Fry Another Day

“Most of you met your first challenge,” Alex said. “Give yourselves a big hand.”

Of course everyone applauded.

“But we can’t all be wi

Everyone groaned. Really, I guess we’d all hoped the producers might let Reggie’s truck be the one that didn’t go on. He obviously couldn’t participate. Wasn’t that enough?

I could see from the faces of the other food truck owners standing close by that they had felt the same way. A certain amount of grumbling was to be expected with that disappointment.

“Okay. I know a lot of you figured it would only be the Dog House eliminated from the race.” Alex smiled at everyone. “How fair would that be since Reggie didn’t participate?”

His attempt to placate the crowd wasn’t very popular. He conferred with a group of people on the sidelines that I’d decided were “the producers.” He was back a minute later with his arms stretched out like Moses parting the Red Sea.

“I’m sorry, but that decision is final,” Alex said. “I have the names of the contestants who will be going on to Columbia with us. I also have the name of the wi

The crowd yelled in a halfhearted fashion.

“I can’t hear you.” Alex cupped his ear with one hand. “Does anyone want the good news?”

The group managed a louder response, with Ollie leading the way as he screamed his answer. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to hear out of my left ear again.

“That’s better.” Alex opened a large envelope. “The wi

Everyone applauded as Reverend Jay Jablonski ran to the stage. Our Daily Bread was ma

Alex congratulated Reverend Jablonski. The stocky, balding minister took the microphone to thank his team and race officials.

“We owe it all to God,” he said with a big smile on his face.

There were also prizes awarded daily to challenge wi

“Of course he won.” Bobbie Shields from Shut Up and Eat complained loudly as she stood next to me. “Sweet potatoes aren’t all that noticeable in bread.”

Reverend Jablonski left the stage after another round of applause. Alex took over the microphone again.

“And now for the contestants who will continue on to Columbia.” He took out another sealed envelope.

I wondered when someone had time to make up those envelopes. The challenge had only been over for such a short time.

“Are you ready?” Alex tried to rev up the group again. His excitement was falling on disappointed ears. “Traveling on to Columbia and the second leg of the race will be: Our Daily Bread. Shut Up and Eat. Fred’s Fish Tacos. Chooey’s Sooey. Stick It Here. Grinch’s Ganache. Pizza Papa. And the Biscuit Bowl.”

“That means the mushroom woman didn’t make it,” Uncle Saul said loudly over the cheers and moans from the wi

“At least we made the cut,” I said. “I wonder how they came to that decision.”

Alex tapped on his microphone to get everyone’s attention again. “And of course, our friend and fellow food truck owner Reggie Johnson travels with us to Columbia in spirit. That’s it, people. See you tomorrow.”

Everyone filed into the cool-down tent for a briefing on what we could expect tomorrow. The challenge would be selling our normal menu but on roller skates. It also included singing and a taste challenge.

“I’m not doing that.” Delia made her feelings plain. “I don’t dance and I don’t sing.”

We were each given vouchers for meals and hotel rooms for our teams. I reserved judgment on the singing and roller skating until tomorrow.

I’d been a roller-skating carhop when I was in college. That had been so many years ago that I could hardly remember. I wasn’t even sure I knew how to skate anymore. And singing was really not my forte.

At least we were able to serve our normal menus! I wasn’t worried about a taste challenge. I felt sure we could beat anyone at that.

Everyone left the area after that. Police were waiting to reopen the downtown streets we were taking up. When we got back to the Biscuit Bowl, I saw a tow truck hooking up to the Dog House.

I wondered if there would be an investigation of what had happened to Reggie. Had he been murdered or was it an accident?

Despite my feelings about him, it was hard to imagine someone had followed him up here from Mobile to kill him. What were the chances he knew someone here who hated him that much?

I felt the police would figure out it was a simple accident once they’d had a chance to look into it.

Packing up so many food trucks was noisy and messy. There was a lot of shouting as things went wrong—Fred’s Fish Tacos had a flat tire, and Stick It Here lost their outside menu board.

Everyone was free to do what they wanted for the rest of the day. We could hang around in Charlotte and take in the sights or go on to Columbia. The only thing that mattered was stocking up and being ready for tomorrow when the next challenge began.

“Do you want to give me the list of supplies that you’ll need?” Miguel asked as I was checking the Biscuit Bowl one last time before we left.

“Let me talk to Ollie and Uncle Saul later in Columbia before we plan what we’re going to make tomorrow, now that we know we can serve our normal menu.” I shifted Crème Brûlée’s bed to the back of the food truck. There had to be room up front for Ollie to sit. Delia and Uncle Saul were riding with Miguel.

Ollie nudged me in the side before we left the kitchen. “I want to ride in the car with Delia and Miguel.”

“Okay. That’s fine.”

“I’m not letting your uncle take up all of Delia’s time. This was supposed to be an opportunity for Delia and me to get to know each other.”

“Okay. I’m good with that. But maybe you should have told Delia that’s what this was supposed to be.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Have you even told her that you like her?” I looked into his big face and had to smile. He was totally clueless.

“No. It’s not necessary. When someone likes you, you can tell.”

“Maybe you can. Most people need a hint. If you don’t give Delia a hint about the way you feel, she’ll never know.”

He made a sound somewhere between a humph and a snort. “Like I should take advice from you. You haven’t told Miguel the way you feel about him. I’ll do things my way—in the car with Miguel.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in Columbia.”

“That’s right.” He started to walk out of the kitchen and suddenly turned back. “And I’m not roller skating or singing in Columbia.”

I laughed at that. “You got it.”

After Ollie was gone, I got Crème Brûlée set up in his bed and gave him a little kiss for the road. Luckily the kitchen area was air-conditioned. It was only going to get hotter the farther south we went.

I made sure everything was secure, no falling refrigerators or microwave ovens. I closed the back of the Airstream and turned around to find myself face-to-face with a stranger.

He flashed his police badge at me and nodded. “Zoe Chase? I’m Detective John McSwain of the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department. Could I have a few moments of your time?”