“Like you?” I asked with a smirk.
“It’s not quite the same. I’m a consultant on this project, so I’m not exactly civilian, but I’m not exactly police either.” He looked at me with a stony face that didn’t tell me anything beyond the words he’d said. So he was actually in a semi-official position with the police. The situation had to be dire if they were hiring outsiders to help with a case.
“So besides the fact that you’ll be at work tomorrow, what else should I know about this?”
“I’m sure you’re going to stick your nose into the Sam angle and learn about where she got the food truck. So I figure those are covered. I’ll keep my eyes open to anything going on with this other business too. Then we can compare notes. I’m honestly thinking that you’re going to come up with more answers than I will on this case. I can’t imagine that Danvers is going to share much with me beyond this point since my services are no longer needed here.”
I nodded. Danvers could ask a lot of the people around him, but he played his cards close to his chest. I wasn’t sure if this was because he didn’t trust anyone or because he didn’t want anyone else to get any credit for his work. In either case, he could be quite closemouthed at times. I had no doubt that Land was right about the lack of information coming from the police.
Carter was still looking ill, so I called him over to tell Land about the pineapple salsa. He perked up, talking about the ingredients and the taste. Land made a few suggestions about possible spices to add to the condiment for Carter’s next attempt at it. They chatted merrily away about other possible new condiments, and I was glad to see that Carter had been distracted by the work.
Land was right about one thing. I knew that I could handle some things right away. I finally ushered Carter away from Land, and we headed back to the truck. I got in, took the money to the bank, and headed back to the secured lot. I had wanted to make sure that I got the deposit in for the day since I was running late. I made a mental note to check on Janelle’s cash on hand. I wondered if it had been taken or if it had still been in the truck. It could eliminate robbery as a motive if the killer had left it there.
After I got home, I called my mother. I had to work delicately, since I didn’t want her to get too excited about a future for Sam and me. I just needed contact information so that I could ask him about his relationship with Janelle.
My mother answered almost immediately. I made small talk for a few moments, if you count telling her about a murder as a conversation icebreaker. My mother dances between wanting to know all the details and telling me to be careful.
In the end, I didn’t even have to bring the subject up. “Have you heard from Sam yet?” my mother asked me.
“I don’t see how that’s possible, since he doesn’t have my phone number,” I answered, knowing where this was going. I was doing my own dance between being annoyed and wanting the information.
“He called the following day and asked for your number. That’s odd. He seemed so anxious to talk to you.” If my calculations were correct, my mother was talking about the day after when I’d seen Sam talking to Janelle. I now wondered if he’d seen me as I had noticed him. That might account for him wanting to talk to me now. However, the odd thing was that he hadn’t followed through on this. I had a strange feeling that it might be due to Janelle’s death—or perhaps I was just shaken by what I’d seen today. I wondered if Sam had learned of Janelle’s death yet, and if he’d felt anything about her demise.
I chatted with my mother for a while longer and then hung-up. I thought about calling Sam immediately, but I didn’t want to be the one to have to inform him about the murder, especially if they were in some way close.
My mind traveled back to what Land had said. Perhaps they weren’t close; they could’ve just been working for the same courier service. That would make Sam more dangerous to me, if he suspected that I was interested in him regarding information on Janelle. Land had been right about one thing, I had a vision of spy work that looked more like James Bond than real life.
In the end, I opted to call and play dumb. While I hated the stereotype of the dumb woman, it was the best ploy I had here. I didn’t have enough information to play the role of someone who knew more about the murder than she was willing to share.
Sam picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Maeve. How are you? I had actually gotten your number a few days ago—from your mother. I was going to call.”
I wondered for a moment why men made this statement when it was so obvious that nothing was farther than the truth. Granted, I hadn’t dated much since I’d been working at the food truck. My nights usually ended around nine, which wasn’t conducive to late night meals and long talks on the phone. Most men typically wanted to stay out later than eight on a weeknight unless it meant being in bed. Yet even though it had been almost a year since I’d been active in the dating pool, the lines that men used were still the same. I wondered if they all used the same book to come up with these things, or if they were passed down from generation to generation like some ritual on how to get out of embarrassing moments with a woman.
“That’s great,” I lied, thinking that probably I was no better than men were in this situation.
“Would you like to get a drink tonight?” he asked.
I went through my normal spiel about getting up at the crack of dawn to work, but I agreed to get an early meal with him. We arranged to meet at one of the nicer places in Capital City for drinks and dinner in an hour. I was impressed with the choice of restaurants he’d suggested and hoped that he didn’t want me to pay. I was doing well, but not that well.
Sam was at least courteous enough to be on time. He met me at the door to the restaurant exactly one hour later. He had on a shirt and tie. The clothes were tailored and showed off a nice physique. While I still wasn’t really interested in him as a date, I had to concede that my mother did well at picking men for me. They were never the couch potato types.
