MURDER IN THE SPOTLIGHT (Food Truck Mysteries Book 2) (8 page)

He had a point. My involvement in the prior murder case had been front page news, and my name along with that of the food truck had been plastered all over the media. Even my mother could have found that on Google.

The following two days we worked the regular shift with the truck. We decided to do this partly out of deference to Marsha and Annabella, but also because we both needed the income that the truck provided. Without funds, we weren’t going to be able to ask questions of anyone. We’d be in line at the unemployment offices, and I’d be back on my parents’ couch.

The days went fast. We served our regular customers who had a million questions about the murders. I refrained by reminding them that we couldn’t talk about the show per our non-disclosure contracts. That didn’t satisfy as many people as it had earlier. These latest events were something much more intriguing than a reality show, and the customers knew it as well as we did. The questions were pointed, asking me who I thought had killed them and if I’d taken any photos of the crimes. In this iPhone world, people were expecting photos of the crime scenes posted on Facebook and Twitter. Frankly, it had never even occurred to me.

I didn’t need any of those things to remember the scene. I was still having nightmares about finding the two women, and I felt that I owed them a modicum of respect in solving these crimes. I had hopes that finding justice for the women would help my sleep.

The third day was the funeral for the two women, a joint service followed by separate graveside ceremonies. We had let our customers know that we wouldn’t be on Elm Street that day, and the fact that we’d be at the funerals seemed to give us a legitimate reason to be gone. Most of them wanted details, so they were willing to see us leave, provided that we told stories the following day.

Land and I decided to go together to the services, feeling that there was strength in numbers. He was also being a bit too paternalistic for my tastes at the moment. While I appreciated that he was concerned about me, the constant watch on my moods and emotions got tiring after about three minutes. However, I didn’t make a fuss. The thought of doing this on my own was overwhelming.

The services were being held at a local funeral home, which boasted the unusual title of being the largest in Capital City. The two services needed every bit of space that they had today. Johnny Ruck had been right about one thing. The press was all over the place. A security detail had been added for the event. I was surprised to see Detective Danvers dressed in a police uniform and guiding traffic. He put a finger to his lips, and I understood the signal that I wasn’t supposed to talk to him or mention him. I guess he was following that old wives’ tale that the murderer always came to the funeral of the victim. Given the number of people at the event, it was not helpful in the least.

An usher recognized us from the guest list and positioned us in folding chairs on the right hand side of the aisle. We had an unobstructed view of the podium from where we sat.

The services started with a beautiful song that I didn’t recognize. We were asked to stand as the ministers, of which there were three, walked to the pulpit. I admit that I zoned out while they talked about the two women, suspecting that none of these men had ever met either woman before. They awkwardly used the full name of each repeatedly, like they were trying to remember it for a contest later. So I felt justified in tuning them out, as I didn’t expect to learn anything that might help me solve their murders.

Johnny Ruck stood up next. His speech was far more heartfelt. He talked about hiring Marsha and how she’d been with him for seven years. He talked about the good times they’d spent together and how invaluable she was to the operation. He even shared information about the last day that he’d seen her.

“I remember her going out to get some information for our next challenge. She had to gather some ingredients for the challenge and then she was going to return and finish the correspondence for the week. Marsha was so dedicated to her job, and I imagine that she was equally dedicated to her family and friends.”

He started to weep, and an intern ran up to the podium with a box of tissues. Johnny dabbed at his nose and then finished, “I don’t know who did this to Marsha, but I hope that they are quickly caught and severely punished.”

A few family members came up to the podium and spoke as well, remembering the two women. It felt slightly disjointed as the two women had shared so little in common that none of the family members could share anything about the other victim.

Still the event struck the right note of sorrow. Given the Hollywood feel of the cameras and press, it was a fairly heartfelt ceremony. I was surprised at the level of what seemed like real emotion there.

We shuffled out of the services to meet a horde of cameras and microphones. Land had warned me to keep quiet, and I tried. I had gone about fifteen feet before one of the hosts from a gossip show shoved a camera in my face and asked, “Are you going to solve these crimes? Rumor has it that you’ve been asked to look into the matter.”

I knew that my face had to show my surprise. I felt the shock of the question down to my feet. I was supposed to be doing this undercover, and now I’d just been asked this on national television. “I came here today to pay my respects to the dead,” I said plainly and without feeling. I kept walking, feeling like I’d had a load of bricks dumped on me. Once again, someone knew what Johnny Ruck had said to us and had repeated it to the press. There was definitely a leak in the office somewhere.

Land poked me in the side, and I poked him back. “What was that for?” I asked, feeling annoyed.

“Your face answered that question. I figured if I made you mad at me, that you’d get that expression off your face.”

It worked. Being irritated at Land made me stand up a bit straighter and walk face forward through the crowd. No one would guess that I was feeling anything more than annoyed with Land. As the gossip papers had us involved, annoyance would likely be an emotion that would be felt often when dating Land.

Since we were supposed to be trying to solve these crimes, Land and I had decided to attend both of the graveside services. We didn’t want to miss anything that might happen. I had hoped that seeing the people at the services would give me some insight into who had been responsible for the murders.

We learned the whereabouts of the two services from Detective Danvers, who had indicated that he would be there as well. Using GPS, we decided to start with Marsha and then move to Annabella’s service, which would likely be less publicized.

Marsha’s family was already milling around the grave when we arrived. The crowd was too big to fit around the grave, and many of the reporters and media circled the perimeter like wolves waiting for someone to move away from the pack. I tried to get a view of the family, but I couldn’t very well from my vantage point. Land, who was a good six inches taller than me, easily saw over the heads of most of the spectators.

