by J. J. Cook
Alex was definitely on the defensive. “Good idea! Why don’t you ask each of your sponsors for money? They could get you a check. No problem.”
Dante stepped closer to him, dwarfing Alex. “I am my sponsor, fool. Get me some money to replace what was lost, or your luxury ride might be too damaged to drive tomorrow.”
Several other vendors had stepped closer to hear the conversation. They agreed loudly and adamantly with Dante and Bobbie.
It was almost amusing watching Alex gauge the mood and then do a quick cut and run to his RV. I could imagine that he locked himself in, too.
“Now what are we supposed to do?” Dante was furious. “There’s not gonna be much of a race if there’s no money.”
Reverend Jablonski came toward the group with his arms outstretched. It seemed to be a popular pose.
“Ladies and gentlemen. I, and my fellow team members, would like to help you in your hour of need. We have sufficient funds to give each of you a stake, so to speak, to begin your sales tomorrow. We incurred no losses—flour and water don’t go bad. We would enjoy helping you.”
I was surprised and pleased by the offer from the members of Our Daily Bread food truck. It was truly inspiring.
I felt sure we’d be fine in the Biscuit Bowl. Our losses weren’t that severe. Repairing the electric cord was good for us. We could settle up with Alex later.
Bobbie, Fred, and Dante all took loans from Reverend Jablonski. It made the vandalism a lot easier to bear. Maybe Alex would even be able to come out of his RV.
“I’m going back upstairs for another drink while we’re waiting for the miracle-working electrician who’s going to get all these rigs repaired tonight.” Uncle Saul slapped Ollie on the back. “Are you coming?”
“Sure. Anybody hear from Delia yet?”
“We probably won’t hear from her until she gets here,” I said. “She’s a big girl. She can find her way here.”
I asked Miguel if I could get the roller skates from his Mercedes. “I might as well see if I can still do this. I’d like to know tonight if I have to withdraw from the challenge.”
“Are you going to practice down here?” He glanced around at the crowded garage.
“No. I think I’ll hit the pavement upstairs once I’ve given my statement.”
Miguel got the skates and waited around with me for one of the police officers.
We talked about all kinds of things—I stayed away from any discussion about Reggie’s death or what had happened to Detective McSwain.
Instead we talked about carnival and taking boats out on Mobile Bay. We both enjoyed eating French pastry and good coffee. He even told me a few things about his legal practice, which was set up in one of the worst parts of town.
“I guess you have to go where the customers are, like I do.” I said. “Ollie told me the two of you met when you got him out of jail. I know I’ll never forget how kind you were when the police thought I’d murdered the taco truck driver.”
“You’re a different case. For one thing, you paid for services. I have a problem collecting from a lot of my clients. I’m thinking about living in my office the way you live in your diner.”
I smiled but pointed out the major difference between us. “You could go back into practice where people pay you. You don’t have to build up a reputation for what you do. Everyone knows you.”
“That may be true.” He watched some of the vendors pulling spoiled meat from their freezers. “But most of my reputation isn’t very good. I don’t know if I could ever do legitimate legal work again after the fiasco of the election. I don’t know if anyone would trust me. And there are so many people who can’t afford legal advice. I think I’m where I need to be—as long as my expenses stay low and I don’t have a life.”
“Well you can always come and eat at my place for free. Consider it a night out.”
“And I can give you free legal advice.” He smiled at me.
I hadn’t asked, and I was dying to know. Now was as good a time as any. “Why did you agree to come with me on the race? I know you have better things to do. Not that I’m complaining. I’m just curious.”
“I thought we could spend some time together away from our normal routines. I didn’t know it would be so crazy, but it’s good to talk, right?”
“It’s very good to talk,” I agreed.
Whee!
One of the many police officers in the garage finally came to take my statement. Under Miguel’s watchful eye, I left out the part about what had happened in Charlotte. I probably would’ve added it on otherwise. I like to tell the whole story.
After the officer had nodded and given me his card, Miguel helped me hide Crème Brûlée’s collapsible litter box and his food. We sneaked those things up to my room, along with the skates. My cat was genuinely glad to see these little pieces of home when I’d set them up.
“Have you sent me the supply list yet?” Miguel asked when I’d closed the bathroom door to give Crème Brûlée some privacy.
I took out my phone and pushed send. “That should be it. Thank you again for doing this. And for waiting with me downstairs. And for helping me with the police.”
“You’re very welcome.”
We stood there awkwardly. My cell phone rang and so did his. We exchanged quick good-byes and he was gone.
I sighed and answered my phone. It was my mother in Mobile. She’d heard about the problems we were having with the race and wanted to check on me.
Wanting to check on me was the story of our relationship. My mother was a high-powered corporate attorney who was running for a judgeship even as we spoke. Her goals in life included driving me crazy and pushing me to be more like her.
Instead, I was more like my dad who wasn’t a slacker but had never had the urgent need for greatness that my mother enjoyed. I looked like him, too—like Uncle Saul. The three of us shared black curly hair, even though my dad cropped his down to nothing so it wouldn’t curl. I guessed it was his way of controlling what he could of his life, especially while he’d been married to my mother.
