Fry Another Day

“So you think it’s okay to go to Columbia now?” I asked him.

“Yes. I think you were very clear on what you had to say.” He squeezed my hand. “Good job, Zoe.”

“Thanks. I hope they didn’t think I had anything to do with it. Reggie was obnoxious, but I wouldn’t have killed him—although Ollie said he would have.”

“I’m glad you didn’t say that.” Miguel smiled as he opened the car door for me. “The police didn’t suspect you of anything. They were just trying to get an idea on what occurred here. You happened to be part of that.”

I had ten calls from Uncle Saul on my phone. He kept asking where we were and how close we were to Columbia. I suppose we would’ve already been there without the police detour.

After I talked to him, I turned to Miguel. He was intently staring at the interstate highway again.

“Do you think Detective McSwain was killed because he was investigating what I told him?”

“I think we should leave it alone, Zoe. We don’t want to be involved in this any further.”

“I kind of feel responsible, if that’s what happened.”

“The police will take care of it. It might not be safe for you to walk around asking questions, in case Alex is involved with what happened. You don’t want to end up like Reggie.”

I looked out of the side window, watching the landscape change from big city to rolling hills and small communities. Charlotte was a nice place, although my memory of it might be colored by the two deaths that had just occurred there.

I had a lot of questions that Miguel didn’t want me to ask. I was a little afraid to ask them, too.

Not only because someone might kill me, but with Alex involved, I could be kicked out of the race.

I was happy to see the signs for Columbia. I hadn’t exactly been up for initiating another conversation like the one we’d had before as we were leaving Charlotte. I was worried about Reggie and Alex, and Detective McSwain. The food truck race had suddenly become even more stressful.

Columbia was a clean city, smaller than Charlotte. It was also warmer and more humid. I had the GPS coordinates in my phone for the hotel we were staying at. Miguel’s Mercedes was a little too old to have GPS built in, even though it was in immaculate condition.

“Pull off on this exit,” I told him. “It looks like the hotel is close to downtown this time.” In Charlotte, the hotel had been outside the city.

“What are you doing about Crème Brûlée tonight?” he asked.

He was asking because I’d had to sneak my cat into the hotel last night. The hotel wasn’t pet friendly. I’d already looked up the hotel in Columbia. It wasn’t pet friendly, either.

I had to leave the air-conditioning on in the food truck all night anyway, but I didn’t want Crème Brûlée to get scared and start howling.

“I’m sneaking him in with me again, I guess,” I said.

He shrugged. “Where’s the next turn?”

I glanced at my phone. “One mile on the right. We should see the signs for the hotel from the road.”

Maybe he was making conversation by asking about Crème Brûlée. Maybe he was looking for a way to break the silence between us without bringing up the police problem in Charlotte. Either way, I was happy to oblige.

I told him about the biscuit bowl fillings we were working on for tomorrow, and the plans I had to remodel my restaurant at home, if I won the prize money.

“You really love making food, don’t you?” A smile tugged at his lips.

“I do. Food makes people happy. They go out and have a good meal and leave their problems behind them for a while. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No.” He reached over and squeezed my hand. “There isn’t.”

We found the multistory hotel easily. Uncle Saul and Ollie were waiting in the bar on the ground floor. Miguel and I checked in at the front desk and then joined them.

I was reluctant to bring up what had kept me in Charlotte, but I knew they were going to find out anyway. I explained the whole thing when we sat down.

Miguel sipped his Corona and didn’t say a word.

Ollie was full of questions. “So they think Reggie was murdered and this cop was killed because you asked him to look into the conversation you heard between Alex and some mystery guy who might have killed him?”

“When are you go

Miguel saluted him with his bottle.

I was conscious of the fact that there were dozens of people from the food truck race in the bar and felt exposed by the conversation. “I don’t want to be the next victim, do you?”

“What about Alex?” Ollie said loud enough to turn heads.

“Shh!” I reminded him. “We don’t know what’s going on with that yet. Let’s not rock the boat until we’re ready to swim.”

“Right.” Ollie scrutinized the other patrons of the bar. “The killer could be right in here with us.”

“Maybe.” I glanced around. “But why would anyone want to kill Reggie? He wasn’t a great threat as a competitor. He was by himself, unlikely to win the race. It doesn’t make sense. Why not kill someone from Grinch’s Ganache or Our Daily Bread?”

Uncle Saul made a disbelieving face. “You think those two are the front-ru

“I think so. What can’t you do with bread? Who doesn’t love cupcakes? It won’t matter what the challenge is; bread or cupcakes will win every time. Besides, the bread truck people are ministers. Everyone loves ministers.”

“What about Stick It Here?” Ollie said. “Everyone loves pot stickers.”

“Not so much, maybe,” Uncle Saul observed. “And they weren’t very creative with the last challenge.”

Miguel called for another Corona. Ollie and Uncle Saul both had their drinks refreshed.

I decided I only needed one margarita. I got the keys from my uncle to go out and check on Crème Brûlée. I’d have to decide if it was late enough to try and sneak him inside.

There was an underground lot where all the food trucks were parked. It was easy to tell that the hotel had been chosen because there was plenty of room in the parking area. The trucks had to be plugged in and air-conditioned to keep the food fresh.

The Biscuit Bowl’s twirling ceramic biscuit wouldn’t have fit inside anything less than twenty feet high. There were colorful additions on some of the other food trucks, too, like the giant loaf of bread on Our Daily Bread and the sticks coming out of Stick It Here. Grinch’s Ganache had a big cowboy hat on top.

My twirling biscuit was the tallest, and that made it easy to find in the pack. I was very proud of the design. Uncle Saul and Ollie had come up with the idea when the truck was being renovated. I added on to it later.

It struck me as soon as I opened the door that the inside of my food truck was too hot and completely dark. There were usually little colored lights on the appliances and a clock on the microwave. Nothing was on.

I found Crème Brûlée. He was a little warm with his heavy coat, but he seemed fine. I checked the circuit breakers in the truck. Everything seemed okay, but the power wasn’t working.

Holding my cat because I was afraid he might make a slow jog for the door, I checked the outside plug. That was the problem.

Someone had deliberately not only cut my power cord but chopped it into pieces.

EIGHT

I got on the phone right away with Uncle Saul. He, Ollie, and Miguel ran down to the garage after snagging the hotel security man.