“You too,” Skye replied, watching him head back to the restaurant.

  She drove around for a few minutes, keen to make sure the men weren’t trailing her. The last thing she wanted was for one of them to show up at Kris’s apartment unannounced. As the cool evening air struck her face, Skye was convinced the two men were working together. She might have messed up their plans to corner her into a deal, but to what end? When she was certain she wasn’t being trailed, she still used another route to get home.

  “That was fast,” a surprised Kris remarked as Skye walked into the apartment.

  “You can say that again,” Skye replied. “Got my food? I’m famished.”

  “Martin let you starve?”

  “Don’t ask. It turned out to be a blind date. I need to eat first before I give you the breakdown of what happened,” Skye said.

  Kris rubbed her hands. “This will be a good one. Sit down. I’ll warm you a plate.”

  Kris served a bowl of broth with naan bread and propped herself next to Skye, who was watching television. “You can tell me while you eat.”

  Skye didn’t get going until she had several mouthfuls of her meal. When she was halfway through, she lifted her head. “Martin wasn’t alone. He was with Linus.”

  Kris raised a brow. “What were they up to? They’re both suspects, right?”

  “To me, yes. I’m not sure the cops have figured it out yet. Anyway, I think they’re working together.”

  “On what?”

  “Deals. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were both involved in Marge’s death,” Skye said.

  “Why don’t you tell the cops? There’s no way you’re going to meet those two again. Not on my watch,” Kris said.

  Skye sighed. “You’re right. I wasn’t comfortable, that’s why I left so early. And yes, I’ll call the detective first thing in the morning.”

  “You mean tall, dark, and handsome Detective Declan Bowe?” Kris wiggled her eyebrows.

  “Stop!” Skye took a sip of water. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Girl, give a break. You know he’s hot, and you know he’s thinking the same about you.”

  “He’s trying to charge me with murder!”

  Kris pointed a finger at her. “No, he’s trying to find the real murderer. Mark my words. He’ll be your knight in shining armor.”

  Skye rolled her eyes. Sure, she thought Declan was cute, but she had no intention of discussing that with Kris. Besides, between trying to move forward with her property and being considered a murder suspect, the last thing she needed in her life was romance.

  “Fine. We’ll discuss it later.” Kris sank back into the couch in defeat. “But I do have good news for you. I know where you can get brown lace. The kind that’s perfect for a murder. I think the police will find it very useful.”

  17

  “So how do you get brown lace?” Skye asked excitedly.

  “Let’s finish watching this first,” Kris replied.

  Skye reached for the remote and turned off the television.

  “Hey!” Kris exclaimed.

  “I’m serious,” Skye said. “You know what the stakes are.”

  Kris snuggled into the corner of the couch and crisscrossed her legs yoga-style. “Okay. I once dated this guy. He ran a restaurant on the south side of town. They had good food, as Swahilis tend to do. Well, I didn’t know that it was a front. Many of his clients were shady guys. I’m talking about drug dealers, smugglers, brokers, and a few smart thugs.”

  “So, the restaurant was used to…sell drugs?” Skye asked.

  “I never found out all that happened there. I was there a few times, but I honestly never saw any deals or anything odd happening. This ex of mine—Izzie was his name—was a smooth operator. If there was one thing they might have been doing, it would have been money laundering,” Kris replied. “If we had dated for longer than two months, I might have learned more. I remember this time we took a drive to Mcheshi Avenue; it’s a beautiful road lined by street food vendors. Very popular place in that scene. That’s where drug dealers are found. Anything you want is there, including brown lace. Funny thing is, you couldn’t tell just by looking at it.”

  “It’s not full of junkies?”

  Kris shrugged. “I expected to see that, but I’m guessing there are enforcers who clear them out if they show up—to keep a low profile, if you know what I mean.”

  Skye nodded. “We should go there.”

  Kris shook her head. “No way! And do what?”

