Granny Apples 05 - Ghost in the Guacamole (5 page)

T.J. broke eye contact with Emma and again relaxed in his chair. After casually draining his coffee, he put the cup down and leaned again across the table. This time his eyes held anger and a fierceness she'd not seen before. “So that's your game, Emma Whitecastle? You will tell Rikki whatever the highest bidder tells you to tell her? Did Lucy already get to you with a nice fat wad of cash to say that to Rikki?” He shook a finger in the air. “It would be so like Lucy to do something like that. Elena probably told her about you right after Rikki set up today's meeting, giving her time to make contact.”

Emma bristled. She was used to people not believing in her gift, but being called a swindler along with a fraud was too much. “I beg your pardon,” she said to T.J. in a voice laced with ice. “You may or may not believe in the living being able to communicate with the dead, but I will not tolerate you claiming I'm for sale.”

He flashed her a slick grin. “I checked you out, Emma, and not just your show. You used to be married to Grant Whitecastle, that ass on TV. He and that sleazy talk show of his make a mockery of decent people by sensationalizing their problems and tossing them into the public feeding frenzy.” He shook his head in disgust. “You're no different.” He paused. “So what did Lucy pay you or offer to pay you?” he asked. “I'll double it for you to tell Rikki what she wants to hear.”

Emma threw her napkin down on the table and stood up just as Rikki came back out onto the patio. “I'm sorry, Emma, but we had an emergency with a supplier. Do you have to leave?”

Emma gave T.J. one last frozen stare before turning to Rikki. “Yes, I'm afraid I must run along.” She picked up her purse and her packages.

T.J. got to his feet. “It was interesting meeting you, Emma.” He didn't offer his hand and Emma didn't offer hers. Rikki didn't seem to notice the coldness between the two.

As Emma walked toward the exit, she thanked Rikki for the meal.

“Can we set up another time to meet?” Rikki asked with eagerness. “I'd really like to try and reach my father and grandfather as soon as possible.”

Emma did her best to push T.J. Mendoza and his accusations out of her mind and concentrate on Rikki and what Felix had told her. Felix had said Rikki was in danger if she didn't consent to the sale of the restaurant. He'd also hinted that his own death was suspicious. If Rikki Ricardo was in danger, Emma wanted to help her, or at least find out why Felix had said such a thing. But she certainly didn't want to be accused of being a fraud with a price tag. She didn't need the headache.

“I have a very busy schedule coming up,” she told Rikki. “So I may not be able to do it as soon as you might like. Let me think on it.”

She could tell Rikki was disappointed by her answer, but nodded with understanding just the same. Emma glanced back at the table. T.J. was still standing, watching the two of them. If she did meet again with Rikki, she'd want to do it without his interference, but she also doubted he'd allow that. He was on alert, ready to protect Rikki, and certainly not ready to accept any communication from Felix Ricardo as being real.

“I
SHOULD
punch that guy in the nose,” Phil Bowers said after Emma told him about her meeting with the Ricardos and T.J. Mendoza. “How dare he imply that you'd make crap up for the highest bidder.”

They were cuddled on the sofa in the den of Emma's parents' stately home in Pasadena. Emma split her time between this house and the home she'd built in Julian, which stood on Granny's old homestead across from Phil's ranch. Phil had had a meeting in Los Angeles that day and was staying the night in Pasadena before heading back down to San Diego. Like Emma, he also had two homes—the ranch, which he shared with his aunt and uncle, who raised him after his parents died, and a stylish condo overlooking the ocean in San Diego near his law practice. Phil had taken Emma and her parents out for dinner. The Millers had gone up to bed after returning home while Phil and Emma had settled in on the sofa to watch the news and enjoy a glass of wine.

“I'd like to punch his lights out myself,” said Granny, who was hovering nearby. “It's a good thing I wasn't there.”

After Emma relayed Granny's comment and pointed Phil's attention in the right direction, Phil said to the ghost with a grin, “And what would you have done, Granny, passed through him a dozen times? That would show him.”

The tiny ghost put her hands on her hips and moved closer to Phil. “No need to get uppity about what I can and can't do, cowboy. It's the intent that's important.”

Emma laughed and acted as translator. Finished with that chore, she turned back to the ghost. “Did you have any luck finding Felix Ricardo, Granny?”

