“Stop your gossiping, will you? Now you won’t believe who this is—”

“The girl they think killed Derek Winter. Supposedly got arrested for dealing drugs as well.” She rolled her eyes at her husband. “Of course I know who she is. What do you think people been talking about since she came in here?”

Martha looked me up and down. “You don’t look like no killer. Though I can’t say anyone around here would blame you if you were.”

“Martha!”

“Oh come off it, Stan. Everyone around here hated that boy and knew he was full of it.”

“So Derek was well-known around here?” I asked.

Her lip curled. “He started coming here early last year, almost every day for a month straight. Tried just about every item on the menu and found fault with all of them. Never had a kind word come out of his mouth. No compliments, not even a thanks.”

The young waitress came around to refill Adeena’s coffee mug. “He was also a terrible tipper. Surprise, surprise.”

We hadn’t had a chance to talk to her since Stan took our orders, but she was good about working the room and making sure everyone had what they needed. Knowing what I did about food service and how tips were basically what paid your bills, that made me even madder at Derek. He was a poor tipper at our restaurant too, but I thought he just had a grudge against me and my family. The fact that he was like that with everyone told me everything I needed to know about the person he’d become.

“Yeah? He always tipped poorly at my place, but I figured it was ’cause he hated me. Can’t believe he was like that with everyone,” I said.

Adeena had polished off her waffles and was nursing a cup of coffee she’d doctored with a bunch of cream and sugar to cover the actual taste. “Tells you a lot about what kind of person he is. Or was, I guess I should say. He ordered coffee from the cafe all the time and never left a tip.” She shrugged. “Though he always insisted that Kevin be the one who made it for him, so it’s not like I was missing out on anything. Still, not cool.”

Martha put a hand on her chest, shaking her head. “I really don’t know what was wrong with that boy. His mother is so sweet. A little troubled, but sweet. And she worked so hard to raise him all on her own after his dad abandoned them.”

The waitress jumped in. “You’d think it would’ve gotten easier after she married that real estate guy, but I don’t know. She seemed quieter. Went out less. And Derek became . . . Derek.”

We were all silent for a moment before I asked, “So he was like this with all the restaurants he reviewed?”

The three of them nodded in unison. Stan said, “He chose a local place, frequented it for a month or so, wrote a bunch of vicious reviews about the place, then when he thought he’d caused enough damage, he moved on to the next one.”

Martha added, “I guess we were lucky that he was foolish enough to choose us first. We’ve been here in Shady Palms for over thirty years. He was just starting out and didn’t have a following yet. The only reason the health inspector came by was ’cause he’s friends with Derek’s stepfather.”

“Wait, what? The health inspector is friends with Mr. Long?” Hmm, Yuki did say the health inspector was a family friend of Derek’s. Mr. Long must’ve been their connection.

Stan nodded grimly. “Best friends. Which makes me wonder if that’s how he knew to visit that day we were having problems. Who else would’ve tipped him off? Why else would he have hurried over here if we weren’t scheduled to be inspected? Real fishy if you ask me. But it’s a small town. He’s the only guy we got. Who am I gonna report him to, you know? And like I said, not like we lost a ton of business or nothing. So we let it go. The Torres family though, that was ugly.”

I perked up and tried not to look at Adeena, but I knew we were both thinking that was the next name on the list, the owner of El Gato Negro.

“The Torres family? Who are they?” I asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

Stan and Martha exchanged glances. “They used to own a Mexican restaurant on the other side of town. But now it’s, uh . . . under new ownership, I guess you could say.”

“Let me guess: that was Derek’s work?”

“Bingo.”

“What’s their story?”

“They were new to town. You know how it is. People didn’t know them, so when they opened their restaurant, business wasn’t exactly booming. But it wasn’t bad. Till Derek started writing his reviews. That’s when the whispers started.”

“What were people saying?”

Martha fidgeted a bit. “You know, the usual. Food poisoning and unhygienic practices. Things like that.”

I could tell there was more to the story. “And?”

Stan shook his head. “Like I said, it got ugly. There were claims that the owners had, uh, what’s the right . . . undocumented? Yeah, undocumented immigrants working for them. Don’t know if that’s true or not, but they started getting threats soon after.”

Now it was time for me and Adeena to exchange glances. “Someone started a rumor that they had undocumented workers and that’s all it took to shut them down?”

Martha twisted a napkin between her fingers, not meeting our eyes. “The threats eventually escalated to vandalism. Someone shot out all their windows.”

I gasped and Adeena looked sick.

Stan shook his head in disgust. “I know. Luckily no one was hurt. They got kids, too. Young kids. Didn’t want them exposed to the hate that was spreading, so they packed up and left.”

“Last I heard, they moved in with the woman’s parents back in the city and are staying with them until they find work and a new place,” Martha added, shaking her head. “Such a shame. We chatted with them at church a few times. They were a real nice family.”

“How long were they in Shady Palms?” I asked.

“All said and done, maybe less than a year?” Martha hazarded, looking at Stan, who nodded agreement.

Yikes. To uproot your life, move to a small town to raise a family and start your own business, only to be run out by a pitchfork-wielding mob . . . they would’ve been my number-one suspects, but how could they kill Derek if they weren’t even here anymore? Unless . . .

“The people who took over the restaurant. Were they friends with the Torres family?”

“I think they’re related, actually. That’s what I heard, anyway. They look nothing alike, so not sure how true that is,” Martha said.

So maybe they had something to do with it after all. If the new owner was close to the family that had been driven out of town, it was possible they felt the need to retaliate. Seemed more likely than Stan and Martha, anyway. As they’d said, it had a slight impact on their reputation but not their business. The neighborhood locals clearly loved the place and the food was excellent. Speaking of which . . .

“I do believe it’s dessert time. Martha, can I get a slice of your lemon icebox cake?”

Stan frowned. “You haven’t finished your meal yet.”

“Oh, and a box for my leftovers. After all this good food, I’m gonna need to go for a run later. Knowing I have this meatloaf waiting for me will provide a heck of a push.”

He chuckled and handed over a Styrofoam box while Martha went to get our desserts. I’ve never known anyone with the capacity for sugar that Adeena has. She’d demolished her waffles, which she’d drowned in syrup, and then ordered a slice of triple chocolate tuxedo pie, another sugar bomb. If I ate the way she did, I’d have lost a foot to diabetes by now.

Martha slid our desserts in front of us, and Adeena and I hummed in appreciation after taking our first bites. The lemon icebox cake was cold and creamy, with a background sweetness and a whole lot of tang. As I often did when sampling delicious desserts, I tried to deconstruct what was in it.

Graham crackers, cream cheese, whipped cream, and a ton of lemon curd seemed to be the basis of the recipe. Similar to the ginger calamansi pie I’d made, but simpler and no-bake, if I decided to buy the graham crackers instead of making my own. Definitely worth experimenting with, as I had a jar of calamansi curd tucked away in the fridge just begging to be used. I made a note on my phone to try this later, maybe as a summer offering.

As per usual when eating out, Adeena and I swapped plates so we could taste each other’s desserts.

“What do you think, girls?”

I grinned at Martha. “Delicious. I love how the lemon cake is sweet and tangy, but you don’t go too far in either direction.”

Adeena added, “It’s the perfect counterpoint to my chocolate pie, which is divine, by the way. Rich, creamy, and so satisfying.”

Martha beamed and left to go ring up a customer.

Stan nodded his satisfaction. “I like you girls. Feel free to come by anytime for some good food and gossip.”