Текст книги "Fry Another Day"

Автор книги: J. J. Cook

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

FIVE

“What do you mean by that?” Uncle Saul asked him. “The police think someone pushed a refrigerator on top of the man? In that small area?”

“It’s something about a strap that had been holding the refrigerator in place,” Miguel said. “It looks as though it’s been cut.”

I listened as I started cleaning and putting things away. We’d have to move the truck today, and everything had to be strapped down.

How could the police even tell the difference between a strap breaking and a strap being cut?

“I hope that’s not true,” I finally remarked. “Why would anyone want to kill Reggie?”

Uncle Saul laughed. “Maybe it was someone who ate his food.”

“Now that’s mean.” I stored away the remaining flour, baking powder, and shortening. I hoped never to work with sweet potatoes in biscuits again. It was possible to do, but the biscuits weren’t the best I’d ever made.

Ollie and Delia weren’t back yet, which meant they hadn’t sold the last five biscuits. Oh well. I hadn’t expected to win all the challenges. I hoped we wouldn’t be sent home yet, but it was a possibility. Each day, team members who didn’t win the challenge could be sent home.

I took off my hat and let Uncle Saul do the rest of the cleanup. I had a small bottle of cool water that I shared with Crème Brûlée in the front of the truck.

Crème Brûlée rolled on his back, showing me his soft, fuzzy tummy. I tickled it gently while he pretended to swat at me as though he didn’t like it. Everything was a game with him—except looking for his food.

The police were still swarming all over the Dog House right in front of me. I thought about poor Reggie making it all the way here, only to end up under his refrigerator before he had a chance to take the first challenge of the race.

I always checked all of the appliances, shelves, and supplies in the back of the Biscuit Bowl before I moved it from place to place. I made a mental note to double-check from now on. It was always better to be safe.

Courtesy of the Sweet Magnolia Food Truck Race, all the teams would be put up at hotels for the night. The idea was to finish in one location and announce the winners—and losers. Everyone who wasn’t kicked out would go on to Columbia, South Carolina. We’d spend the night there and then face our challenges in the morning on Tuesday.

Mobile felt a long way off. I wasn’t joking about being homesick for my normal, appreciative customers and my friends. I missed my old diner. Being part of the race was exciting, but strange.

Sweet potatoes in biscuits? I was amazed anyone would eat them.

The loud buzzer that sounded could be heard up and down the main street. That meant the challenge was over. Everyone would gather at the cool-down tent again.

“I guess that’s me.” I stroked Crème Brûlée and we rubbed noses. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry. I’ll leave the air on for you. No scratching or potty on the seats!”

He meowed and snuffled my hand a little, flipped over, and went back to sleep.

I hoped we’d at least managed to stay in the race. I glanced in the back. Ollie and Delia were there.

“We sold the last biscuit bowl a minute before the buzzer went off!” Ollie was excited, even though it wasn’t necessarily something that would help us stay in the race. He almost lifted me up off the floor when he hugged me.

“I knew I sent out the right girl,” Uncle Saul said to Delia, hugging her.

Ollie frowned. “It was a team effort. One person couldn’t have done it alone.”

Miguel came to join us. “You were great! It looked like Pizza Papa won the challenge. We’ll see what happens now. Let’s get over to the cool-down tent.” I led the way and everyone else followed.

Alex was back on the stage again. The food truck drivers were slowly making their way toward him. Some were covered in food stains. Others already looked defeated.

“Most of you met your first challenge,” Alex said. “Give yourselves a big hand.”

Of course everyone applauded.

“But we can’t all be winners. It was decided that, despite the sad death of Reggie Johnson, and the subsequent loss of his food truck, the Dog House, that one other food truck will still be taken out of the running after this challenge.”

Everyone groaned. Really, I guess we’d all hoped the producers might let Reggie’s truck be the one that didn’t go on. He obviously couldn’t participate. Wasn’t that enough?

I could see from the faces of the other food truck owners standing close by that they had felt the same way. A certain amount of grumbling was to be expected with that disappointment.

