MURDER TO GO (Food Truck Mysteries Book 1)

by Chloe Kendrick

  I thought for a second that he might tear up. His eyes were watery, and he dabbed at them with the corner of his t-shirt. The movement showed off a significant amount of supple olive skin and perfectly cut abs. What was I thinking in letting him go? I’d known that he was in good shape, but the sight of his hard flesh made my knees go a little weak. And I was allowing him to leave without even getting to see the rest of his muscles.

  “You realize that I’d be taking this spot and pushing you back down the street?” he said finally.

  I nodded. I knew exactly what I’d be losing in addition to my chef. “I told you that this was only temporary. I knew that the day would come when Meat Treats would be back, but no reason not to enjoy the extra cash while I can. That’s just supply and demand,” I said, reviving the ghosts of my Econ class in college. My professor would have been proud.

  Land watched me as I spoke. “You seem pretty chill about this. Do you know something that I don’t?”

  The tender moment had passed. Things were back to normal now with Land mistrusting my generous offer. I shook my head. “Just paying it forward. I remember how I felt when I thought I’d lost Dogs on the Roll. I figured that you must feel the same way. So I’m being sympathetic to your situation.”

  Before I could speak, he walked up to me and threw his arms around me. I just stood there awkwardly with arms at my side. I wasn’t sure whether to pat his shoulder, cop a quick feel, or just wait it out. He let go after a few minutes and smiled at me. “Thanks.”

  I smiled at him, wondering what I’d just done.

  Chapter 8

  My dad was true to his word and found the name of the executor for Shirley Bradley’s estate. He even went as far as to contact the man, who apparently was a relative of Shirley’s husband. My father made me an appointment for 3 p.m., knowing that I would be done with my shift by then. It’s on days like this that I feel that I shouldn’t have moved out of my parents’ home. It was so convenient to have all this work done for me. Now, in my own place, most of these chores fell back on to me. I had to say that being pampered was the better feeling of the two, even if I would have to sacrifice a major amount of personal freedom.

  I managed to get done with my cleaning and financial duties by 2 p.m., though Land was dragging his feet for some reason. Most days, he was the one who wanted out of there as fast as possible. Today he was taking care in washing each knife as if it were made of crystal. I rushed him along by threatening to help him, and finally got him out of the truck with little time to spare.

  I pulled up in front of a small red brick ranch home and shut off the old Buick. I approached the house with trepidation, not knowing how to approach the subject—any subject if I was to be honest. I wasn’t sure how this family felt about Alice, and I was pretty sure that they wouldn’t take to me if I suggested that their relative had obtained $30,000 illegally to buy a food truck, which, oh by the way, I now owned and operated free and clear.

  I knocked on the front door, and I was surprised when the door was answered by a child of no more than three. “Is your daddy home?” I asked.

  The little boy turned and shouted, “Daddy!” stretching the word out longer than I thought possible. He turned around and smiled at me, but said nothing. I waited.

  We were still looking at each other when a man came to the door. “Hi, you must be Maeve. I’m Jack.” He held out a hand and I shook it. “Come on in. Henry here hasn’t quite learned the rules of answering the door yet.” Henry got a rub on the head from his father, but no additional lessons on door answering.

  Jack was about 30 by my estimate with dark eyes and dark buzz-cut hair. He wasn’t much over five and a half feet tall, as I could look him in the eye. He was dumpy with a white pressed shirt that bulged out a little at the belly. His hands were smudged with ink of some sort, and I wondered what he did for a living.

  Henry gave me a grin, as if he’d just been complimented, and then ran off to play. The man took me into the living room of his house and indicated a chair where I could sit down. I thought then that this would probably not be recommended by Detective Danvers. I was alone in the house of a possible suspect with no backup. Of course, the suspect would have had to take his child with him to dispose of the body, so I figured I was relatively safe here.

