As it was, I would have to do some door-to-door work in order to learn more. The thought didn’t appeal to me. It was time-consuming and meant spending more time on my feet after a grueling day. Plus, the probability of being caught skyrocketed, since the time I had available to ask around would be the time that the residence was under surveillance by Danvers and Land. I couldn’t imagine their reaction if they saw me walking through the neighborhood and knocking on doors. I didn’t have many good options except for the truth at this point, and I didn’t like that.
I’d called Carter before going to bed the night before, so I didn’t have to work alone. His new schedule also gave me a chance to talk to him about Janelle. I wanted to find out more about that situation before determining if I could trust him any further. Land could be an intimidating figure, and I hoped that he might open up more to me if we were alone.
Carter came in about seven. He’d told me that he would be late, because he’d made plans the night before that couldn’t be broken. Apparently I was the only one in the truck who went to bed early and didn’t have a social life. I put up a sign saying that the hot dog sales would be delayed until 8 a.m., which was not a showstopper for the early morning crowd. They bought their coffee and moved on. I usually didn’t sell a hot dog until after 8:15 anyway.
Detective Danvers walked across the square at around nine, looking the worse for his stakeout. I shouted his name, and he strode over to where the truck was parked. On the Land scale of weariness, he was quickly approaching the point where Land had been yesterday. His shirt was untucked in back, and I thought I detected a stain on his collar, which was unlike the normally dapper detective. This had to be a big case for Land to help and for Danvers to be less than spotless.
“You look like shit,” I said. My opening gambit wasn’t subtle, but I wasn’t in the mood for niceties. Besides, if kissing me had been a mistake, I didn’t have to worry about what he thought of me.
“Thanks. I could say the same for you,” he said, giving me a smile. “What do you need?”
I looked him in the eye. “You wouldn’t happen to know why Land is out, would you? He was in bad shape yesterday. He looked as tired as you do.”
Danvers shrugged. “Not my turn to watch him. If you want to know what he’s doing, just ask.”
I had kept my eyes on the detective’s face the entire time. I could see the obvious tells of lying. He had a twitch in his left eye, and he licked his lips twice while we talked. He was not ready to play in this match. I’d spent too much time with him not to recognize the signs of evasion and lies.
“I thought I’d ask you. Don’t expect me to believe that both of you are suddenly tired beyond belief and that it’s coincidence. I won’t buy that; so, both of you are doing something together that is keeping you up all night.”
Danvers stood up a bit straighter and tucked in his shirt. He couldn’t do anything about the stain or the spot under his chin that he’d missed shaving. Geez, he was a mess. “Lots of people don’t get enough sleep. You need to get a hobby, and stop trying to see things that aren’t there.”
I internally fumed. Things had been a bit tense between us ever since we’d kissed. He’d later told me that it was a mistake, and that hadn’t improved our relationship at all. Our banter had taken on a slightly bitter tinge. While part of that was my fault, he’d initiated the kiss and also announced the cessation of any romance. “Maybe your getting my staff involved in your nocturnal activities is my business. I don’t have to look for things that aren’t there, because Land is obviously not here today.”
Danvers looked around the truck to see if I was making this up. Apparently their involvement did not go as far as to discuss daytime schedules, which only served to convince me that this was police business. “Maybe he has the flu,” Danvers suggested. He was too tired to even lie properly.
“Yeah, maybe,” I relented, knowing that browbeating wasn’t going to get me any closer to the truth. If I wanted to know, I would have to continue snooping. There’s more than one way to serve a hot dog, as they say in my business.
Carter worked out well. He followed all of Land’s instructions and did a great job of finishing with them before the truck’s first order of hot dogs. He’d brought a bag of food into the truck with him, and now that he’d finished the condiments specified by Land, he began to cut up other fruits and spices.
I was a bit worried when he pulled out a pineapple, but he deftly diced it and began mixing in some other items. “It’s my own recipe. It’s a pineapple salsa. I thought I’d give it a try, if that okay with you. I always think it’s a good thing to keep new things in front of the customer. That way, they never get bored.”
I had to doubt that our customers would ever grow weary of Dogs on the Roll. Many of them came to hear the latest stories from our adventures, whether it was our time on the reality show, the beheadings down the street, or the dangers of owning a food truck. Boring was just not in our vocabulary.
However, I let him make the salsa, which was delicious by itself and fantastic on the dogs. We had run out of pineapple salsa by 11 o’clock, and I instructed Carter to bring double the ingredients the next time so we could try it out for the lunch rush. He beamed as I complimented him on his creation.
“Could I bring it in tomorrow?” he asked. “I know that I’ve already worked today, but I could move things around to be in tomorrow as well.” I hoped that meant that things were settling down at home. While I admired him for coming home to deal with his family, I wanted to see him have his own life as well.
I agreed with his suggestion. I admired his enthusiasm and didn’t want to rain on his initiative if he was going to be a part of the food truck.
