I finished my copies, stuffed my set into my backpack and stuffed the rest in the Nolan’s manila envelope. I drove home absent-mindedly thinking about what I had in the refrigerator that did not involve cooking. I had little use for a kitchen after working in a food truck all day.
I pulled my car into the parking space in front of my apartment. While it was hardly an upscale townhouse, the food truck had allowed me to move out from under my parents’ roof. The layout of the apartment complex was a semi-circle of apartments facing a parking lot. The complex had once been a motel, which had been renovated for apartments. The general layout of the place reminded me of the Bates Motel, and it was only slightly less cheerful.
I got out of my car, collected my gear, and was promptly knocked over. I started to protest my treatment, but when I looked around, the person who had charged me was already gone. I had a splotch of blood on my left hand, where my palm had hit the concrete hard. I wasn’t hurt bad, but I would have to put some antiseptic on it.
I started picking up things from the sidewalk. I grabbed my bag and keys, but when I went to look for the manila envelope, it was gone.
I looked around for a minute, thinking that the envelope might have been knocked under the car in the collision, but it was nowhere to be found. The envelope was far too heavy to have blown away, even if there had been a breeze that evening.
I finally gave up on it and went inside. I locked the door and double-locked it, realizing what had happened. The envelope had been taken by someone who had not wanted me to read it. The only likely person to not want me to reopen the food truck would be the person who had killed Janelle, and I shuddered at the thought that I had been that close with the killer. Why had he let me live when he’d already killed once?
I thought about calling Land or Danvers, but Land would likely not answer, and Danvers would want to take custody of the financial records. Someone obviously thought something was contained within those reports that was worth mugging me for them. I cursed myself that I hadn’t been more careful in getting out of the car. I would have only needed to have looked out at the rear view mirror to see if anyone was around. I needed to be vigilant if this case was going to get rough.
I figured that I would be safe with the papers for tonight. I’d stuffed one copy of the financials in my backpack, which meant that the thief could not know how many copies I’d made. He had the originals and the copies I’d made for my dad and Land, so he’d think he was safe. I didn’t plan on letting him think any differently.
I made myself a cup of coffee and sat down to look at the financials.
The first thing I noticed was that Janelle had received a large influx of cash to start her business. The source of the money wasn’t shown, so I’d have to ask more about that. No good businesswoman wants to think that outside capital had to be pumped into the business to make it work. That’s fraud. It made me think more about her threats to me. She obviously had some backers who were able to pull together large sums of cash in a short period of time. I wondered why she had wanted to work for me, if she’d had access to that type of money. I made a note on the side of the page and kept going.
I looked at the profit and loss statements. I was genuinely impressed with how things had been going for Holding Out for a Gyro. The food truck had begun to make a profit in the second month of operations. Apparently there was enough of a market for two food trucks downtown by the Government Square. That eased my fears that Land and I would be too close in proximity to each other for our businesses to prosper. I liked the idea of him being close enough to share resources and help when needed. It reduced what we would need for emergency situations.
The profit wasn’t large, but by all standards an early profit is a good thing. Most restaurants and food service operations close their doors in the first three years of business. If Janelle was making a profit, things boded well for the food truck’s future.
I did notice that the profit wasn’t large enough to hire Carter. So either his story had been fabricated, or she was desperate enough to hurt my business that she would take a loss. I wondered where she could get the money to sustain a loss like that. Could she have gone back to her investor, or would it come out of her own pocket?
I ran through the expenses as well. I wanted to see if there were any areas where I could combine this truck’s expenses with my own to make us work more efficiently. I highlighted a few areas where our use of onions, buns and other ingredients could be combined for a potential savings. I also ran through Janelle’s expenses where she might have been paying too much for a service. There was only one, her parking costs were far higher than mine were. I marked that and went back to the spreadsheets.
I stopped as I noticed an unexplained expense. It appeared to be a monthly payment to an unlabeled bank account. There was no explanation given or any name provided for the account, just an account number where $400 disappeared to every month. I did mark that for Danvers, thinking that he would be a better choice to find out information about electronic transfers than I would.
I puzzled over this for a moment. I thought that this incident showed that Janelle’s parents were likely out of the running for the killer. They would not have provided any information to me about the food truck that might implicate their family in any way. I suspected that this bank transfer was related to her other occupation as spy. Was she helping to fund the groups that wanted to hurt Algeria?
I had no idea if the crime was personal or due to her involvement in espionage. That gave me two sets of suspects to investigate. I thought about this for a while, and decided that I would try to focus on the personal side of the murder. To be blunt, I had no way of finding out information on the passing of documents and material from people in the US to other countries. It wasn’t possible. I didn’t have the contacts or the network to do so.
Therefore, I decided to concentrate on the personal matters. These were things that I knew and could get my hands on. I had already found an ex-boyfriend in Sam, and hopefully cleared the parents of being involved in the espionage work. I was making good progress in that arena. So I knew which path to take.
