“I spoke to Johnny Ruck yesterday. He indicated that he has you two working to help uncover the murderer.” Danvers’ face told nothing, and I wasn’t sure if Ruck had mentioned what we got in return. I looked to Land, but he was studying the pan he was washing like it was a movie.
I was getting a bit annoyed with Danvers who seemed intent on egging Land on to do or say something. “Yes, he heard that we’ve solved some crimes before, and he wanted us to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Besides, he quoted a very warm recommendation from Jax Danvers, which made it sound like you two were pretty close pals. That’s all. We’re not like paid private investigators.”
“That could be your next show,” Danvers chuckled. “Anyway, since you’re knee deep in this thing, I thought I’d bring you some information about the murders. This isn’t public yet, and I’m not sure that the detectives in charge of the case will be leaking this to the media or not. It seems that there was a lot of time that passed between murders and that there had been some serious overkill.”
I gulped, and I could feel the blood leave my face. I had not expected the switch from ribbing to bloody murder. I remembered the amount of overkill, the two women bound with throats slashed and blood everywhere.
“I’ll try to tell this like a story. Then you can ask questions, okay?” He studied my face as if he could tell I felt woozy. “It seems that Annabella was knocked out first. She was tied up and left in the green room. Then about forty-five minutes to an hour later, Marsha has the same thing happen to her. After they were both bound and gagged, the killer proceeded to inject them with something. We’re not quite sure what that was yet. Then after the injection had done its work, he slit both throats and left.”
I took a deep breath. “How exactly can you tell the time lag between the two assaults?” I asked. I wanted to make sure that the evidence I was being given was accurate. I didn’t trust Danvers to tell me the entire, unvarnished truth. Despite being forced to tell us for the sake of the show and Hollywood, I suspected that Danvers would not be very happy if we solved the crimes before he did. The man definitely had ambitions if he was chatting with Johnny Ruck.
“The bruising from the initial blow to the head was different. The bruise had begun to develop on Annabella, but not as much on Marsha. The ME suggests that as much as an hour went by before Marsha received the same type of injury.”
“And I’m assuming you found needle marks on the bodies to indicate that they’d been injected?” I asked, thinking again of the bodies and their deaths. My stomach roiled, but I wanted to get through this. I didn’t want everyone to think that I was too soft for the challenges ahead of me. If Danvers and Land could power through it, then so could I.
Danvers nodded. “We found the needle in a wastebasket near the door of the green room. The ME is running all the possible drug screens that he can with it, but so far he hasn’t found anything that matches. I think that if we learn what was in the syringe that we’ll come a long way toward finding out the identity of the killer.”
“Were they still out when they were injected? I’m hoping that they didn’t suffer too much.”
Danvers rolled his eyes. “Dead is dead, no matter how you look at it. In this case, there were some struggles, but they were gagged. There are burns and marks on the wrists to show that they put up a fight.”
I pursed my lips and thought. The two bodies had not had gags on them when I saw them. How could that be? Had the killer actually taken the gags when he left? Why would someone do that? I asked Danvers my questions.
“You were pretty shaken up,” Danvers replied. “You could easily be mistaken. I haven’t got the crime scene photos with me, but I’ll make sure to check them out.”
I took a gulp of the coffee situated on the table next to the day’s earnings. The acrid taste ran all the way down my throat. “Why would he cut their throats then? They were already dead.”
“Beats me. Some people are into overkill, as if killing them two or three times insures that they’re really dead. Could be what happened here. I can tell you that cutting the throat with a knife, or any knife crime, tends to mean that it’s a personal and intimate crime. This is not the act of a stranger here. When the killer is found, you’ll see that it’s someone who was very close to the victim.”
“So since the victims were already dead, that’s why the killer could escape without getting blood all over him?”
Land made a gagging noise. He’d been quiet throughout our entire conversation, but now he looked like he wanted to leave. “Can you stop talking long enough to finish your work? I have places to go.” He threw his rag into the sink and wiped his hands on the front of his jeans.
Danvers laughed. “Wouldn’t want to keep you from anything important, Land. That was about all that I had anyway. I just thought I’d share what I knew with you. If you decide to play detective, be sure to give me a shout out.”
He walked away, still sipping the same cup of coffee. I looked to Land, who seemed to have no interest in talking about the murders. He had his hands on his hips, impatiently tapping a foot and waiting for me to move.
I finished prepping the cash for the nightly deposit, and we left for the secured parking lot.
Given that it was only 2 p.m., and I had tons of nervous energy from the past few days, I decided to visit Rochelle, Annabella’s sister. My scenario of the crime now had Annabella being the intended victim and Marsha being in the wrong spot at the wrong time. She was the person on staff most likely to be in the green room. She usually took the video feeds from the daily journals and viewed them for possible clips on the program. The more incendiary the film, the better the ratings—in her mind. I made a note to find out what had happened to those journal clips.
