MURDER IN THE SPOTLIGHT (Food Truck Mysteries Book 2) (12 page)

I slid inside the office and closed the door as I had found it. The room was small and had no windows near the door. So unless someone came in the room, I would go undetected. I moved around the desk and looked at the computer.

Sure enough, the computer was logged on. I pushed my flash drive into the open USB port and clicked on the computer file system. I found the correct server from the other day and located the security files under the folder XYZ. I did a quick copy of the files to my drive.

Now I had to wait. Each of the video files was over a gigabyte of data, so I would have to wait for the sum of them to copy. It would be a few minutes even on a fast computer. I slid myself under the desk and into the cubby hole where Marsha’s legs had rested when she was alive. I didn’t want to be seen by anyone, and I wouldn’t be unless someone came in and sat down at the desk.

No sooner than I’d gotten into my hiding spot than the door opened, and I heard the footsteps of a man walk into the room. I gulped softly, fully expecting to be discovered and called out for my indiscretion, but the footsteps never got closer to me than the filing cabinet in the corner. Drawers were opened and then slammed shut in rapid order. The door opened and closed again.

I drew a sigh of relief. I stuck my head up and looked at the screen. I had the first set of files of security footage. I had opted to copy them to the flash drive one and two at a time. That way, if I got interrupted I would have some of the files to review rather than none. I had learned the hard way in college that if you interrupt a copy from one directory to another that you lose everything that is being copied. It’s not a matter of keeping all that had been copied up to that point. It was a hard lesson, but I’d learned it well.

I decided to play it safe. I minimized the copy screen and left if on the desktop. Someone would have to actively click on the windows to see what I was doing. I hoped that in the fast-paced studio that no one would have that much time to be nosy about what others were doing on the machine.

I slid back under the desk and checked my phone. I had a text message from Land, saying that I had about three more minutes before I would be missed. I took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure how long the latest files would take, but at least I had some of them.

Two minutes had passed, and I checked the computer again. The latest set of files were copied. I started to click to start a new copy operation when the door opened. I grabbed the flash drive from the USB port. I closed the lid on it and slid it into my bra. If I was going to be inspected for being in here, I wouldn’t make it easy to find what I was really doing. It would be a thorough search to get to my undergarments.

A pair of legs now stood in front of me. Great, I thought, they were going to play on the computer. The keyboard clicked, and the computer tower whirred. I wasn’t sure what was going on but given the pace at which they were typing, whoever it was, they were in a hurry.

The person made no move to sit down, which would have given me away for sure. Instead she stood in front of the desk, bent over typing. It was a woman; I could tell that from her shoes. They were stylish, a rich maroon with a strap along the back and an open toe. I was jealous in the extreme, even though I knew that I could never wear those at my job. They’d make my feet hurt after an hour, and after a shift they would be stained with our four types of mustard. I was still hoping to be able to afford something like these shoes.

I sighed and waited again. I checked my phone again. It was now five minutes since Land had texted me. I had another text from him that was just a line of question marks. I knew that the producers would start wondering where I was and what I was doing. If they found me in Marsha’s office, they would definitely suspect that I was snooping since they had encouraged me to find the killer. Even so, I knew that they didn’t want me to find it within their midst. Johnny Ruck had likely thought I’d be pointing the finger at an outsider, rather than someone on the production staff.

I checked again and another minute had passed. The typing stopped and the woman walked around to the other side of the desk. For a moment, I thought that she had seen me, because she just stood there somewhere between the desk and the door. I heard the small printer kick on and a few pages spewed out of the printer. Finally, she took the pages, opened the door and left.

I waited 20 seconds to ensure that she hadn’t forgotten anything. I scurried to the door and opened it just a crack. I could only see a section of the office area from this vantage point, but no one was in view.

I opened the door enough to slide out and closed it behind me. I took a deep breath and walked to the set area. About half way there, the baby-faced intern intercepted me and herded me back to the stage set. “Where have you been? We’ve been looking all over for you. Johnny Ruck is waiting to announce the winners, and he can’t because you’re not there.”

