by J. J. Cook
The thief dropped to the pavement next to Tommy Lee.
Ollie picked up the gun. “Where did he get another one?” He put the gun into a nearby trash can. “Did he follow us back here?”
I ran to him and hugged him tight. “Thank you. Thank you. I don’t know. I guess he followed us. He kept asking me for something that Terry owed him. I don’t know what he was talking about.”
Ollie’s big, dark face twisted in embarrassment. It made his skull tattoo more noticeable. “No need to get hysterical, Zoe. He’s down. He didn’t shoot you, did he?”
His big hands went quickly and very professionally across my body. It was my turn to be red-faced.
“No,” I squeaked. “I’m fine.”
Tommy Lee was still groaning and asking for an ambulance. Ollie picked him up and slung him across his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Sit down in the diner for a while, and Zoe will put a wet towel on your head.”
“I may need stitches,” Tommy Lee gasped. “I may need a tetanus shot. I need to be at the hospital.”
“What should I do about him?” I asked Ollie about the unconscious thief.
“You should get some plastic tie straps and put them on his hands and feet. Then call the police, but wait until I’m back at the shelter.”
“How am I going to say I subdued him?”
“You’ll think of something,” Ollie assured me. “Just don’t mention my name.”
With those words of wisdom, my guardian angel put Tommy Lee down in the diner, and stalked back to the homeless shelter.
I wasted no time putting the plastic ties around the unconscious thief’s hands and feet. Once I knew he was secure, I called the police, and Miguel.
By that time, Crème Brûlée was meowing pitifully. I’d almost forgotten him while everything else was going on.
“Poor baby.” I smoothed his ruffled fur. “You’ll be fine. We’ll go inside and help Tommy Lee. After that, we’ll make some coffee and think about all of this.”
After I got Crème Brûlée inside, I got a wet cloth and an ice pack for Tommy Lee. Ollie had left him, unceremoniously, on the floor in front of the counter. Tommy Lee sounded almost as bad as my cat. Then I called 911.
“What happened?” Tommy Lee’s head flopped from side to side. “Who hit me? I hope my brain is still working. I need a CAT scan.”
“The police are on their way,” I reassured him. “If you want, I’ll call an ambulance.”
He definitely wanted an ambulance, but he was starting to sound like himself. “Who was that man, Zoe? Why was he trying to shoot you?”
I couldn’t tell him, since I had no idea. Instead, I entertained him with stories about my day at the food truck. He didn’t find the stories as amusing as I did. I guess you had to be there.
Miguel arrived around the same time as the police and the ambulance. I saw a television news van pull into the parking lot. Good golly! What would my parents think about me being on the news again?
“What’s going on?” Miguel came in as the police were talking on their radios. “Who is that man in the parking lot?”
I told him the whole story, including the part about Ollie knocking the thief unconscious. “Ollie doesn’t want to be involved. He wants me to say that I knocked the thief out. Does that sound plausible to you?”
“Right now, anything sounds plausible.” He nodded at Tommy Lee. “Did Ollie hit him, too?”
“No.” I explained again about Tommy Lee’s run-in with the thief. “I don’t know what he was looking for. He said Terry gave me something.”
Miguel excused himself and went to take a quick picture of the thief on the ground. He came back into the diner, and we looked at the man’s face. “Here come the police. Be careful what you say if you don’t want to include Ollie in your statement.”
“Has Ollie actually done something that could get him into trouble?” I asked quickly. “He was hiding behind the food truck today when Detective Latoure came to buy a biscuit bowl.”
Miguel smiled. “Where were you parked?”
When I told him how well I’d done at police headquarters, he was amazed that Ollie had even stayed there with me.
“So he’s in trouble with the law?”
“Not currently.” Miguel greeted the two uniformed police officers and our conversation ceased.
Officer Schmidt and Officer Gayner were on duty again. I told them my version of what had happened in the parking lot. They looked a little skeptical, but when I showed them the gun in the trash can, they had to believe me.
Marty came over from the shelter. He hadn’t seen anything, but Ollie had told him what had happened. He didn’t tell the police that Ollie had been involved, either. He kind of offered to be of assistance if he could. He smiled, winked at me, and was gone.
The ambulance drivers got Tommy Lee on a stretcher. Officer Schmidt asked him a few questions before they took him to the hospital. Tommy Lee said he couldn’t recall what had happened. That was just as well for my lie.
Another ambulance came for the still unconscious thief. I guess when Ollie put them out, they stayed out.
There was a flurry of activity in the parking lot. Most of the men from the homeless shelter—not Ollie, of course—came out to watch. So did the shoppers who’d been inside the consignment store.
I should’ve had menus to give out. It never hurt to advertise wherever possible.
The responding officers were getting ready to leave when Patti Latoure showed up. That meant going over my story again with her. This time, I sat in the diner with a big mug of coffee. I was starting to feel the long day and lack of sleep the night before.
“So this man came up to you at the food truck today and tried to rob you,” she said. “You thought it was random, but it must not have been. He followed you back here. You said he wanted something you took from Terry Bannister. But you have no idea what that is?”