We didn’t have much of a wait because of the time. Maybe the seniors were onto something. I was enjoying being on the other end of the food service chain for once. I ordered a martini, and we agreed on a cheese and fruit tray for an appetizer.
He grinned at me as he took a healthy swig from his Manhattan. “So I have to ask. What made you call me? I had the distinct impression that I’d struck out the other night. You looked like you wanted to be anywhere but there.”
I laughed, only because the truth wouldn’t get me what I wanted here. I had been bored and unhappy over the fix-up date. I still was wary, but now for different reasons. Sam had gone to Janelle Nolan’s food truck for a meeting, and I wanted to know what it was about. “I was mostly just surprised. My mother didn’t mention it to me until I showed up at her house. So I had to deal with the shock on top of a long day at work. I told you about my food truck, right?”
Sam had been given multiple opportunities to share his information. I specifically mentioned my truck and where it was parked as we chatted. I talked about the new condiments being added, and I talked about the work itself. None of this evoked a response out of Sam. He just nodded and smiled at me.
Despite Land’s comments about quickly finding out about the nature of the meeting between Sam and Janelle, I didn’t want to rush this. Given that he’d ignored many chances to speak openly about the topic, I wasn’t sure that I’d get an honest response from him. Likely, at some point, he’d come up with a story to tell me about how he knew Janelle or how they’d met. I was going to have to do something more if I was going to learn what was going on with Sam.
The meal ended, and I was pleased, for some reason, that Sam paid. We made our way to the door and left the restaurant. It was still only seven o’clock, so I could get ready for work the next day and not be sleep deprived like Land would be. Sam walked me to my car.
I had already decided that I wouldn’t turn away if a kiss was offered. I was never going to marry this guy, but a kiss in the name of learning why Janelle was murd
ered was far more pleasant than being shot at. That wasn’t a very high bar to hurdle, but it would do.
Sam stopped by the driver’s side door and slid an arm around my waist. His hand stayed on my waist, which was good for him and his reputation in my eyes. He leaned in for a kiss. His lips were softer and gentler than I remembered other kisses being. They lingered for just a second before he pulled away. The moment was over quickly, and I drove home.
Chapter 5
I was at the food truck a few minutes later than normal. I was a bit concerned because usually, if I was running late, Land would pick up the truck and take it to the location on Elm Street. However, I’d not heard from him that morning. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Either he was going to call in sick again, which left me alone, or he was just running late.
I’d already begun the preparation of the coffee when he turned up. He looked better than he had, but he still had signs of sleep deprivation. His eyes were sunk in, and his pallor was grayer than normal. Even so, he still looked better than most of the well-rested men I knew.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I said in my best faux-cheery voice. After working together almost a year, Land knew that I was anything but cheery at that time of morning. He was usually more awake and articulate than I was at that hour. “You look better,” I added.
He shrugged, a common communication device on his part. “Danvers came over later in the evening, and he wouldn’t leave. He wanted to talk about the surveillance and the new aspects of the courier plan. I just don’t see what we have to go on now that Janelle is dead.”
“Did he tell you anything about the murder? What does he think happened?” I kept working on the coffee, but I wanted to stop and hear everything.
“The police already had information on her family and friends—from the other investigation—so they’ve been contacted. The family isn’t all that close, so they have no ideas about additional keys or ways into the food truck. From what I can gather from Danvers, they weren’t all that pleased with her choice of careers. As it stands, the only thing they have is a locked room. Danvers kept saying that the police only have so much time to figure out how this was done, or they might have to call it a suicide and move on to other cases.”
“Can they do that?” I asked. “Call it something if it’s not.”
Land chuckled. “They can. If they can’t find any evidence to point to homicide or they can’t find a way to explain the door, they’ll have to call it suicide. There’s no way that they could take it to court, and then have a lawyer ask how their client was supposed to get into the truck and back out without a key. The defendant would be exonerated in no time.”
“Was the ME any help?” I asked, hoping for something to build on. My night, while pleasant, hadn’t netted any new information on the case either. I wanted some leads to follow up on.
“One gun shot at close range. The murder occurred about two hours before you found her, so—give or take—noon.”
“Noon? How does that make sense?” I asked. “Her food truck should have been open and ready for business at noon. Instead the ME is saying that she was being shot, which almost assuredly means that the window was closed. I had a new line of inquiry as well. I would ask some of my customers if they’d noticed Holding Out for a Gyro that morning and whether or not the window had been open at some point before noon.
I was beginning to have a feeling that if I solved some of these other minor mysteries that I could clear up the question about the locked food truck. If Janelle had been killed earlier, then the window would still be down and locked. That might explain part of the issue. However, I wondered under what circumstances the ME could be mistaken about the time of death. I knew of ways to make a body temperature get cooler faster, but I wasn’t sure about how to keep it warm. It wasn’t as if the killer could have kept her in the oven on warm.
