MURDER IN THE SPOTLIGHT (Food Truck Mysteries Book 2) (9 page)

Almost immediately upon arriving, I was grabbed and hugged by a large woman who had to be related to Annabella. She had the same features and a similar hairstyle, though this woman was a red-head. “Thank you for coming. It would have meant the world to Annabella,” she said in a whisper.

I felt a bit panicky. “You know who I am?”

She pulled back and nodded. “Yes, you’re the woman who found my poor dear Annabella. I mean, she had talked about you before that, but I’ve been praying for you since I heard it was you who found the bodies. How horrible.”

I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t expected the family to react like this to my presence. I had thought it more likely that they would resent me attending the services, given my role in locating the bodies and calling the police. I had never thought for a moment that they would feel that I hadn’t deserved that fate. It was a kindness that I was unprepared for.

“Come up here with us,” she said. “My name is Rochelle. I’m Annabella’s sister—well, half-sister. We had the same mother but different fathers. Long story,” she said with an insincere smile and a wave of the hand. “Actually, I suspect you’ll be seeing a lot more of me. I talked to the producers. I was a silent partner in Annabella’s food truck. I put up part of the cash for the truck, and I’m going to take over the operations of the business once the will is read. We had it set up so that the truck would revert to me if anything happened to her. So legitimately I’ve been a bit player on the show all along.”

She prattled on as she moved us to the folding chairs near the grave. She acted like all of this was small talk, but in actuality, she’d just given herself two motives for murder. Rochelle could have wanted the cash that would revert to her if Annabella passed away. And as I’d seen today, there were a lot of people who took these shows seriously. If Rochelle was one of those people, then she could have done away with her sister to get the notoriety that would come with being on the show.

I had wondered what would happen to Annabella’s place. The show had been built around releasing one food truck a week from the competition, which meant that one missing food truck would have left the show a week short on the schedule. They would have either had to host one week with no one leaving or cut the series short because of the situation. While fans would have understood, I wondered if the advertisers would. This sort of publicity would drive millions to their TV sets.

Land sat down next to me near the graveside. The service was simple and short. A minister said a few words over the casket, and it was lowered into the ground. We left earlier than the rest, but the press patrol was smaller and less intrusive here. There were no questions and no microphones stuck in our faces.

On the way back to my car, I thought about the two services and the differences between them. There were stark contrasts even though we’d learned about potential motives at both events. I looked at Land, “What if all the emphasis is on Marsha, but Annabella was the real victim here? We just assumed that someone associated with the show would go after Marsha, but that doesn’t explain why they would kill Annabella too.”

Land continued to face forward. “I would guess that Annabella was killed because she got in the way of the killer doing away with Marsha. She was collateral damage in the murder.”

I thought about what he had said. It made more sense, but then I was living proof that life didn’t always make sense. I had inherited a food truck and was making a living from it, although I had a degree in business. I should be in an office somewhere, not collecting cash from people buying hot dogs and coffee. My life had not followed my plan at all.

I still wasn’t convinced. “Suppose Annabella had gone to Marsha with the name of the person behind the pranks. That would have been reason for both of them to be murdered—if the killer didn’t want to be named. Or there could be a reason for Annabella to be murdered and Marsha was the collateral damage in the case.”

Land glanced at me for a minute before turning back to the road. “You’re just determined to make this case twice as hard as it needs to be. You should stick to the obvious. We’ll get this done, and then take home the prize for best food truck. Business goes up and I get to run the second truck.” He gave me a smile that let me know that he really wanted the prize most of all.

I made it to the truck first the following morning. I started my routine, and Land showed up shortly after I parked on Elm Street. He was looking the worse for wear, and I couldn’t really believe that he’d gone out drinking after we’d parted last night.

“What’s up with you?” I asked. Land’s face was an ashen gray color, and his hair was more unkempt than usual. He definitely hadn’t shaved, and I suspected that he was not trying out a new look, but rather there’d been a lack of time and energy this morning.

