Pete for all they were doing, and apologized again for not helping. Sadie didn’t even let him finish that final thought and ended the phone call soon after.

  Talking to Jack had eased some of her tension, and perhaps the Tylenol had kicked in too because she felt ready to go back to the sorting. She knew she’d feel a lot better once this task was finished. Twenty minutes later, Ji buzzed from downstairs, and Sadie ate a granola bar from her purse while waiting for him to come up the elevator, grateful she hadn’t called him prematurely.

  “Good morning,” Sadie said as she let him into the apartment.

  Ji looked at the miter saw in the middle of the living room floor, and she explained about the ongoing bathroom remodel. Mario had come and gone a few times today along with another man who had helped him bring up a new tub and a vanity, but the bedroom door was currently shut, muting the sounds of music, voices, and construction.

  “I can’t say I love how eager the landlord is to rent out the apartment, but I’m glad we haven’t gotten in each other’s way.” She headed toward the office, glad to have Ji’s help even though he was two hours late. Maybe he would take over the paper sorting for her. Even as she considered it, however, she realized that despite how much she disliked the task, she didn’t want anyone else doing it. The idea that Ji might throw something away that she would deem important was a risk she wasn’t willing to take.

  Ji followed her into the office and leaned against the doorframe. “When I came by for the keys to Wendy’s apartment, Mr. Pilings asked me for half a month’s rent for July.”

  Sadie settled into the desk chair. “Are we obligated to pay it?” It seemed rather heartless, considering the circumstances. Mr. Pilings had obvious conflicts with Wendy, was quick to move in the next tenant, and was pushing for rent even though Wendy had been dead for several weeks? Pretty callous. Sadie made a note to ask Pete for more details regarding the conversations the police had had with the landlord. She also wanted to talk to him about the letter she’d found about the claim Wendy had filed against the landlord. Since the police hadn’t found the letter, they might not know anything about it.

  Ji shrugged. “I don’t have the money to pay her rent.”

  “I don’t think we’re obligated to pay it, though we can ask the detectives about it. If so, Wendy had quite a bit of money in her account,” Sadie assured him.

  “She did?” Ji asked, obviously surprised.

  Sadie nodded. “I’m not sure what it will take for us to be able to access it, but Detective Lopez might know.” She thought about how she and Ji needed to make some decisions regarding Wendy’s burial, but it didn’t feel like the right time. Though they’d ended yesterday at a better place, there was still a fragility between them. Talking about Wendy’s desecrated body could wait until they found a better groove with each other.

  Sadie explained how Pete had moved everything from the bedroom into the common area. “It was wonderful that the two of you were able to finish that room yesterday,” she added. “It puts us into the homestretch in regard to finishing up.”

  “So, we’re just left with the office,” Ji said, scanning the room.

  “And I think we’re almost done with that,” Sadie said, looking at the clothes still on hangers and the boxes stacked on the floor of the room. “I’m afraid I’ve gotten a little distracted sorting through this box.” She waved toward the storage container that was still halfway full and picked up some random papers. “It seems as though she was really organized in some ways, but completely scattered in others. This whole box of papers was in the closet, but it’s recent bills and things. I can’t figure out what it was doing in there.”

  Ji crossed his arms over his chest. “When I was little, she’d have times when she cleaned obsessively, was always on the go, hanging out with friends, buying new stuff, and then she’d crash and spend weeks in bed, not shower, not answer her phone, not make me go to school.”

  Sadie hated to admit a tiny bit of self-recognition in his description. Though she was much more even-keeled, the obsessive way in which she’d focused on the different investigations over the last few years and the way she’d then crashed after what had happened in Boston were similar in some ways to Wendy’s behavior. She also thought of the assessment she’d made regarding the cycles of Wendy’s life she’d seen reflected in the different statements. It’s not the same, she told herself, but it made her uncomfortable anyway.

  “That must have been hard to cope with,” Sadie said out loud.

  Ji shrugged. “I remember trying to wait things out until she got happy again. But then she was pretty unpredictable when she was feeling good, and she’d be gone a lot. It was hard to know what to wish for.”

  Sadie resisted apologizing again for not having been a part of his life. If she’d had any idea . . . But she had wondered. She’d just chosen to keep things out of sight and out of mind. It made her feel terrible now that she knew the truth, but apologizing again didn’t seem as though it would help.

  “Do you, by chance, remember if certain times of the year were worse than others?”

  “Summer was always good,” Ji said with a nod. “And it seems like the worst times were when I was supposed to be in school. I was really far behind when I moved in with my dad. I wasn’t caught up with my age group until I was in junior high.”

  She made a note to do a bit more online research to verify her suspicions of Wendy’s mental illness. “You’re obviously very smart, in addition to being talented.”

  He looked away, shy and embarrassed. “Anyway . . . Sorry I was so late. My brother-in-law was supposed to open for me, but he confused the date. I’ve got double coverage until 5:30 though so I can be here when Shots comes around four.”

  “Shots?”

