Текст книги "Fry Another Day"

Автор книги: J. J. Cook

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

NINE

Despite Alex’s promises that we’d be reimbursed for the losses on our food trucks, I went ahead and called my insurance agent. I figured that was why I paid those high premiums every month.

I thought Alex sounded a little sketchy about the whole thing. I didn’t need the money back right away, but I wanted my losses covered at some point. I wasn’t made out of money, even if I won the race.

I was headed down to try out my skates, and when I opened the hotel room door, Delia was reaching for it. We both laughed. We were sharing a room for the night.

“You really did some shopping,” I remarked as she passed me. A young hotel worker brought in several bags and boxes, which he put on the bed.

Delia tipped him well and thanked him for his help.

“I don’t shop all the time. A girl has to have something to wear, especially if she’s going to be on TV.” She sat down on the bed and stretched her long, slender body. “How are things going here?”

I told her about the food truck vandalism. “The Biscuit Bowl is supposed to be repaired by tomorrow. I hope so. I sent Miguel out to buy a couple hundred dollars’ worth of food.”

Delia smiled at me. “How are things going with you and Miguel?”

“We talked. He waited for me at the food truck until the police came for my statement.” I included a big grin with this information. “Good, huh?”

She yawned. “Good—if he’s your brother. Not so good if you want him to be your lover.”

“I wasn’t thinking so much about being his lover as going out on a real date.” Maybe I was wrong about getting tips from Delia.

“Same thing. You need Miguel to look at you as more than somebody he picked up in his business portfolio. You have to step up your game, Zoe. Make him see you as a beautiful, desirable woman.”

I sat down on the bed beside her. “That would be nice. I think he still considers me a client that he helps out. I’ve tried to change his attitude. I’m not sure what else to do.”

Delia got up and grabbed one of the dress bags. “I have just the thing. Once he sees you in this during dinner tonight, he won’t be able to think of you as anything but the woman he wants in his bed.”

I swallowed hard. Big step! “Okay. But could we start by dating first? You know, dinner, dancing, that kind of thing.”

She laughed. “Oh, Zoe, you’re such an amateur. Just put yourself in my hands. Miguel won’t know what hit him.”

I hoped I’d know what to do with that kind of reaction, but I agreed. What did I have to lose?

“By the way,” she said softly with that strange smile again. “Is Ollie involved with anyone?”

I cheerfully told her that he wasn’t. He’d be thrilled when he found out she liked him back.

We talked for a while about Ollie and what I knew about him, which wasn’t much.

“Ollie’s sexy, don’t you think?”

Sexy? Ollie?

“Maybe, but it’s hard for me to see him like that. I’ve never seen him with a woman.”

“I can see it in him.” Her tone was fairly purring. “You probably just don’t notice, Zoe. He’s more like your brother.”

“I think Ollie is handsome, in a rugged kind of way. He’s much younger than he looks, I think. It may have been a while since he had a relationship.”

Should I tell her what I knew about Ollie’s past? I only had it secondhand from Miguel. I decided it wasn’t my story to tell. When he was ready, he’d say something to her.

“Ollie’s a real man.” Delia brushed her long brown hair, looking at herself in the mirror. “He’s exactly my type.”

She was about to show me the dress that would be perfect for me when my cell phone rang. It was a call from the front desk. Someone was there to see me.

“Hold that thought,” I said to Delia. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“I’m meeting someone. It’s a while until dinner at eight. Let’s meet back here at seven, shall we? We’ll have you looking fabulous in no time. Miguel won’t be able to keep his hands off you!”

I wasn’t at all sure that Delia understood the concept of dating.

But it was a plan, and I didn’t have any other bright ideas on how to make Miguel notice me. I decided I could deal with the consequences after the plan had worked.

I was definitely going to need a shower, and my hair needed some extra conditioning after being under Chef Art’s hat all day. I’d have plenty of time to get to that. I took my room key and went down to the front desk.

I thought it could be Alex or Chef Art waiting for me downstairs. Instead, it was Detectives Helms and Marsh. I was surprised to see them since I was in another city and state.

“Let’s sit down over here for a moment,” Detective Helms said after our initial wary greetings.