  “So, I spoke with your father. I was expecting him to be here too. We’ve done business together in the past. What exactly can I do for you?” Jack sat down on the sofa opposite me. A coffee table had papers strewn across it that I hoped were the papers relating to the estate. They were not neatly bundled and stapled like my father’s papers had been. These were crumpled and torn. A few had coffee stains on them. I had a hunch that Jack was not as organized as my father was, but few people were.

  I took a deep breath. “I’m trying to trace down some information regarding the purchase of the food truck. Were you aware that my aunt had purchased a food truck?”

  He laughed. “It was all that Shirley could talk about. She talked about the freedom, the profits and especially the hot dogs. I know more about hot dogs than almost anyone in America.” His delight in his memories seemed genuine, and I was glad to see that Shirley came from a family who loved her. “So what exactly did you want to know?”

  “First, what drew them to a food truck? I mean, Shirley and my aunt—Alice.”

  He paused for a second. “So your family wonders too, eh? Shirley would never comment one way or the other on the matter, so we just took it that she was involved with Alice. My wife once asked her point-blank about it and she wouldn’t respond. Just made a joke and changed the subject. They did enough things together, and even in some cases, threw their finances in together. Alice got Shirley’s stake in the truck in Shirley’s will.”

  That statement made me wonder even more. Why had Shirley been coy about the subject? Was it just their age and the fact that their generation didn’t talk about the matter, or was something else at play here? “Most of the family wonders,” I said, “but I don’t think it matters all that much. It just makes the decisions about who got what regarding the food truck more difficult.”

  “I agree there. My family moved in on the estate as soon as the funeral was over. I had people asking me for the house, the truck, even cash from the estate. Some of them wanted to sue Alice when I told them that she got the truck. They were pissed to say the least.”

  I nodded. All families seemed to be alike. “Do you know whose idea it was for a food truck? I have no clue. I’m just really curious about its history since I inherited the thing.”

  “I think it was Shirley’s idea, to be honest. She was always doing things like that, and she would have appreciated the quirkiness of it. Shirley could always spot a new trend, and when she wanted to, she could make a profit from it as well. She had marketed a few clothing items for a small boutique just when they were becoming popular. Those ugly shoes? Shirley’s store was one of the first places in Capital City to buy them.”

  “Crocs?” I asked, feeling momentarily sidetracked. I wasn’t sure if Jack was just reminiscing with someone who cared or deliberately trying to throw me off-track with talk of clothes and shoes.

  He nodded. “And she had scarves before they became popular again. She was quite a whiz at trends.”

  “Do you know how they financed the food truck? It might have been a good idea, but those types of things cost a lot of money to start.”

  “Not a clue. I’ve been going through these papers that Shirley left behind, trying to find out if Shirley had a financial interest in it or just sweat equity. Nothing seems to have been spelled out in writing though. It doesn’t really matter too much. Shirley’s will explicitly states that Alice got Shirley’s interest in the truck.” He held up a stack of papers and shook them. “That’s not going to be much help to you.”

  “Do you mind?” I asked. He handed over the stack and I began to look at the papers. They showed a fairly constant balance in her checking account. There were no sizable withdrawals f
rom her savings, certainly nothing that would have paid for the food truck. I traced the balance for a year prior to her death and learned nothing. Unlike my aunt’s account, there were no suspicious deposits to her account to pay for the truck. The transactions made it seem as if the truck had been my aunt’s idea more than that of Shirley. Her accounts all looked entirely aboveboard. Shirley had paid for a number of upgrades to the food truck once it was purchased, including the burner Land had mentioned for the cooktop, but that was it. From my quick glance, she had played no part in the food truck prior to its purchase.

  Jack spoke again. “She left all the interest she had in the truck to Alice when she passed away. No one could put a monetary amount on what she owned there. We couldn’t find any material investment in the truck, so it boiled down to tires, some new kitchen equipment and some work on the fuel line.”

  “So at that point, the truck belonged to my aunt entirely,” I said, more to myself than to him.

  “It would seem so. The title would have been hers and the truck was paid for. It was pure profit at that point.”

