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.
As I drove, I helped myself to the sweet banana spring rolls, the crisp wrapper crackling in my mouth, little shards of caramel littering my dress and clinging to my freshly painted lips. I probably should’ve waited to eat, but I needed to fortify myself. This snack was meant for the pageant committee, but the thought of reentering that world left me scrambling for comfort food.
A world I hadn’t been a part of since my mother died. One where beauty was the only commodity a girl had, where a single slipup—in heels, in hitting the wrong note during your talent portion, with a boy—could somehow be enough to derail all the hopes and dreams your mother had heaped onto your shoulders. My mom had pushed me into one contest after another when I was a kid, determined that I would pick up where she had left off. Her winning her Philippine province’s big beauty pageant had gotten her to the U.S. and no further. Her dreams for herself had ended once she reached the safety and security of a life with my father in quiet, safe Shady Palms.