by J. J. Cook
“I heard you were down here.”
I looked up and shaded my eyes with my hand. “Tommy Lee! What do you mean you heard?”
He sat across from me. “I heard it on the radio. I came over to see how you were doing.”
I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around what he was saying. “You mean the radio station was telling people where to find us?”
“They were telling people you and that other food truck were giving out free samples.” He frowned. “Zoe, we need to talk.”
I was so excited that they’d called my name on the radio. The possibilities from that were amazing. I could give out free samples every day. Biscuits were cheap and easy to make. Of course, I could try other things. A biscuit bowl could be lightly filled with a pie filling and cut into four pieces. That could work, too.
“Zoe?” Tommy Lee was snapping his fingers in front of my face.
“Oh. Sorry. What were you saying?”
“I asked you to marry me. You didn’t answer. I think we should at least get engaged. We don’t have to get married right away. Weddings take time to plan anyway. I know you want a big, showy wedding where your mother and father can invite all of their friends. My parents do, too.”
“I’m sorry, Tommy Lee.” I put my hand on his. “I can’t get married, or engaged, right now. I don’t think you really want to marry me anyway. You just feel obligated.”
“What are you talking about? We’ve been together for a long time.”
“Most of that time wasn’t me. It was the girl my parents wanted me to be. You, too, I guess. I’m not that girl anymore. I don’t think you want to marry a woman who owns a ratty old diner and drives a food truck.”
“Zoe, that’s now.” He smiled very tenderly. I could feel his old pull on my heartstrings. “When we get married, you won’t need a career or a business. I make enough money that my wife doesn’t have to do anything—except attend charitable functions and support me in my work.”
“I think you have the wrong person.” I wanted to say he should ask Betty to marry him, but that sounded like sour grapes, and I really didn’t feel that way. “I wish you all the best, Tommy Lee. I don’t think we’re right for each other anymore.”
The shock written on his handsome face was terrible. I felt so bad for him, despite everything. I even started to take it back so his feelings wouldn’t be hurt.
“Customers coming,” Ollie called out.
“Gotta go.” I smiled at Tommy Lee. “You’ll see this is for the best. I wouldn’t be good at what you expect from a wife. Come over to the window and I’ll give you a free biscuit bowl.”
He sat at the café table for a long time, staring at me. Ollie and I waited on a few customers who’d heard good things about our food from their coworkers in the building.
Finally, when everyone was gone, Tommy Lee came up to the window. He stared at Ollie instead of me.
“Is it him?” He pointed to Ollie. “Are you in love with this man?”
I was surprised and embarrassed. “No. I’m not in love with Ollie. He’s working with me.”
Tommy Lee made an ugly snorting noise. “Is that what you want from a man, Zoe? Somebody who will put on an apron and work in this sweatshop with you?”
Ollie had that mean look on his face that had scared off our early morning thief.
“You’re embarrassing both of us,” I whispered. “You should go now.”
“Yeah? Who’s gonna make me go? Him?” He really noticed Ollie for the first time. That closer study made him gulp hard and step back from the window.
Ollie lunged at him. It was fake, of course
Tommy Lee almost tripped over a chair as he tried to get away. I felt bad for him again.
I put my hand on Ollie’s big arm. “No need to threaten him. He’s only upset and disappointed.”
He nodded and walked to the front of the food truck to sit down by Crème Brûlée.
“Go home, Tommy Lee. Or go back to the office. This isn’t going to work for us. I’m sorry, but getting angry won’t change anything.”
“That’s fine.” Tommy Lee spared a glance at the front of the Biscuit Bowl where Ollie was sitting. “If that’s what you really want, Zoe. That’s fine.”
I don’t know if it was Ollie’s warning face or my persistent entreaty that our relationship was over. Tommy Lee finally turned and left without a backward glance.
What did I do?
I had to wipe away a few tears even though I knew it was for the best. The change in my life wasn’t our only problem. We’d been together for a long time. Suddenly, I was alone.