The only bad thing about that path was that it included how someone got in and out of the food truck without leaving an open exit from the truck. I would have to find out if there was only the one set of keys or if copies had been made. I would only be able to trace if Janelle had had keys made, not where they ended up, but that would be a start. If someone had made a set of keys without her knowledge or permission, that would be another matter entirely. I would have no way of telling that. Capital City had far too many locksmiths for me to hunt down an unknown person’s activity with one particular locksmith.
If the food truck had not been locked by the keys on the way out, then I was stymied. There were only a few means of egress from a food truck: the back door, the door to the cab and the serving window. The two doors had been locked from the inside, and the window had been chained on the inside. So it boiled down to either having keys or a secret way out of the truck. I had to say that even though I was a bit shaken from my earlier encounter, there was a small thrill at the thought of a secret passage out of the truck. It sounded so mysterious and adventurous.
Carter showed up the next morning. I hadn’t really thought of a way to broach the topic of Janelle with him again. I knew of no way to ask Carter why he hadn’t been photographed by the police, speaking to a known courier. If he was involved, he would lie about it. If he wasn’t involved, ultimately he would have no idea. In either case, I would be alerting him to the fact that the police had been monitoring Janelle’s truck and that I had him labeled as suspicious.
I did make a note to ask the Nolans about Carter. If Janelle had really been thinking of adding staff, which didn’t look promising given the numbers, then she should have a file related to HR or hiring. She would have interviewed other people and saved their materials as well. I had a hunch there was more to the connection with Carter than I knew about.
I was first to the truck and texted both Carter and Land. Carter showed up shortly after I arrived, but six a.m. rolled around, and Land had not called or shown up. I was concerned. Land was nothing if not punctual and responsible. I thought back to my encounter last night and wondered about him.
I called his number, but no one answered. I was panicking slightly by now, so I called Detective Danvers as well. He answered, but he was openly annoyed that I was calling him to check on Land. “We didn’t have a sleepover. How would I know where he is?” Danvers asked with a sneer in his voice.
I sighed. I whispered loud enough for Danvers, but not loud enough for Carter. “I know he’s been doing surveillance for you. He told me. I thought that maybe he was working with you last night and something happened.”
That caught his attention. “Yeah, we did some surveillance of Janelle’s apartment. Someone should be trying to break in and get the papers that had been delivered to her that day. But no one has come by. It’s odd, but still he was fine last night when I dropped him off.”
I thought back again to the scene at my apartment last night. I wondered now if I should have called Land last night. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. “I’m going over there,” I said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
I didn’t bother to take off my apron. I tossed the keys to Carter and prayed for the best during my absence. He’d barely worked with us—and never alone. I wondered if I would still have a truck when I returned, but now I worried that I wouldn’t have a chef if I didn’t go.
It doesn’t take long to get a cab if you are willing to stand out in front of them. The first one swerved into the other lane, but the next one was forced to stop for me. I got in and gave him Land’s address.
His apartment was dark when I reached it, but I would have expected that if he’d overslept. I knocked on the door, but got no response. His car was parked in the lot, not too far from his door, so I knew he was here. I knocked again, louder this time. Nothing. I practically pounded on the door, hoping to raise him.
An older woman came to her door. “What’s all the noise about?” she asked, holding a cup of coffee in her hands. “Let the poor man sleep. He’s been looking like a wreck the last few weeks. He told me that his boss has been working him too hard.”
I cursed him mentally, because in a few seconds, I would have to admit to being his boss. “Have you seen him today?”
She shook her head. “He had some people over last night. They left about 10, but that was it. I haven’t seen him since.”
I closed my eyes. The timing was such that my attacker could have easily made it here in time to do something to Land. I just wasn’t sure why they had been so gentle on me if Land was hurt and locked behind the door. “I need you to think clearly. Did you see Land when those people left last night, or did they let themselves out?”
The woman stared off into the distance as if she was trying to recall the scene. As the seconds dragged on, I became even more nervous. “They let themselves out. Land didn’t come to the door. I wasn’t being nosy, but my dog barks at strangers. I looked out the window and saw them walk away from his door. He could have been inside, but I don’t know for sure.”
“You wouldn’t have a key, would you? I’m worried that something has happened to him.” I took a deep breath, trying to still my nerves. Land had military training. He’d be far better off than I was in fighting off unknown attackers.
“Who are you?” the woman asked.
I groaned. “I’m his boss at the food truck, but I’m not the boss who has been working him so hard. He’s been freelancing for the police, and they’ve had him working nights. I’m concerned about his safety. He didn’t show for work today, and he’s not answering texts from me.” I stopped talking, because I could hear my voice getting shriller. In another minute, I’d be having a panic attack.
“I don’t have a key, but there’s a way into his place. He showed me one time, in case I ever had need to get in there.” She set down her coffee on a table inside of her place and came back out. We walked around to the side of what had to be Land’s unit.