At least the greetings were wary on my part. What were they doing here?

We sat down in a few chairs near a window and a pretty fountain with some plants growing around it. I was glad Miguel wasn’t there, on one hand, and sorry that he wasn’t on the other. I’d have to mind my own tongue.

“Miss Chase.” Detective Helms smiled in a much friendlier manner than she had that morning. “May I call you Zoe?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“We have special permission to be here with the race after what happened in Charlotte to Mr. Johnson and Detective McSwain. Our chief believes we’ve found evidence that proves the hit-and-run was intentional.”

“What kind of evidence?” I wondered how they could tell the difference between a hit-and-run being intentional or not.

“That’s on a need-to-know basis.” Detective Marsh still had his hostile attitude toward me.

“I guess that means I don’t need to know.” I smiled as I got to my feet. “I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m stressed enough with the food truck race—not to mention everything else that’s happening. I don’t need your stress, too.”

Helms nudged Marsh with her elbow and nodded at me.

“Oh, all right. We need your help, Miss Chase. Our lab techs found video footage of what happened to McSwain. The car didn’t even try and stop for him. In fact, it went faster and swerved toward him. It was murder.”

“We believe it’s all wrapped up with the information you gave him and the food truck race.” Helms smiled at me again, trying to look pleasant. She wasn’t very good at it, even though she looked fabulous in her black suit.

“I don’t know what I can do to help.” I sat back down in one of the comfy chairs. “I told you what I knew earlier. Believe me, I didn’t hold anything back. You can ask Miguel, my lawyer.”

“We understand that there were more problems involving the race when you got here today,” Helms said. “Piecing these murders together might be a lot easier for us with someone on the inside.”

I understood. “I’ll be glad to tell you what I know when I know something else.”

“That would be a good start,” Marsh said.

“It was vandalism here. No one was hurt or killed. You can probably find out more from the Columbia police. I gave them my statement.”

“You didn’t see anyone hanging around the food trucks before it happened, did you?” Helms wanted to know.

“I went down there to check on things. The food trucks are in the underground parking area. The damage was already done. I didn’t see anyone down there.”

“Were all the food trucks damaged?” Marsh had a bored expression on his face.

“Only the ones that got here early. There were a few that were just arriving. Someone got in and out before that.”

“I’d like to give you my personal cell phone number.” Helms handed me a business card. “You can call me here anytime, day or night. If you see or hear anything suspicious, let me know. I promise we won’t follow you around. Just keep us informed.”

I put the paper in my pocket. “Okay. I hope there isn’t anything else. Tempers are short already.”

Detective Marsh thanked me. “We appreciate your help.”

I went back upstairs to think about everything. I took a nice hot shower, put on a cucumber facial mask, and let my hair conditioner sink in for a while. Delia was gone. It was still a long time until dinner.

I looked at the roller skates on the floor near the bed. I thought I might as well give them a try. I could still opt out of tomorrow’s challenge. Maybe better that than to look like an idiot.

Not knowing if I might fall a few times, I put on a new pair of jeans and a Biscuit Bowl tank top. I’d noticed a back area in the parking lot outside that might be a good place to practice without an audience.

My hair was still damp but was already perking up after a day of abuse. It was good to get the deep fryer smell and feel off me. I realized I was lucky that Miguel hadn’t tried to kiss me while we were waiting downstairs for the police. That might’ve been disgusting, and a little sweet potato flavored.

Outside, it was warm, but the sun was lower and a cool breeze was skittering around between the buildings. I sat on the curb and put on the skates. I hadn’t worn skates since college and my job as a carhop. It had been fun at the time, but it didn’t sound like much fun now.

Fifty thousand dollars was a powerful motivator. I could skate and sing. The worst that could happen might be that someone would ask me to shut up. I’d sing quietly.

There were large trash bins in the area where I’d chosen to practice. I held on to one as I got up from the curb. My legs felt like spaghetti. I would have fallen if it wasn’t for the trash bin.

Maybe I was wrong about the whole thing. Maybe this would be a good challenge for me to sit out.

“Having any luck?”

Miguel’s voice startled me. I felt the skates slip out from under me and panicked, flailing around like an octopus. I would’ve fallen on my rear end, but Miguel caught me before I hit the ground.