“Okay. I know a lot of you figured it would only be the Dog House eliminated from the race.” Alex smiled at everyone. “How fair would that be since Reggie didn’t participate?”

His attempt to placate the crowd wasn’t very popular. He conferred with a group of people on the sidelines that I’d decided were “the producers.” He was back a minute later with his arms stretched out like Moses parting the Red Sea.

“I’m sorry, but that decision is final,” Alex said. “I have the names of the contestants who will be going on to Columbia with us. I also have the name of the winner of the challenge. Does anyone want to hear it?”

The crowd yelled in a halfhearted fashion.

“I can’t hear you.” Alex cupped his ear with one hand. “Does anyone want the good news?”

The group managed a louder response, with Ollie leading the way as he screamed his answer. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to hear out of my left ear again.

“That’s better.” Alex opened a large envelope. “The winner of the sweet potato challenge is Our Daily Bread, according to all challenges.”

Everyone applauded as Reverend Jay Jablonski ran to the stage. Our Daily Bread was manned by a group of ministers from Jacksonville, Florida. They’d started the truck selling breads, rolls, and coffee cakes as an outreach project for their church.

Alex congratulated Reverend Jablonski. The stocky, balding minister took the microphone to thank his team and race officials.

“We owe it all to God,” he said with a big smile on his face.

There were also prizes awarded daily to challenge winners. Reverend Jablonski won a new air conditioner for his food truck.

“Of course he won.” Bobbie Shields from Shut Up and Eat complained loudly as she stood next to me. “Sweet potatoes aren’t all that noticeable in bread.”

Reverend Jablonski left the stage after another round of applause. Alex took over the microphone again.

“And now for the contestants who will continue on to Columbia.” He took out another sealed envelope.

I wondered when someone had time to make up those envelopes. The challenge had only been over for such a short time.

“Are you ready?” Alex tried to rev up the group again. His excitement was falling on disappointed ears. “Traveling on to Columbia and the second leg of the race will be: Our Daily Bread. Shut Up and Eat. Fred’s Fish Tacos. Chooey’s Sooey. Stick It Here. Grinch’s Ganache. Pizza Papa. And the Biscuit Bowl.”

“That means the mushroom woman didn’t make it,” Uncle Saul said loudly over the cheers and moans from the winners and losers. “Darn! I was looking forward to trying her mushroom soup.”

“At least we made the cut,” I said. “I wonder how they came to that decision.”

Alex tapped on his microphone to get everyone’s attention again. “And of course, our friend and fellow food truck owner Reggie Johnson travels with us to Columbia in spirit. That’s it, people. See you tomorrow.”

Everyone filed into the cool-down tent for a briefing on what we could expect tomorrow. The challenge would be selling our normal menu but on roller skates. It also included singing and a taste challenge.

“I’m not doing that.” Delia made her feelings plain. “I don’t dance and I don’t sing.”

We were each given vouchers for meals and hotel rooms for our teams. I reserved judgment on the singing and roller skating until tomorrow.

I’d been a roller-skating carhop when I was in college. That had been so many years ago that I could hardly remember. I wasn’t even sure I knew how to skate anymore. And singing was really not my forte.

At least we were able to serve our normal menus! I wasn’t worried about a taste challenge. I felt sure we could beat anyone at that.

Everyone left the area after that. Police were waiting to reopen the downtown streets we were taking up. When we got back to the Biscuit Bowl, I saw a tow truck hooking up to the Dog House.

I wondered if there would be an investigation of what had happened to Reggie. Had he been murdered or was it an accident?

Despite my feelings about him, it was hard to imagine someone had followed him up here from Mobile to kill him. What were the chances he knew someone here who hated him that much?

I felt the police would figure out it was a simple accident once they’d had a chance to look into it.

Packing up so many food trucks was noisy and messy. There was a lot of shouting as things went wrong—Fred’s Fish Tacos had a flat tire, and Stick It Here lost their outside menu board.

Everyone was free to do what they wanted for the rest of the day. We could hang around in Charlotte and take in the sights or go on to Columbia. The only thing that mattered was stocking up and being ready for tomorrow when the next challenge began.