The woman took a fingernail and popped out the screen. She put it down on the ground and tilted it against the wall. Then she grabbed hold of the window’s handle and shook it violently. For a second it held, and then it popped open. So much for the security system here.
I was younger and more nimble, but I didn’t need to tell the woman that. I pushed the window open enough to shimmy into the unit. The bedroom, where I had landed, was empty. There was no sign that Land had slept here last night—or ever. It was spotless with the bed made using real corners. Part of me wanted to snoop around for details about Land’s life, but that wouldn’t be now.
I checked the bathroom, but nothing was there except for a few men’s products on the counter. I sighed, thinking that he had his life much more together than I did.
However, those thoughts stopped when I got to the living room. The room looked like a tornado had run through it. Books were off the shelves and cushions had been cut open. Whoever had done this had been looking for something very specific.
I moved around the coffee table, trying not to step in the torn cushions and shredded paper. On the far side of the coffee table was Land, lying face down and not moving.
Chapter 9
I called 911, Detective Danvers and Carter in that order. I had enough wits about me to know that he had a pulse and was breathing. I propped open the front door for help to arrive, but I stepped out onto the flagstone walk to his unit. The older woman came back around at the sound of my voice and joined me.
Danvers was on the scene nearly as quickly as the first responders were. They placed Land on a gurney and supplied him with an oxygen mask. I’d never seen Land look less formidable. Danvers walked over to the EMTs and then returned to me. “They say he was hit pretty hard on the head, but that he’ll come around with time. They’re guessing that he’d regained consciousness a couple of times because there’s vomit a few feet away from where you found him. So he hasn’t been out all night. His prognosis is good.” The EMTs were still checking his vitals, and they didn’t seem to be in a huge hurry to rush Land to the hospital. So I thought that counted as a win.
I sighed deeply. I hadn’t realized exactly how worried I’d been about him until I saw him like this. He’d been so out of character lately with the late nights and the lack of dedication to work. I wondered if he’d know how dangerous the work with Danvers could be. I couldn’t see our investigation into a locked truck murder as something worth being killing for.
Danvers continued. “Where’s the woman who saw the people leaving his apartment last night?” He must have been upset, because other than me, there was only one other person milling about on the flagstone tiles. Her presence could barely be missed, even by Danvers.
I introduced him to the neighbor. “This is Mrs. Abbott. She lives next door. She saw some people leave Land’s apartment last night. She didn’t see Land though.”
Danvers held up a hand. “Let her speak for herself. I don’t need anyone leading witnesses. So you saw some people leaving Land’s place last night?”
She nodded and told her story again. She added a few details like it had been two men, one younger and one older, and a woman, and that the woman had been pretty. I tried to think of three people who might fit that description. I wondered about Sam and Janelle’s parents, but that seemed like an odd trio to hurt Land. I couldn’t think of any reason why he would be involved in this case.
As I stood there, I also questioned my original assumptions as well. If the thief had knocked me down at seven o’clock and taken the papers, then why would he have needed to go to Land’s apartment for anything? The thief would have the papers he wanted. No one involved with this case had really interacted with Land—not the Nolans, not Sam, not anyone.
He thanked Mrs. Abbott for her time and moved me by the elbow to a corner of the apartment unit. “You reali
ze that Land wasn’t even home at nine last night? He was with me until 11. So that means either these people broke in when he wasn’t home, or she’s lying. Once Land is in better shape, I’m sure he’s going to be able to give us some more details about this.”
I shared with Danvers the observations I’d just made about Land and his involvement in matters. “So who would want to hurt Land or look for things from your investigation?” I asked. “Because it sounds a lot like your case is the dangerous one.”
Danvers frowned at me, like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. “If it’s the case we’re investigating, it could be a number of people. Those secrets that were being passed to Janelle Nolan are dynamite.”
I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. “So where were you until 11? Did someone drop Land off or did he drive home alone?”
Danvers looked at me with his mouth open. “If you think I’m going to share any details of this case with you, you’re wrong.” I gave him a stare-down that told him I was beyond meaning business here. “Land was with me until 11, and I dropped him off here. No, I didn’t stay here and wait for him to go into his apartment. This was surveillance, not a date.”
“Yeah, well your dates are somewhat of an ambush too,” I started. “But if you think I’m just going to sit around and watch the people I care about get hurt because of your tactics, you’re wrong. Whatever you think is working by doing this surveillance—isn’t. You’ve been doing it for days, and it’s made Land tired enough that he fell into an easy trap.”
“Everything you just said is assumption and surmise. You have no proof.” Danvers crossed his arms over his chest.
I wasn’t done. “It won’t be when I’m done here, because I’m going to look into this myself. I’m tired of the boys playing super spy, while I pick up the pieces.”
THE REAL GYRO (Food Truck Mysteries Book 4) Page 8