“Thanks.” I was a little breathless. Our faces were very close together, and his arms were around me. “You always seem to show up at the right time.”

“Just another part of my service, ma’am.”

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you, sir.”

“We’ll think of some way, Zoe.” He slowly bent his head and kissed me.

I couldn’t believe it. No fancy dress. No brilliant conversation. Just him and me, the skates and the smelly trash bin. I was glad he already had his arms around me or I would’ve been on the concrete for sure.

“Now what?” I was so glad that I’d taken a shower before I came down.

He helped me stand up. “Can you sing, skate, and pass out food at the same time?”

At that moment, I wasn’t sure I could talk and walk at the same time. I felt like crying with relief. Miguel more than likes me, too!

“I’m not sure I can skate—without singing or carrying food.”

“Just hold on to me and ease into it.”

I held his hands as I moved my feet around on the concrete. I was hoping it would start feeling natural, the way it does when you get on a bicycle again or drive a stick.

“Can you do it on your own now?”

Not as well as I can when I’m holding your hands. “It’s getting there.”

He let go of me and the skates took off down a tiny hill, back to the trash bins. He put his hands on my waist. As I started to fall, he caught me again, my head on his shoulder, his arms around me. We were both laughing.

“Maybe we should forget the roller-skating challenge tomorrow,” I whispered.

“It might be for the best.”

He was about to kiss me again when a loud voice called out, “Zoe Chase! This is your backstage moment to let the world see the real you!”

TEN

I straightened up right away. Miguel was slow to release me, obviously not as distressed by the booming voice.

A camera was thrust in my face. Alex was there, and so were two interviewers I remembered seeing in Charlotte, wondering when it was going to be my turn. It was my turn now.

Miguel was pushed out of the spotlight.

Yes. This was my backstage moment—in roller skates—standing next to the trash bin I didn’t dare let go of if I didn’t want to fall. It was pathetic.

“Could we go inside?” I asked. “Wouldn’t it look better if I were inside?”

“Not at all,” Alex responded. “That’s why we call this the backstage moment. So people following the race can get a feeling for the real you.”

That’s just great.

“Tell us about you, Zoe,” one of the interviewers said. “The world is waiting to hear all about you!”

I started talking about myself hesitantly. I was so unprepared. I tried to keep it simple.

“We hear you have a boyfriend.” The second interviewer cut me off and glanced at Miguel. “Is this him over here?”

Miguel frowned and waved his hand.

“Come on!” the interviewer encouraged him. “Help us make Zoe’s backstage moment better!”

“No, thanks.” Miguel smiled at me. “She’s doing fine on her own.”

“Obviously the shy type.” Alex grinned. “But we have someone who isn’t so shy. Someone we found at home in Mobile. Can you guess who that is, Zoe?”

“No.” I bit my lip. “Not really.”

“It’s your ex. Tommy Elgin, a financial wizard from the Azalea City!”

Tommy Lee? Oh no!

Tommy Lee and I had gone out together for many years. He was pretty much the only man I’d dated since college. Our families had expected us to get married.

Our relationship was good—until I’d quit my job and started the food truck. He hated the idea of me being in the food service industry and had started seeing another woman. We parted on very bad terms.

And there was Tommy Lee on a video, talking about me and how obsessed I was with my business. He said it had ruined my life. It was terrible.

“Okay. Can we just cut that?” I asked. “I’m not with him anymore. He’s not backstage with Zoe Chase.”

“But this is the juicy part,” the interviewer insisted with malicious glee.

He was enjoying himself way too much.

“If you want to talk to someone who is part of my backstage, you should talk to my team. They’re the ones who really know me. We’re in the Biscuit Bowl together all the time. No one knows me better.”

Alex signaled the interviewer to turn off Tommy Lee’s rant. “What have you got for me, Zoe?”

I thought quickly. “Uncle Saul is part of my team. He lives with an albino alligator in the swamp.”

“Yeah?” He seemed interested.

“Yes. He used to have his own restaurant in Mobile, too. He’d be a good person to talk to about backstage Zoe Chase.”