“So what’s going on? The food truck murder is all over the news. Maybe you should come home before it gets any worse,” my mother suggested.
I could imagine her sitting in her perfectly organized office with her well-toned body and sculpted blond hair. We shared blue eyes, and that was about it. I loved my mother, Anabelle Chase. I just wasn’t like her.
“It’s okay, Mom. It didn’t happen anywhere near me. I’m pretty sure the police were wrong about it, too. I think it was just an accident. They’re making a big deal out of it to get more publicity. You don’t have to worry.”
“Too late. I’m worried. I should send someone down there to take care of you.”
“Uncle Saul is here.”
“Exactly. That’s why you should come home now. Don’t make me come up there and get you.”
My mother had never appreciated Uncle Saul’s free spirit lifestyle. I was sure that was why their relationship was quickly over when they were very young, and she’d made her play for the other Chase brother.
Uncle Saul could’ve run the Bank of Mobile with my father. It had been in their family for more than a century. It was his birthright. Instead, he’d opened a successful restaurant and then left to live in the swamp.
She didn’t understand that he needed to be different. It had only gotten worse when she’d divorced my dad.
“I’ll be home in a few days. Everything will be fine.”
“Zoe, I get your strange need to express yourself with food. But I don’t want you to die doing it.”
“Mom—”
“I’ll send you a plane ticket in your email. Talk to you later. Love you.”
I looked at the phone. My mother’s pretty face still lingered there, even though she’d hung up on me. Crème Brûlée was scratching
at the bathroom door for me to let him out.
I took a deep breath and went to grab my bag. I’d brought duct tape to protect the corners of the room, even though his claws were cut short. I didn’t want to take any chances that I would have to pay for damages.
I certainly wasn’t going home until I got kicked out or the race was over. My mother claimed to understand, but I knew she didn’t. Winning this race meant a lot to me—more than a few cut cords or even Reggie’s death.
I was there to win!
NINE
Despite Alex’s promises that we’d be reimbursed for the losses on our food trucks, I went ahead and called my insurance agent. I figured that was why I paid those high premiums every month.
I thought Alex sounded a little sketchy about the whole thing. I didn’t need the money back right away, but I wanted my losses covered at some point. I wasn’t made out of money, even if I won the race.
I was headed down to try out my skates, and when I opened the hotel room door, Delia was reaching for it. We both laughed. We were sharing a room for the night.
“You really did some shopping,” I remarked as she passed me. A young hotel worker brought in several bags and boxes, which he put on the bed.
Delia tipped him well and thanked him for his help.
“I don’t shop all the time. A girl has to have something to wear, especially if she’s going to be on TV.” She sat down on the bed and stretched her long, slender body. “How are things going here?”
I told her about the food truck vandalism. “The Biscuit Bowl is supposed to be repaired by tomorrow. I hope so. I sent Miguel out to buy a couple hundred dollars’ worth of food.”
Delia smiled at me. “How are things going with you and Miguel?”
“We talked. He waited for me at the food truck until the police came for my statement.” I included a big grin with this information. “Good, huh?”
She yawned. “Good—if he’s your brother. Not so good if you want him to be your lover.”
“I wasn’t thinking so much about being his lover as going out on a real date.” Maybe I was wrong about getting tips from Delia.
“Same thing. You need Miguel to look at you as more than somebody he picked up in his business portfolio. You have to step up your game, Zoe. Make him see you as a beautiful, desirable woman.”
I sat down on the bed beside her. “That would be nice. I think he still considers me a client that he helps out. I’ve tried to change his attitude. I’m not sure what else to do.”
Delia got up and grabbed one of the dress bags. “I have just the thing. Once he sees you in this during dinner tonight, he won’t be able to think of you as anything but the woman he wants in his bed.”
I swallowed hard. Big step! “Okay. But could we start by dating first? You know, dinner, dancing, that kind of thing.”
She laughed. “Oh, Zoe, you’re such an amateur. Just put yourself in my hands. Miguel won’t know what hit him.”
I hoped I’d know what to do with that kind of reaction, but I agreed. What did I have to lose?
“By the way,” she said softly with that strange smile again. “Is Ollie involved with anyone?”
I cheerfully told her that he wasn’t. He’d be thrilled when he found out she liked him back.
We talked for a while about Ollie and what I knew about him, which wasn’t much.
“Ollie’s sexy, don’t you think?”
Sexy? Ollie?
“Maybe, but it’s hard for me to see him like that. I’ve never seen him with a woman.”
“I can see it in him.” Her tone was fairly purring. “You probably just don’t notice, Zoe. He’s more like your brother.”
“I think Ollie is handsome, in a rugged kind of way. He’s much younger than he looks, I think. It may have been a while since he had a relationship.”
Should I tell her what I knew about Ollie’s past? I only had it secondhand from Miguel. I decided it wasn’t my story to tell. When he was ready, he’d say something to her.