“Do you want to give me the list of supplies that you’ll need?” Miguel asked as I was checking the Biscuit Bowl one last time before we left.

“Let me talk to Ollie and Uncle Saul later in Columbia before we plan what we’re going to make tomorrow, now that we know we can serve our normal menu.” I shifted Crème Brûlée’s bed to the back of the food truck. There had to be room up front for Ollie to sit. Delia and Uncle Saul were riding with Miguel.

Ollie nudged me in the side before we left the kitchen. “I want to ride in the car with Delia and Miguel.”

“Okay. That’s fine.”

“I’m not letting your uncle take up all of Delia’s time. This was supposed to be an opportunity for Delia and me to get to know each other.”

“Okay. I’m good with that. But maybe you should have told Delia that’s what this was supposed to be.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Have you even told her that you like her?” I looked into his big face and had to smile. He was totally clueless.

“No. It’s not necessary. When someone likes you, you can tell.”

“Maybe you can. Most people need a hint. If you don’t give Delia a hint about the way you feel, she’ll never know.”

He made a sound somewhere between a humph and a snort. “Like I should take advice from you. You haven’t told Miguel the way you feel about him. I’ll do things my way—in the car with Miguel.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in Columbia.”

“That’s right.” He started to walk out of the kitchen and suddenly turned back. “And I’m not roller skating or singing in Columbia.”

I laughed at that. “You got it.”

After Ollie was gone, I got Crème Brûlée set up in his bed and gave him a little kiss for the road. Luckily the kitchen area was air-conditioned. It was only going to get hotter the farther south we went.

I made sure everything was secure, no falling refrigerators or microwave ovens. I closed the back of the Airstream and turned around to find myself face-to-face with a stranger.

He flashed his police badge at me and nodded. “Zoe Chase? I’m Detective John McSwain of the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department. Could I have a few moments of your time?”

SIX

“Sure. I guess.” I shrugged nonchalantly, but my heart was pounding. “What’s this about?”

“I looked at the list of food truck owners involved in the race and noticed that you and Reggie Johnson were the only two from Mobile. Were you acquainted with him?”

“Only in the way that we’re both food truck vendors. I didn’t know him personally.”

“What can you tell me about him?” He wrote down everything I said.

What could I say? He smelled like old grease and looked like he’d been in too many fights? That he played dirty tricks on me to get better vendor spaces?

None of those things seemed right to say considering that Reggie was dead.

“I didn’t know him well. When I was researching food trucks to start my own, I had one of his hot dogs. It was okay.”

The detective finished writing and glanced up at me. “Anything about his finances? Was he a gambling man? Did he have a family?”

“I think you should use your resources to find out if Reggie Johnson had a family.” Miguel came around the corner of the food truck where he’d obviously been listening.

“Who are you?” Detective McSwain asked him.

“Miguel Alexander. I’m Miss Chase’s attorney. I’m also from Mobile, if you’d like to question me about Mr. Johnson.”

“Miss Chase doesn’t need an attorney.” The detective gave me a dirty look, like I had called Miguel for help. “I was only asking a few friendly questions about the deceased.”

“If you have enough friendly answers, Miss Chase needs to drive to Columbia for the next part of the race.” Miguel’s tone was polite but firm.

“That’s fine. I guess neither of you knew Mr. Johnson very well. I won’t take up any more of your time.” He nodded to me. “Miss Chase.”

We watched him walk away.

“Did I miss anything important?” he asked.

“No. At least I don’t think so. I couldn’t tell him anything about Reggie—at least anything he’d want to hear about him. Reggie wasn’t a very nice man, but his hot dogs were pretty good.”

He smiled. “I don’t think he wanted to hear that.”

“That’s what I mean. You must be right about the police suspecting Reggie’s death wasn’t an accident. I was thinking before about who might want to kill him. If it was another vendor, maybe they knew him in Mobile.”

“Unless it was another vendor in the race and they wanted to eliminate some of the competition.”

“I guess that’s true.” I bit my lip. “I felt a little bad not telling him about hearing Reggie argue with Alex in his truck. Do you think I should tell him?”

