by J. J. Cook
The detective finished writing and glanced up at me. “Anything about his finances? Was he a gambling man? Did he have a family?”
“I think you should use your resources to find out if Reggie Johnson had a family.” Miguel came around the corner of the food truck where he’d obviously been listening.
“Who are you?” Detective McSwain asked him.
“Miguel Alexander. I’m Miss Chase’s attorney. I’m also from Mobile, if you’d like to question me about Mr. Johnson.”
“Miss Chase doesn’t need an attorney.” The detective gave me a dirty look, like I had called Miguel for help. “I was only asking a few friendly questions about the deceased.”
“If you have enough friendly answers, Miss Chase needs to drive to Columbia for the next part of the race.” Miguel’s tone was polite but firm.
“That’s fine. I guess neither of you knew Mr. Johnson very well. I won’t take up any more of your time.” He nodded to me. “Miss Chase.”
We watched him walk away.
“Did I miss anything important?” he asked.
“No. At least I don’t think so. I couldn’t tell him anything about Reggie—at least anything he’d want to hear about him. Reggie wasn’t a very nice man, but his hot dogs were pretty good.”
He smiled. “I don’t think he wanted to hear that.”
“That’s what I mean. You must be right about the police suspecting Reggie’s death wasn’t an accident. I was thinking before about who might want to kill him. If it was another vendor, maybe they knew him in Mobile.”
“Unless it was another vendor in the race and they wanted to eliminate some of the competition.”
“I guess that’s true.” I bit my lip. “I felt a little bad not telling him about hearing Reggie argue with Alex in his truck. Do you think I should tell him?”
“I don’t think we should even consider that idea, or any other idea that pertains to Reggie’s death. We’re here to win the race, right? Let’s concentrate on that.”
He was right. I let go of the questions that had wandered into my mind.
“Are you driving to Columbia now?” I asked him.
“I am. I’d like to get the supply part out of the way in Charlotte in case you have something difficult to find.”
“There shouldn’t be any problem. I don’t make complicated food for the Biscuit Bowl.”
“I guess I’ll see you down there then.”
I smiled at him, wishing I didn’t feel so sweaty and full of grease. I smelled like biscuit bowls and bacon. Not a bad combination, usually. “Thanks again for being here, Miguel.”
“I’m having a good time, Zoe. That’s what vacations are all about, right?”
“You used your vacation time to be here?” I felt bad about that.
“Actually, I haven’t had a vacation in so long that I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with one. Besides, I’m the boss—like you. I get to take off when I want to.” He smiled back at me. “I just haven’t had a good reason to until now.”
Our gazes locked and we moved a little closer to each other. I closed my eyes, excited that this would be our first kiss. My heart was pounding and my stomach was in knots.
Ollie came running around the side of the Airstream. “Forget Miguel’s car. Delia has decided to stay in Charlotte and hop a ride with a friend of hers who lives here. She’ll be down in Columbia later.”
“What does that have to do with my car?” Miguel took a step back.
The golden moment was gone.
“Nothing.” Ollie shrugged his broad shoulders. “I want to ride down in the Biscuit Bowl.”
A brilliant idea sprang to mind. I flipped him the keys to the Airstream. “You and Uncle Saul can ride down in the truck. I’ll ride down with Miguel. We can talk about tomorrow’s menu on the phone.”
I was so proud of myself. My stomach was doing flip-flops. It was about an hour to the next stop. Miguel and I would have time to talk by ourselves with nothing getting in the way. If I managed to get the shopping list done in time, I could go shopping with him, too. Then maybe we could eat dinner together.
It would almost be a date.
“Anything you think we need on the supply list?” I asked Ollie before he left.
“I guess the usual—flour, water, shortening, fruit, and meat. Have you thought about doing drinks for the crowd in Columbia? We had a lot of people ask about that today. If so, we need sodas. You ditched what we usually carry to make room for other things.”
“You’re right about the drinks. I’ll check on that before we go. Thanks, Ollie.”
“I’m ready when you are,” Miguel told me. “No hurry.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I ask someone about the drinks and find Uncle Saul.”
Uncle Saul was easy to find. He was wandering around through the other food trucks that hadn’t left the area yet. His hands were full of pork pot stickers, a few fish tacos, and a chocolate cake pop.
“Are you worried about going hungry between here and Columbia?” I asked him with a laugh.
“They made too much. There was good food about to be thrown away. I took what I could.”
I knew he was right. That was one of the problems with finding the right balance between how much food you made each day and how much you could sell. Some basic staples could be used over again. When I had deep-fried biscuit bowls left over, I either had to find someone who wanted them or I had to throw them away. It looked like every other food truck vendor had the same problem.
It was different with the race, but with the excitement and having made food twice, it was easy to see how some vendors made too much.
I told him about the travel arrangements.
“This is good.” He rubbed his hands together. “I want to give Ollie some pointers about how to attract a woman. He sure needs some help. We can discuss it on the way.”