The wording made me pause. If I was needed for the winners segment then it would seem that we were in the top three contestants again. While I shouldn’t have been surprised given our agreement with Johnny Ruck, I was still excited to hear this. I hurried my pace and made it to the set in record time.

True to her word, the set was all waiting for me. Johnny Ruck gave me a stare that would have roasted potatoes. I merely smiled at him and went to stand next to Land.

He leaned over, like he was going to kiss me, and whispered, “We’re in the top three.”

I pressed my face next to his. He smelled musky, but he’d also put on some scent that fit him well. “Mission accomplished.”

His nod brushed his cheek against my own. It was probably the closest we’d ever stood, given that we barely shook hands on a good day. I’m sure it looked good for the cameras. I know it felt good for me. I don’t know if it was the collaboration or the adrenaline from nearly being caught twice, but I suddenly wanted to kiss Land. I wasn’t sure where that thought had come from. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think about the contest instead.

Johnny Ruck went through the usual routine of complimenting each of the top three contestants. Anthony and Jason were with us. I was a bit surprised not to see Tracy, since she’d had the easiest ingredient known to mankind. However, she was not to be seen.

I didn’t have time to ask Land about that now. I’d apparently missed some of the proceedings, but as long as Dogs on the Roll was represented on-set, I doubted that it mattered until they wanted to ask questions of the food truck owners.

Johnny named Jason as the winner of the episode. We came in second, but Johnny made sure to give us plenty of praise for our use of the ingredient. Anthony came in third, but it was enough to keep him smiling on our way off-set.

About halfway down the hallway to the exit, I stopped Land. “Who is in the bottom three? I didn’t get to hear who it was.”

Land’s mouth twisted up. “Let’s talk about what happened to you first. Did you get what you wanted?”

I nodded. “Most of it. I’m not sure if I got all of it or not, but I’ll just have to watch and see. I’m going to start tonight and see if we can find out who is behind the pranks.”

Land nodded. “I think I’d better come over and watch as well.” His face told nothing, so I had no idea if he was being serious or not. We’d never done anything outside of work before, and here he was inviting himself over for the evening. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

I didn’t speak for a minute and he continued, “The last time you started watching these someone turned out all the lights and stole the DVDs. Do you really feel up to having that happen tonight—when you’re by yourself?”

I took a deep breath and then sighed. He was right. The events of this competition had really spooked me. If something happened at my own apartment, then I wouldn’t get much sleep there for a few months. It would mean my sleeping on my parents’ couch and for all the wrong reasons.

I suggested 7 o’clock, but Land suggested six, and he’d bring dinner. I relented and headed out to the truck. He caught up with me and matched my pace.

“What’s going on?” he asked. I knew I had to be in a bad way if Land was initiating conversations with me.

I shrugged. “I just came in second place in the competition, and it didn’t even make me feel anything. I was too busy spying and hijacking files to care. It’s not the way I wanted this to go. I did this to get a rush out of doing well and to generate more business for the food truck.”

Land looked at me. “I doubt that this is the way Marsha or Annabella wanted this to go either, but it did. Now you’re just doing what is needed. It’s not the best thing for you, but it’s the best thing for many other people. They’re depending on you to do what has to be done, and you can do it.”

I fought to keep my mouth closed. Usually Land was the poster child for cynicism, and here he was spouting clichés about doing your best. It wasn’t like him at all. Between the late nights and the pep talks, I wasn’t sure who I was dealing with these days.

We went back to the truck. Land checked all the doors to ensure that no one had broken into the truck. No one had. It was nice for a change to see that we hadn’t been left a note either. I was tired of the empty threats.

“So who was still left when we left?” The bottom three people were always the last to be judged. The conventional wisdom on reality shows was that booting off the loser was the last thing in each episode. The producers wanted the audience to stay tuned in until the last minute to watch who was leaving.

“Tracy was there. She was the only one I recognized.” Leave it to Land to work with these people for weeks and not learn their names. However, he knew that I’d been curious about the easy ingredient.

“I’m a bit shocked by that,” I said as I made myself comfortable in the driver’s seat of the food truck.

