Homicide and Halo-Halo (Tita Rosie's Kitchen Mystery #2)(4)
I was spared from answering when Lola Flor cut in. “She’s fine. She doesn’t need to talk to a doctor. Now what exactly do you want us to do about this?” she asked, pointing to the note with her lips.
“I was hoping you could tell me all you know about this pageant and the people involved. Has there ever been a problem before? The department may think it’s a hoax, but I’ll be damned if I let any of the kids get hurt.”
Tita Rosie frowned at his use of a swear word, but said, “I’m glad you’re taking this seriously, Jonathan. Miss Teen Shady Palms is very important to our town.”
That was an understatement. Shady Palms lived for this pageant. So many girls tried out for it—or were forced into it—that it had weekly elimination rounds so there’d be a manageable number of contestants for the final event that took place at the Founder’s Day Festival. Momtestants attempting to bribe the judges and getting into fistfights over the evening dress selection at the nearby mall were not unheard of. But actual threats against the pageant itself? Never. As much as I hated the concept of beauty pageants, I knew Miss Teen Shady Palms was a necessary evil. It promised a generous college scholarship, which had allowed quite a few ambitious women, like me, to make it out of this tiny town situated a few hours outside of Chicago and see what the world had to offer.
Something I’d felt extremely guilty about since I officially quit school at the end of last year just a few credits short of receiving a degree. I had already taken a leave of absence to help my ex-fiancé set up his new restaurant, but had planned on going back once we were more settled. After catching him cheating on me, though, I’d hightailed it back to Shady Palms to lick my wounds in peace, leaving my entire Chicago existence, and responsibilities, behind me. Not that that’d been going so well.
Tita Rosie continued, “Other than that, I’m afraid there’s not much I can help you with. I don’t really follow the contest the way everyone else does.”
Not sure if it was Lola Flor’s influence, but Tita Rosie had never been big on the pageant scene. From what I remember, it was my mom who had given her the idea to have special viewing parties for the Big Four (Miss Universe, Miss World, Miss International, and Miss Earth, obviously) to drum up business for the restaurant. If you wanted to draw a large Filipino crowd, the surest way to do so—outside of karaoke, of course—was to have a viewing party for a beauty pageant, a basketball game, or a boxing match.
“Don’t worry, we’ve got it covered. How much time do you have, Detective? We can give you a rundown on all the past winners and judges, plus the rivalries and scandals. We could write a book about the Thompson family alone,” Ninang Mae said.
The Thompson family was one of the oldest and most prestigious families in Shady Palms and had funded the pageant since its inception. They owned several businesses and dabbled in construction, but the most lucrative was their sporting goods store that had adopted the athleisure trend early on. The current head of the family, Rob Thompson, had been the subject of several scandals in his youth, many involving the pageant his family ran. Now in his early fifties, he seemed to have calmed down and reveled in the role of pillar of the community—his generous donations and fundraising attempts had increased tourism, brought sports and the arts back into our local schools, and his grants for local farmers and gardeners had enabled Elena and her mom to build the greenhouse that housed their various edible plants and herbs.
At the mention of the Thompsons, Detective Park gave a smile that looked suspiciously like a grimace. “I’m afraid I don’t have time for all that right now, but let’s make an appointment to go over your information in depth. Before I go, Lila,” he turned to me, his gaze so direct and intense, I flinched instinctively, “keep your eyes open when you’re around these pageant people. Let me know if you hear anything suspicious. Even if it doesn’t seem like a threat, I want to know about anyone who may have a beef with either the pageant or the people involved.”
“Ooh, you want me to go undercover?” I gave him a mock salute. “Miss Congeniality, reporting for duty.”
Bernadette snorted. “Miss Congeniality, yeah right.”
Detective Park held up his hands, signaling it wasn’t the time for a fight. “You’re not going undercover. I just want you to be vigilant. I’m hoping it all comes to nothing and we have a great Founder’s Day Festival. But you’re a smart girl. Observant. We’ll have increased security on the day of, but I’m hoping to nip this thing in the bud before then. You are not to take action in any way, just report to me if you see or hear anything suspicious. Are we clear?”
I nodded. “Crystal. The first meeting is in a couple of hours, so I’ll let you know if I learn anything.”
“Good.” Detective Park drained his mug and wiped the crumbs from his face. “Thanks for breakfast, Rosie. I’ll stop by again soon, OK? Maybe we can grab dinner sometime.”
My aunt smiled at him and said that would be great. She stood to let him out, but he paused at the door.
“I shouldn’t have to say this, but watch yourself, Lila. We don’t want a repeat of last time.”
And then he was gone.
Chapter Three
After Detective Park left, the breakfast party broke up. Bernadette needed to get to the hospital, and the restaurant would be opening soon. I spent the next few hours going over my aunt’s books, getting so into my task that I lost track of time. I had planned on baking something for the first pageant committee meeting, but it was too late now. I grabbed a tray of my grandmother’s freshly fried turon to bring with me and hurried out to my ancient SUV.