“Ollie’s a real man.” Delia brushed her long brown hair, looking at herself in the mirror. “He’s exactly my type.”
She was about to show me the dress that would be perfect for me when my cell phone rang. It was a call from the front desk. Someone was there to see me.
“Hold that thought,” I said to Delia. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“I’m meeting someone. It’s a while until dinner at eight. Let’s meet back here at seven, shall we? We’ll have you looking fabulous in no time. Miguel won’t be able to keep his hands off you!”
I wasn’t at all sure that Delia understood the concept of dating.
But it was a plan, and I didn’t have any other bright ideas on how to make Miguel notice me. I decided I could deal with the consequences after the plan had worked.
I was definitely going to need a shower, and my hair needed some extra conditioning after being under Chef Art’s hat all day. I’d have plenty of time to get to that. I took my room key and went down to the front desk.
I thought it could be Alex or Chef Art waiting for me downstairs. Instead, it was Detectives Helms and Marsh. I was surprised to see them since I was in another city and state.
“Let’s sit down over here for a moment,” Detective Helms said after our initial wary greetings.
At least the greetings were wary on my part. What were they doing here?
We sat down in a few chairs near a window and a pretty fountain with some plants growing around it. I was glad Miguel wasn’t there, on one hand, and sorry that he wasn’t on the other. I’d have to mind my own tongue.
“Miss Chase.” Detective Helms smiled in a much friendlier manner than she had that morning. “May I call you Zoe?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“We have special permission to be here with the race after what happened in Charlotte to Mr. Johnson and Detective McSwain. Our chief believes we’ve found evidence that proves the hit-and-run was intentional.”
“What kind of evidence?” I wondered how they could tell the difference between a hit-and-run being intentional or not.
“That’s on a need-to-know basis.” Detective Marsh still had his hostile attitude toward me.
“I guess that means I don’t need to know.” I smiled as I got to my feet. “I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m stressed enough with the food truck race—not to mention everything else that’s happening. I don’t need your stress, too.”
Helms nudged Marsh with her elbow and nodded at me.
“Oh, all right. We need your help, Miss Chase. Our lab techs found video footage of what happened to McSwain. The car didn’t even try and stop for him. In fact, it went faster and swerved toward him. It was murder.”
“We believe it’s all wrapped up with the information you gave him and the food truck race.” Helms smiled at me again, trying to look pleasant. She wasn’t very good at it, even though she looked fabulous in her black suit.
“I don’t know what I can do to help.” I sat back down in one of the comfy chairs. “I told you what I knew earlier. Believe me, I didn’t hold anything back. You can ask Miguel, my lawyer.”
“We understand that there were more problems involving the race when you got here today,” Helms said. “Piecing these murders together might be a lot easier for us with someone on the inside.”
I understood. “I’ll be glad to tell you what I know when I know something else.”
“That would be a good start,” Marsh said.
“It was vandalism here. No one was hurt or killed. You can probably find out more from the Columbia police. I gave them my statement.”
“You didn’t see anyone hanging around the food trucks before it happened, did you?” Helms wanted to know.
“I went down there to check on things. The food trucks are in the undergroun
d parking area. The damage was already done. I didn’t see anyone down there.”
“Were all the food trucks damaged?” Marsh had a bored expression on his face.
“Only the ones that got here early. There were a few that were just arriving. Someone got in and out before that.”
“I’d like to give you my personal cell phone number.” Helms handed me a business card. “You can call me here anytime, day or night. If you see or hear anything suspicious, let me know. I promise we won’t follow you around. Just keep us informed.”
I put the paper in my pocket. “Okay. I hope there isn’t anything else. Tempers are short already.”
Detective Marsh thanked me. “We appreciate your help.”
I went back upstairs to think about everything. I took a nice hot shower, put on a cucumber facial mask, and let my hair conditioner sink in for a while. Delia was gone. It was still a long time until dinner.
I looked at the roller skates on the floor near the bed. I thought I might as well give them a try. I could still opt out of tomorrow’s challenge. Maybe better that than to look like an idiot.
Not knowing if I might fall a few times, I put on a new pair of jeans and a Biscuit Bowl tank top. I’d noticed a back area in the parking lot outside that might be a good place to practice without an audience.
My hair was still damp but was already perking up after a day of abuse. It was good to get the deep fryer smell and feel off me. I realized I was lucky that Miguel hadn’t tried to kiss me while we were waiting downstairs for the police. That might’ve been disgusting, and a little sweet potato flavored.
Outside, it was warm, but the sun was lower and a cool breeze was skittering around between the buildings. I sat on the curb and put on the skates. I hadn’t worn skates since college and my job as a carhop. It had been fun at the time, but it didn’t sound like much fun now.
Fifty thousand dollars was a powerful motivator. I could skate and sing. The worst that could happen might be that someone would ask me to shut up. I’d sing quietly.
There were large trash bins in the area where I’d chosen to practice. I held on to one as I got up from the curb. My legs felt like spaghetti. I would have fallen if it wasn’t for the trash bin.