I wasn’t sure if Ollie was going to want to take romantic advice from a man who lived in the swamp with an alligator and probably couldn’t remember when he’d had his last date. But I didn’t say anything. Whatever they talked about was up to them.
I needed to plan my strategy for talking to Miguel.
“I’ll see you down there.” I hugged him. “Thanks for all your help.”
He winked at me. “Are you gonna do the roller skating and singing tomorrow?”
“Probably. So we better come up with some great biscuit bowl ideas to compensate. I might still be able to roller-skate, but I’ve never been able to sing. And let’s not forget the taste challenge.”
We talked for another few moments, laying out some ideas on fillings for the biscuit bowls. I left him getting into the food truck with Ollie.
I needed to find one of the people in charge who could tell me about selling drinks tomorrow. The cool-down tent was already gone. Most of the stage and equipment was packed up, too. I couldn’t find Alex or any of the producers in the area. I had some phone numbers but wasn’t sure who to call. Making up the rules as they went along made it tough on the contestants.
I finally spotted the big RV that I knew Alex was traveling in. There was a line of expensive trailers, most elegantly appointed, as Chef Art’s was. They were completely out of the food truck league and weren’t intended to be part of that scene.
I knocked on Alex’s RV door. There was no answer. I didn’t know who the other RVs belonged to. I decided I would go and knock on each door until I found someone who could either answer my question about drinks or point me to someone who could.
I was walking along the side of Alex’s RV, almost reaching the back of the vehicle, when I heard someone talking. Thinking it was someone on a cell phone having a private conversation, I paused to let them finish.
“I don’t want to know the whole plan.” Alex’s voice sounded angry. “I paid you to take care of the
problem. It was stupid to kill that food truck vendor.”
So Alex was involved with Reggie’s death? What plan was he talking about?
“It’s gonna be harder to make anything look like an accident now,” Alex continued. “The cops are all over. What were you thinking?”
There was a moment of silence as Alex was probably listening to the person speaking to him. I could hear him nervously pacing the street.
“Yeah, well, it better look right. If it looks suspicious in Columbia, the sponsors could stop the race. This is my best chance to make it happen.”
Time to panic!
Alex was talking about what had happened to Reggie in a way that sounded as though he was responsible. Even worse, it sounded like there could be more “accidents” to come.
I thought about Detective McSwain. I could tell him what I’d heard. He might not have jurisdiction in Columbia, but if he hurried, he could stop the problem in Charlotte.
Forgetting my need to know about soft drinks, I ran like a crazy person through the hot afternoon. The Biscuit Bowl was already gone from its location. The tow truck had taken the Dog House. There were only a few food trucks left on the street.
I spotted a group of uniformed police officers who were starting to direct traffic around the food trucks and the other RVs. Detective McSwain stood out among them in his dark blue sports coat and jeans.
“Detective.” I glanced uneasily across my shoulder when I finally reached him. “Could I have a word with you?”
“You’re free to go, Miss Chase.” He barely noticed me as he spoke to an officer.
“You don’t understand. I have something important to tell you about Reggie’s death. It can’t wait. You need to know before everyone leaves Charlotte.”
The detective shrugged and excused himself. “What is it, Miss Chase? Where’s your lawyer?”
“Look, I’m sorry. Miguel was only looking out for me.”
“Okay. What do you want to tell me?”
I explained the argument I’d overheard between Reggie and Alex. Then I carefully pointed out Alex Pardini’s RV where I’d heard him on the phone. “I think Reggie was murdered, and there may be more to come.”
He nodded, taking me seriously. “Did you actually see Mr. Pardini in the trailer with Johnson?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I recognized his voice. That was about an hour or so before we heard the refrigerator fall.”
He shook his head. “There may not be much I can do with this unless I get more evidence. You’re sure about what you heard Mr. Pardini say on the phone—and that it was him? Would you be willing to swear to that in court?”
I thought about what that could mean. Charlotte was a long ride from Mobile. I didn’t like Reggie, but he didn’t deserve to die in whatever game Alex was playing. “Yes.”
“Thanks for telling me. I’ll look into it.”
“Will you please keep my name out of it for now? I don’t want to be booted out of the race if Alex isn’t really involved.”
“Sure. I’ll ask a few questions, okay? Let me have your cell number so I can get in touch with you later.”
I gave him my business card. “I hope I’m wrong.”
He smiled. “You know, I get a lot of tips from people who overhear things or see things they aren’t supposed to. A lot of times that’s where convictions come from.”
I thanked him and went to find Miguel. I didn’t want to be standing there with the police when Detective McSwain went to talk to Alex.
I glanced around for Miguel. He was leaning against his older black Mercedes, talking to a very beautiful woman who looked elegant and cool in a green crepe dress, despite the heat.
She probably didn’t smell like biscuit bowls, either.
She laid her hand on his arm and lifted her chin as she smiled up into his handsome face. He smiled back as he looked deeply into her eyes.