  “Oh, that’s my friend who’s going to pick everything up for the Chinese Share House. He was able to get a truck for this afternoon and has some extra guys coming to help him. It’s not the best time of day to be on the streets, so he wants to get it done quick—before the weekend.” He looked around the room. “Should I start with the closet?”

  “That would be great,” Sadie said with a smile.

  Ji nodded and went into the kitchen to get the garbage sacks. He returned and unceremoniously began taking things out of the closet and stuffing them into the bags, only taking time to remove the hangers, which he threw into a pile in the middle of the floor.

  Sadie continued sorting through the messy box. Had Wendy kept every piece of mail she’d received in the last two years? After a few minutes she thought of something that Ji might be able to help her clarify. “What do you know about Wendy’s relationship with Rodger after the divorce?”

  “Not a thing,” Ji said, still stuffing bags full with clothes. “I never met Rodger. I think she didn’t want me to know how much better she was living with him, and the newest man in her life was never a topic I pushed.”

  “Didn’t she ever send you any money? Child support?”

  Ji shook his head. “My father is first-generation Chinese-American. He didn’t understand child support any more than he understood filing taxes or labor laws.”

  Sadie swallowed another lump of regret regarding Ji’s growing up years. “You said something yesterday about your mom leaving you for
Rodger—is that what happened?”

  Ji shrugged. “It seemed that way.” A new tension had entered his movements, making Sadie suspect that her questions were bothering him. She didn’t want to make this any harder for him than it already was. She focused on the papers again.

  After a few minutes, she looked up and caught sight of something Ji was stuffing in a garbage sack.

  “Wait!” she said, jumping to her feet.

  Ji startled and turned to look at her as she crossed the room in three steps.

  “What?” he said.

  Sadie knelt down and reverently reached into the bag. She felt around, found what she was seeking, and pulled it out, cradling the object in both hands as though it were a baby animal.

  She looked up at Ji. “This is a Louboutin.”

  “That is a shoe.”

  Sadie turned back to the garbage sack in search of the mate. Louboutins? Really? Oh please, let me and Wendy wear the same shoe size.

  Chapter 16

  Sadie found the other shoe—a glossy black with the trademark red sole—and returned to the office chair after asking Ji to set all shoes aside. He gave her a look but did as she asked, throwing all the shoes into a pile in the middle of the room. Sadie had only ever seen Louboutin shoes on TV and in windows of high-end stores, but she knew that this single pair of shoes likely retailed for two thousand dollars. They also looked brand new. And they were kept in the overflow closet?

  “Did you pack up any shoes from the other closet?” Sadie asked Ji.

  “Yeah.”

  “Where did you put them?”

  “In one of the bags for the share house.”

  Thank goodness Shots hadn’t come for the pick-up yet!

  Twenty minutes later, Sadie stood back from the kitchen table where she’d laid out fifteen pairs of name-brand shoes she’d dug out of two different bags. There were more Louboutins, as well as a pair of Jimmy Choo boots, a few pairs of Prada, and some Louis Vuittons. Though Sadie wasn’t a fashionista, a rough calculation told her that there was more money on that table than in Wendy’s bank account.

  Ji came out of the office carrying two bags of clothes. “You’re going to keep the shoes?” he asked, watching her watch the gleaming leather.

  “No,” Sadie said, though it was perhaps the hardest word she’d ever said out loud. Refusing the shoes was nearly as difficult to do as it had been to realize yesterday that her mother’s jewelry rightfully belonged to Ji. The shoes were gorgeous, and they fit her perfectly; she’d tried on each pair and nearly drooled over the idea of keeping them for herself. But she couldn’t imagine wearing them any more than she could imagine feeling comfortable in Wendy’s clothes. Ji had said that since Wendy had given him nothing when she was alive, he wanted nothing from her now, and although Sadie’s practical side said that was ridiculous, her emotional side agreed completely, now that she had the opportunity to in some way benefit from Wendy’s untimely death.

  She didn’t tell Ji her intentions—to sell them on eBay in order to have more money for Wendy’s expenses; who knew how long it would take to get the bank to release her funds—and instead looked at him and pointed at the shoes.

  “There’s close to twenty thousand dollars’ worth of shoes here.”

  “A new grill for the restaurant costs twenty thousand dollars.” He made no attempt to disguise the disgust in his voice, and Sadie didn’t blame him.

  Wendy hadn’t paid child support, she’d had no contact with her son who worked seven days a week to support his family, but she had twenty thousand dollars’ worth of shoes?

  Ji returned to the office, leaving Sadie alone. After a few more minutes of admiring the shoes—and taking a picture of them that she sent to her friend Gayle—Sadie retrieved a box and carefully packed up the shoes, wrapping some of the heels in newspaper to keep from damaging any of the others. She put the boxes by the photos, taxes, and landscape painting to ensure that they didn’t accidentally get loaded with the items intended for the thrift store, then she picked up the box of photos and returned to the office where Ji was still working on the closet.

