A REAL GYRO
FOOD TRUCK MYSTERY #4
Chloe Kendrick
Copyright © 2015
Published by: Rascal Hearts
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 1
Blood flowed everywhere. I tried not to get sick as I found a towel to help staunch the flow. The smell of the fresh blood made my stomach roil, thinking of the other times I’d encountered that smell. The blood finally stopped, and I tried to thank the applicant for his interest in being a part of my food truck. I probably failed at that when I rolled my eyes. He offered me the towel back as he walked out, but I just told him to keep it.
The latest applicant to potentially become my new chef had nearly taken off his finger with a fancy knife trick that—obviously—didn’t work. Even though I’d pointedly told him that I wasn’t looking for a showman on the truck, he’d managed to cut some vegetables into cute flowers before he cut himself a ticket to the hospital.
I was in the middle of trying to determine where a new food truck would be located. My current food truck, Dogs on the Roll, was doing so well that I thought a second location made good business sense. My chef was all in favor of this, since he would be in charge of the second food truck and be away from me. I dreaded not having his skills on the truck and equally dreaded the task of trying to find someone to fill his shoes.
Another failed experiment had been Janelle Nolan, who had lasted all of an hour during her trial run. She’d sounded good on paper: good schools, good family, and excellent references. However, sometimes I suspect that personal testimonials are just a way for these people to get rid of the nuisance they hope to foist on to you. Janelle had started the shift well, but within 20 minutes, she’d unilaterally decided to open the food truck two hours later, and to add three dishes to the menu without the approval of our chef, Land Mendoza. I escorted her out as she hurled a few ugly threats my way.
I had been worried that Land would take her side in the interview, taken in by her perkiness and missing her less obvious flaws. He had a smirk that showed in the sparkle in his eyes whenever I mentioned her now. I knew he felt I was jealous, but I had no desire to be like Janelle. Nor did I have any desire to work with her.
I’d inherited the food truck from my late aunt, who had started Dogs on the Roll with a woman she knew and loved. After both of them had passed away, I got the truck, despite the fact that Land Mendoza, chef extraordinaire, had mentioned more than once that he’d been promised the truck in my aunt’s will. That issue had never been resolved as the will was clearly in my favor, but after working with him, I decided to give him the run of a second food truck, should there ever be one.
Despite the rocky start to our relationship, Land and I had begun to work in harmony and the truck had flourished. Now we were looking to expand to other markets. Our plans hadn’t gotten much farther than that. We hadn’t decided on a name or a cuisine yet. Those would come later after the finances were scrutinized.
Land was pushing for a Basque-styled cuisine, since that was his home turf. He had come to the United States several years ago, looking for a fresh start. While he’d never told me about his past, I had to assume that he’d been in some line of police or military work before coming here.
While I liked the Basque foods I’d sampled from Land, I still wasn’t sold. I knew that it was trendy, but our current business was based on rather traditional fare. I worried about taking on such a different menu. He even had picked out a name for the truck, “Basque in the Sun.” For someone whose first language wasn’t English, I was impressed that Land had put such thought into a pun.
One of the issues I wasn’t looking forward to with a new truck was the hassle related to getting the permits and health inspection. These things had held my aunt up for months as she tried to meet all the hurdles in order to begin operations. However, I’d been told that the number of trucks in the area was actually down, and that I shouldn’t have any issues in getting the needed paperwork. This made my decision to move forward easier.
Land had suggested that we start with hiring a new chef to help me out. When my aunt had left me the truck, I’d known nothing about restaurant management. I had a newly-minted degree from a prestigious business school, but I had no experience in food services. Land had been invaluable in the early days, and even now, I was frightened of the thought of taking off the training wheels and trying to ride on my own. We’d still be using Land’s recipes and Land’s coffee blend, so the customers wouldn’t notice a change in personnel, but I looked to him on a daily basis to help me.
We’d interviewed two dozen people—at least—before we settled on one. Many of the would-be chefs were hipsters who wanted to be a part of the food truck movement. Others were people who had a long work record that consisted of many three-month jobs. I wanted someone with some food service experience who wanted to perhaps find opportunity in my fledgling business.
Carter Smith was different. He was a recent graduate from a culinary institute who had been forced to come home due to family circumstances. His father had passed away, and his mother was unable to take care of the house and his younger siblings herself. The early shift until 2 p.m. worked for him; it allowed his mother to continue her nursing job on a later shift so that the kids were looked after.
He was my age, perhaps a year or two younger. He was good-looking. It figured, since my curse was to be surrounded by attractive men with whom I shouldn’t become involved. While Detective Jax Danvers had a built physique and Land had a darker complexion and smoldering good looks, Carter had that boy-next-door look down. He had dark hair cut in a rather plain style, dark brown eyes and a broad smile that made it hard to say no to him. I wanted that smile to command customers to buy more food from him.