I cleared my throat. If I was going to make him a part of this food truck, I had to remove any doubts I had about him. I trusted Land, because even though he was keeping things from me, those items were not related to the food truck or the business. I knew that he wanted his own truck and that his goals matched mine. I needed to be as sure of Carter if this was going to work. “Yesterday, I saw you talking to Janelle after work,” I said, leaving the comment as a statement and not asking any particularly pointed questions to him.
One of the things that I’d learned from Danvers over the course of a year was to not ask a particular question. If you let a statement hang in the air, then the other person is more likely to tell you more than if you’d asked a pointed question, trying to explain away the statement. Questions typically only get an answer to what was asked. Right now, I wasn’t sure what questions to ask Carter…or Land.
“Oh,” he said, his cheeks turning red. “Yeah, about that—”
I waited. He was embarrassed, which had me intrigued. Could he be another of Janelle’s suitors?
He bowed his head a little. “She offered me a job on her truck.” Carter looked almost pained to tell me this.
“Was this before or after you started working here?” I asked, knowing that I’d violated my own philosophy on questions.
“After. She saw me here and said I must be good if you’d hired me. She offered me a job without even seeing a resume.”
I raged. I knew that something like this had happened. Janelle had seemed very predatory to me, willing to go after what she wanted without regard to others. I wondered for a second if she had asked out Sam because I’d had a fix-up date with him. I would resolve that later, I thought. I just had to make sure that her wanting him was not my reason for going out with him again. Despite my business background, I could still be that kid at heart who only wanted the toy when someone else showed interest in it.
However with Carter, I was surprised. I knew that Janelle had an issue with me, but I found it difficult to believe that she would throw away good business principles just to get back at me. It could backfire in a big way.
“So, what now?” I asked, leaving the topic open enough to hear whatever Carter had to say.
“I told her that I wasn’t interested. I’m v
ery happy here, and frankly, I had some doubts about the long-term viability of her truck; so I said thanks, but no thanks.” Carter wasn’t meeting my gaze at this point, and I had to wonder if that was guilt from talking to the competition or if he was lying to me. I didn’t know him well enough to tell the difference. I’d hoped to ease the suspicions I had about Carter, but I’d just managed to bring more doubts to mind.
The rest of the shift went without a hitch. We had a few people ask about the pineapple salsa, and we promised them more tomorrow. Carter was beaming with excitement at the opportunity to introduce new condiments. Land had added a few new condiments, like ginger scallop sauce, over the year as well, and now we had some of the most distinctive fare in the center of Capital City despite being a hot dog vendor at heart. I was glad to know that our tradition of trying new things wouldn’t go away when Land got the second truck running.
I finished counting the money and got a few things ready for tomorrow. I noticed that the ground coffee was running low, and I would have to talk to Land to make sure we had some for tomorrow. That was our single biggest sales item. Plus it would give me a chance to either see him again or talk to him on the phone and find out what was going on.
Carter and I closed up. I put the deposit for the day in my backpack and locked up as he left. “You’re not driving back to the lot?” he asked, surprised.
I shook my head. “I have something that I need to do first,” I told him and started walking to Holding out for a Gyro, Janelle’s food truck.
Carter trotted along behind me, saying, “This isn’t about me, is it? I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“No trouble. I’m just going to make sure that Janelle and I are clear on a few matters.” I kept up the quick pace with Carter practically running to keep up. I was frustrated on many issues, but this was one that I could openly deal with—and I planned on doing so. If she was going to try to mess with my business, I wanted her to know that it wouldn’t be taken lightly.
I stopped short when I got to the truck. Despite it being a little past two o’clock, the truck window was down and closed tight. I couldn’t hear any signs of activity inside. I wondered if Janelle had gone to the restroom—which was an occupational hazard when you work alone—or just parked the food truck here and left. It made no sense to put the truck here and not be open for sales. I knew enough about the business to know that no one could close up for very many days without it affecting the bottom line. Food trucks could make a good living, but it required a lot of time and planning. A good portion of my business was repeat customers, who knew where I was parked and that I would be available every day for coffee and a hot dog. Janelle couldn’t build up that loyalty if she pulled stunts like this.
Some trucks drove around or traveled on a schedule throughout the city. However, many of these trucks had to rely on first time customers all day or people who made a note to stop at a particular truck on a particular day. Being stationary meant that you could build up a following, even if it was not quite the open road that some food truck owners desired.
I knocked on the door to Janelle’s food truck, but there was no response. I walked around to the front of the truck, but the keys weren’t in the ignition either. I circled the food truck twice, wondering if Janelle had closed her window just to avoid talking to me. I had been rather obvious, storming over there with Carter in tow. She would easily figure out what I wanted and how I felt. She could have just closed up to avoid a confrontation.
I was about to start back to my food truck and save my rant for another day, when I noticed a dark stain under the truck. At first, I thought the truck might be leaking oil or some other fluid needed to drive the truck, but as I approached, I noticed the dark coppery tone to the fluid. I’d seen that stain before—at crime scenes.
There was nothing wrong with the truck, but I suspected that there was something wrong with its owner.