The three men mulled it over. Please, please get away from Tommy Lee.

“Okay,” Alex decided. “He sounds interesting. And it would be better from here anyway. Where is he?”

“At the bar, probably. He’ll be glad to talk to you. You can ask him anything you like about me.”

“All right.” Alex made his let’s end this movement with his hand. “Let’s find Uncle Saul. See you later, Zoe Chase!”

Miguel helped me up to the room I was sharing with Delia. I didn’t wait to take off the skates because I wanted to get upstairs before something else embarrassing happened.

I took out my key and let myself into the hotel room. “I guess I didn’t realize what we’d be in for during the race. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. I knew there’d be some odd things going on. I don’t mind.”

“Thanks. I hope you weren’t too embarrassed. At least they didn’t call you my boyfriend on TV.”

“I’ve had people call me a lot worse.”

We both laughed at that.

“Maybe we should get those skates off. I delivered your supplies to the Biscuit Bowl before I came to find you. The power is back on.”

“That’s great news. Thanks.” I sat on the edge of the bed. Delia was still out.

Crème Brûlée walked over to me and meowed for me to pick him up. He’d never try something as big as jumping up on the bed next to me. I lifted him, and he cuddled next to me, purring.

“I guess you already know my history.” He knelt in front of me and untied my skate laces. “I’m not a stranger to bad publicity.”

“I know.” Should I have admitted that I knew almost everything about him?

“Then you know about my wife—and the scandal, as my grandmother calls it.”

“Yes. I know you ran for district attorney and you were accused of breaking the law.”

Was this leading up to something?

He smiled up at me as he eased my right foot out of the skate. “Then you know why I’m a little camera shy. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings back there. I certainly wouldn’t mind them calling me your boyfriend, except for that.”

“Really?”

He took off my left skate and helped me to my feet. “Really.”

He was going to kiss me again. We were so close, and then the hotel phone rang.

“Did you want to get that?” His lips were only a breath away from mine.

“No. Not really.” I moved the short distance between us and closed the deal.

The phone continued to ring and we continued to ignore it. Then came the pounding on the door.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” I moved away from him, reluctantly, and went to answer it.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” A hotel employee interrupted with a red face. “I’m looking for Zoe Chase. There are two police detectives downstairs to see her.”

He smiled and held out his hand. I certainly wasn’t going to tip him after he’d interrupted something wonderful between me and Miguel to tell me about Helms and Marsh.

“Thanks!” Miguel put some money in his hand and then closed the door. “Zoe?”

I explained about meeting with the two detectives from Charlotte while he was gone to get supplies. “I didn’t promise them much, really—just that I’d let them know if I heard or saw anything unusual.”

“This potentially puts you in a very awkward place,” he said. “If anyone finds out that you’re working with them, it could be bad for you. If a killer is part of the race, your life could be in danger.”

I kind of laughed it off. “It’s not like I know anything, at least not anything that anyone else doesn’t know. I thought it was better to humor them, you know? They promised to stay out of my way. What have I got to lose?”

Before Miguel could answer, there was another loud rap at the door.

“Zoe?” Alex’s voice came through the door. “It’s me. Could I have a word?”

Miguel opened the door. He and Alex exchanged a few inquisitive stares and shook hands while I put on my shoes. Miguel left the door open, standing right in the middle of the opening. The smile on his face was challenging.

I didn’t like Alex, knowing what I knew, but it wouldn’t do me any good to antagonize him. I looked up and smiled. “What can I do for you?”

Alex chuckled. “Working on tomorrow’s challenge, I see. Good job! I’m sure you’ll be fabulous.”

“Thanks. Was there something in particular you wanted to talk about?”

“Zoe, I’ve heard an ugly rumor about someone in Charlotte saying that I had something to do with what happened to Reggie Johnson. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“No. I can’t imagine who’d say such a thing.” I couldn’t resist adding, “You didn’t, did you?”

“Absolutely not! I’m all about the food truck show. Reggie’s death hurt us all. It’s a black mark on this race that can never be removed. I want you to remember that.”

If his words had been any more rehearsed, I would’ve been able to see him practicing in the mirror.

I thought about what he’d said—what could he have to gain by killing Reggie?