Delia patted me on the shoulder. “You’ll find someone else. There’s no point in being with someone when it’s wrong.”
“You okay back there?” Ollie asked.
I sniffed, thanked Delia, and wiped my eyes. “I’m fine. thanks. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
“I’ve heard worse. How many biscuit bowls we got left?”
It turned out to be plenty. A few people stopped on their way home, leaving police headquarters. Nothing like the lunch crowd. We still had six biscuit bowls left as we got ready to pull out of our lucrative parking space.
I saw Detective Latoure for the first time that day. I told Ollie I’d be right back and jumped out of the food truck to talk to her. I thought I might be able to butter her up with a strawberry-filled biscuit bowl.
“What’s this?” Detective Latoure asked as I hailed her.
“I brought you a biscuit bowl,” I told her cheerfully. “On the house. Try it.”
She studied the biscuit bowl but didn’t seem inclined to accept my offer. Maybe she was afraid to eat my food. It hadn’t been that long before that she’d thought I’d killed Taco Terry.
“I’m sorry, Zoe. I’m not a big fan of biscuits. Too many carbs. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. I’m glad we were near police headquarters today. A man tried to rob us.”
Detective Latoure frowned
“There are several other guns and some knives over there in the bushes, too,” I told her. “Do you want me to get them out for you? You’re wearing that nice suit. Green is a good color on you. I don’t want you to get dirty.”
Her mouth kind of dropped open. It took a minute or two for her to come around. “I’ll have an officer pick these up. You shouldn’t handle them. Thank you for letting me know about this.”
“You have to try my biscuit bowl.”
Naturally she felt obligated at this point to try a bite. She took a big crunch out of the warm, strawberry-filled biscuit bowl, and rolled it around in her mouth a little, finally smiling.
“This is good. I really like it. It doesn’t taste like most biscuits, not doughy at all.” She grinned, finishing it. “I’ll have to swim an extra few laps to get rid of it. I’ve always had to watch my weight. You know how that is!”
I did indeed, and surprisingly, we had pleasant, girl-talk about everything from drinking vinegar to eating grapefruit to lose weight. Patti was very warm and human when she wasn’t so busy being a detective.
She bought two savory biscuits to go for her and her husband’s dinner.
Word of mouth was everything. I was happy to oblige. “Thanks, Detective Latoure.”
“Patti.”
“Thanks, Patti.”
“I’m really sorry about your near robbery,” she said. “Do you have a description? You never can tell when other people have had the same experience, but not gotten away so lucky.”
“Of course.” I told her what the man had looked like, and she wrote it down. “I’m happy to help out. Did you hear about that man at my diner last night?”
She was still smiling and licking what was left of the strawberry filling from her finger tips. “I heard. Miguel came by and let us know, not to mention the police report from the responding officers. I had them run an extra patrol through there at night for this week.”
“Thanks. It probably didn’t have anything to do with the murder, bu
t it was really frightening. There was something else about that attempted robbery today, too. The man asked for something of Terry’s. He didn’t say what.”
“Something of Terry’s? You mean the man who was killed?”
“I think so.”
Her pager went off. Patti apologized. “We’ll have to talk about this later, Zoe. I have to go.”
I watched her walk quickly up the stairs, admiring her spring green suit again.
Ollie had vanished while I’d been talking to Patti. “Did you see where he went?” I asked Delia.
“He’s out there somewhere.”
I went to look for him and found him behind the food truck.
“Is she gone?” he asked.
“Yes. Is something wrong?”
“I don’t like cops.” He shuddered. “They don’t like me, either.”
It was funny seeing a big man like Ollie crouched down behind the food truck, worried about anyone seeing him. I turned away to keep from smiling. I wondered what had made him so afraid of the police.
“I think we should go,” I said. “Let’s get everything packed up.”