“No, I didn't, but I'll keep trying. So,” said the ghost, nearly bouncing with excitement, “does that mean we're on the case?”

“There is no case, Granny,” Emma told her.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Granny with sarcasm. “You say that every time and every time there turns out to be a case.”

“I don't want to get mixed up with that crazy family and all their intrigue,” Emma said. “I barely know Rikki, and I didn't like being called a cheat and a fraud.”

“The cheat I understand,” said Phil, “and I object to that, too, but you get called a fraud all the time, Emma. It comes with doing what you do, and you've never seemed to mind it before.”

“True,” Emma said, “and I really don't. I understand that communicating with spirits is difficult for people to understand, and I can hold my own against the nasty remarks. It's not that different from when I was married to Grant and our lives, both the truth and lies, were splashed across the tabloids. It's just that except for Rikki, I don't really like these people, especially Lucy. I understand T.J. wanting to protect Rikki, but Lucy was just plain nasty and combative.”

“People can get that way when they're forced to follow someone else's dream and not their own,” Phil explained. “If she really wants to make her mark on the art world and feels she can't as long as she's connected to the family business, I can see why she is so resentful of Rikki's standoff. Although I don't understand Lucy's refusal to simply cash out and leave it behind, especially if the rest of the family is willing to let her do that.”

“That would seem the simplest solution and a win-win for everyone,” Emma agreed. “It's like Lucy won't be happy until she destroys the business.”

Granny paced the den. “What about the way Felix dropped that bomb about his own death and that the same might happen to Rikki if she didn't sell?”

“I didn't like that, Granny,” Emma said. “Not one bit.” She took a drink of wine and sorted through her thoughts like sorting dirty clothes from clean. “It sure sounds as if Felix didn't die from his fall during his heart attack like everyone thinks. And it's the only thing keeping me from deciding to ignore the Ricardos altogether. I want to know if the threat to Rikki's life is real. If it is, maybe we can stop it or at least warn her.”

“Now that's the tough-minded Emma I know.” Phil pulled her tighter to him. “Just so long as you don't end up in danger.”

Emma looked at Phil like he'd lost his mind. “Are you going soft in the head, Phil? Every time I look into one of these situations, I end up in danger. And often you do, too. Or did you forget about those bullets flying around just a few months ago?”

“It keeps the spice in the relationship,” he said and kissed her with a loud smacking noise. “I just don't want you getting yourself in danger without anyone to watch your back.”

“I've got her back!” announced Granny.

“Granny's got my back,” repeated Emma to Phil.

Phil turned his eyes to the place he last knew Granny was standing. “And I appreciate that, Granny.” Emma pointed several feet away, by the fireplace, and Phil adjusted his focus. “I really do. But you can't physically protect her like I can.”

“I need you both,” said Emma, quickly seeing that Granny was preparing to argue with Phil. “Granny's my eyes and ears and, Phil, you're my muscle. What more does a girl need?”

“I think,” said Granny, somewhat mollified by Emma's words, “that you should go back to the restaurant and investigate the place where Felix died. I think he hangs out there sometimes. Didn't Rikki say she often feels his presence?”

After Emma filled in Phil, she said, “Yes, Granny. That's a great idea. Maybe I just need to make one more contact with Felix to determine the severity of the situation. If I believe Rikki to be in real danger, I'll warn her.”

Emma got up from the sofa and retrieved her purse from the kitchen, where she'd dropped it. When she returned to the den, she was holding her cell phone and one of the packages from Olvera Street. She handed the bag to Phil. “Here, I bought you something.” While Phil investigated the contents of the bag, Emma started texting someone.

“Who are you texting?” asked Granny.

“Rikki,” Emma answered. “I'm seeing if I can stop by tomorrow early in the day before the restaurant opens and gets busy. She probably won't see this tonight, but at least she might in the morning.”

Phil's deep laughter broke the quiet. In his hands were the bride and groom Day of the Dead dolls. “Is this your way of saying it's time we take the plunge?”

Emma gave him a quick kiss. “Consider it an informal proposal.”

“Not a formal one?” he asked with a grin.

“I'll leave that up to you,” she said, looking at him with the slyness of a fox. “I'm just saying I wouldn't be opposed to it.”

“Well, it's about time!” Granny said with enthusiasm.