Land continued his preparations in silence. He didn’t even bother to look at me. I wasn’t sure if he had been really pissed about me trying to open up the investigation or if something else had happened.

We worked in silence most of the morning. I was busy with the customers, some of whom had seen me on the evening news or on the entertainment programs yesterday. While I hadn’t expected it, I had become something of a minor celebrity as a result of the reality show. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I liked the extra cash brought in by the notoriety, but I still preferred my privacy to the constant barrage of questions.

We were just starting to close up and begin the cleaning when Detective Danvers stopped by. I knew it was no accident that he came at a time when we would be free and able to talk. He ordered a coffee, which was practically the only thing he ever ordered from us, and leaned on the counter.

“How you doing, Land?” he asked of my cook. Land gave the detective a nod, but still didn’t utter a word. I wondered if Danvers knew where Land had been last night and was just ribbing him or if he genuinely wanted to know based on Land’s appearance.

Danvers raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on the lack of communication. He turned his focus to me. He gave me one of those momentarily brilliant smiles and then said, “So I saw you on TV last night. You’re hobnobbing with some pretty influential people these days. Did you just go to pay your respects, or were you hoping for a few minutes of fame?”

Land snorted. “The show told us to go to the funerals, and if possible to mention the next challenge for the competition.”

Danvers laughed. “And what is this not-so-secret competition?”

Land shrugged. “They’re going to give us a mystery ingredient that we have to incorporate into our dishes.”

Danvers practically smirked at me. “Nice. How hard can it be? They’ve practically told you what they’re going to do with the dish.”

I took a deep sigh. “It could be anything though. It’s one thing to add peppers to a sandwich. It’s another to add eggplant.” I thought about the fact that we’d already won the contest, but said nothing. I guessed that telling anyone that the contest was fixed would be the end of the agreement and likely our removal from the show. I had to preserve the image that each challenge could possibly be the end of us, even if the lawyers were writing up the papers to allow us to win.

“I spoke to Johnny Ruck yesterday. He indicated that he has you two working to help uncover the murderer.” Danvers’ face told nothing, and I wasn’t sure if Ruck had mentioned what we got in return. I looked to Land, but he was studying the pan he was washing like it was a movie.

I was getting a bit annoyed with Danvers who seemed intent on egging Land on to do or say something. “Yes, he heard that we’ve solved some crimes before, and he wanted us to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Besides, he quoted a very warm recommendation from Jax Danvers, which made it sound like you two were pretty close pals. That’s all. We’re not like paid private investigators.”

“That could be your next show,” Danvers chuckled. “Anyway, since you’re knee deep in this thing, I thought I’d bring you some information about the murders. This isn’t public yet, and I’m not sure that the detectives in charge of the case will be leaking this to the media or not. It seems that there was a lot of time that passed between murders and that there had been some serious overkill.”

I gulped, and I could feel the blood leave my face. I had not expected the switch from ribbing to bloody murder. I remembered the amount of overkill, the two women bound with throats slashed and blood everywhere.

“I’ll try to tell this like a story. Then you can ask questions, okay?” He studied my face as if he could tell I felt woozy. “It seems that Annabella was knocked out first. She was tied up and left in the green room. Then about forty-five minutes to an hour later, Marsha has the same thing happen to her. After they were both bound and gagged, the killer proceeded to inject them with something. We’re not quite sure what that was yet. Then after the injection had done its work, he slit both throats and left.”

I took a deep breath. “How exactly can you tell the time lag between the two assaults?” I asked. I wanted to make sure that the evidence I was being given was accurate. I didn’t trust Danvers to tell me the entire, unvarnished truth. Despite being forced to tell us for the sake of the show and Hollywood, I suspected that Danvers would not be very happy if we solved the crimes before he did. The man definitely had ambitions if he was chatting with Johnny Ruck.

“The bruising from the initial blow to the head was different. The bruise had begun to develop on Annabella, but not as much on Marsha. The ME suggests that as much as an hour went by before Marsha received the same type of injury.”