Carter had started coming in on a regular basis as he tried to get things settled at home. He was working three days a week with us, which gave him four days to work with his mother and family. The arrangement so far was perfect, but of course, the real test would be when Land went to the other truck, and I had to work daily with just Carter.
Despite how well things were going, there was one persistent thorn in my side—Janelle Nolan. I’d seen her lately in our vicinity, which likely spelled trouble. She had fulfilled some of the threats that she’d uttered on the way out of the truck that fateful day.
About four weeks after the interview, her threats had come true when she’d swiped a truck that we’d been looking at. We had been haggling over the price with the seller when he’d called to inform us that the truck had been taken.
I had been vacillating because I’d heard a rumor from a tarot card reader who worked on Elm Street, where we park, that the truck was haunted. While that sounds a bit too supernatural for me, the tarot card reader was a huge gossip and knew everything that went on in downtown Capital City. I trusted
her opinion for reasons other than her cards.
Land had practically howled when he heard my objection, but after all of the issues that we’d had with murder, I had begun to put a certain stock in staying away from certain elements. Haunted trucks were one such thing. The reader had been vague about the exact nature of the haunting, but to me that meant dead bodies and murder, two things that I wanted to stay away from in the future.
Pushy food truck owners were another matter entirely, and dammed if Janelle wasn’t walking toward our food truck just at the end of our shift. She had the air of assurance that made me sure that she knew exactly what she’d done with the truck purchase. She’d apparently decided to beat them if she couldn’t join them. She’d developed her own truck and parked it within a block of Dogs on the Roll. We were going to find out the hard way if the Government Square had enough foot traffic to support two trucks.
Janelle Nolan bounded up the street toward her food truck. She really didn’t need to bounce like she did, because she already had the notice of every man on the Government Square. However, she apparently wanted the attention of everyone, even if it was bad attention as in my case.
She nodded at me as she walked by my food truck, Dogs on the Roll, and specifically said, “Hi, Land. Have a great day.” She followed that with, “Hi, Carter.” She was plainly still annoyed that I hadn’t hired her for our truck. To me she merely said, “Told you you’d be sorry.”
Land mumbled some response, and I made a point of wishing her a great day as well. I couldn’t put my finger on the reasons why I felt a need to do this, but I responded anyway. I wanted to stay away from any sort of bad luck that lingered in Capital City. I wanted to focus on the business and our growth and forget all the murders that had come before.
It didn’t help my mood that Janelle was so close to our location. She wasn’t competition for Dogs on the Roll. Her truck, Holding out for a Gyro, served Greek food and catered more to the lunch and dinner crowds. We packed up daily by two o’clock, so the hours were different, and Greek and American cuisines would never be mistaken for each other. I hadn’t noticed any downturn in business, but I kept a close eye on sales.
Even so, she had become a thorn in my side. I disliked her, and her actions on the purchase of the food truck were only more reasons to hate her.
I was more than happy to stay on the food truck with two guys rather than a woman. I had always been more comfortable around guys than with women. I was lost as to the reasons why a person would spend hours on appearance to find a man, especially when that man should be more interested in your brain and your dreams that your cosmetics. Feeling that way, I disliked that women like Janelle would always rely on cosmetics over character.
Carter beamed off in her direction. He had so much to learn about women that it wasn’t funny. He thought Janelle was just being pleasant. It made me wonder if he’d been taken advantage of by other people as well. I hoped that I wasn’t one of them. I did offer a fair wage, even though it would never be enough to get rich from, and I tried to work around his family responsibilities, though I’d never met the family in question.
I went back to counting the cash for the day. Our sales had continued to climb over the last six months. I had utilized my business degree to implement some great marketing, and it had paid off. Of course, the news stories on solving crimes had helped as well, as the ghouls who wanted to know how I’d escaped some close calls always bought a coffee or dog.
I finished up the totals and shoved it in the bag, and shoved that bag in my backpack. I was almost ready to go. Having three people onboard made our cleanup go fast. What had been a day with an hour’s cleanup was now completed in 20 minutes. I knew that this extra time came at a price, but it would be worth it when we doubled sales.
Land said his good-byes and headed out. Carter mumbled something about a permit and started off toward Holding out for a Gyro. He was transparent, like so many men my age. I grabbed the keys out of my backpack and drove the truck over to the secured lot.
Being a Wednesday, it was my day to meet my parents for dinner. Tonight, my mother had suggested that I come to her house for dinner. She had promised me homemade lasagna, so I quickly agreed, though I was suspicious of any reason my mother had to cook. She avoided it at all costs, and I think she regretted only having one child, because that now meant she only had an excuse to go out once a week with me to dinner.
