by J. J. Cook
Her eyes shifted away from me. “I’ve talked to the police. They’ve asked me a ton of questions about Alex’s death.”
“But did you tell them that you put the money in Miguel’s account for him to represent you?” I had to pin her down on this.
“They never asked me.”
I stood up, anger propelling my legs like springs. “We have to go and tell them.”
“All right. I can do that.” She sniffled, getting slowly and gracefully to her feet.
The producers and sponsors of the race sounded the buzzer. I knew I had to go to the stage for the last phase of the Atlanta challenge. That wouldn’t take more than a few minutes.
“I have to take care of something, but I’ll be right back. You can wait here or wait in the Biscuit Bowl. Then we can go to the police and get Miguel out of this mess.”
“I’ll wait. I don’t want to hurt Miguel.”
She looked sincere. She sounded sincere. All I could do was trust her.
Unless I found out better.
Ollie, Uncle Saul, Delia, and I walked over to the stage area. Chef Art met us there with a smug smile and a twinkle in his eyes.
“Are we going to Birmingham?” I asked.
“I think you’ll be pleased with the outcome.”
“Good morning, again, foodies!” Patrick yelled out.
There was a loud screech in his microphone. We winced and covered our ears.
He frowned at the technicians, who quickly made adjustments.
“Let’s try this again. Good morning, foodies! The challenge is over, and we have a new board. Can we see that now?”
The same two women smiled and brought out the electronic board. After it was in place, it lit up briefly—then shut down again.
Knowing Tina was waiting, and that we could help Miguel, made me impatient. But I knew I had to be there to continue the race. Two more minutes. Two more minutes.
“Okay,” Patrick said. “After these glitches, everything should be a snap.”
They turned on the board again, and this time it stayed on.
“We have our winner—Our Daily Bread. Let’s hear it for them.” Patrick applauded, and everyone in the street in front of the stage applauded, too.
“No one won the first challenge because of the rain, but there were teams who worked hard despite the weather. A tie between our top two teams was settled, and we’re ready to move on to the next stop in our race: Birmingham, Alabama.”
Everyone applauded enthusiastically.
“Let’s take a look at the new standings on the board, and who will be going on to the next leg of the race.”
The numbers came up on the board. They were the same numbers as when we first got here. The group was silent as we waited for the decision of the producers as to who would go on.
The board went off again for a moment and then came up with the names.
Patrick read them off. “At the top is Our Daily Bread. Consistent high points. You guys rock.”
“I wish he’d get on with it,” Delia said.
“Me, too.” I took a quick peek back at the Biscuit Bowl. The large biscuit on top was spinning, but I couldn’t tell if Tina had waited for me or not.
“In second place, the Biscuit Bowl.” Patrick located our little group with his gaze and pointed to us. “This team must try harder because they’re always in second place.”
Everyone applauded.
Ollie was offended by the statement. “What does that mean?”
“Shh,” Delia said.
“The third team moving forward is Shut Up and Eat. In this weather, their sandwiches have become looser than ever.”
“Is he supposed to be a comedian, too?” Uncle Saul demanded.
“If he is, I don’t think he’s very funny,” Bobbie Shields said.
“And in fourth place, we have Grinch’s Ganache.” Patrick finished out the lineup. “Pizza Papa and Chooey’s Sooey will not be joining us for the next leg of the race.”
The cameras panned on the two losing teams. They moved into the cool-down tent for their final interviews.
“You all made it!” Chef Art cheered. “You’re going to Birmingham.”
As soon as I got the word and the cameras were off the group in the street, I ran back toward the Biscuit Bowl.
“Where are you going?” Uncle Saul yelled.
“I’m going to help Miguel. Take the food truck to Birmingham.”
“Zoe, there’s not enough room in there for the three of us,” Ollie reminded me.
“I’ll go with her.” Delia ran after me.
“What’s going on?” Chef Art was losing his happy expression. “What are you doing, Zoe Chase?”
“I’ll meet you in Birmingham,” I promised. “There’s something I have to do.”
I looked at the bench. Tina wasn’t there. She also hadn’t waited in the food truck. She was gone, and her testimony about her relationship with Miguel was gone with her.
It didn’t matter. I was going to talk to Helms and Marsh anyway. Maybe Tina was too scared to tell her side of the story. I wasn’t.
As soon as Delia and I were in Miguel’s Mercedes, I started the car and we hit the street. I explained to her about Tina.
“What are we going to do without her?” she asked.
“I’m not sure yet. Someone has to hear what she told me. I guess that’s what I’m going to do.”
We managed to find the downtown police station with only a few wrong turns. My clothes were still damp and uncomfortable from the rain. I didn’t even want to think what my curly hair was going to look like that afternoon when I took the scarf off. There wasn’t time to worry about it. I didn’t plan to leave Miguel in Atlanta.
The police officer at the front desk was less than welcoming. “Have a seat over there. I’ll call your name if someone can help you.”
