Page 80 of The Protégé

“How are you doing? I miss watching you on Channel 7.”

“I’m doing other things now. How’s everything? You well? How are your kids?” I asked.

I’d never met his wife. She’d died from an illness when she first came to America.

“Thomas lives in California with his family, and Stacey lives in Boston. She visits often.”

“I’m so happy to hear that.” I held up a picture of Pablo. “Do you know him? He lived in an apartment not too far from here. He was murdered.”

Willam Wong took the photo and his eyes warmed. “Of course, I know Pablo. All the regulars who come into this laundromat know him. Kind man. Very generous. It’s sad whathappened to him.” He gave the photo back to me. “Are you working for a PI?”

“A close friend of Pablo asked for my help.”

“Come.” He waved me to the back of his office, which also had a TV screen showing various angles of the laundromat. Two people sat in the corner glued to their tablets.

I sat down at a couch with a coffee table.

“Want some jasmine tea?” he asked.

“No, thank you.”

He sat across from me, sipped his tea, and placed the cup down. “Pablo used to come here whenever he was in town. He had his own washer and dryer, but he liked coming here to talk to people. People loved him. He’s helped a lot in the community.”

“How did he help them?” I took out my little notebook, preparing to take down notes.

“Paying their rent, their utility bills, buying them food, and making sure their little ones had money for school supplies.” He sighed, looking sad. “I remember how the Browns, the Smiths, and the Nguyens were so grateful for his assistance. Winter months in New England are difficult, and paying for heat is always a challenge. Oil and gas prices are horrendous.”

“Pablo sounds like he was a good man.”

“He was.” Mr. Wong placed a hand to his heart. “When we found out he was murdered, the community did a small memorial in the community garden for him. They planted an apple tree in his honor.”

My heart warmed. These were the kind of stories that belonged in Musepaper. Stories that inspired people; stories that showed the positive side of humanity.

By the time I left Tumble Dry, I felt like I’d gotten to know Pablo. He would be someone I admired, respected, and wanted to be friends with. Mr. Wong even called up a few customersso they could give me details about Pablo. I appreciated that everyone wanted to find his killer. The info I’d gathered today didn’t give me any clues to why someone wanted him dead. No one saw anything suspicious in the days prior to his death.

As I headed to my car, I planned on adding a folder to the shared drive for Orion’s review. He probably didn’t know the effect Pablo had on the community. I drove to the community garden and studied the apple tree that stood tall and proud. Perhaps next year, it would bear fruits for the people to enjoy. Even in death, he would continue to give to those who mattered to him.

I didn’t know why, but I started to cry. I didn’t know this man, but his deeds had touched me. I took a photo of the tree and the boulder with his name engraved on it. No one was in the garden, so I took my time studying the herbs and flowers.

I slid into my car, getting ready to head to Mona’s Café when my phone rang.

I answered with a grin. “Hi, Elliot. About time you called. How’s Milan?”

“Incredible, darling. Everything is finalized. The previous owner will stay for the next month to help me transition. All the stylists here are talented! The salon is so chic, and my list of clients has doubled in the last week alone. The move is official. You must come visit.”

I could hear the joy in his voice. Elliot had talked about opening a salon in Europe, and this opportunity appeared at the right moment.

“Oh, I will. Is Jake excited too?” I asked.

“He’s very excited. He’ll be helping with the business side of things for the salon. Anything new with your slingshot?” he purred.

“It’s going okay.”

“Why do you sound sad?”

“I’m not sad. Just stressed.”

“When are you not stressed? But you can deal with it better than most people.”