If Annabella was the intended victim, then the motive of the crime lay with her. That meant that I would need to find out more about her to see who had a motive to profit from her death. I already knew that Rochelle benefited from her death. I wanted to see if there were others and what precisely those motives were.
I didn’t have Rochelle’s contact information, so I called the studio set to see if they could provide it for me. It took me nearly 20 minutes to get someone on the phone that had Rochelle’s phone number. The experience only served to remind me how much the show and Johnny Ruck had depended on Marsha.
I called and got Rochelle’s voicemail. I left a message reminding her of who I was and how we’d met yesterday. I offered to help answer any questions she had regarding the show and act as a sort of mentor to her. Since I knew that the prize was already in the bag, I felt that I could be magnanimous to her about it.
I paced my one bedroom apartment, trying to think of what to do next. I hadn’t been home much the past few days, so I started on some laundry and went through the mail I’d missed when I’d stayed with my parents. There wasn’t much there, just a few bills and some junk mail. Nothing that couldn’t wait until the weekend when I’d have some time to myself.
I tried to call Land twice, but both times it went straight to voicemail and I didn’t bother to leave a message. His reticence, and the comments that he’d made suggesting he had something to do today, made me wonder what was up with him. I’d have to wait to find out.
Chapter 11
The next day flew by. Land seemed to be back to normal, and I’d still had no call back from Rochelle. So after we dropped the truck off at the secured lot, I headed to the studio. Fortunately, Jim Jackson was in his office when I found my way to the producer’s suite. He looked harried, but he heard me out as I asked to listen to the last set of video journals from the show. I didn’t think it was a big breach of security since I’d heard most of the contestants say far worse things to each other.
He set me up in an office and clicked on a file on the server. I was glad that he hadn’t put me back into the same conference room I’d been in the other day. I could still remember the pitch darkness and the fright in learning that the person behind the murders mig
ht have been that close to me. I wasn’t up for a reoccurrence of that event again. My nerves couldn’t handle it.
I began watching with a segment by Jerry. The sight of the green room made a shiver run down my spine. Jerry settled himself into the seat and began to talk about the show and his truck. The segment was incredibly bland, and I knew that the producers would likely not use any of that footage on the show. I kept watching as contestant after contestant came onto the screen and talked about the show.
The thing that I found after watching most of these clips was that we’d all run out of things to say. The show was moving along, people were being eliminated and we were being challenged in our creativity and culinary skills. There were only so many ways to say the same things week after week. I hadn’t realized that the show had gotten into a rut, but it had. I wondered what the producers had thought about that. Had they decided to add the pranks into the mix in order to liven up the show? I wouldn’t put it past them to do anything to garner higher ratings and another season, but I had no proof of that.
When I finished, I noticed that two of the contestants had not filmed a segment, which was odd. All of the contestants had been told weekly by Marsha that they were required to film a segment prior to the challenge and after the challenge. Yet these two had somehow escaped that drudgery.
The first of these was Tracy Jones, the contestant who had not been pranked yet. I wasn’t shocked by this. Apparently she lived a charmed life that allowed her to work without interruption and compete without following the rules. She deserved another look, given this latest infraction. The other was Anthony, Marsha’s uncle. I wondered if he’d been allowed to skip the filming since any aired segments might bring to light the fact that he was related to one of the production team, or if there had been another reason. It looked like he would be another person I would need to talk to.
I finished watching the clips. There was nothing in them that gave me any insight into what had happened in the green room. I wasn’t sure if I’d expected a taped confession or footage of the murders being committed, but nothing of the kind had been present.
Since I was already logged in to the computer, I decided to browse around the files on the server. I remembered being told that the security files were kept somewhere on the servers during my prior request. A few clicks later, I found the folder where the security videos were located. They were labeled with dates and times so that they could be found easily.
Of course, the files I had wanted to see were absent. I supposed that too much time had passed since the day of the prank. They were likely off-site at some facility by now, or they’d been erased forever. Security footage had to be archived or the sheer volume of files would threaten to overwhelm the servers for most firms.
I knew that I probably shouldn’t, but I searched around to find Marsha’s folders on the server. It took me a few minutes, but when I opened a folder named XYZ, I found all of the missing surveillance video. I didn’t have time to check them all out, but the dates were all identical to the date when we’d had our pans peed on and the times matched those which had been given to me on DVD. I leaned back in the chair and whistled. Had Marsha actually been the one to remove the files and turn off the lights in the studio or had someone just stored them under her directory, knowing that few people would be searching there in the next few days? I’d have to watch the security videos to find out what they contained. Then I could make some assumptions based on what I saw.
I thought about watching all of them, but I was only supposed to be watching about 20 minutes of video. I looked at my phone and saw that I’d already been in here for 25 minutes. While I didn’t think that anyone would come looking for me at any second, I knew that I had nowhere near the time that would be required to look at all of these, even if I fast-forwarded through them all.
Of course, I wasn’t prepared for the situation. I had no flash drive on me, and I wasn’t in the habit of carrying blank DVDs around. At least I knew where they were and how I could get them again. It would be a huge help to me to be able to view them, but I couldn’t determine a way to move the gigantic files easily.