  “I found a box of pictures earlier,” Sadie said, holding it out to him. “There are some of you as a child in here.”

  When Ji didn’t move, Sadie took off the lid and placed the box on the corner of the desk. He pulled a sweater off a hanger and stuffed it into the bag before crossing the room to her. He reached into the box and pulled out a photo of him hanging from some kind of pull-up bar, his shirt hiked up to show his skinny little-boy stomach. Sadie thought he almost smiled, but then he threw the picture back into the box. “You can have them if you want,” he said. “They’re of no value to me.”

  Sadie chose not to argue with him as he returned to the closet. Instead, she replaced the lid and took the box back into the living room with the other things to take back to the hotel. When she did take the time to go through all the pictures, she’d set aside the ones of Ji and see if he, or maybe Lin Yang, wanted them. Maybe once the intensity of all of this wore off, he’d change his mind.

  Sadie returned to the office, and while Ji finished emptying the closet, she continued the monotonous sorting. They worked in relative silence for another ten minutes before Sadie’s phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number that showed up on her Caller ID, though local, and Sadie immediately thought about the message she’d left for Next Faces.

  “This is Sadie.”

  “Ms. Hoffmiller?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Rodger Penrose. You left a message.”

  Sadie sat up straighter and felt her heart trill in her chest as her brain snapped into position for this discussion. It wasn’t some receptionist returning Sadie’s call, it was Rodger Penrose himself. “Yes, I did. Thank you for calling me back.”

  “You’re Wendy’s sister?” His voice was soft and cultured, charming, which unsettled her since she’d been building him up in her mind to be some kind of derelict. She remained focused, however.

  “Yes, I’m Wendy’s younger sister.”

  “I didn’t realize she had a sister.”

  It hurt to hear yet one more person not know about Sadie’s existence, but she pushed it aside. She hadn’t told Pete much about Wendy either, after all. “She didn’t talk about her family much, then?”

  “No, I’m afraid she didn’t. What can I help you with? I assume you’re calling in regard to her unfortunate death.”

  “I’m here in San Francisco to clear out her apartment,” Sadie said.

  “I’m very sorry for your loss. It’s been a horrendous situation.”

  “Yes, it has been. Did the police contact you about it after the fire?”

  “I’ve talked to them twice, and I followed the story on the news and in the paper, though it’s pretty much disappeared by now. Have they made any progress in determining what happened?”

  Was he fishing for information? “Not really,” Sadie lied, keeping the news about the inconclusive cause of death to herself. “They’re starting to get forensic information back, though. It’s all so shocking.”

  “I agree, it’s truly tragic. Of course I was little help to their case. Wendy and I have been divorced for almost fourteen years.”

  Sadie thought about the highlighted phone bill and, with her free hand, pulled the pile of bills in front of her. Part of Wendy’s day-to-day life consisted of calling Rodger’s business, but he seemed to be positioning himself as being distanced from Wendy, which seemed silly since he had to know there would be a record.

  “Is there any way I could talk with you in person?” Sadie asked, choosing her direction in the exact moment she thought of it. “I’m only in town for a few days and have been estranged from my sister for many years. I’m trying to get a feel for her life, and I would love the chance to sit down with you and talk about her.”

  “Oh, well, I don’t know that I would be of much help. Like I said we were divorced a long time ago.” He said it with a hint of a chuckle in his vo
ice that on another day might have made her feel silly for asking. Today it didn’t.

  “But even your impressions of her from fourteen years ago would be helpful. I have very little to work with.”

  He paused a moment and when he spoke again, his voice wasn’t as honeyed. “I’m afraid I have a very busy day and . . .”

  “Please,” Sadie said in her best pleading tone, which was at least half sincere. “I know Wendy was far from perfect, and I’m sure she caused you some heartache, but all I have left of her is her history and you were obviously an important part of that. Can I please come and talk to you? Maybe we could meet for lunch? Or I could come to your office?”

  “Perhaps the phone would be—”

  “I would prefer a face-to-face meeting if there is any way you can make it work. I know it’s asking a lot but, please, Mr. Penrose, it’s all I have left of my sister.”

  He paused again, and she held her breath. Plan B would be going to his office and weaseling her way into a meeting without his invitation. If it came to that, then she could talk to his office staff as well and see what they knew. But although she would take full advantage of plan B if she needed to, she would appreciate a willing conversation on Rodger’s part. Hostile witnesses were tricky.

  “Well, I was just about to head out for lunch,” he said in surrender. “I work in the financial district, so I’m not sure if you can get here in time—”

  “My hotel is in the financial district,” Sadie said eagerly. Not that she was in the financial district at the moment, but being even a tiny bit familiar with anywhere in this city gave her confidence. “There’s a soup restaurant near my hotel,” she said, thinking of the sign she’d seen yesterday. It was the only eating establishment, other than Choy’s, that she could think of off the top of her head. “San Francisco Soup Company. Do you know it?”

  “The one in the Galleria?”