Sana returned with cups and another pitcher, this one full of ice water. “Time to hydrate.”
We grumbled but complied since we needed to sober up before going home. Valerie ran a finger around the frosty rim of her glass. “Sana, you said you didn’t want to disrupt the scene. Do the police think Rob was murdered?”
Sana, who’d been pouring herself a drink, sloshed the water all over herself. Valerie apologized, handing Sana a clean handkerchief from her bag to dry herself off.
I scooched a little closer to Valerie. “You probably know more than we do. Since you’re family and all. What did the police tell you?”
“Just that he was found dead by the river. No cause of death or anything like that. I wonder if Beth knows more.”
I couldn’t place the name at first, but then I remembered Rob was married. “Oh sugar, his wife. Does she like sweets? Have any dietary restrictions? I should probably pay my condolences to her, too.”
Valerie gulped down her glass of water and poured another. “What for? You didn’t even know her.”
There was a sulkiness to her voice that spoke volumes about Valerie Thompson and her relationship with her brother’s wife—a childishness and pettiness that I recognized. She did have a point, though. It wasn’t my place to investigate, and after the last time, I couldn’t say I was all that eager to jump back in. But I had to admit to a morbid curiosity. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was already involved somehow. It wasn’t just finding his body—Detective Park showed me letters threatening the pageant and then a day or two later, one of the judges was dead. Could these things possibly be linked? Maybe it was a coincidence, but I couldn’t ignore the timing. Did this mean the rest of us involved were in danger?
Even if there was no nefarious plot surrounding the pageant, this was Shady Palms. Not sending a condolence casserole during times of distress was our version of a slap in the face. Whether or not you knew the person, etiquette dictated that a grieving person should not be expected to prepare their own meals and it was up to the community to provide.
I ran my finger down the condensation on the glass, trying to look nonchalant. “She just lost her husband. A little bit of kindness wouldn’t hurt, right?”
Valerie snorted again. “Kindness won’t get you far with Beth. But good luck. Let me know if she tells you anything interesting.” She put down her glass and sighed. “I bet she gets everything. All these years and I still have no say in what happens with my family’s legacy.”
I nudged the cookies closer to her. She’d had way more to drink than me and could use something in her stomach.
“You’re older than Rob, right? How come he became the head of the company after your parents passed instead of you? You seem much more responsible than Rob. No offense to your brother,” I added.
A sad, bitter smile tilted Valerie’s lips as she reached for another ube cookie. “You’re right about that. I’d be damn good at running the company. But my parents didn’t think I was a good fit. I didn’t study business, after all. Plus my ‘radical politics’ might upset our investors.”
She paused to take a large bite of her treat, and I did the same, savoring the light sweetness and crisp yet chewy texture that I loved.
Sana also helped herself to a cookie but broke it in half before indulging. “Forgive me for asking, but what exactly did your parents consider ‘radical politics’？”
Valerie rolled her eyes. “You know, wild things like decent pay and benefits. They also hated that I got a master’s in women’s studies and wanted to teach at a community college before taking over the company. A waste of time and money, according to them. Still, they might’ve gotten over it if . . .”
“If what?” I prodded.
Valerie straightened up, looking at me and Sana carefully. “If I hadn’t told them I had no interest in marrying to strengthen our business and political connections, or in producing an heir. My parents stressed that we were the Thompson Family Company. If I didn’t have a family, who would it go to? They couldn’t risk our legacy being passed down to an outsider. My brother may not have had a head for business, but he could produce an heir. Or at least, that’s what we thought.” Valerie shook her head, letting out a bitter laugh. “And here he is, dying without any kids. Typical Rob.”
Sana shook her glass, watching the ice cubes clink against each other. “I can understand that. You said you have no interest in marrying for connections, but what about love?”