Emma's phone vibrated. “It's Rikki,” she said with surprise, looking down at the message. “She said for me to stop by Restaurante Roble tomorrow at ten and that she's excited to see me again.” Emma looked up. “Maybe I should tell her to be alone and not tell T.J. or Lucy about the meeting.”

Phil put the Day of the Dead dolls down on the coffee table and shook his head. “I doubt she'll say anything to her sister, but you tell her to leave T.J. out of it and it will sound suspicious, like you are definitely trying to flim-flam her. I'm sure T.J. has already warned her about you.”

“I agree with Phil,” said Granny. “Best to act normal. If that guy's there, we can take him.” The ghost bounced from foot to foot with the raised fists of a boxer.

After Emma translated, Phil said, “I'm coming with you tomorrow.” When Emma started to protest, he added, “I'd already cleared my calendar for tomorrow in case my meeting today needed more time. And the rest of the week I was planning to spend in Julian, so I'm free to stay here and help. I'd also love to see Olvera Street again. I haven't been there in decades.”

“Yeah,” agreed Granny. “I can be the brains and Phil the brawn.”

Emma knew better than to argue when Phil and Granny joined forces. Quickly she responded to Rikki's text, saying she'd be at the restaurant at ten in the morning. She left off any mention of T.J. Mendoza or Lucy Ricardo. A minute later, Rikki confirmed the meeting.

“Okay, that's done.” Emma picked up her wineglass from the coffee table and took a drink. “Tomorrow we'll try to contact Felix, see what he has to say, and convey the information to Rikki. Then we're out of there.”

“What?” asked Phil with disappointment. “We're not staying for lunch?”

“Okay,” Emma agreed. “We'll have lunch and
then
we're out of there.”

Granny floated over and pointed to the figures on the coffee table. “Just make sure you two don't end up looking like those guys.”

Emma looked down at the skeletons dressed in wedding finery but did not relay Granny's words to Phil.

“W
HEN
we're done here,” said Phil as they made their way from the parking lot to Olvera Street, “let's play tourist and check out Union Station across the way. As often as I've taken the train up from San Diego, I've never taken the time to look around the station, and it's a beauty. In fact, if we don't feel like Mexican food or lingering at Roble, there's supposed to be a great restaurant inside the station called Traxx.”

“You're on,” Emma told him, linking her arm through his as they walked. “After all, who knows what will happen today, but Rikki is going to be disappointed either way.”

Phil glanced at her. “How do you figure?”

“If I don't contact Felix,” Emma explained, “she'll be disappointed. If I do and tell her he wants her to sell the family business, she won't be happy either. It's a no-win in either circumstance.”

“Good point.” Phil pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

“Who are you calling?” she asked.

“I'm looking up Traxx. With those odds, we might as well make lunch reservations with them.”

Emma laughed. “Put the phone away and let's just wing it. You know how spirits have a way of surprising us.”

“Speaking of surprising spirits, where's Granny this morning?”

“She went on ahead to the restaurant to see if Felix is there.”

Unlike the day before, Olvera Street was very quiet. Most of the kiosks and storefronts were still closed, locked, and shuttered, especially the smaller ones. A few people milled about getting their businesses ready for the day. Some were sweeping the street, others setting up displays. The quiet held a peaceful old world charm that belied the fact that the bustling downtown of Los Angeles was just a short distance away.

“Here we are,” announced Emma when they reached the restaurant.

Restaurante Roble, like many other businesses, was getting ready to start its day. Carlos and another young man, both dressed in their waiter's slacks but wearing white T-shirts, were rolling up security gates and cleaning off the patio tables. Nearby a stack of crisp white tablecloths waited to be placed on the tables along with the usual condiments.

Emma approached Carlos. “Hi, Carlos. I was here yesterday.”

He glanced at her, then Phil. Without stopping his work, he said, “I remember.”

“I have an appointment this morning with Rikki but I'm a few minutes early. Is she here yet?”

“Yeah, she's inside.” Carlos stopped working. “Do you want me to go get her?”

“No, that's okay,” Emma told him. “If it's all right, I'll go inside and find her myself.”

With a shrug that said he didn't care either way, Carlos went back to his work. “Doesn't matter to me. She's probably with Chef Lupe.” In Spanish he said something to the guy working with him, who studied Emma before giving her a friendly nod and tight-lipped smile from under a thin wispy mustache. He seemed around the same age as Carlos.