“That’s what she said, Patti.” Miguel reiterated my statement.
“Doesn’t that seem a little odd to you, Zoe? Obviously this is something important, probably valuable. The man was willing to approach you with a gun twice. But he didn’t tell you what he was looking for. Is that right?”
“He acted like he thought I knew what it was,” I answered. “I don’t have any idea what he’s talking about.”
Patti flicked her ponytail off of her shoulder and studied my face carefully. “Do you know who that man was that you knocked unconscious?”
I glanced at Miguel before I answered. He shrugged. “I only saw him today outside police headquarters for the first time.”
“He’s Don Abbott, Bannister’s partner in his taco truck business. You’re sure, in your dealings with Terry Bannister, that you didn’t see his partner?”
“Honestly, Patti, I didn’t even know Terry had a partner until all of this happened. I’d heard some talk on the street about the two of them fighting over some money. But the only person I ever saw from the food truck was Terry.”
I realized that this was the man the police thought could’ve been a suspect in Terry’s murder. He was supposed to have an alibi.
“All right.” Patti put away her pen and notebook. “I hope you’re telling me the truth, Zoe. I don’t know how long we can keep Mr. Abbott in custody. He may be back. Or someone else might be looking for whatever it is that they think you have.”
“Terry didn’t give me anything except a headache and the feeling that I needed a shower,” I told her. “Maybe you need to look into Mr. Abbott’s alibi a little more closely. If he was willing to shoot me for whatever he’s looking for, he could have shot Terry, too.”
“We’ll do our job,” she assured me. “You make sure you’re not in the middle of whatever is going on. Don’t hide something that could get you killed. I don’t want to have to explain that to your parents, Zoe. Good night,
Miguel.”
“I have a few questions for you, Patti.” Miguel walked out of the diner with her.
I was ready for bed. I hoped all of that mess was over, but I couldn’t help wondering what Don Abbott had been looking for.
The crime scene people had gone over the food truck with a fine-tooth comb. I had cleaned it as well as I could. There was nothing there that didn’t belong.
I couldn’t figure out what else Terry could have left behind, but his legacy to me was becoming more dangerous. In two days, I had been accused of murder and threatened with being shot. Both of those events revolved around him, and the limited time we’d spent together in my food truck.
It didn’t make any sense, but as Patti had said, something was going on. I hoped I could figure out what it was before anything else bad happened. As Ollie had made clear to me, I couldn’t rely on him to save my life all the time.
Miguel came back a few minutes later. I could tell by the frown on his face that he had something on his mind that I wasn’t going to like.
“I think you should consider closing shop for a while, Zoe. Go and stay with your mom or dad.”
“I can’t stop now,” I said. “I had my first good day with the food truck. I have to build on that. My customers will forget me if I’m not there every day.”
“It could be dangerous staying here. We have no idea why that man was willing to shoot you. Whatever he thinks you took from Terry is important to him; it may be important to someone else, too. Right now, you’re in the middle of what’s happening.”
I only wanted to be in the middle of what was happening with the food truck business in Mobile, Alabama. Maybe I was at least on the verge of being important in that industry—I was on the radio today. How could I give that up and run away?
I couldn’t.
“I have to stay. Everything I own is invested here, Miguel. They announced where my food truck was today on the radio. Free advertising. I can’t stop now. For all we know, I’m on the fringe of what happened to Terry. It’s a series of events that I’m slightly involved in. It may be over now since they arrested Don Abbott.”
“I can’t make you leave. I wish you would, for your own safety. If you won’t go, at least look around carefully from now on when you go outside. Don’t let anyone in the diner that you don’t know. Try to keep Ollie with you when you go out tomorrow.”
“I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry. Ollie might be with me. I’m not sure.”
“He gave you his ‘don’t count on me’ speech, didn’t he?”
“Yes. I understand. I felt the same way before I left my job at the bank. Everyone had these expectations of what my life was supposed to be.”
“I know that feeling, too.”
“Would you like some coffee?” I took out another cup and put it on the counter.
“Are you sure? You look exhausted.”
“I’m sure.” How bad did I look exactly? I peeked at myself in the shiny steel side of the coffee maker. Not that bad. “It’s the least I can do after dragging you out again.”
“Okay.” He sat down on one of the stools. “I didn’t mind coming.”
“I hope you have me on retainer or something. I don’t want to reduce your billable hours. I know my mom is always worried about that, at least with the lawyers who work for her.”
He added sugar to his coffee and smiled. “The retainer thing would be the other way around. You’d have me on retainer.”
I took out some cookies I was saving for a special occasion. I’d like to have you on retainer, or any other way. “Well maybe we should do that. I don’t want you to go bankrupt while you take care of my legal needs.”
Was he seeing someone? Or was he still traumatized from his wife’s tragic death? I hoped it wasn’t either case. There was no way to know without hinting around in a sneaky way to find out.
“Thanks for worrying about me. Your father and I have come to a good financial agreement. He’s worried about you, too.”