At one point, he moved aside and said, “There’s something that you have to see.” He pointed to the place where I was supposed to look. I had to stand on my tiptoes to see, but he was right.

Anthony from the bagel truck was being dragged along by an older woman who appeared to want him to sit with the family for the services. The implications of this were huge. The producers had supposedly gone over the background and connections of every contestant, so that there would be no accusations of favoritism by the producers. I had thought it routine at the time, but now that I knew they were willing to throw the competition to a particular contestant based on their own goals, this was more serious. How much had nepotism played a part so far in the competition? I mentally reviewed all of the contests so far in order to try to find examples where Anthony had been given favors. He’d won a couple of the events, but in all honesty, the descriptions of his foods and ingenuity made me think that he’d won them fair and square.

Anthony sat down next to two young girls who bore a striking resemblance to Marsha, right down to their hair buns. It was obvious that he belonged to Marsha’s family. Even Johnny Ruck had said that she was the driving force behind the show. If she had wanted Anthony in the competition, then she had broken the rules to get him there. I wondered if this played into the motives for murder.

We waited around until the graveside service was done, and then we made our move. We said our kind words to the family and greeted Anthony. “I didn’t know that you knew Marsha that well,” I said, pretending to be naïve about the matter.

Anthony ran a finger under his collar. I figured it was a little tight, given what we had discovered. “I’ve known Marsha for a long time,” he said finally.

One of the older women spoke up from across the aisle of folding chairs, “I’ll say you have. She’s your sister’s oldest girl.”

The pronouncement deflated Anthony. He looked as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Yes, yes, I know it’s against the rules,” he said finally.

“Did anyone else at the studio know about your relationship?” Land asked.

Anthony shook his head. “A friend and I had gone into the food truck business about a year ago. Three month ago, the friend filed for bankruptcy. He skipped out on some bills and left me with the truck. It was about to pull me under too, and Marsha got the idea to add me to the show. She thought that the added publicity might just help pull up sales enough to keep me afloat.”

“So she faked the paperwork?” I asked.

Anthony looked at me. I felt bad asking him these questions at the funeral, but if it hadn’t been for the services, we might never have known that he was related to Marsha. I doubted that he would come forward with a good motive to keep Marsha quiet. “Not really. She told the producers that I was good for the show, but her actual paperwork correctly listed me as a relative of one of the staff. She knew that none of the producers would ever pull the sheets to look at them.”

“They just relied on her?” I asked, thinking of the times that Marsha had given Johnny Ruck the clipboards and note cards. She could have put almost anything down on those pages, and he would have read it verbatim. She’d done Ruck’s work for so long that he trusted everything that she did. A trusted assistant was invaluable—as long as you could trust her. I wondered if there were any other violations of the show that Marsha had perpetrated.

“Yeah, she could do no wrong in that office. So she got me a spot on the show. And it was working too. Sales were way up at the truck. It was amazing how much business jumped after I put up a sign saying that I was on the show.”

I nodded, knowing that I’d gotten new customers from my own sign with the oversized photo of Johnny Ruck. People had stopped by just to ask about the show. Now they were coming around wanting to know who had killed two people on set. Still, any publicity is good publicity.

“So what will happen now?” I asked. I wondered if Marsha had tilted the scales in his favor at any point in the competition. It didn’t bother me much, since we were still in the running, but I wondered how Betty would react to the news. She’d be furious to learn that Anthony’s bagel truck had illegally joined the contest. I could imagine the fit she would throw if she learned of the deceit.

“Nothing that I know of. She didn’t cut me any favors in the competition. She just got me in the door. So the show will go on, I guess.” Anthony looked genuinely sad, and I had a hard time believing that he’d killed his niece.

Someone shouted Anthony’s name and he turned. “I have to get going now. Even though Marsha was based in Los Angeles these days, her family is still from Capital City. So we’re having a thing back at our house.”

I noticed that we were not invited to the family event at the house. I could understand that, and I didn’t want to push. Anthony walked off and I looked at Land. “So what do you think?”

He shrugged and started walking toward the car. “I’m going to reserve judgment until we learn more. I’m not going to force the information to fit a particular theory.”

Walking side-by-side, we made our way through the cameras and reporters. I wondered what they would say about us. The show had built us up into a romantic couple, and here we were going to different events in each other’s company. I figured that there would be comments about this on the entertainment news later this week. At this point though, I was too tired to care.

I wondered how Land felt about all of this. He’d agreed to be on the TV show and raise his own profile; however, I don’t think that either one of us had thought about the show’s impact on our social life. While I wasn’t actively looking for a relationship with anyone, being tied to another person on national TV would likely reduce my chances in the dating pool. The same would go for Land, though he kept all details of his personal life very close to the chest. I didn’t know if he was dating someone or if he was interested in anyone. For all I knew, he could have three children and two wives.

I didn’t know anything about him outside of his work experience and background. I knew he’d come to the United States with his family at a young age, but I didn’t know if his family was still here or which members of his family had emigrated here. It would be awkward to be asked these questions by the press and have no idea what the answers were. It certainly would make me look like a terrible girlfriend—or even an uncaring boss.

Our next stop was Annabella’s graveside service. The press was less visible here. I wasn’t sure if they’d already filled their devices with as much footage as they could, or if the services for a contestant did not merit the same consideration as one of their own. Marsha had apparently been well-known to many of the reporters. Annabella had not.