“I don’t think we should even consider that idea, or any other idea that pertains to Reggie’s death. We’re here to win the race, right? Let’s concentrate on that.”

He was right. I let go of the questions that had wandered into my mind.

“Are you driving to Columbia now?” I asked him.

“I am. I’d like to get the supply part out of the way in Charlotte in case you have something difficult to find.”

“There shouldn’t be any problem. I don’t make complicated food for the Biscuit Bowl.”

“I guess I’ll see you down there then.”

I smiled at him, wishing I didn’t feel so sweaty and full of grease. I smelled like biscuit bowls and bacon. Not a bad combination, usually. “Thanks again for being here, Miguel.”

“I’m having a good time, Zoe. That’s what vacations are all about, right?”

“You used your vacation time to be here?” I felt bad about that.

“Actually, I haven’t had a vacation in so long that I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with one. Besides, I’m the boss—like you. I get to take off when I want to.” He smiled back at me. “I just haven’t had a good reason to until now.”

Our gazes locked and we moved a little closer to each other. I closed my eyes, excited that this would be our first kiss. My heart was pounding and my stomach was in knots.

Ollie came running around the side of the Airstream. “Forget Miguel’s car. Delia has decided to stay in Charlotte and hop a ride with a friend of hers who lives here. She’ll be down in Columbia later.”

“What does that have to do with my car?” Miguel took a step back.

The golden moment was gone.

“Nothing.” Ollie shrugged his broad shoulders. “I want to ride down in the Biscuit Bowl.”

A brilliant idea sprang to mind. I flipped him the keys to the Airstream. “You and Uncle Saul can ride down in the truck. I’ll ride down with Miguel. We can talk about tomorrow’s menu on the phone.”

I was so proud of myself. My stomach was doing flip-flops. It was about an hour to the next stop. Miguel and I would have time to talk by ourselves with nothing getting in the way. If I managed to get the shopping list done in time, I could go shopping with him, too. Then maybe we could eat dinner together.

It would almost be a date.

“Anything you think we need on the supply list?” I asked Ollie before he left.

“I guess the usual—flour, water, shortening, fruit, and meat. Have you thought about doing drinks for the crowd in Columbia? We had a lot of people ask about that today. If so, we need sodas. You ditched what we usually carry to make room for other things.”

“You’re right about the drinks. I’ll check on that before we go. Thanks, Ollie.”

“I’m ready when you are,” Miguel told me. “No hurry.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I ask someone about the drinks and find Uncle Saul.”

Uncle Saul was easy to find. He was wandering around through the other food trucks that hadn’t left the area yet. His hands were full of pork pot stickers, a few fish tacos, and a chocolate cake pop.

“Are you worried about going hungry between here and Columbia?” I asked him with a laugh.

“They made too much. There was good food about to be thrown away. I took what I could.”

I knew he was right. That was one of the problems with finding the right balance between how much food you made each day and how much you could sell. Some basic staples could be used over again. When I had deep-fried biscuit bowls left over, I either had to find someone who wanted them or I had to throw them away. It looked like every other food truck vendor had the same problem.

It was different with the race, but with the excitement and having made food twice, it was easy to see how some vendors made too much.

I told him about the travel arrangements.

“This is good.” He rubbed his hands together. “I want to give Ollie some pointers about how to attract a woman. He sure needs some help. We can discuss it on the way.”

I wasn’t sure if Ollie was going to want to take romantic advice from a man who lived in the swamp with an alligator and probably couldn’t remember when he’d had his last date. But I didn’t say anything. Whatever they talked about was up to them.

I needed to plan my strategy for talking to Miguel.

“I’ll see you down there.” I hugged him. “Thanks for all your help.”

He winked at me. “Are you gonna do the roller skating and singing tomorrow?”

“Probably. So we better come up with some great biscuit bowl ideas to compensate. I might still be able to roller-skate, but I’ve never been able to sing. And let’s not forget the taste challenge.”

We talked for another few moments, laying out some ideas on fillings for the biscuit bowls. I left him getting into the food truck with Ollie.

