Granny Apples 05 - Ghost in the Guacamole (19 page)

“So someone paid Quickie LA to be their cover and waited for the right moment?”

“It's a possibility,” Phil said.

Emma started texting. “I'm going to update Jeremiah now about this.”

“Good thinking,” Phil agreed. “Maybe it will encourage him to keep us updated. I'm still not sure he's telling us everything he knows.”

T
HE
corporate offices and manufacturing plant of Roble Foods were not close to Dodger Stadium, but definitely in the vicinity. Located in another downtown industrial area, the office was off Main Street on a side street that dead ended at its gated entrance. The buildings sprawled across acres of real estate like a small brick and concrete city.

“Here's a good reason to buy Roble,” Phil noted after giving their names to the guard at the gate and the purpose of their visit. “I'll bet the Ricardo family bought this property for a song decades ago compared to what it's worth today.” After clearing them, the guard waved them through and directed them to a building and parking lot just off to the right of the guard shack. It was a two-story concrete building and the only building with a lot of windows.

A receptionist greeted them when they entered. She was in her forties with a trim figure dressed in nice dress slacks in gun metal gray and a crisp light blue blouse with short sleeves. She was stationed at a white counter in front of a curved staircase. The simple name plaque on her desk identified her as
Christina
. Adorning the walls in the reception area and along the wall going up the staircase were colorful posters of Roble's various commercial food products. The receptionist greeted them with warmth but no smile. Her attractive face was splotchy. “Ms. Whitecastle and Mr. Bowers?” When they nodded, she said, “Rikki is expecting you. Isabel will be down shortly to get you. Please have a seat.” She indicated some cushioned chairs near the front entrance with a shaky hand.

They had barely taken their seats when Emma received a text from Jeremiah. All it said was:
VERY interesting!
She texted back:
At Roble Foods right now.
She showed the text to Phil.

“Ms. Whitecastle? Mr. Bowers?” asked a woman coming down the open staircase. She was long and lithe and dressed in a summer dress that showed plenty of leg. She looked a lot like Ana Gonzales with large luminous eyes and long thick black hair, just older and without the full face of youth.

“I'm Isabel,” she said when she reached them. Isabel smiled, but her eyes did not. They were underscored by dark crescents of worry or lack of sleep or both. “Please follow me and I'll take you upstairs to the executive offices.”

When they reach the top of the stairs, Isabel guided them down a short corridor past an open workspace. Several employees, both men and women, sat in cubes working, but there was no chitchat or laughter from anyone. A thick molasses of sorrow covered the atmosphere, leaving it with a sticky film you could almost touch, interrupted only by the sound of ringing phones and the tapping on computer keyboards. Occasionally a worker would raise their head to see who was with Isabel.

They passed several offices with doors hanging open displaying paper-laden desks but no occupants in sight. One door was closed. The name plate on the door read:
Tomas Mendoza
. The next office door was open. It was a spacious corner office and the name plate indicated it was the office of Lucinda Ricardo. It was into this office that Isabel directed them. “Rikki is in a meeting right now with the leadership team, but should be free soon. Please have a seat.” With a graceful hand, she indicated a sitting area against a bank of windows. “Can I get you coffee or something else to drink?” When they both declined, Isabel said with another sad smile, “My desk is right outside. Please don't hesitate to ask if there's something I can do for you.”

“Thank you, Isabel,” Emma said. “I'm sorry about what happened yesterday with both T.J. and Lucy. I'm sure you're all in shock about it.”

Her eyes turned down and she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, her top lip leaving a smudge of lipstick behind. “Yes. We're all pulling for T.J.”

Fighting back tears, Isabel left. Emma turned to Phil. “Not a single word about Lucy. Interesting.”

“Knowing Lucy's volatile personality,” Phil said, “are you really surprised?”

“I suppose not.” Emma sat down and put her handbag down on the table in front of the sofa.

Phil remained standing and scanned the paintings on the wall. “Who knows, the employees might even have broken into a chorus of ‘Ding Dong! The Witch Is Dead.'” He walked over to one painting and studied it up close. “I think Lucy painted these. At least this one.”

“Really?” Emma got up and went to the painting. It was a primitive landscape. “That's quite good.” Together they moved to inspect the rest of the paintings on the wall. “All of these are hers,” said Emma, “except the one on the end. T.J. told me she was talented. What a shame that her story about wanting to go away and just paint was a ruse.”

Emma moved on to inspect some photos on the credenza behind the desk. “There are several photos here of Lucy with different people, but none of Lucy with her father or sister.” She turned to Phil. “Do you think she got rid of those when she found out that Felix wasn't her father?”

“Maybe,” answered Phil, still inspecting the paintings.

“There you guys are,” said Granny, slowly coming into view. “Where are we?”

“Hi, Granny,” Emma said, sidling up near the ghost.

Phil turned and looked in the direction Emma was speaking. “Do you have anything for us, Granny?”

The ghost shook her head. “That Carlos is sticking like glue to the spot he's at. He even pulled out a schoolbook and started studying.”

Emma shook her head in Phil's direction. “That hardly seems like something someone in hiding would do,” Emma said. “I wonder what's going on.”

“Granny,” Phil said, “you still don't have an idea where Carlos is?”

“Nope. He's at the same fast-food joint that I can see.”

“You couldn't read the food wrappers or cups or anything like that?” Emma asked. “Most places have their name plastered on everything.”

“That's the thing,” answered Granny. “It's not one of them big places that's on every corner. There are no arches or clowns or anything like that. It's very small.”

Emma shook her head at Phil. “It doesn't sound like a big chain. More likely it's a mom-and-pop place. Emma then said to Granny, “What about Felix?”

“He's disappeared,” Granny said. “Can't find him anywhere.”