  “Did Shirley pass away suddenly?” I wasn’t sure how to bring up the matter, so I just dropped the bomb. It probably wasn’t the best idea in the world, but it seemed to work. He wanted to talk about it.

  “Yes, she did. It was quite sudden. She was feeling fine one day and then the next she was gone. Of course, Shirley had always had a certain amount of respiratory issues, allergies and asthma—that sort of thing, but it was all manageable. Alice was the one who found her. Some of my relatives suggested that Alice had killed her to get her assets, but that proved not to be the case.”

  “So she was murdered?” I asked, feeling cold suddenly. If Shirley had been killed in this way, then it was likely that Alice had been too. Given the speed with which both women had passed away, they were likely tied together.

  He shrugged. “It was an odd case. The ME couldn’t find a cause of death. I talked to a few of the detectives and the ME, but they had nothing. They finally listed it as natural causes. If they couldn’t prove that she’d been killed, then where’s the case?”

  “That’s what happened with Alice, too,” I shared. My mind began to wander. I couldn’t believe that two people who were friends and business partners had died in a similar manner only months apart. I went with the assumption that they’d both been killed by unknown means. The thought scared me, since anyone could be next. “Can I ask when Shirley passed away?”

  He named a date that was about four months before my aunt had died. “Trust me. I did everything I could with the police, and I got nowhere.” I could hear the frustration in his voice. I knew that feeling well.

  “Who did you speak to there?” I asked, thinking of Danvers. Had he been associated with the case? Capital City, despite being the center of government for the state, was not that large a city. It would not be unreasonable to think that he’d caught both cases.

  “Jax Danvers, for starters, but he had nothing. So I talked to a few other men and women there as well. I wanted answers. I wanted justice, and I got nothing.”

  I processed the fact that Danvers had dealt with Shirley’s death. He hadn’t mentioned a thing about it when we talked. The entire conversation had been about Fred Samples’ head and me. Certainly, he couldn’t think that I’d killed four people just to get a food truck. Dogs on the Roll is a great business, but I had no desire to earn a profit on the blood of a foursome of innocent souls.

  He had to know more about the truck, too, if he had looked into Shirley’s death. I wondered if he’d suspected my aunt of killing Shirley. There would be a certain irony in Danvers suspecting two members of the same family for a connected set of crimes.

  I was also curious that Jack referred to Danvers by his first name. That seemed odd. Danvers would likely not have encouraged a cordial relationship between the two of them if Jack was badgering him for help on a possible murder case.

  “I’ve seen the truck when I go downtown. It’s nice to be reminded of Shirley,” he said, smiling fondly.

  “Do you work downtown?” I asked. His face didn’t look familiar, but it wouldn’t unless he was a regular at the truck. I didn’t know too many people who worked downtown. Those people who worked in the government offices hadn’t crossed paths with my ‘ass on the sofa’ work. I needed to get out more, but I knew that once I began working alone, my free time would shrink even more. I’d be tired coming off my shift at the truck, and I’d be lucky to get out of my tiny apartment for anything.

  “No, I’m a consultant. I come downtown sometimes to meet with clients.”

  “Government work?” I was beginning to get a bad feeling. What if Jack had been at Meat Treats the day that Fred was murdered? He would have definitely been in the vicinity if he’d been near our truck. I wondered if perhaps Jack had killed Fred Samples. If so, I was sitting in the same room with the man who had killed four people and had hit me on the head. I tried to calm myself, even though no one knew where I was at the moment.

  “Yeah. I work with the police sometimes. I’m a handwriting analyst.”

  I stared at the man. I’m not sure, but I suspect that my jaw dropped as well. Here was someone who was familiar with handwriting involved with this case. Had he been the one to break into my parents’ home and leave a fake copy of my aunt’s will? I couldn’t help but think that perhaps he was involved some way. This was the first solid clue that I’d uncovered which might link someone to the wills. Though part of me wondered why he would have done that when he could have easily altered Shirley’s will to keep her part of the truck. The elaborateness of the will at my parents’ house would not have been needed.