I needed to find one of the people in charge who could tell me about selling drinks tomorrow. The cool-down tent was already gone. Most of the stage and equipment was packed up, too. I couldn’t find Alex or any of the producers in the area. I had some phone numbers but wasn’t sure who to call. Making up the rules as they went along made it tough on the contestants.

I finally spotted the big RV that I knew Alex was traveling in. There was a line of expensive trailers, most elegantly appointed, as Chef Art’s was. They were completely out of the food truck league and weren’t intended to be part of that scene.

I knocked on Alex’s RV door. There was no answer. I didn’t know who the other RVs belonged to. I decided I would go and knock on each door until I found someone who could either answer my question about drinks or point me to someone who could.

I was walking along the side of Alex’s RV, almost reaching the back of the vehicle, when I heard someone talking. Thinking it was someone on a cell phone having a private conversation, I paused to let them finish.

“I don’t want to know the whole plan.” Alex’s voice sounded angry. “I paid you to take care of the problem. It was stupid to kill that food truck vendor.”

So Alex was involved with Reggie’s death? What plan was he talking about?

“It’s gonna be harder to make anything look like an accident now,” Alex continued. “The cops are all over. What were you thinking?”

There was a moment of silence as Alex was probably listening to the person speaking to him. I could hear him nervously pacing the street.

“Yeah, well, it better look right. If it looks suspicious in Columbia, the sponsors could stop the race. This is my best chance to make it happen.”

Time to panic!

Alex was talking about what had happened to Reggie in a way that sounded as though he was responsible. Even worse, it sounded like there could be more “accidents” to come.

I thought about Detective McSwain. I could tell him what I’d heard. He might not have jurisdiction in Columbia, but if he hurried, he could stop the problem in Charlotte.

Forgetting my need to know about soft drinks, I ran like a crazy person through the hot afternoon. The Biscuit Bowl was already gone from its location. The tow truck had taken the Dog House. There were only a few food trucks left on the street.

I spotted a group of uniformed police officers who were starting to direct traffic around the food trucks and the other RVs. Detective McSwain stood out among them in his dark blue sports coat and jeans.

“Detective.” I glanced uneasily across my shoulder when I finally reached him. “Could I have a word with you?”

“You’re free to go, Miss Chase.” He barely noticed me as he spoke to an officer.

“You don’t understand. I have something important to tell you about Reggie’s death. It can’t wait. You need to know before everyone leaves Charlotte.”

The detective shrugged and excused himself. “What is it, Miss Chase? Where’s your lawyer?”

“Look, I’m sorry. Miguel was only looking out for me.”

“Okay. What do you want to tell me?”

I explained the argument I’d overheard between Reggie and Alex. Then I carefully pointed out Alex Pardini’s RV where I’d heard him on the phone. “I think Reggie was murdered, and there may be more to come.”

He nodded, taking me seriously. “Did you actually see Mr. Pardini in the trailer with Johnson?”

“No,” I admitted. “But I recognized his voice. That was about an hour or so before we heard the refrigerator fall.”

He shook his head. “There may not be much I can do with this unless I get more evidence. You’re sure about what you heard Mr. Pardini say on the phone—and that it was him? Would you be willing to swear to that in court?”

I thought about what that could mean. Charlotte was a long ride from Mobile. I didn’t like Reggie, but he didn’t deserve to die in whatever game Alex was playing. “Yes.”

“Thanks for telling me. I’ll look into it.”

“Will you please keep my name out of it for now? I don’t want to be booted out of the race if Alex isn’t really involved.”

“Sure. I’ll ask a few questions, okay? Let me have your cell number so I can get in touch with you later.”

I gave him my business card. “I hope I’m wrong.”

He smiled. “You know, I get a lot of tips from people who overhear things or see things they aren’t supposed to. A lot of times that’s where convictions come from.”

I thanked him and went to find Miguel. I didn’t want to be standing there with the police when Detective McSwain went to talk to Alex.

I glanced around for Miguel. He was leaning against his older black Mercedes, talking to a very beautiful woman who looked elegant and cool in a green crepe dress, despite the heat.