I could understand why Detective McSwain was killed. He was asking questions. At least that made sense. Poor Reggie didn’t know much about anything.

“I understand, Alex. I don’t want anything else bad to happen during the race, either. I came to win the money and show people my food. That’s it.”

He nodded. “That’s what I thought. Let’s keep the competition fair and friendly. I’ll do my best. I know you’ll do yours.”

I closed the door behind Alex as he left. For a moment, Miguel and I didn’t move or speak.

“I think he knows that I told the police about what I heard. Somehow he found out. I’m doomed.”

– – – – – – –

There wasn’t enough time for Miguel and me to continue where we left off before Delia returned.

“Oh!” She smirked when she saw the two of us together. “Shall I leave and come back later?”

Miguel cleared his throat. “No. I’m the one who should be going.”

“Thanks for your help with the skates. Will I see you at dinner with everyone else?”

“I won’t be at dinner tonight, Zoe. I have to meet someone. I’ll see you in the morning at four. Bye, Delia.”

I immediately thought of the beautiful mystery woman from Charlotte. Did she follow him here?

He left quickly, and Delia put her hands on her hips. “Well, that’s a fine kettle of fish. What’s so important that he couldn’t be here for dinner?”

“I don’t know.”

“He’ll be fine.” She put down her bag. “Now, let’s get you all dressed up, just in case he puts in a surprise appearance!”

I didn’t get dressed up, despite Delia’s blandishments. What was the point? Miguel wasn’t going to be there. I was exhausted and wouldn’t have gone down at all if it wasn’t a requirement of the race.

I had to keep reminding myself that just because Miguel kissed me didn’t mean we were going to sit around holding hands and gazing at the stars together all the time. He had a life. I had a life. I wanted him to be part of my life. Hopefully he wanted me to be part of his.

All the talking to myself, and to Crème Brûlée, as Delia showered and changed clothes, didn’t help at all. We headed downstairs for dinner with Ollie, Uncle Saul, and Chef Art.

Delia was beautiful in her slinky, sparkly gold dress with matching spike heels. I was just me in jeans and a Biscuit Bowl T-shirt. My black curly hair was looking good, though. I put on some eye makeup and lipstick since the dinner would be taped and shown on TV, too.

I told Delia about Miguel kissing me by the trash bin. She wasn’t all that impressed. I wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but I thought it was a good start.

We got out of the elevator on the ground floor, and I immediately saw Miguel near the front door of the hotel. He was wearing a nice suit and had his arms around the same woman I’d seen him with in Charlotte.

She was tall and beautiful, dark haired, and dressed in a fabulous red cocktail dress. They walked out of the hotel with her hanging on his arm. What an awesome couple they made.

Delia patted my arm. “Don’t worry. It looks like he has something going on with her right now. You’re bound to be next in line. He’s just getting his feet wet with you right now. That’s the way it is with men. He’s probably getting ready to break up with her.”

I didn’t argue with her even though my careful research into his life hadn’t included a woman he was close to besides his sister and grandmother.

Race officials were springing for a big dinner each night where we would talk about what had happened that day and what we were doing the next day. They were using one of the hotel’s private dining rooms.

We were supposed to wear the clothes we wore in our food trucks to identify ourselves to TV viewers. Most of the other teams and sponsors were there already. Hardly anyone was dressed like they had been in Charlotte earlier. I felt a little underdressed in my T-shirt and jeans, but at least my Biscuit Bowl T-shirt would be clear on TV.

I saw our table and waved to Uncle Saul.

I avoided the chair beside Ollie, figuring that he had probably left it open for Delia. He was already staring at her like a large puppy with a tattooed head. It was probably all he could do not to let his tongue loll out!

“Ladies!” Chef Art greeted us, pushing to his feet.

With Delia taking the chair beside Ollie, I took the open spot beside Chef Art. The single open chair taunted me. It was where Miguel would have sat if he wasn’t out with that exceptionally beautiful woman.

“Have you talked to Alex yet?” Chef Art asked after I sat down.

“You mean has he accused me of trying to get him in trouble?” I ordered a margarita from the passing waiter. “Yes. I assume he talked to you, too.”