“And I’m assuming you found needle marks on the bodies to indicate that they’d been injected?” I asked, thinking again of the bodies and their deaths. My stomach roiled, but I wanted to get through this. I didn’t want everyone to think that I was too soft for the challenges ahead of me. If Danvers and Land could power through it, then so could I.

Danvers nodded. “We found the needle in a wastebasket near the door of the green room. The ME is running all the possible drug screens that he can with it, but so far he hasn’t found anything that matches. I think that if we learn what was in the syringe that we’ll come a long way toward finding out the identity of the killer.”

“Were they still out when they were injected? I’m hoping that they didn’t suffer too much.”

Danvers rolled his eyes. “Dead is dead, no matter how you look at it. In this case, there were some struggles, but they were gagged. There are burns and marks on the wrists to show that they put up a fight.”

I pursed my lips and thought. The two bodies had not had gags on them when I saw them. How could that be? Had the killer actually taken the gags when he left? Why would someone do that? I asked Danvers my questions.

“You were pretty shaken up,” Danvers replied. “You could easily be mistaken. I haven’t got the crime scene photos with me, but I’ll make sure to check them out.”

I took a gulp of the coffee situated on the table next to the day’s earnings. The acrid taste ran all the way down my throat. “Why would he cut their throats then? They were already dead.”

“Beats me. Some people are into overkill, as if killing them two or three times insures that they’re really dead. Could be what happened here. I can tell you that cutting the throat with a knife, or any knife crime, tends to mean that it’s a personal and intimate crime. This is not the act of a stranger here. When the killer is found, you’ll see that it’s someone who was very close to the victim.”

“So since the victims were already dead, that’s why the killer could escape without getting blood all over him?”

Land made a gagging noise. He’d been quiet throughout our entire conversation, but now he looked like he wanted to leave. “Can you stop talking long enough to finish your work? I have places to go.” He threw his rag into the sink and wiped his hands on the front of his jeans.

Danvers laughed. “Wouldn’t want to keep you from anything important, Land. That was about all that I had anyway. I just thought I’d share what I knew with you. If you decide to play detective, be sure to give me a shout out.”

He walked away, still sipping the same cup of coffee. I looked to Land, who seemed to have no interest in talking about the murders. He had his hands on his hips, impatiently tapping a foot and waiting for me to move.

I finished prepping the cash for the nightly deposit, and we left for the secured parking lot.

Given that it was only 2 p.m., and I had tons of nervous energy from the past few days, I decided to visit Rochelle, Annabella’s sister. My scenario of the crime now had Annabella being the intended victim and Marsha being in the wrong spot at the wrong time. She was the person on staff most likely to be in the green room. She usually took the video feeds from the daily journals and viewed them for possible clips on the program. The more incendiary the film, the better the ratings—in her mind. I made a note to find out what had happened to those journal clips.

If Annabella was the intended victim, then the motive of the crime lay with her. That meant that I would need to find out more about her to see who had a motive to profit from her death. I already knew that Rochelle benefited from her death. I wanted to see if there were others and what precisely those motives were.

I didn’t have Rochelle’s contact information, so I called the studio set to see if they could provide it for me. It took me nearly 20 minutes to get someone on the phone that had Rochelle’s phone number. The experience only served to remind me how much the show and Johnny Ruck had depended on Marsha.

I called and got Rochelle’s voicemail. I left a message reminding her of who I was and how we’d met yesterday. I offered to help answer any questions she had regarding the show and act as a sort of mentor to her. Since I knew that the prize was already in the bag, I felt that I could be magnanimous to her about it.

I paced my one bedroom apartment, trying to think of what to do next. I hadn’t been home much the past few days, so I started on some laundry and went through the mail I’d missed when I’d stayed with my parents. There wasn’t much there, just a few bills and some junk mail. Nothing that couldn’t wait until the weekend when I’d have some time to myself.

I tried to call Land twice, but both times it went straight to voicemail and I didn’t bother to leave a message. His reticence, and the comments that he’d made suggesting he had something to do today, made me wonder what was up with him. I’d have to wait to find out.