  “Just to scope it out. You never know what we’ll find. Besides, it will give me more juice to tell the detective.”

  “You mean tall, dark, and⁠—”

  “Enough already!”

  Kris groaned. “You’re no fun! Anyway, we can’t go there. It’s too dangerous. We’re not addicts. Let the cops handle it,” Kris said. “I’m sure they know about it. You can’t run it that long without the word getting out.”

  “Come on. What happened to the ‘anything goes’ side of you? We used to be more outgoing,” Skye said.

  “We’re wiser now,” Kris said. “You learn from your mistakes.”

  Skye downed the last mouthfuls of her meal.

  “Mistakes aren’t meant to stop us. Staying curious is the only way to get things moving,” Skye replied as she stood. “Tomorrow, we’re going for a drive, and we’ll call Detective Bowe after that. I’ll even treat you to breakfast.” She reached for the remote and switched the television back on. “Now we can watch this. I’ll get some snacks.”

  Downing a large bowl of potato chips and numerous scoops of ice cream, they both stayed up late watching movies from the 60s and predictably dozed off on the couch.

  A single warm ray of sunlight struck Skye’s face the next morning, waking her up. She rubbed her eyes, regained her bearings, and carefully eased off the couch. Kris was still fast asleep.

  It was half past eight, and Skye freshened up before waking Kris. As promised, Skye bought Kris breakfast and later that morning, they drove along the stunning coastline to the southside of town.

  Kris was right, Mcheshi Avenue was a remarkable sight. Tall trees with long branches formed a canopy over the two-way street, creating a cozy shaded area. Both sides had rows of wooden stalls with curio shops, fresh juice makers, and street food vendors. The vendors sold all kinds of coastal dishes, but undoubtedly the most common was shawarma, a roll stuffed with chopped up chicken or beef. The thin wooden tables and benches outside the food vendors invited you to a feast, and they all had a few clients.

  The street was buzzing with people on the sidewalks and crossing the street.

  “I can see it’s vibrant,” Skye said as they drove past two acrobats putting on their outfits, readying for street performances.

  “Yeah. It doesn’t have many cars passing through on most days, so the road can become a stage for some acts. It’s a great chill spot,” Kris replied.

  Skye parked the van at the only designated parking spot they could find—a shaded area a block away from Mcheshi Avenue. They didn’t mind this since the shade would protect the van from becoming a hotbox. Plus, they could approach the street shops as regular pedestrians without drawing too much attention.

  Once they re-entered the street on foot, Skye spotted the two acrobats performing some mind-bending tricks. They stopped briefly to marvel at the moves and gave them their first tip of the day.

  Soon, they walked up to the Swordfish Delights, which had four round tables-for-two set up on the sidewalk. Most stalls were too small to host a crowd, so the sidewalks were sacrificed as restaurant space. Skye guessed that the town council occasionally harassed the vendors because of this, and the vendors would comply briefly before returning to business as usual a few days later.

  At one of the tables sat a bearded, chubby man in a flowery shirt. He was sipping some black tea and took small bites out of a mahamri as if it was the last thing he’d have on earth.

  “Let’s eat here,” Kris announced, making a beeline for the man. “King Farah! Vipi? How are you?”

  The man looked up from his tea, and his face beamed. He rose and hugged Kris. “Kris, darling! Why did you leave me?”

  “It’s never for long, teddy bear. You know I always come back,” Kris said as she pulled out of the embrace. “This is my friend, Skye.”

  “She’s not going to give me the blues, is she?” King Farah asked as he shook Skye’s hand. Skye was smiling as she took in the interaction.

  “It depends. You should make her laugh then,” Kris said.

  “You know I don’t do it on command,” King Farah replied as he turned his gaze to Skye.

  Kris laughed and said, “Skye, this is an old friend of mine, King Farah. He’s a veteran comedian in these parts.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, King Farah. Are you the king of comedy?” Skye asked.

  “It’s just a stage name,” he replied.