I didn’t like the way this was going at all. Maybe I’d waited too long to make my move.
I stood off to the side until she left. I didn’t want to make it any worse by barging in like a total idiot. I didn’t want Miguel to think I was desperate or something. I was still going to have to drive to Columbia with him since the Biscuit Bowl was gone. There was nothing I could do but wait.
“Where have you been?” Miguel asked when the other woman was finally gone. “Were the police bothering you again?”
“No. It was just the opposite.” I explained what had happened as Miguel drove his car toward the interstate highway and Columbia.
I didn’t ask about her.
– – – – – – –
“Why would someone involved with the race want to kill off the contestants?”
We were gridlocked in heavy traffic leaving the city.
“I was wondering the same thing.” I longed to ask about his beautiful companion but couldn’t make the words come out of my mouth. We weren’t a couple yet. I had no claim on him. Besides, they were just talking.
And asking now would mean admitting that I’d seen them together and hadn’t casually walked over and spoken to them. I felt stupid either way. I wondered what Delia would have done in these circumstances.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Miguel continued about Reggie’s death. “The sponsors would lose their money and the charities wouldn’t get anything. The whole thing would be ruined.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to figure why people do the things they do.”
“I know.” He glanced at me as traffic began to pick up. “So, are you going to sell the food while you roller-skate and sing tomorrow?”
“Probably skate, if I can find a cheap pair of skates.” I felt so awkward even talking to him. “I don’t know about the singing.”
“Not a problem about the skates.” He inclined his head toward the backseat. “Compliments of the race. They gave out a pair of skates to each team. I went ahead and grabbed a pair in your size.”
“How did you know what size to get?”
He glanced at my feet. “I noticed when you kicked your shoes off in the car the other day. Six and a half, right?”
I arched my brows and smiled in what I hoped was a provocative manner. “It’s nice to be noticed.”
Ugh! That was awful.
I’d never been good at one-liners. I should have known better. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
Oh, right. He smiled and didn’t seem to take it the wrong way.
I really liked his smile. His eyes were such a perfect shade of brown—sort of like chocolate, but sexier. Very nice.
“I notice you all the time, Zoe. I can’t imagine a man who wouldn’t.”
My heart beat fast. Is that good? It sounds good.
Or was he saying I flirted a lot? I did flirt a little, but not so much.
After that, I tried to keep the mood going. I brought up all kinds of subjects—except the one I really wanted to ask about.
He responded and admitted all kinds of crazy stuff about himself—really opening up for once. We laughed about the floats at carnival last year. It was great. It felt natural to be there with him. I hoped he felt the same.
There were several accidents on the road and police everywhere as we were leaving North Carolina. I decided it would be a good time to get out my cell phone and start making my shopping list since Miguel was going to have to concentrate more on the road.
Uncle Saul had already left me a few voice mails about food ideas.
Even though we weren’t talking, I was thinking about Miguel and the death of his wife and child ten years ago. It had happened around the same time that he was framed for falsifying evidence when he’d run for district attorney in Mobile.
It was as though his life had stopped then. He’d quit the DA’s office and opened up his own legal practice. Everyone in the city now knew him as a street
lawyer who would help anyone in a jam. That’s how I’d met him. He’d been Ollie’s lawyer.
I knew Miguel was still getting over that tragedy—if anyone could ever really get over something like that. From what I could find out—and I had investigated extensively—he’d never even dated during the last ten years.
It didn’t matter to me. I was willing to wait for the butterfly to emerge from the cocoon. I wanted to be the one he thought about when it was the right time for him.
I just hoped the mystery woman in Charlotte wasn’t in line before me.
My cell phone rang as I was making my list. It startled me, and I dropped it on the floor. It was the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department.
“Miss Zoe Chase?” the unfamiliar voice asked. “We’re gonna need to talk to you again.”
SEVEN
Miguel and I were less than thirty minutes outside of Charlotte. We turned around and drove back to police headquarters.
The man on the phone had been vague. It wasn’t Detective McSwain, and yet the caller had said it was about him.
“I gave Detective McSwain my business card after I talked to him about Alex Pardini and Reggie,” I explained to Miguel. “He said he might need me to testify about hearing the argument and the phone conversation. This seems too soon for that.”
Miguel didn’t like it. “They need to work on the investigation. They shouldn’t call you for more information every few minutes.”
I knew he was trying to protect me, and I felt good about that.
I couldn’t afford to pay him. I could hardly ask him to act as my legal counsel if I needed one.
My father had paid my legal fees with him last year when I’d been investigated for murder. I wasn’t involved in the same way this time—although Reggie had been part of what had happened last year, too.
I didn’t have much money of my own—everything I had was sunk into the business. I could offer him food. That was about it.
We parked the car and went inside the police station. I asked for Detective McSwain. The officer at the desk looked at me a little strangely and then asked us to wait. He said someone would come and talk to us right away.