Chapter 3
As much as I didn’t want to interact with him, I called Detective Danvers. While he was currently annoying me with his secrecy and his attitude toward our moment, he was a good detective who knew his way around a homicide scene. I had to admit to myself that I thought this was likely the scene of a murder, and he was the man to call about it.
I knew my way around a crime scene too. I stood back and motioned for Carter to step away. Then I dialed Danvers’ number and waited. He picked up with a charming, “What?”
I explained the situation, and after he finished calling me the Typhoid Mary of homicides, he said he would be right there.
Given the locale, he was being literal. Within two minutes, he was striding across the government plaza. He saw us standing by the truck and walked up to where we stood. “Well?” he asked, almost accusing us of ruining his day in one word. I knew that he had to be tired, so I cut him some slack about his attitude.
“There is some fluid leaking from the truck. I thought it was oil, but it has the color of blood to it. The truck’s closed up, and I don’t see the keys, so I called you to check it out.” I pointed to the spot on the ground where I’d seen the liquid. The pool of dark liquid had grown since I’d looked at it last. Given that we’d heard nothing from inside the truck, a growing pool of blood was not good news.
Danvers knocked on the door, identified himself, and waited. No response came from inside. He walked around the truck, tugging and yanking on doors and windows, trying to get the truck open. No luck.
He checked above the visor and under the floor mats. He slid a hand into the pouches in the door and looked in the console of the dash as well. All of those places did not have keys in them.
He repeated the process again before he motioned to Carter. “If this is like Maeve’s truck, two men should be able to yank hard enough to get the window to pop up. I don’t see any external locks, so it’s relying on a single latch lock inside.”
Carter nodded, and on the count of three, they tugged on the window. It moved but didn’t break free. I looked up into the truck from the sliver of an opening between the counter and window. “There’s a padlock on the inside,” I said.
Danvers sighed and called for backup. “I was really hoping not to have to do this,” he said. “I’m really hoping that there’s a simple explanation for this. I don’t think I can deal with this.”
“There is a very simple explanation for what’s going on, but you’re not going to like it,” I responded.
He snorted. “Locked rooms only occur in your mystery stories. People don’t go to these lengths in real life.”
“We’ll just have to wait and see,” I replied. And we did. A crime scene crew showed up in about ten minutes. There was some haste to the matter, since Janelle or someone else could still be alive in the truck, though incapacitated. The faster they could get inside, the quicker she could get treatment.
The team took a crowbar to the door and pried it open. They hadn’t needed to hurry. Janelle was lying in the middle of the prep area floor, shot through the forehead.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to look at her in that state. I got the message from the crime scene crew who came out of the truck. One of the women shook her head in my direction. Carter was turning a dangerous shade of pale, and I suggested that we go sit down on one of the benches that line the perimeter of the plaza.
He didn’t speak as we sat down though he watched the crime scene squad begin their routines. I tried to make small talk with Carter, but he merely stared off into the distance as if he didn’t hear me. His actions told me that whatever he and Janelle had talked about, it wasn’t just a job offer he’d declined. Carter seemed genuinely upset that she was gone.
I decided to call Land. I wanted to hear his take on the subject, and a part of me wanted to ensure that he had an alibi for today. Normally he was the non-suspect when a murder occurred. He was either at the truck or with me. Today he’d been sleeping, and I wasn’t sure if he’d been at his place alone.
He picked up on the third ring. His voice w
as thick with sleep, so I deduced that he’d been there alone. Anyone else in his place would have answered the phone for him. So much for having an alibi. “Yeah?”
“Sorry, Land. You know I wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency, and this is.” My voice sounded strained—even to me. I guessed that I was more upset about this than I was letting on.
“What happened? Are you okay?” he said, sounding much more awake.
I appreciated his concern. It was the first time since this had started that anyone had questioned how I was doing. “I’m fine. I just discovered the body, or rather the blood, when I went to talk to Janelle about something.”
“What were you talking to Janelle about?” Land queried. His voice sounded alert and interested now. I wondered what about Janelle had evoked such a response. He had been worn out a few minutes ago.
“She was trying to poach Carter. I wanted to tell her that he was off-limits.” I had nothing to hide from Land, though he didn’t feel the same about me. For once, I didn’t care. I just needed someone to talk to.
He just grunted. “Give me 20 minutes and I’ll be there, okay?”
I agreed and hung up. Carter was still looking off into the distance. “Are you doing okay?” I asked him, putting my hand on his arm.
“Huh? Yeah, it just wasn’t what I was expecting when you came over here. I can’t believe she’s really dead.” Carter looked at the food truck, where a covered gurney was now being removed from the truck.
I knew that if the body was being removed, that Danvers would have little reason to stay. He’d leave the rest of the work to the crime scene people. I was hoping that Land would get here before Danvers started in on me. He had been none too pleasant lately, and I was more upset than I’d like to admit about this. Janelle had annoyed me, but I had never wished her dead. Still Danvers would likely try to make a case against me, just because it was the easiest route at this point, and he was bone-tired.
THE REAL GYRO (Food Truck Mysteries Book 4) Page 3