  “I’ve always told you modesty doesn’t look good on you,” Kris teased.

  “Oh, if I was modest, I wouldn’t use it. Let’s call it a prophetic name,” King Farah replied.

  They laughed and sat down. Kris ordered some milk tea and more for King Farah. Skye had the tasty shawarma and some fresh mango juice, while Kris had bhajias, the sliced and fried circular potatoes chips, with chicken curry.

  “What brings you out here?” King Farah asked with a mouthful of food.

  “Food. I’m always eating here,” Kris said.

  His eyes narrowed. “I’m always eating here and haven’t seen you around. Do you do the graveyard shift when everyone’s gone?”

  Kris giggled. “Yeah, I’ve got the graveyard shift, whatever that means.”

  “It must be that because I know all the regulars here,” King Farah said.

  “How are things?” Kris asked, dodging his interrogation.

  King Farah shrugged. “I’m not riding my own bike yet, if that’s what you’re asking. I keep pushing the deadline three months forward.”

  “You need to organize your own show. I told you that’s where the money is. I’m still waiting to be first in line,” Kris said.

  “You know a stand-up comedy special needs money to set up. You wanna be my angel backer?” King Farah asked with a wink.

  “I’ll consider it if you do me a favor,” Kris said.

  “What kind of favor?”

  Kris leaned forward. “Tell me about brown lace.”

  King Farah grimaced and started coughing vigorously, as if choking. His eyes turned red, along with his face. He stood and paced around, coughing and beating his chest as he moved away from them.

  Kris rose. “Are you okay?”

  “I think he almost choked,” Skye said.

  As they moved toward him, they saw him cough out the obstruction. The street food vendor gave him some water. Minutes later, a now-composed King Farah returned to the table, wiping tears from his eyes. He sipped his tea and sat down again. “Sorry. Something caught my throat.”

  “I’m glad it wasn’t serious. I can’t remember how to do first aid,” Kris said.

  “No need to panic,” Skye remarked. “We were coming to help you when you spat it out.”

  “Hmm. I should have kept it going for a few more minutes,” King Farah said. “I might have received the kiss of life.”

  Skye laughed. “That’s not part of the first aid procedure for choking!”

  “I know. Good to know I’ve got two angels watching over me for different things,” King Farah said. He turned to Kris and lowered his voice. “You asked me something. We don’t talk about it like that.”

  “How do you talk about it?” Kris whispered.

  King Farah glanced from side to side before responding. “You just say you want to see the pharmacist. I’ll know what you’re looking for, but I won't let you go down that road because it never ends well for someone.”

  “It’s not for me,” Kris said.

  King Farah turned to Skye with surprised eyes. “It’s for you?”

  Skye shook her head. “I’m only here for information. I just want to know what it can do to a person.”

  King Farah took another sip of tea and cleared his throat. “It always leaves you six feet under. That happens either slowly as an addict or quickly as a target.”

  “As a target?” Skye asked.

  “It has a potent version that can poison you. Who do you want gone?” He leaned forward, pushed his plate away, and clasped his hands together on the table.

  Skye frowned and shook her head. “I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  “Good. So, why do you want to know?” he posed.

  “I’m curious,” Skye replied.

  King Farah nodded and drank the last of his tea in one gulp. He wiped his beard with the back of his hand, then let out a burp that made Skye raise a brow.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “I don’t want it, but I need to know more about it. There’s a lot at stake,” Skye said.

  “What are the stakes?”

  Skye chewed her lip, wondering how much she should tell him. He seemed nice enough and even wanted to protect them, but could she trust him? After several long moments, she leaned forward, keeping her tone as low as possible. “A neighbor of mine died. She was poisoned. I’m being connected to the death, but I want to clear my name. That’s all you need to know. Will you help me do that?”