“Emma. Phil. Thanks for coming here,” said Rikki, coming through the door. Instead of the clothing she usually wore at the restaurant, Rikki was dressed in a skirt and blouse with stylish high heels on her feet. The outfit made her look more mature and businesslike, and Emma wondered if it was to help portray the image that she was now in charge in light of the two tragedies and in spite of the large and very ugly bruise on the left side of her face. Like Isabel's, Rikki's eyes were ringed with dark circles and her shoulders sagged as if carrying heavy weights. She didn't look like a person in charge. Rikki Ricardo looked like a woman who needed a couple of days in bed. She closed the door to the office and approached them.

“How are T.J. and Chef Lopez doing?” Emma asked.

“Pretty much the same as this morning,” Rikki answered in a voice laced with exhaustion. “I'm going back to the hospital once I finish up here.” She indicated the sofa. “Let's sit over here. I can't quite bring myself to sit behind Lucy's desk. It's like it has bad karma or something.”

“The poor child looks about to drop,” noted Granny.

Phil and Emma took seats on the sofa, and Rikki took a seat on the matching chair. The arrangement was much like in her office at the restaurant only larger and much more plush. Once they were seated, Phil asked, “How is everyone here handling what has happened?”

Rikki shrugged. “As well as can be expected. I had a meeting with our outside counsel first thing this morning about how to proceed, followed by a very long meeting with the executives. Together we redistributed the workload. I will be the interim CEO until this mess is sorted out, and T.J.'s vice president of finance will be the interim CFO until T.J.'s return.” Rikki paused to swallow hard after mentioning T.J. “I've asked Hector Gonzales to step into my current spot as director of restaurant affairs and as manager of the restaurant.”

“How is Hector doing?” Emma asked. “He and his daughter Ana seemed very fond of T.J.”

“They are,” Rikki answered, “as well as Isabel, Hector's other daughter. Their two families are very close. T.J., Isabel, and Ana even refer to themselves as cousins though they aren't related. Both girls had big crushes on T.J. when they were little. This has hit them very hard. Hector just left. He was going to go to the hospital to visit T.J. and Lupe over his lunch break but I told him to take the rest of the day off.” She sighed deeply and her eyes squeezed together. “T.J. is very well respected and liked by everyone.” She played with the engagement ring on her left hand, turning it as if screwing off her finger.

“I thought Isabel looked like Ana,” said Emma. “So they are sisters?”

Rikki nodded. “Yes. They've been very loyal to my family. I hope when the dust settles that I'm able to reward Hector in a way my father neglected.”

“You want to make him a shareholder?” Phil asked.

“Yes, I do, providing the company still isn't sold out from under me.” She got up and went to the window. “That's one of our factories on the other side of this building. We have another out near San Bernardino. I'm going to do my best to hold on to everything, even if I'm the last one standing.”

“But didn't Lucy's arrest stop the sale?” asked Phil.

“You'd think so, wouldn't you?” Rikki whipped around. “But Steve Bullock of Fiesta Time was on the phone to me bright and early like a vulture scouting a carcass. Spouting well wishes for T.J. with one side of his mouth and upping the offer out the other side.” She crossed her arms and hugged herself as if chilled.

“Some people have no decency,” snapped Granny, going to stand beside Rikki.

“I told him that it would be impossible to move forward since there can be no vote at this time. At least Lucy's arrest and my mother's disappearance resulted in some good.”

Emma got up and went to the window to stand beside Rikki, she and Granny flanking the young woman like bodyguards. “Have the police told you where your mother is?”

Rikki nodded. “Yes, she fled to Mexico.”

“And you've heard nothing from her at all?” Emma asked.

“Not a word, the little coward.” Rikki spit the words out. “I'm beginning to think she had something to do with this. I know the police are thinking that.” Rikki sagged against the window ledge. “But why? What did she have against T.J. or me? I know I was Dad's favorite and Lucy was hers, but it still doesn't make sense. Especially since she was so happy for me yesterday morning about my engagement.”

Emma placed an encouraging hand on Rikki's shoulder. “I'm sure she'll turn up and explain herself.” But even as the words came out of her mouth, Emma only half believed them. “Have you talked at all with Lucy since the shooting?”

“No.” Another word spit on the ground like bad food. “I don't want to talk to her, at least not right now. I have other people, people who love me and who are struggling to comprehend what has happened, that I need to worry about.”

Emma walked back over to the sofa and sat. “Rikki, there's something we learned today that we want to talk to you about.”

Rikki returned to her chair and sat, waiting with expectation. “Is it about my father? Have you been in contact with him again?”

“No,” Emma said, “but I believe he might have been there when T.J. was shot. I'm trying to reach him to see if I can learn anything from him.”

“We were looking into that tour bus that came in yesterday,” Phil said.

Rikki's eyes widened with surprise. “The tour bus? But why?”

“You said it showed up unexpectedly, right?” asked Emma.

Rikki nodded. “Out of the blue.”

Emma looked at Phil, encouraging him to continue. “Rikki,” he began, “did you offer Quickie LA a special promotional offer to drop by yesterday with a busload of people?”

“No,” Rikki responded immediately. “We never do promos in the summer. We don't have to. We're always busy. We only do them during the off-season.”

“Quickie LA claims they were given a special promotion to send that tour van and its occupants to your restaurant yesterday,” Phil explained.

“We believe the tour bus customers were used as a diversion during the shooting,” Emma added. “By filling up the restaurant, everyone was too busy to notice anyone who should not have been there.”

“Are you kidding me?” Rikki's mouth fell open, causing her to flinch in pain and lift her hand to her left cheek. “So it was someone from the restaurant?”

“Not necessarily,” Phil answered on the heels of her question. “T.J.'s attacker could have been someone who slipped in with the tour and left just as easily in all the hubbub.”