I pulled into the driveway and noticed a strange car in the drive. It didn’t have temporary tags, so I knew that my parents had not bought a new car. I’d hoped that they had for a moment, thinking that I could have managed their old car on my budget.
Even though I was getting ready to open a second truck, I still lived in a dump of an apartment and drove a beat-up Buick. I only had so much money. I remembered that too many of my business classes had taught us to build up the business as fast as we could without overreaching. For me, that meant giving up a few of the luxuries in order to get to a better place financially.
I took note of the car, but I couldn’t read the auto like Sherlock Holmes could read a cane. It was just a late model sedan with a few fast food wrappers in the backseat.
I didn’t bother to knock on the door. I just went in and announced my arrival. Sure enough, my parents and a young man I didn’t recognize came out to greet me. I sighed. I hadn’t bothered with any elaborate preparations after work. I’d showered and combed my hair, but that was about it. After seeing that my parents had planned as an obvious fix-up date for me, I wished I had called and canceled on tonight.
“Honey, this is Sam. He stopped by to say hello. I don’t know if you remember or not, but his mother and I took a class in ceramics last year.” That relationship sounded tenuous, and the chances that the sons of pottery partners would just drop by were slim and none.
I didn’t make a fuss about it. I went to the kitchen to help with the preparations, leaving my father to entertain Sam while I quietly berated my mother. “You could have at least given me a heads-up,” I protested as I pulled the garlic bread from the oven. “Everyone here knew about this except for me.”
“You wouldn’t have come,” my mother said simply. She was right. I would have come up with an excellent reason to stay home if she’d told me that she’d planned this. Business school had taught me nothing about interfering mothers and unwanted dates. This was one of the reasons that school only took you so far in the business world. So many things weren’t covered. There hadn’t been a class on Janelle, I thought with some regret. I wondered if Sam would have been infatuated with her as well.
Sam started the polite dance of trying to find things in common to discuss. He had also gone to a business school, and he’d come home to a family business. I had to give my mother credit; she had actually done her due diligence with this deal. We did have things in common, and the conversation came fairly easily.
However, Sam’s family owned a number of realty offices. He’d grown up on the right side of Capital City, and he’d gone to all the right schools. I doubted that he wanted to be seen with a woman who served hot dogs for a living. Even if he could handle that, I figured that he would want me to serve Grey Poupon with them.
Dinner wasn’t a total chore, but I was still glad to call it an evening and head home. Tomorrow was a day without Carter, so I’d have to work harder than I’d gotten used to. Sam and I exchanged pleasant good-byes, but I had no intention of following up on this guy. Dating was hard to do when you had to be in bed by 9 p.m.
Four a.m. came early, and I was up and dressed and at the food truck long before Land was. We had a system of texting each other when we arrived at the secured lot where we kept the truck after hours.
I started the coffee and began the prep work for the register and the utensils for the customers. It was strangely quiet; now that we had Carter on board, the quiet times were even fewer. Land could go hours without talking, but Carter had a need to fill all the silent spaces with conversation no matter how mun
dane.
Land showed up about 20 minutes after I did. He looked bleary-eyed and a little rough. I’d never known Land to go out late at nights, so my curiosity was piqued. “What happened to you?” I asked, trying to hide my grin.
He looked my way and grabbed one of the large cups and poured a cup of coffee for himself. That was another new one. Usually Land just drank water on the job. I could count on one hand the number of times that he’d sipped his own blend, and most of those times were when I’d first known him when he drank it to ensure that the flavor was right.
“So what’s her name?” I asked, knowing that he wouldn’t answer. Land was tight-lipped about his personal life, and I knew that whatever had happened would be kept secret. Still it could be fun to tease him.
As I expected, he ignored my jibes and had gone about his daily routine of cutting up the ingredients for the condiments, which he made fresh daily. I went back to my routine and tried to ponder what had kept Land up so late. If it wasn’t a woman, then most likely it was related to the mysterious work he’d done in the Basque region of Spain before emigrating here.
The truck opened a bit early. The condiments weren’t quite ready, but that was fine, since most of the early customers only wanted some of Land’s coffee to start their day. I started a second pot of coffee and went back to the customers.
We didn’t stop handling the rush until just after lunch. The line dwindled to a few stragglers who were afraid to walk and sip their coffee at the same time. They loitered around the truck while I started to do some clean-up work.
The spring day was one of the nicer ones. The sun was out, and the temperatures were in the upper 60s. The air was filled with the smells of flowering trees and bushes around the square. The promise of summer wasn’t far behind, and summer was our best season by far. I spent a few minutes just watching the people go by.
THE REAL GYRO (Food Truck Mysteries Book 4) Page 1