“Ruck told her that she’d been given an easy ingredient, and she needed to step up her menu. They’d expected a lot from her. She’d actually kept it the same as her normal menu, and just used that cilantro instead of her normal batch. It was pretty lazy.” Land pulled himself up into the passenger seat and allowed me to drive in silence to the secured parking lot.

When we parked, I looked at Land for a minute. “We’re parking in a secured lot, but have you noticed that none of the threats have ever come to pass. They’re all bark and no bite.”

Land made a face at me. I wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be. “Tell that to Marsha and Annabella.”

I nodded. “But they didn’t get a note announcing their death. To my knowledge, Marsha never got a note, none of the production staff did. Just the contestants.”

Land looked at me. “You were suspicious of Tracy for not getting a note, and now you’ve just pointed out that an entire group of people were left out of the mix. That is somewhat suspicious, isn’t it?”

“I’m going to have to think about this,” I said. I wasn’t sure if there was anything to what Land had said, but the contestants were the ones who were being threatened. That fact seemed to point more toward Annabella as the primary victim and Marsha being the unwitting bystander. I felt sorry for her, always being the sidekick to someone else—even in death.

Land got out of the food truck and reminded me that he’d be at my place at 6pm. I started to give him directions, but he was already gone before I could start.

Land was punctual, but he always was. He was carrying two big bags of food with him. He found my kitchen table and started laying out food in a presentation. I was impressed. I doubted that I’d ever had anything like this at my place.

My apartment was one of a dozen units that adjoined each other on the side. It was a one floor arrangement that resembled one of those old 1960s motels. It was on the outskirts of Central City, but it was good enough for me. I had been living at home before I inherited the food truck, and the revenues from the truck allowed me to move out. As business picked up, I was even looking at a newer model used car for me.

Land had brought sushi for dinner. I should have known that he would have brought something from the sea, which reflected his own tastes from the Basque tradition, and something upscale. He would not be the type to order pizza. He laid out the rolls and sauces and handed me a pair of chopsticks.

“Eat up,” he said as he picked up what he explained was a California roll. He dunked it in sauce and put it in his mouth.

I was still struggling with holding on to one of the rolls. I could see that this was going to be a low-cal evening for me at this rate. Finally, Land took pity on me. He placed his hand over mine, maneuvered the chopsticks into place and picked up a roll. With his guidance, it didn’t seem quite so difficult.

I pointed at the sauce I wanted to try. He helped me dip the roll and bring it to my mouth. The taste was light and the sauce was ginger in flavor, which seemed appropriate. I tried again and while I was no expert, the second roll went much smoother than the first.

Soon we were trying other pieces and chatting about nothing much in particular. Neither of us brought up the subject of work, for which I was grateful. I was tired of thinking about pranks and mean-spirited people who wanted to mess with our minds in the name of a reality show.

Land actually took care of the cleanup as well. He put the sauces back and tidied up the space, putting all of the leftover sushi into the refrigerator. I wasn’t sure that I would make another meal of it, but I certainly could see it as a late-night snack, which was something I was all too guilty of. It was only the early mornings, coffee, and the lack of desire to eat dinner after serving food all day that made it possible for me to keep my figure.

We went into the small space that I called a living room. I had a TV and sofa and a few pictures on the wall. I hadn’t had much time for decorating, and I definitely could not see myself living here for a long period of time. So I lived in a rather temporary state until then.

I had forked out the cash for a new television when I moved. It was a smart TV with USB ports on the side, so I was able to watch the security footage in the comfort of my home.

I grabbed the remote from Land’s hand. I was a little nonplussed by the easy way that he had stepped into my home and taken control. I started the first of the files I’d copied onto the flash drive.

I had to say, Land was right. I felt much more at ease watching these at home with him than if I’d been alone. After the fiasco with the lights going out and the DVDs disappearing from the viewing room, I would have been on edge at every sound if I’d been alone. Now I was fairly comfortable.

The footage was no more entertaining than it had been when I’d viewed it earlier. The boxes arrived around noon, from the wall clock in the distance. A forklift had delivered the three large containers and left them on the floor. Various people that we recognized walked by the boxes, but no one stopped to look at them and no one stopped to do more.