Once inside the restaurant, Emma whispered to Phil, “What did Carlos just say to that guy? I caught Lucy's name.”

Phil leaned close and whispered back, “He called you the nice lady who made Lucy go loco yesterday.”

“That's all he said? Seemed like more.”

“Well,” continued Phil, suppressing a grin, “let's just say he doesn't like Lucy very much and leave it at that.”

Emma nudged Phil. “Something tells me you're going to be very useful today.”

Phil grinned at her. “You mean I'm not most other days?”

“It's about time you two got here.” Granny popped up in front of them. “Felix was upstairs in his office.”

“Was?” asked Emma. “He's not still there?”

Granny shook her head. “He was losing energy, so I told him to go recharge and come back in a few minutes or so if he wants to help his daughter. He said he would.”

“Thank you, Granny,” Emma said to her. She turned to Phil. “Granny says Felix was here, but agreed to return shortly to help.”

Inside, the restaurant was neat and compact. The décor was stylish and modern Mexican. Soft blues, greens, and pinks had been artfully used, along with artistic tiles that lightened up the heaviness of the dark wood tables and chairs.

“Emma!” called Rikki. She waved from the far end of the wide hallway where she stood with a man in a white chef's coat, indicating for them to approach. When Emma and Phil reached them, Emma realized it was a woman, not a man, with Rikki. She introduced Phil. Rikki, in turn, introduced them to Executive Chef Lupe Lopez. “This is the person who makes and guides our magic here.”

Chef Lopez was a squat woman in her mid to late thirties, thick and brown as a redwood, with close-cropped spiked dark hair and a round serious face. Her voice held a trace of an accent.

“I greatly enjoyed the meal you made for me yesterday,” Emma told the chef with a smile. “I had the grilled citrus shrimp and fish. The seasoning was perfect and the cactus delicious.”

Chef Lopez gave her a slight bow. “Thank you. That's an updated version of what had been a long-time staple at Roble.”

“I brought Chef Lopez in about a year ago,” Rikki explained. “Right after my father died. I wanted her to freshen up the menu, adding healthier modern options along with the traditional dishes. She's done a great job. She also consults on the food truck menus, which is why they continue to be so successful.”

“Mexican food is so much more than beef tacos and enchiladas,” the chef said, her thick brows knitting to let them know how serious she was about the subject. Before anyone could answer, the chef excused herself. “I must get back to work and make sure everything is ready for the day.”

After Chef Lopez left, Emma said to Rikki, “I love the décor. Is that also your idea of blending modern Mexico with tradition?”

Rikki nodded with pride. “Yes. The tables and chairs have been here forever and are as solid as rock. The walls used to be a dark neutral with lots of cheap Mexican ornaments hung on them. You know, like a lot of the stuff you see outside in the stalls.” She took a deep breath. “The plans for the redecorating were approved before my father died. I'm sorry he didn't see how well it turned out.” She glanced around the tidy room, then looked at Emma and Phil. “After he died, I almost didn't go through with the renovation, but Lucy encouraged me. Now I realize it was just to make the restaurant more attractive to a buyer.”

“Chef Lopez didn't work for your father?” asked Phil.

Rikki shook her head. “Not here in the restaurant. She'd been brought in originally only as a consultant on the food trucks since we already had an executive chef. But Dad and I had hoped she would one day take over the restaurant kitchen, too. Raul Solano had been our executive chef for decades and Dad was encouraging him to retire. My father understood that we had to modernize both in decor and food to continue to grow. When Dad died, Chef Raul retired and that opened the way for Lupe.”

Rikki started to lead the way back to the dining room. “Let's sit down. Would you like some coffee or something?”

“What I'd like,” answered Emma, “is to see your father's office. Would that be okay?”

“Sure,” said Rikki. “Follow me.”

Rikki took them down the hallway and past the customer restrooms until they reached a wide back staircase. Across from the staircase was a huge pantry, its large door open to reveal shelf after shelf of food goods and gleaming refrigerators. They followed Rikki up the stairs. Upstairs was as large as the restaurant but divided into rooms. Rikki gave Emma and Phil a quick tour. “This is where we store paper goods and extra linens,” she explained, tapping on a closed door. She opened the door across from it. “Here is the employee bathroom and lockers for their personal items. This was once a large private residence and these rooms were the bedrooms and original bathroom.” She went down a hall. “This is Hector Gonzales's office.” She opened the door to another large room with a large oak desk, a few chairs, some file cabinets, a bulletin board covered with pinned papers, and a massive whiteboard with a schedule printed neatly across it. “I shared this space with him until I moved into my father's office.”