She probably didn’t smell like biscuit bowls, either.

She laid her hand on his arm and lifted her chin as she smiled up into his handsome face. He smiled back as he looked deeply into her eyes.

I didn’t like the way this was going at all. Maybe I’d waited too long to make my move.

I stood off to the side until she left. I didn’t want to make it any worse by barging in like a total idiot. I didn’t want Miguel to think I was desperate or something. I was still going to have to drive to Columbia with him since the Biscuit Bowl was gone. There was nothing I could do but wait.

“Where have you been?” Miguel asked when the other woman was finally gone. “Were the police bothering you again?”

“No. It was just the opposite.” I explained what had happened as Miguel drove his car toward the interstate highway and Columbia.

I didn’t ask about her.

– – – – – – –

“Why would someone involved with the race want to kill off the contestants?”

We were gridlocked in heavy traffic leaving the city.

“I was wondering the same thing.” I longed to ask about his beautiful companion but couldn’t make the words come out of my mouth. We weren’t a couple yet. I had no claim on him. Besides, they were just talking.

And asking now would mean admitting that I’d seen them together and hadn’t casually walked over and spoken to them. I felt stupid either way. I wondered what Delia would have done in these circumstances.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Miguel continued about Reggie’s death. “The sponsors would lose their money and the charities wouldn’t get anything. The whole thing would be ruined.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to figure why people do the things they do.”

“I know.” He glanced at me as traffic began to pick up. “So, are you going to sell the food while you roller-skate and sing tomorrow?”

“Probably skate, if I can find a cheap pair of skates.” I felt so awkward even talking to him. “I don’t know about the singing.”

“Not a problem about the skates.” He inclined his head toward the backseat. “Compliments of the race. They gave out a pair of skates to each team. I went ahead and grabbed a pair in your size.”

“How did you know what size to get?”

He glanced at my feet. “I noticed when you kicked your shoes off in the car the other day. Six and a half, right?”

I arched my brows and smiled in what I hoped was a provocative manner. “It’s nice to be noticed.”

Ugh! That was awful.

I’d never been good at one-liners. I should have known better. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

Oh, right. He smiled and didn’t seem to take it the wrong way.

I really liked his smile. His eyes were such a perfect shade of brown—sort of like chocolate, but sexier. Very nice.

“I notice you all the time, Zoe. I can’t imagine a man who wouldn’t.”

My heart beat fast. Is that good? It sounds good.

Or was he saying I flirted a lot? I did flirt a little, but not so much.

After that, I tried to keep the mood going. I brought up all kinds of subjects—except the one I really wanted to ask about.

He responded and admitted all kinds of crazy stuff about himself—really opening up for once. We laughed about the floats at carnival last year. It was great. It felt natural to be there with him. I hoped he felt the same.

There were several accidents on the road and police everywhere as we were leaving North Carolina. I decided it would be a good time to get out my cell phone and start making my shopping list since Miguel was going to have to concentrate more on the road.

Uncle Saul had already left me a few voice mails about food ideas.

Even though we weren’t talking, I was thinking about Miguel and the death of his wife and child ten years ago. It had happened around the same time that he was framed for falsifying evidence when he’d run for district attorney in Mobile.

It was as though his life had stopped then. He’d quit the DA’s office and opened up his own legal practice. Everyone in the city now knew him as a street lawyer who would help anyone in a jam. That’s how I’d met him. He’d been Ollie’s lawyer.

I knew Miguel was still getting over that tragedy—if anyone could ever really get over something like that. From what I could find out—and I had investigated extensively—he’d never even dated during the last ten years.

It didn’t matter to me. I was willing to wait for the butterfly to emerge from the cocoon. I wanted to be the one he thought about when it was the right time for him.

I just hoped the mystery woman in Charlotte wasn’t in line before me.

My cell phone rang as I was making my list. It startled me, and I dropped it on the floor. It was the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department.

“Miss Zoe Chase?” the unfamiliar voice asked. “We’re gonna need to talk to you again.”