The Deadly Hunter

7

“What are you doing here?” Astri demanded as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan walked through the door of Didi’s Café. She wiped her flour-dusted hands on a dish towel. “Oh, forgive me, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. You are always welcome, Qui-Gon. Except not just now.”

“Don’t worry, Astri, we haven’t come for a meal,” Qui-Gon told her.

“Jenna Zan Arbor is due with her party any moment,” Astri said distractedly. “One of the servers hasn’t shown up. I haven’t finished the banja cakes yet. The water won’t boil for the pashi noodles, and my sauce is too spicy!”

“It smells delicious,” Obi-Wan said helpfully.

“Thank you. If only I could feed them with smells! How does the place look? Fligh was supposed to come by and sweep, and he never showed up, that rascal. After all Didi has done for him!”

“I have never seen the café look better,” Qui-Gon assured her.

Astri had tried to brighten the place with ornate candles on the two long tables she had pushed together. A long pink cloth was on each table, and the plates and glasses looked clean and sparkling. But she could not hide the general air of disrepair of the place. The walls were dingy with the years of smoke and dirt, and the floor was pitted from the marks of thousands of boots and scuffles.

“There was no time to paint the inside,” Astri said, noticing Obi-Wan’s glance around. “And no time to tear the place down and rebuild, either.” She gave a comical grimace.

“I’m sure everything will go fine,” Qui-Gon said. “We’ve just come to talk to Didi for a moment. Is he here?”

“He’s in the back. I told him to stay out of my way.” Astri’s dark eyes twinkled. “I think I scared him. He actually listened to me.” Suddenly, she craned her neck and stared out the window. “Stars and planets, it’s them!” Astri gave a surprisingly loud bellow. “Renzii! Our customers are here! Renzii—”

She was still bellowing as the door opened.

A tall woman dressed in a gray shimmersilk gown underneath a rich purple cloak stood uncertainly in the doorway. Her gleaming blond hair was intertwined with silky fabric. “This is Didi’s Café?”

Hurriedly, Astri wiped her hands on her stained apron, then held one out for the woman to shake. She had rubbed a berry stain on her apron, and the hand she offered was blue. The woman stared at it and did not take it. Astri quickly tucked her hand behind her back.

“Yes, yes, come in. You are so welcome. I’m the owner and chef, Astri Oddo.”

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan faded back. The woman’s party crowded behind her. They glanced around the cafe, surprise on their faces. Obviously they had expected a grander restaurant for their meal. They were from various worlds, but all had a prosperous look. The men were dressed in fine tunics and jackets, the women in shimmersilk gowns or jackets. One aristocratic-looking female wore a jeweled turban. Her light blue eyes widened in dismay as she surveyed the cafe, and she quickly gathered her tunic closer around her.

“There must be some mistake,” Jenna Zan Arbor said.

Just then Renzii the waiter raced out of the kitchen and skidded to a stop in front of the party, still buttoning his tunic. “Welcome, come in, enter, this way,” he babbled.

“I think we’d better leave Astri to her guests,” Qui-Gon murmured to Obi-Wan. “It seems her hands are full.”

They walked back toward Didi’s private office. They pushed open the door. Didi sat in a chair, his back to them. He didn’t turn.

“Didi? Is everything all right?” Qui-Gon asked.

Slowly, the chair swiveled around to face them. Didi’s dark eyes were full of tears. “I fear it is my fault,” he said.

“What is your fault, Didi?” Qui-Gon asked gently.

“It’s Fligh,” he said. “He’s been murdered.”