Land and I went through the footage twice. The closest we came to an interaction with the boxes was when Marsha walked by the prize, stopped to play with her shoes, and rested her clipboard and coffee cup on the largest box as she adjusted it. On the second viewing, Land went back and forth over the footage three times. I watched it the first two, but my concentration wandered. I looked at the wall clock on the video, wondering what time it was here. I usually kept early hours during the week, so that I could be somewhat fresh for another day of selling coffee and hot dogs.

I paused the footage. “Did you see that?” I asked, doubting that he had.

“Did you get something out of this snoozefest?” he asked.

I rewound it again and stood next to the screen. “Look at the clock—watch it.” I started the playback again. Just as Marsha finished adjusting her shoe, the clock jumped 20 minutes.

“The clock moved,” he said with a straight face. I wasn’t sure if he was joking or if he didn’t understand the implications.

“The footage has been altered. Whoever it was who messed with the video took out 20 minutes of footage. I’m willing to bet that whoever did that knew who messed with our pots and pans.” I felt a little like Nancy Drew at the moment, making a major discovery.

“So how does that get us anywhere? We still don’t know who removed the footage or who committed the deed. We’re not any further than we were before.”

My eyes widened. “I know it’s not a signed confession, but the videos, which were supposedly stolen or destroyed the day I was watching them, were on Marsha’s machine. I’d be willing to bet that she has video editing software on that computer as well. Plus she was the one who was standing next to the boxes.”

Land stroked his chin, which was one of the ways I knew he was giving this serious consideration. He had a habit of touching his face whenever he was thinking. “So you’re going to tell me that Marsha did all this—by herself?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not sure. But the circumstantial evidence is overwhelming. Who else would she be covering for?”

Land turned up a corner of his lips. “I’m not sold on this. I could see her taking the footage or editing it, but she’s just not the criminal mastermind type. She’s more like the lackey. An Igor, not a Frankenstein, you know?”

I sighed. “Maybe, but it’s too much to be coincidence. She has to be involved some way.”

Land stretched and looked at his watch. “Yes, but what does it benefit her? She had to be getting something out of all this. I don’t see her doing these things just for fun. Plus, I haven’t even raised my biggest objection.”

“Which is?” I was frustrated that we’d been thwarted again, and I was growing annoyed with Land for cutting down all my ideas. I had nothing to go on, even with all that I’d gone through to get the footage. It seemed so unfair.

“Someone killed Marsha. If she was the one behind the pranks, wouldn’t she be more likely to kill someone who found her out? Or blackmailed her? Instead she ends up tied up on the floor of the green room dead. It doesn’t make sense.”

I groaned. I wish I could say I’d forgotten the scene in the green room, but in my excitement about the discovery, I was trying to force Marsha into the role of prankster. I knew that it couldn’t be true—or perhaps not entirely true. She’d been dead when someone had given Tracy the dog poop as a mystery ingredient. The prankster certainly had a thing about excrement. I guessed that potty jokes were always good for a laugh.

Land yawned and stood. “We’re not going to get anywhere on this tonight. We’ll work on it again tomorrow. Maybe some sleep will help us come up with some new ideas?”

We spent an awkward few seconds by the door before he left. I cleaned up the food, took the flash drive and hid it in one of the canisters on the kitchen counter. I wasn’t using them for any products, so I felt it would be safe there.

I wasn’t sure when or how, but I was going to need another go at that computer. I wanted to see if the original, unedited version of the footage existed. If it did, then we could confidently assume that Marsha had cut out the missing minutes. If not, then it would be more up in the air. Even with Land’s comments, I still felt sure that Marsha had been the prankster, but I wasn’t sure who had continued the tradition after she had been murdered. It was almost as if she’d had a partner who would have known that Marsha wouldn’t be pulling any more stunts on the contestants.

Sure enough, the next morning came entirely too soon. I stumbled into the food truck about 5 and started counting the cash. Land was already there and had begun to prep the food for the day. I had barely finished the coffee, which included a large mug for me, when Danvers stopped by.

“I’m going to be on your show,” he said by way of an opening. “They liked my comments about the ginger scallions.”

I nodded. “We saw all of the comments yesterday before they announced the winners and losers for the week.”