There were several people already waiting, but Delia and I managed to find two hard wooden chairs to sit in. Most of the others around us waiting were soaking wet, too. Someone smelled strongly of whiskey. One man had a large cut on his forehead, which he was holding a napkin to while blood oozed out on his hand.
“I hope they hurry,” I said.
Delia told me to relax. “It could be a while. Just take a deep breath and think of something else. What are you planning to make for your biscuit bowls tomorrow?”
She was right. That took my mind off being in a police station. We talked about the race and everything that had happened. I fired off a few texts to Uncle Saul, asking what he thought about food for tomorrow.
It was about thirty minutes later when the man at the desk finally called my name.
“They’ll see you now.” He pointed. “Go through that door and to your right.”
I thanked him. He grunted and shook his head. Delia and I hurried through the door.
The long hallway was a depressing shade of yellow green that seemed to go on forever. I was glad when we took the first right and came to another man behind a desk who showed us into a room where Marsh and Helms were drinking coffee.
“What are you two doing here?” Helms asked.
“We have new information about Alex Pardini’s death that you should hear,” I told her. “Where’s Miguel?”
“He’s cooling his heels in one of the interrogation rooms. What kind of new information do you have?”
Marsh did air quotes. I hate those.
“I’d like to see Miguel.” I made my voice sound like my mother’s when she was in court.
“We’d like cinnamon rolls for breakfast.” Helms mocked me. “We don’t always get what we want, Zoe. New information first.”
I sat down at the table with them and poured out everything that Tina had told me. Helms and Marsh didn’t look impressed.
“If she has something to contribute,
why isn’t Tina Gerard with you?” Helms asked.
“She got scared. The police have already interviewed her dozens of times.”
Marsh was skeptical. “Why isn’t this information in any of the reports?”
“I don’t know,” I retorted. “But it raises enough questions about Miguel’s involvement in Alex Pardini’s death to warrant his release. Besides, he has alibis for the times you think he killed people. He was with a member of my food truck team since we left home. We would all gladly vouch for him.”
I felt like I was channeling my mother. How else could I have sounded so much like a lawyer? It might be because I was spending so much time with one.
The detectives smirked and glanced at each other.
“Are you representing Mr. Alexander now?” Helms asked. “I didn’t know you were a lawyer and a food truck operator.”
I sat back from the table and put my hands in my lap. “You’re right. I’m not a lawyer. But I’d really hate for the two of you to be looking so hard at Miguel that you miss the real killer. How embarrassing would that be, especially since the race will be broadcast nationwide.”
I could see that made them think a bit. They excused themselves and went to talk in the corner by the drink machine. Delia, who’d stood behind me like a bodyguard, squeezed my shoulder and smiled down at me.
After a few minutes of discussion, interspersed with pointing, grunting, and arms flailing in the air, the two detectives from Charlotte came back to the table.
“Okay. We’re going to look for Tina Gerard to corroborate what you’ve told us, Zoe. We’re going to release Miguel, for now. If you’d like to wait up front again, he’ll join you there.”
I thanked them, feeling stupidly satisfied. We hadn’t really won the war, just a small battle.
Delia and I walked out of the room and back down the hallway.
“They didn’t have jack on him or they wouldn’t have let him go so easy,” she said.
“I think you’re right. At least we can get him out of here and go to Birmingham.”
“Yeah. We have to think of something to blow those Our Daily Bread people out of the race. We’re never gonna win following behind them all the time.”
I agreed with her. “We’ll have to work on it. We still have Birmingham.”
“Maybe I should go shopping again. Maybe my clothes aren’t right.”
I didn’t think it was her clothes, but I didn’t say so. It was wonderful how engaged she was in helping out. I had the best team in the world.
Miguel finally walked through the door from the long hall. Delia and I jumped up and hugged him. He looked tired. His black shirt and jeans were rumpled. I hadn’t noticed that morning that he had dark stubble on his face. And his hair was almost as messy as mine.
I liked the look.
“I was wondering what happened,” he said. “They could’ve kept me a lot longer.”
“Not with us coming to the rescue,” I added with a smile.
“Let’s get out of here.” Delia’s eyes narrowed as she looked at two uniformed officers near the front door. “We don’t want them to change their minds.”
“I agree.” Miguel put an arm around each of us. “Let’s get out of here while we still can.”
TWENTY-ONE
On the drive to Birmingham, I filled Miguel in on what Tina had told me.
“It sounds like she’s had a rough time,” he said.
She’s had a rough time? “All she had to do was wait and come with me to get you out,” I reminded him. “That doesn’t seem like such a big deal.”
“I was surprised that they hadn’t talked to her yet about hiring me to kill Alex.” Miguel looked out the side window as we drove through rain-soaked Georgia toward Alabama.
He’d wanted me to drive, and I didn’t pass up the chance. It was good to be behind the wheel of something besides the Biscuit Bowl for a change.
“She said they talked to her about killing Alex. Maybe hiring you was part of that.” I passed a slower-moving truck that had been in front of us on the highway. Whee! This baby could fly.