“He’s always worried about me. He doesn’t try to stop me like my mother does. He just worries, while he’s fishing or whatever.”
“As for billable hours,” Miguel said, “I’m lucky to be my own boss. I don’t have anyone looking over my shoulder or asking me why I’m doing what I’m doing. It’s great.”
“Good. I’m glad that’s all settled.” I bit into a cookie and smiled at him. “What’s Ollie’s story? I know he was in the military. You said he’s been in trouble with the police. Was there something that happened to him?”
“Ollie killed his wife,” Miguel said, without hesitation. “But he’s a good man.”
TWELVE
“Ollie killed his wife?” I squeaked a little in surprise.
I was imagining that he had some disorder left over from being in the military. I hadn’t thought about him killing anyone—especially his wife.
“It’s not what you think,” Miguel explained. “Let me tell you ahead of time, he doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“I won’t mention it to him.” That thought was furthest from my mind. But if I was going to be alone with him in the food truck, I felt like I deserved to know the truth. “What happened?”
“Ollie’s wife was in the military, too. She developed PTSD. No one realized. She came home on leave. Ollie was sitting across the breakfast table from her. She pulled out a gun and started shooting at him.”
“Oh my God! Poor Ollie—and his wife.”
Miguel shrugged. “He tried to restrain her. The gun went off. The shot killed her. She’d managed to shoot him three times. He barely survived, and he lost it for a while. He was discharged, and then started wreaking havoc on the civilian community. That’s when I met him. I got him into rehab and he began to get better.”
The terrible ordeal tugged at my heart. I knew Ollie was a good person. It was awful that he’d had to go through so much. No wonder he didn’t want anyone to depend on him.
“I don’t know how he survived.” I ate another cookie, promising myself it was the last.
“You get through one day at a time,” Miguel told me.
I knew he spoke from experience. I wanted to ask him about his tragedy, too, but I couldn’t find the words.
He didn’t stay long after that. I didn’t get to hint around about any possible girlfriends he might have. I told myself to be patient. He was on retainer. I could call him anytime I wanted.
I locked up the diner after he left. I saw his car pull out of the parking lot and I turned out the lights.
Delia was finally out of the shower. She’d been on the phone laughing and talking most of the evening. I didn’t ask her who she was talking to.
When I told her about Don Abbott, she said she hadn’t heard anything. I knew she was lying. She probably didn’t want to be involved.
I managed to take a shower and put on my pajamas before I fell into bed with Crème Brûlée. It was hard going to sleep. I thought about Ollie and his wife. Then I thought about Terry and his partner, Don. What could he be looking for?
Terry certainly hadn’t said anything to me about something valuable that he was hiding. I couldn’t imagine that he wouldn’t have sold whatever it was right away. Goodness knew he needed repairs on his taco truck. I knew that’s where I’d put my money if I had something worth enough money to kill someone over.
He must have told his partner about it. Maybe they’d even found, or stolen, it together. Anything was possible.
I snuggled up with Crème Brûlée, who bit my arm softly and then licked it.
Maybe tomorrow there would be more answers. Maybe there would also be more customers buying biscuit bowls. I hoped this was only the start. I hoped I was finally on the road to success.
• • •
I was up before the alarm went off in the morning. I got dressed, and fed Crème Brûl�
�e. He was tired of the chicken-flavored cat food and stuck his nose up at it. He sat down and looked at me expectantly. I got another bowl and tried tuna-flavored food. He liked that.
I made ten trays of biscuits. Delia put the first two in the oven. While they were baking, we made scrambled eggs with sausage and peppers for the breakfast crowd. There was a new recipe for my savory customers—spicy chili with jalapeños. It smelled good, as Ollie had suggested, and filled a biscuit bowl nicely.
Next came my sweet fillings. Today, I was trying an apple with rum sauce filling, and planned to use the rest of the strawberry from yesterday.
Delia was a big help in her cheerful pink tank top and cutoff jeans. She was good with a knife, too. We made short work of everything. I liked working with her.
From time to time, I glanced outside to see if Ollie was there. It looked like he was staying home for the day. I knew I’d miss him. He was good company, as well as a strong arm with setting up, and getting the food truck ready. He also made me feel safer with everything going on.
I reminded myself that I’d started this venture alone, and hadn’t planned to hire anyone until I’d made a profit for a while. I wasn’t sad or worried about it then. I wasn’t going to be now, either.
When everything was ready, I walked outside and backed the food truck close to the front door. It was cool and dark. It felt like rain was coming. I could do anything except control the weather.
Of course, people still had to eat. I had awnings for them to stand under. Even if I didn’t make as much money as I would on a sunny day, my customers needed to know they could depend on me.
I went back inside the diner. I’d forgotten to print new menus. Handing those out with samples yesterday seemed to be a winning combination. I learned something new about the food business every day.
I started up my little printer—it took some pounding to get it to work. Delia waited for the copies to come out. I grabbed my rain poncho, and Crème Brûlée’s bed, and headed for the food truck again.
Before I could get out of the door, a face appeared in the dark glass. I jumped back, startled, and held my cat bed in front of me like a shield.