  He looked concerned. “Did I say something to upset you?” he asked. “You don’t look well.”

  I shook my head and tried to focus. I didn’t want to show any emotion that might give something away at this point. I tried to find my polite, customer service face and put it back in place. “Sorry, just thought I was going to sneeze and then it went away. I hate that feeling.”

  I paused another moment and then asked about John Summers, the handwriting analyst who had looked at the will.

  He gave me a wary look. “You weren’t dating him, were you?” he asked.

  “No, he did some work for me, and I was just curious to find out about his reputation as an analyst.”

  Jack seemed mollified by the answer. “He’s had some problems with women. They flock to him and each one lasts about five minutes. Then he dumps them and moves on to the next one. It’s difficult to deal with him at times. Most of the women who ask about him aren’t interested in his reputation as an analyst.”

  I’d known many men like that over my short but eventful life. These days, I tried to steer clear of the type. “I hired him to look at a document.”

  He nodded and seemed relieved. “He’s a top-notch analyst, if you ignore the woman problem. It’s starting to get in the way of his career.”

  I was glad that I could answer honestly. The last thing in the world I needed was Land suspecting that I’d jumped the handwriting analyst just to keep the food truck. “Just documents for me. I’m not dating anyone at the moment,” I said. I thought of Detective Danvers and then my momentary thrill at seeing Land’s abs, but decided that it probably was not a good idea to ask this man about a prospective date. I had no way of ensuring that he'd be discreet about the matter. It would only make things with Danvers that much more uncomfortable.

  He laughed, and the moment passed. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “I’m still looking into where the money came from for the truck. I wish I knew who had given the money to my aunt. It wasn’t her money, and it didn’t come from Shirley. Did she have any rich relatives who would have given her the cash?”

  Jack broke out into laughter. Henry ran into the room and began laughing as well, more in sympathy with his father than from understanding any joke. “Sorry,” he said finally.

  “Di
d I say something funny?” I asked feeling very confused. I seemed to be left out of all the jokes recently.

  “Shirley and I do have a rather well-to-do relative. However, the thought of him forking over 30 grand for a food truck made me start laughing. The guy sends Henry a five-dollar bill for his birthday and acts like it’s a big deal. Of course, I get nothing, so it is a big deal, I guess.”

  I tried to act as if I understood, but there were no rich relatives in the Kinkaid family. No one to go to for a quick loan. My parents had taken me in after college because I had no job, but other than free housing, they really couldn’t have afforded much more for my upkeep. They got by like millions of other people here.

  I stood up. “Thank you so much for your time. You’ve been more than helpful with this.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Really? I don’t think I’ve answered one of your questions. All I’ve done is say ‘I don’t know.’”

  I shrugged. “Even so, I have more questions to ask other people now. I do appreciate the help.”

  He walked me to the door, and I drove back to the truck, thinking about all those other questions and where I could find the answers to them.

  Chapter 9

  Land wasn’t at the truck when I returned. It appeared as if he’d completed the lunch shift and then left the cleanup to me. What a guy. I suspected that he’d gone down to the Meat Treats truck to start working on it for the Samples family. My only consolation was that I knew he’d spend the better part of the day trying to get rid of the blood and the fingerprint powder from the truck.

  As for Dogs on the Roll, I spent the better part of two hours cleaning up from the lunch shift. Some of the grease and crusted food had stuck to the surfaces in the time that had passed, which meant that I had to put some real elbow grease into the cleanup. Not exactly what I had envisioned for my afternoon.

  I realized that I would soon have to be here every day, all day. There would be no more excuses; I couldn’t leave the truck whenever I wanted. It had been a two-person business until now, whereas before I’d been able to leave with the knowledge that the business was well taken care of. I had no idea where to look for a hot dog chef who would work for a fair but smallish salary as well as be reliable and responsible. Maybe I could file a missing persons report on an incredible chef.