“I don’t know. Detectives Helms and Marsh were sloppy interrogators. I don’t think they really have a clue what’s going on. They knew about Tina calling me the night before we left Mobile. They knew about the money. Other than that, there wasn’t anything substantial. I had an alibi for Reggie’s death, the detective’s hit-and-run in Charlotte, and Alex’s murder. They were spinning their wheels, hoping I’d contribute something to help them.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this,” Delia said from the backseat, “but I think Tina is setting you up, Miguel. You’re too nice to see it.”
I agreed with her. Even though Tina seemed sincere about Miguel’s predicament, actions always speak louder than words. “If she really wanted to help, she would’ve waited a few minutes. The police wanted to hear from her, not me. She knew that.”
He smiled. “Okay. I get it. You two don’t have any hard feelings about Tina, do you?”
“I’d like to drag her around by the hair until she tells the truth.” Delia wasn’t shy about her feelings.
“I don’t have anything against her. I’d like her to tell the truth. Now we have to hope the police can find her.”
“It shouldn’t be too hard. She’s going to get her daughter,” he said. “If they really want her, all they have to do is look.”
The talk turned from Tina to the outcome of the Atlanta challenge. Miguel wanted all the details on what had happened. Delia gave him her declaration of war on Our Daily Bread. She had all kinds of sneaky ideas on things we could do to slow them down.
By the time we stopped for lunch at a small café off the interstate, we were all in much better moods. Delia and I headed for the ladies’ room before we went to a table. My cell phone rang and I motioned for her to go on as I took the call.
It was Detective Helms. “Zoe, we’ve just received official confirmation from the Charlotte medical examiner’s office. They’re ruling Reggie Johnson’s death a homicide.”
“I thought they already knew that.” I leaned on the large windowsill. “What does that mean to your case?”
“I don’t know yet. Something’s fishy. If McSwain was killed because he asked the wrong questions about what you heard, we’re missing some information.”
“You should try asking Tina Gerard, like I said. She may be your missing link.”
“We’re going to, when we can find her. I think we’re all wrong about Miguel, but I can’t prove anything. Not yet. Stay sharp. Who knows what else is coming your way.”
“I will.”
Helms sighed. “This will all make sense once we have the right pieces. But who knows where we’ll find them.”
– – – – – – –
I went to the ladies’ room and freshened up after talking to Detective Helms. I was glad I wasn’t responsible for figuring out what had happened to Reggie, Alex, and Detective McSwain. Making food was much better.
Because Miguel’s reputation, and maybe more, was also on the line, I tried to imagine what had happened. How did all the deaths, Dante’s hijacking, and the cut power cords fit together?
Maybe Reggie was killed to try and stop the race. Alex had been working with someone who wanted to shut down the race. McSwain got in the way of the plan. Alex was killed because he hadn’t been able to stop the race.
I couldn’t imagine Alex killing anyone, though. He hadn’t seemed the type to me. And what would that have to do with Tina?
Maybe the race wasn’t even part of it. Everything else that had happened was just to make it appear like it had something to do with the race.
I definitely didn’t want to be a cop!
My brain was starting to hurt, and I was hungry. I left the ladies’ room after a cursory glance at myself in the mirror. T
here wasn’t much I could do to repair the damage until we got to the hotel in Birmingham. I had to hope that Miguel was tired and distracted enough not to notice what a mess I was. We were nowhere near the part of our relationship that I could think it didn’t matter.
I noticed, as I found the circular booth that Miguel had chosen, that he’d placed himself in the middle so that Delia would be on one side and I would be on the other. The two of them already had coffee and sweet iced tea. I ordered the sweet tea from the waitress who went by as I sat down.
“I got a call from Detective Helms,” I told them. I explained, as best I could, about Reggie. “She asked me again about the conversation I’d overheard in Charlotte between Alex and whoever he was talking to.”
Miguel looked thoughtful. “It happens sometimes when the police are more motivated to figure out what happened. The race was a big deal to have in Charlotte. I’m sure they let Helms and Marsh go all this way with it because the city took a black eye from the publicity.”
“They don’t like it when you mess with one of their own, either,” Delia added.
“I understand if Tina killed Alex and wants you to take the blame for it. She had motive for that,” I told Miguel. “But why would she kill Reggie or the police detective?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think she killed any of them.” He glanced at Delia. “I know you disagree, but I’ve known Tina forever. She’s not that kind of person.”
“After all the years you’ve worked as a lawyer, you still don’t get that anybody is capable of anything?” She shook her head at him.
“No. I don’t believe that. Not everyone would be willing to kill to survive,” he argued.
“I can usually get an idea about people,” I added. “They feel good or bad to me. Tina doesn’t feel right. I don’t think she’s bad, but I’m not on her cheer team, either.”
The waitress came back with my drink and took our food orders. We talked about the race and what we might expect in Birmingham. Miguel asked if I had a supply list ready. I absolutely didn’t. All I’d really thought about all morning was him.
I texted Uncle Saul to see if he was in Birmingham yet. He immediately called me back with bad news.