Ollie and Delia helped me pack quickly. Ollie glanced around nervously after that. It took only a few minutes before we were ready to go.
I was pleased to give Delia and Ollie each fifty dollars when we were in the food truck. “Thank you so much for your help.”
“You don’t need to give me this much.” Ollie put thirty dollars back into my hand. “It’s not like I got expenses or anything. This is enough to buy a few smokes without Marty asking me to move out and get my own place.”
“Wouldn’t you like to get your own place eventually?” I asked him.
“Not really. Been there, done that. It’s overrated. I like where I am right now.”
“Isn’t there someone who might like to have you live with them? Family?” Delia wondered.
I wasn’t sure how far we should question him. He didn’t owe us any answers. I didn’t want him to feel like we were prying and get angry.
“You’re not trying to reform me because I helped you out today, right?” Ollie put on his mean face. “I don’t want to do or be anything that I’m not right now. Got it?”
“Got it.” I rolled my eyes at Delia and started the food truck. “Thanks anyway. You were both a big help today. Everyone loved your gumbo, Ollie.”
He made a growling sound. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I’m not good with schedules or promises. I happened to be hanging around when you were leaving this morning. You can’t depend on me, Zoe.”
“I completely understand.” I guess I’d found out how far I could push Ollie. This was probably why he lived in the homeless shelter. If he had family or friends, he wasn’t interested in being part of their lives.
We drove through the crowded streets of downtown Mobile in silence. I was sorry I’d tried to figure out anything about him. I enjoyed his friendship, whether I could depend on him or not. I hadn’t really meant to pry.
In my mind, he was like Delia—a person who needed feeding and some hope. I chastised myself for thinking I could be the person to help them. I certainly had enough problems of my own. I shouldn’t have meddled in his life. Maybe not Delia’s, either.
We got back to the diner, and I groaned when I saw Tommy Lee’s car in the parking lot. Why couldn’t he take no for an answer?
I wasn’t sure if Ollie would help me unload the food truck. I didn’t plan to ask him. I’d done it before by myself. The other times there had been a lot more food left, too. There wasn’t so much this evening. It made me happy enough to want to do a little dance.
I refrained because Tommy Lee was there looking hopeful. Ollie slammed out of the food truck, his brow furrowed. Neither man looked like a good dancing partner to me.
Ollie fooled me. He got right out, and started unloading the food truck. “Still taking leftovers to the shelter?”
“Yes. There’s still some gumbo left, and the last of the biscuit bowls.”
He suddenly grinned at me. “Not as much as the men at the shelter would like, I can tell you that. Your success is gonna mean they miss out on some good food.”
I smiled back at him. Just like that, we were friends again. I vowed never to ask about his personal life again.
“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “We’ll mix them up a special batch on the weekend.”
Ollie started walking toward the shelter. Delia took some things inside.
Tommy Lee took that opportunity to get out of his car and come toward me. I heard Crème Brûlée meowing from the food truck. No doubt he needed the litter box.
Before I could reach in and get him out, another man joined us in the parking lot. It was our thief from outside the police building that day. He’d followed us here.
He’d also found another gun.
“I want what you took from Terry,” he said. “Do it now, or I’ll kill you and your friends.”
ELEVEN
I had no idea what he was talking about. I didn’t have anything that belonged to Terry.
“I think you have the wrong person.” I tried to sound very calm and reasonable. I kept hoping someone else might show up. I wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. My first impulse was to run away screaming. That seemed less than useful.
He waved the gun around, his hands shaking. “Don’t play games with me. Give me what Terry gave you. You know what I mean.”
About that time, Tommy Lee decided to get involved. I knew him well enough to know he was about to try and prove himself to me. Tommy Lee wasn’t a hero, but he liked me to think of him that way.
“Excuse me! That’s my ex-girlfriend you’re threatening. I’m sure we can come to an equitable understanding.” Tommy Lee whipped out his wallet with a wry smirk on his handsome face. It was the same look he wore when we were involved in charitable events. He liked to think being rich made him a little better.
