Fry Another Day (5 page)

“Sure. I guess.” I shrugged nonchalantly, but my heart was pounding. “What's this about?”

“I looked at the list of food truck owners involved in the race and noticed that you and Reggie Johnson were the only two from Mobile. Were you acquainted with him?”

“Only in the way that we're both food truck vendors. I didn't know him personally.”

“What can you tell me about him?” He wrote down everything I said.

What could I say?
He smelled like old grease and looked like he'd been in too many fights? That he played dirty tricks on me to get better vendor spaces?

None of those things seemed right to say considering that Reggie was dead.

“I didn't know him well. When I was researching food trucks to start my own, I had one of his hot dogs. It was okay.”

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.