His bright blue eyes were worried. I could tell because his left one was all twitchy. “There’s a lot of money riding on this thing, Zoe. Don’t screw it up. I like you. I really do. I like my money better. Leave Alex alone, and stay away from the police. Let this thing play out.”

“I will.” I thought about Helms and Marsh. They probably weren’t too happy with me right now after I’d ignored their summons.

They were supposed to wait for my reports on the race, I considered sulkily, not call me every few minutes. How was I supposed to keep our arrangement a secret if we met in the lobby all the time?

Everyone had ordered their drinks and dinner. I was working on my second margarita. It was almost nine when Alex addressed the crowd. I was beginning to think he was born with a microphone in his hand.

“It was a good challenge today, people. Tomorrow will be even better.”

“What about the dead guy?” Daryl Barbee yelled out, still wearing his oversized cowboy hat.

“And our money that we lost in the vandalism,” Roy Chow from Chooey’s Sooey called out. “My power is still not on in my truck.”

Roy was dressed conservatively in a suit and tie. When he was in his food truck, he and his three-man team wore matching New York Yankees baseball uniforms, down to the cleats on his shoes.

Not sure what that was supposed to mean to his customers, but he was from New York.

Alex grinned and took their questions. “We’re working as closely as we can with police to find the answers to what happened with Mr. Johnson in Charlotte. You know, Charlotte has a high crime rate, right? I personally think someone tried to rob him. Anyway, we’ll find out soon enough.”

“And the power?” Dante, from Stick It Here, asked.

“Dante, your truck and Roy’s are the last two still being worked on. I promise they’ll be ready for tomorrow.”

Alex made promises like he was running for elected office.

“That won’t give us much time to get our supplies ready,” Roy reminded him. “How about you give us a few minutes’ head start?”

“Or extra points,” Dante suggested.

“You two are a couple of jokesters, aren’t you?” Alex laughed, but I could see him sweating in his nicely cut tuxedo.

Lucky for him, dinner was served before things got any uglier. Not that I blamed Roy and Dante for being upset. A lot of work went into their food each day. The vandalism had caused them extra work with no guarantee that they’d be ready tomorrow when the rest of us were.

There was some good-natured joking between tables about people singing as they sold their food for the next challenge. Everyone was worried about the taste challenge. I thought that was the easy part.

To make the rest of us feel even more insecure about singing in public, Reverend Jablonski and his fellow ministers from the Our Daily Bread food truck got up and performed several hymns for us.

“They sound like the freaking Vienna Boys Choir,” Ollie remarked. “How are we supposed to compete with that?”

Chef Art squirmed in his chair. His usual white linen suit seemed to fit a little tighter than normal. “I’d say the singing isn’t going to sell biscuits. Zoe doesn’t have to be a great singer tomorrow. She needs to show a little cleavage and a lot of leg. The biscuit bowls will do the rest.”

Everyone turned to me. No pressure. I sighed and started eating.

I had to resign myself to doing whatever was necessary to win the money. It was my food truck, after all, and my idea to be here.

The sliced roast beef was dry and the gravy was lumpy. I longed for a good burrito but was too exhausted to go out and find one. It was unfortunate that there was no food truck in the challenge tomorrow with Mexican food.

Delia was working hard to impress Ollie. She was looking at him like he was a chocolate-covered donut.

Maybe that was the part I was missing with Miguel.

Chef Art looked unhappy and impatient. He left before dessert. I went with him. Four A.M. would come early, and I was ready for today to be over.

We talked about my menu plans for tomorrow, and he reminded me how important it was to keep the food ideas fresh.

“Everyone is trying to come up with great ideas, sensational eats,” he warned. “I hope you are, too, Zoe. You know how essential that is to the food truck business. Don’t pay any attention to Saul on this. He’s got his food brain stuck in the 1980s.”

I agreed with him before the elevator chimed as it reached my floor. “I’ll see you in the morning, Chef Art.” I borrowed a page from Alex. “You know I’m all about the food.”

“I hope so. Good night, Zoe.” I got out of the elevator. The doors had closed before I saw Helms and Marsh standing in front of my room.

“Zoe, it’s important that we talk to you right away.”