  King Farah stayed quiet for what felt like a minute, staring at the tabletop. He then raised his eyes to her. “You’ll need to talk to Herbo. He says he’s out of the business, but I talk to him from time to time. He can tell you what to do. The others are too dangerous to approach.”

  “Is he the pharmacist?” Skye asked.

  “You can’t meet the pharmacist. Like I said, the rest are too dangerous to approach.”

  “Fair enough. Can you connect us to Herbo?” Skye asked.

  Kris shot her a look. “Skye, we talked about this…”

  “We’ve come this far. We might as well finish the job,” Skye said. “King, when can you hook us up?”

  “We can go right now, but it’s not without risks. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Let’s do it,” Skye said without hesitation as Kris frowned. “Do we need to drive there?”

  “No driving. It’s a five-minute walk,” he replied.

  After finishing their meal, Skye settled their bill and they left. As they walked, King Farah made a call and confirmed that Herbo was home.

  Skye took deep breaths to calm her nerves as they walked down the street. They were going to be just fine. All she needed was a little information and then they’d get out of there.

  Before they got to the end of the street, King Farah turned left and led them down a narrow dirt path, emerging into a little estate full of small houses made out of coral rock. Dirty-faced kids ran past in glee, absorbed in a game of cops and robbers.

  They soon came to a thatch-roofed house. The entrance once had a gate, which had been torn off long ago, leaving rusted hinges. The compound was large enough to fit two SUVs, but the rusted shell of a Volkswagen Beetle sat in one of the parking spots. Seated outside the main house was a bald, slender man wearing a vest, a pair of khaki shorts, and sandals. He sat under the shade of a coconut tree. He was alone.

  “Lucky to find you here, Herbo,” King Farah said.

  Herbo smiled without rising. “It’s good to take it easy sometimes.” He gave Skye and Kris the once-over. “Your guests?”

  “Yeah, my guests,” King Farah said. “Skye and Kris. We just had some late breakfast, and they wanted to check out the neighborhood. I said I’ve got a great friend of mine back here.”

  “Guests are always welcome,” Herbo said.

  “Thanks for having us,” Skye said.

  “They asked me about this place, so I brought them to the best hood historian I know,” King Farah said.

  Herbo chuckled. “I hope they’re not paying you to tell those lies.”

  King Farah held out his hands. “It was only breakfast, bud. That’s all I need to say.”

  They laughed.

  “So, what do you want to know?” Herbo asked.

  Skye licked her lips, wondering how to approach the subject. She didn’t want to shock him the way they’d shocked King Farah. Somehow, she needed to find a way to be a little more subtle.

  “Kris here told me there’s this great street which has some of the best street food. She wasn’t kidding,” Skye said.

  “We’re well known for that. It’s been passed down from generations living here,” Herbo said. “You’re not from around here. Are you?”

  Skye shook her head. “No, I’m relocating from New York.”

  Herbo nodded. “Karibu sana, you’re welcome to the land of Hakuna Matata.”

  Skye pointed at the Beetle. “That was yours?”

  “Yeah. Her name was Aisha. She ran for decades before finally hanging up her boots,” Herbo said.

  “Those engines can run forever. Judging from the state of the shell, you took good care of her,” Skye remarked.

  “You’re into cars?” Herbo asked.

  “Yeah. I have a thing for Volkswagens,” Skye said, almost admitting that she drove one. She quickly swallowed the comment. If he knew about her van, it would make her easier to track down.

  Herbo smiled. “I like the sound of that. I hope to rebuild her one day.”

  “I hope you keep her stock,” Skye said.

  “I might have to break your heart. Having lived the way I have, I need a little excitement as I age,” Herbo said.

  Skye chuckled. “That’s totally understandable. I heard there are other things here that bring excitement.”

  Herbo nodded. “There sure are. What are you interested in seeing?”

  Skye hesitated for a moment. “I heard about brown lace and got intrigued.”

  Herbo shot King Farah a look. King Farah gave a slight nod. “I vouch for them. They’re not cops.”