That line of thought made me jump to another topic. Perhaps I could better tell the time of death from the state of the kitchen. How far had she been in preparing the day’s fare? Those gyros wouldn’t make themselves. “That reminds me—did they find any food at the scene? Was she prepped and ready to go?”
“There was meat on the griddle, and some other prep work done. However, the meat had been turned off at some point prior to the murder. Danvers can’t know if it was before or after the crime.” Land’s eyes lit up, which told me that he was awake enough to see where my thoughts were heading.
“Why would the killer care if she was shot or she burned to death? Dead is dead, right?”
“If the meat had been left on the grill, the fat and grease would have caught fire at some point, and the smoke would have called attention to the murder. If the fire department had been called to the scene, they might not have looked around to see if the place was locked up tight. The killer wanted the body to be found later rather than sooner, and he had planned this out. He wanted the crime to be impossible. Like I said, at this point there’s no way it could come to trial, even if they find evidence of who did this.”
That fit in with my theory. If the body was discovered later, then it would be even harder to determine the exact time of death. The state of the kitchen could be a clue for me, or a way to throw the police off the track of the real time of death.
“Are you just being your normal sexist self or is there some reason you keep using the word ‘he’?” I asked, wondering about his thought patterns.
Land shrugged. “Habit. English doesn’t have a nice word for he or she.”
He was right, so I let it slide. It was amazing how sometimes he noticed things about English that I didn’t bother to see.
“What about the till? If she’d been open, there would have been money in the till, right?” I asked, hoping to find out more.
“Yeah, the till was full. So that means that either she’d been open at some point, or she had a very full drawer from the previous day. Danvers is having a forensic accountant look at it and see if the food truck was making money.”
“That’s good,” I said, “because I had an idea last night.”
Land raised an eyebrow, which signaled that he was interested in hearing more.
“With Janelle gone, I’m going to be looking into how and when she bought the truck. I was thinking that such an investigation could be considered due diligence for buying the truck, especially if the accountant says the food truck was making money.”
Land actually grinned at me, but the smile only lasted a minute. “Wait, don’t you think you’ll raise some suspicion if you buy a competitor’s truck right after that competitor dies under mysterious circumstances?”
I sighed. “That’s why I want to get this mess wrapped up quickly. We could have the truck running in no time, especially if we bought the permits with the truck. And after all, we’d already been looking at the truck until she outbid us in the middle of the process.” Permits had been a major pitfall in my aunt’s journey to get her truck up and operational. I really didn’t relish going through the same course.
Land looked thoughtful for a minute. “That might work. You’d have a way in with the family and could learn a lot more than we could without a subpoena.” I was a bit surprised that Land was talking like a policeman. He must be in pretty deep with Detective Danvers on this case if he was thinking in terms of legal documents.
“I was thinking that I’d run it past Danvers. I thought that might lift some of the suspicion off me, if I do this.” I wanted to let Danvers know that I was going to beat him to the punch in this matter and keep the credit for myself this time.
“Of course. He’ll just scratch you off the suspect list.” While Land grumbled about the English language at times, he had mastered sarcasm quickly.
In the end, Land texted Danvers, who came out after lunch. He approved the general plan that I was to approach Janelle’s parents—who had received everything since she had not created a will—about buying the food truck. That would give me an opportunity to review all the paperwork
for the truck and possibly turn up something that might help the case. Danvers had been a little too interested in the fact that Janelle had taken the truck from under our noses, but I played it off as if it wasn’t something to care about.
After he left, Land looked at me. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Buy another truck? We’ve been talking about it for ages,” I said, trying to deflect the real question.
“You know what I mean. Get involved in a crime again,” Land said, his face looking stern.
“How are you at gyros?” I asked. “I can loan you Carter for a few days, if you need some extra help.”
Land snorted. “You can keep him. I’ll be fine. Maybe I can get Danvers to help me clean up the truck. It was a crime scene and all.”
I had to admit that the thought of Jax Danvers cleaning would be something new to behold. His hands and nails were far nicer than mine were.
The next couple of days passed quickly. The funeral for Janelle Nolan was held. We chose not to go. I hadn’t known her well in life, and the reminder that I was the one who found her would be an unpleasant thought on the day of her funeral. The press had taken an interest in the unsolved, impossible crime, and I thought it best to keep my distance. I did buy copies of the two Capital City newspapers and read all the articles on the murder. They had little in them that I didn’t know already.
On the Friday after the funeral, I decided to pay a visit to the family. The case had all but dried up. The Capital City newspapers had even stopped reporting on it. Land and Danvers wanted me to wear a wire, but I pointed out that my phone has an audio recorder so that I could tape the conversation if I thought it relevant.
I knocked on the door of the Nolan home after work. I’d gone home, taken a shower, and dressed in one of the suits I’d worn to interviews just out of college. I looked like the consummate professional. I was carrying a satchel, which mainly had empty folders and virgin notepads. Even so, I exuded business and money.
FOOD TRUCK MYSTERIES: The Complete Series (14 Books) Page 47