“How did you do?” he said, Even though I knew he wouldn’t say a word, I couldn’t tell him about the results per our non-disclosure agreements with the show. I certainly didn’t want to tell him how we’d made a deal to win the show if we found the prankster and, presumably, the murderer too.

I just shrugged. “Sorry, I can’t say a word about it. You know the rules.”

He smiled. “I’ll just wait until next week and see if you have anything new on the menu for the day.”

I’d wondered about that. If people started coming back week after week, then they would figure out when we’d been booted off the show. There would be no more special days and no more camera crews on site. I wonder how that was handled by the staff.

“Anything you can tell me?” he asked, ignoring my silence on matters related to the show. “Have you found anything out about the pranks?”

Land continued to do prep for the day. I looked back at him a few times, but he had his head down. I wondered what he was thinking. Did he think that I wasn’t supposed to do this? Did he think that I was just doing this to keep Danvers around? I wasn’t sure what Land expected from me. I didn’t have much in the way of real evidence to tell Danvers, and I certainly wasn’t going to admit to him that I’d jacked some files off of Marsha’s computers or that they’d been doctored by the accomplice. All of this would be considered circumstantial at best, and nothing at worst.

He gave me a broad smile. “I might find out more today. I’m supposed to go down to the studio and sign a waiver about being used in the episode. They polished the box before they were given out to the contestants, but I have the techs doing some fingerprint analysis for the box. That ought to help out, or at least I can hope.”

I had to agree. It was better than what I’d come up with so far, which was two bodies, a doctored video feed, and not much else. I tried to go over the possible suspects, but to be honest, I wasn’t even sure at this point if I was looking for a current contestant or someone who had been removed from the show. For all I knew, it could have been a staff member.

Danvers hung around a few more minutes and then left. Land was still cutting ingredients on the counter.

“You think this was a bad idea, don’t you? I don’t have anything to tell him except for my swiped videos. It’s not like I have any better answers right now.”

He scoffed but didn’t say anything.

When someone knocked on my apartment door that evening, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’d talked to my parents less than 40 minutes ago. Land was unlikely to drop by after our lack of communication all day. So I was about out of possibilities.

I glanced through the peephole and then opened the door. Jax Danvers stood on the other side. He wasn’t in a suit or dress shirt today, and I had to admit that the look suited him well. He was wearing a polo shirt, which had the top two buttons undone. The space showed a few chest hairs that spiked my curiosity about more.

He was wearing a pair of faded jeans that he’d obviously owned for a while. They fit him too well. Of course, I was in a pair of yoga pants and a cami. Not exactly the eveningwear of choice for most people.

He gave me a long look up and down and then cleared his throat. “May I come in?”

I nodded and swung the door wide so he could pass. The back of the jeans fit him equally well, and I know that he caught me checking him out. I gave him a smile and asked, “What’s up with the visit? I thought you just liked my coffee.”

He smiled. “I do—care to fix me one?”

I rolled my eyes, but I went into the kitchen and began the prep. I’d taken some of Land’s blend of coffee from the truck for my morning cup, so I dumped some of that into the coffeemaker and started it up. I wasn’t sure how I liked being treated like the help in my own apartment.

“There are easier ways to get a cup of coffee,” I said. “Starbucks is much closer to your office.”

“Who said I was at my office?” he replied. “I’m not dressed for that.” He gave me a smile that looked free of guile. I still remembered what Land had said about Danvers. He had warned me not to trust him, and I kept that in mind as we stood in the kitchen talking. I maintained a certain amount of reserve in our conversation. I steered the talk to coffees, apartments and such. I never mentioned reality shows or murders.

The coffee finished brewing, and I poured two cups out. We went back into the living room. Danvers had brought a manila folder full of papers, and I was curious what they consisted of. I had a few ideas, but nothing concrete. We chatted some more, and this time around, he kept the conversation away from all things related to the murders or the reality show. I wondered if he was just enjoying my company, or if he was trying to get me to ask about the folder.

Finally, as the cups emptied, Danvers cleared his throat and looked at me. “I got the reports back on the box, the one that Tracy Jones received with the dog poop in it.”