In frustration, I pushed my chair in and went in search of Jim Jackson. I thanked him for the chance to view the videos. “Everyone is supposed to do the video journals, right?”
He nodded, but he barely looked up. I knew that every one of them would be busier now that Marsha was gone. I expected a few glitches from the show in the next few weeks.
The next few days went off without a hitch. I worked my normal schedule and enjoyed being back at work. My feeble attempt to try to juggle the television show and the food truck was getting tired quickly. I counted the weeks until the show was over and knew that I’d be very glad to be done with it.
On the assigned day, we headed back to the studio for the next challenge. Since Johnny Ruck had already announced what it would be, there was a lack of excitement charging the air today. We all knew that we’d be given a mystery ingredient, but we did not know which one we’d get. The pall of the last few days definitely hung over the set as we appeared.
The overhead lights were already full lit by the time that we made it to the set. We’d stopped at the green room, but we’d been detoured to another room where the same set-up sat unused in the middle of the room. I was glad that we were somewhere else. I wasn’t sure that I could have made it through the taping with the thought of those two women who had died in that same room.
I mumbled through a particularly lame monologue, expressing my excitement for a new challenge, but sadness over the deaths of two members of the team. Land talked for several minutes about the latest challenge and his thoughts about the show going on without one of the contestants and a member of the production team. It was more than I’d heard him say in three days. I wondered why he’d felt the need to say so much.
I’m sure my surprise showed on my face as I stared at him. Half of the audience already thought we were an item, so I didn’t have to worry about my expression. The viewers would think what they wanted.
We headed into the set area. Most of the rest of the contestants were there. Jerry waved at us, beckoning us to come over and stand by him. Tracy and Anthony both were standing to one side, whispering about something. I wished that I could have been closer, but Tracy had made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with me. So my proximity would likely have stopped any conversation going on.
There was no sign of Rochelle on set. I wondered if she had gotten lost or if her participation had been cut from the show. Yet she’d seemed too positive that she would be appearing on the show.
Johnny Ruck arrived on set just after the last of the contestants. The clipboard and a stack of wooden boxes rested on the granite kitchen counter. He looked ready to present the next challenge. I wondered who was helping him with the challenges of the job.
“Before we start,” he announced, “I’d like to thank everyone for their attendance at the funerals of our friends. I know that it would have meant a great deal to Marsha to know that she was remembered so fondly.”
There was a low mutter of agreement from the contestants. Johnny continued, “To best remember Annabella, we’ve asked her sister, Rochelle, to take over for her in the competition. Before anyone objects, Rochelle is a minority owner in the business, and the entire truck will likely come to her following the probate of the will. If you read the fine print on the contracts, co-owners are allowed to participate in the competition in the event the original contestant cannot be present. As a part owner of the food truck, she’s amply qualified to continue as Annabella’s replacement.”
I wondered if the cameras were rolling for this segment. I looked around and saw two red lights on top of the oversized cameras. I made sure to smile and make congratulatory noises. I poked Land in the ribs and jerked my head to the cameras. He picked up on the hint and gave Rochelle a smile that would have melted most women.
Rochelle thanked everyone and pulled out a piece of paper fro
m her pocket. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m dedicating my efforts in this contest to continuing Annabella’s work and her desire to win the contest. I know this is what she would have wanted. Any win I have is a win for Annabella.”
I was pretty certain that Annabella would have rather not been dead, but I kept my tongue silent. My sense of humor would not translate well to the small screen.
With the reading complete, Johnny Ruck went on with the script. “Today we’re going to be mixing things up, literally. Each of you will be given an ingredient, which has to be added to at least two of your menu items. We’ll have the judges visit your truck as always. And today we’ll also have you…”
Ruck stopped and looked around. The cameras were rolling, and I knew we’d have to do the scene over. “What the hell happened to the rest of the script?” he asked. He held up the clipboard which showed us all that the last paragraphs of the text had been blacked out with a marker. He couldn’t finish the text without x-ray vision.
Someone ran out to print off a new copy of the script while we stood around waiting. Apparently, neither Marsha nor Annabella had been the prankster since the disruptions were continuing without them. I found it in bad taste that the prankster had started up again on the first day back after the murders, but apparently whoever it was didn’t care about propriety.
Ruck got a new copy of the script and began again. “And today we’ll also have you get some reviews from people on the street. A new component of the challenge will be wowing the man on the street. Good scores from the customers will be a part of the rubric for this challenge and the next.”
There were a few gasps and murmurs from the other truck owners. Many people came to the truck’s sites just to be on the air for the program. If they thought that it would create more drama, they could easily throw in a bad review for that truck. It was a drastic change to the format, more like American Idol, where the people get to vote. I wondered if this interactive change to the format was due to the boring video journals they’d been getting. Was this another ploy to get ratings up?
MURDER IN THE SPOTLIGHT (Food Truck Mysteries Book 2) Page 9