At the end of the hall was an open door. Rikki took them through it. It was an office just a little bit larger than Hector's but less cluttered and configured differently. Shaped in a long narrow rectangle, it ran across the front of the building with two windows that looked out onto Olvera Street. The windows were open, and the sound of nearby traffic from the busy cross street could be clearly heard.

“You must have redone these rooms when you did downstairs,” noted Emma. “They're all fresh and cheerful. Even the bath and locker room.”

“Yes,” Rikki said. “We weren't going to spend the money to do it, but since Dad died here, I knew I couldn't work in this office unless I fixed it up. Then it seemed foolish not to give the whole place a fresh coat of paint. I think it helped morale, too. My father was loved by his employees and the redecorating and painting gave closure to the tragedy for many of them.” Rikki tapped the desk. Unlike the rest of the furnishings, it was a sleek modern design on which sat a laptop and scattered papers. Behind it was a lovely painting of Olvera Street. “I also moved my father's big desk into Hector's office. I couldn't bear using it knowing he'd died hitting his head on it. Hector loves the desk. I think it keeps my father's memory close for him.”

Emma took a closer look at the painting. “Was this done by your sister? It's really good.”

“Yes, it was,” answered Rikki. “She did it years ago. I think she might have been in high school. It has always hung in this room but used to be between the windows. When Dad died, I asked Lucy if she wanted it back and she told me she didn't care if I burned it.”

Phil went to the window and looked out, then turned to Rikki. “Emma told me you're the manager and Hector the assistant manager. How do you divide duties?”

“I do all the accounting and books and special menu planning with the chef,” Rikki explained. She walked over to a large brown leather sofa against the far wall and picked up clothing carefully draped over one side. She took the clothing and hung it on a coat hook attached to a nearby door, which Emma guessed to be a closet. “My uniform for today,” she explained. “Though I'd much rather wear these,” she said, indicating the yoga pants and T-shirt she was currently wearing. She pointed at the sofa. “Please have a seat.” Emma and Phil sat side by side on the sofa while Granny floated in and out of the room looking for signs of Felix's return.

Rikki rolled her ergonomic desk chair near Emma and sat down. “Hector oversees the employees except for the kitchen staff; that's done by Lupe. He also orders all supplies except for food and produce, also done by Lupe. Hector and I share front-of-the-house management during operating hours so that neither of us has to be here all day, every day. Hector's off on Wednesdays, like today. I'm usually off on Mondays. During our slow season, we try to give each other whole weekends off.”

“But this is your busy season, right?” asked Phil.

Rikki nodded. “Summers and school vacations bring in more tourists. Several times during the year there are special events here on Olvera Street and no one gets a day off until they are over.”

Emma put her bag down on the floor and leaned toward Rikki, gently patting her arm. “I know it might be difficult, but can you tell me about the day your father died?”

Rikki took a deep breath. “It was a Saturday in June, Father's Day weekend,” she began, speaking slowly and swallowing a few times. “We were slammed with customers. Every table in the place was filled and people were waiting outside. Even though it was a busy time of year, Dad had given Hector the whole weekend off so he could go visit his oldest daughter, who had just had a baby. I was downstairs working with the staff. We were so busy I didn't even notice that I hadn't seen Dad in a while. When the rush was finally over, I went back upstairs and found him on the floor.” She pointed to a spot near one of the windows. “Right there. I called 911, but he was already gone.”

“You said yesterday he hit his head on the edge of the desk. That's quite a distance from the desk,” Emma said, noting that Rikki's desk was set at an angle between the wall opposite the sofa and the far window.

“Dad's desk was positioned between the windows and took up a lot of the floor space in here. By putting my desk in this position, I get to look out the windows and open up more of the room.”

Phil stood up and went to stand where Rikki had said she found her father. “So his desk was here?” He spread his arms to indicate the location. Rikki nodded. “Emma told me he had a heart attack and fell, striking his head on the corner of the desk, which would have been here?”