“I don’t want your money,” the thief with the gun said. “I want what’s mine. Terry promised to share.”
Tommy Lee’s expression never changed. He took out a hundred-dollar bill and waved it in front of the man, a little like a matador flashes a red cape at a bull.
The thief’s eyes got interested. “I can take both.”
“You leave this lady alone, and you can have this hundred-dollar bill.” Tommy Lee smiled at him in a satisfied way.
“I tell you what.” The thief snatched Tommy Lee’s wallet, and the hundred dollars. “I’ll take all of it. You tell your girlfriend to give me what’s mine. Otherwise, I shoot you both, and take everything anyway.”
“You can’t do that,” Tommy Lee exploded. “That wasn’t part of the deal. Give me my wallet. I’ll call the police.”
The thief advanced on Tommy Lee. I thought he was going to shoot him. Instead, he hit him in the head with the gun. Tommy Lee went down like a sack of potatoes. He groaned and put his hand to his temple.
I was next in line. The thief started toward me. Suddenly, Ollie rose up behind him like a mountain. Before the thief could reach me, Ollie took one large fist and pounded it on top of the other man’s head.
The thief dropped to the pavement next to Tommy Lee.
Ollie picked up the gun. “Where did he get another one?” He put the gun into a nearby trash can. “Did he follow us back here?”
I ran to him and hugged him tight. “Thank you. Thank you. I don’t know. I guess he followed us. He kept asking me for something that Terry owed him. I don’t know what he was talking about.”
Ollie’s big, dark face twisted in embarrassment. It made his skull tattoo more noticeable. “No need to get hysterical, Zoe. He’s down. He didn’t shoot you, did he?”
His big hands went quickly and very professionally across my body. It was my turn to be red-faced.
“No,” I squeaked. “I’m fine.”
Tommy Lee was still groaning and asking for an ambulance. Ollie picked him up and slung him across his shoulder. “You�
�ll be fine. Sit down in the diner for a while, and Zoe will put a wet towel on your head.”
“I may need stitches,” Tommy Lee gasped. “I may need a tetanus shot. I need to be at the hospital.”
“What should I do about him?” I asked Ollie about the unconscious thief.
“You should get some plastic tie straps and put them on his hands and feet. Then call the police, but wait until I’m back at the shelter.”
“How am I going to say I subdued him?”
“You’ll think of something,” Ollie assured me. “Just don’t mention my name.”
With those words of wisdom, my guardian angel put Tommy Lee down in the diner, and stalked back to the homeless shelter.
I wasted no time putting the plastic ties around the unconscious thief’s hands and feet. Once I knew he was secure, I called the police, and Miguel.
By that time, Crème Brûlée was meowing pitifully. I’d almost forgotten him while everything else was going on.
“Poor baby.” I smoothed his ruffled fur. “You’ll be fine. We’ll go inside and help Tommy Lee. After that, we’ll make some coffee and think about all of this.”
After I got Crème Brûlée inside, I got a wet cloth and an ice pack for Tommy Lee. Ollie had left him, unceremoniously, on the floor in front of the counter. Tommy Lee sounded almost as bad as my cat. Then I called 911.
“What happened?” Tommy Lee’s head flopped from side to side. “Who hit me? I hope my brain is still working. I need a CAT scan.”
“The police are on their way,” I reassured him. “If you want, I’ll call an ambulance.”
He definitely wanted an ambulance, but he was starting to sound like himself. “Who was that man, Zoe? Why was he trying to shoot you?”
I couldn’t tell him, since I had no idea. Instead, I entertained him with stories about my day at the food truck. He didn’t find the stories as amusing as I did. I guess you had to be there.
Miguel arrived around the same time as the police and the ambulance. I saw a television news van pull into the parking lot. Good golly! What would my parents think about me being on the news again?
