“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?”
SIX
“Sure. I guess.” I shrugged nonchalantly, but my heart was pounding. “What’s this about?”
“I looked at the list of food truck owners involved in the race and noticed that you and Reggie Johnson were the only two from Mobile. Were you acquainted with him?”
“Only in the way that we’re both food truck vendors. I didn’t know him personally.”
“What can you tell me about him?” He wrote down everything I said.
What could I say? He smelled like old grease and looked like he’d been in too many fights? That he played dirty tricks on me to get better vendor spaces?
None of those things seemed right to say considering that Reggie was dead.
“I didn’t know him well. When I was researching food trucks to start my own, I had one of his hot dogs. It was okay.”
The detective finished writing and glanced up at me. “Anything about his finances? Was he a gambling man? Did he have a family?”
“I think you should use your resources to find out if Reggie Johnson had a family.” Miguel came around the corner of the food truck where he’d obviously been listening.
“Who are you?” Detective McSwain asked him.
“Miguel Alexander. I’m Miss Chase’s attorney. I’m also from Mobile, if you’d like to question me about Mr. Johnson.”
“Miss Chase doesn’t need an attorney.” The detective gave me a dirty look, like I had called Miguel for help. “I was only asking a few friendly questions about the deceased.”
“If you have enough friendly answers, Miss Chase needs to drive to Columbia for the next part of the race.” Miguel’s tone was polite but firm.
“That’s fine. I guess neither of you knew Mr. Johnson very well. I won’t take up any more of your time.” He nodded to me. “Miss Chase.”
We watched him walk away.
“Did I miss anything important?” he asked.
“No. At least I don’t think so. I couldn’t tell him anything about Reggie—at least anything he’d want to hear about him. Reggie wasn’t a very nice man, but his hot dogs were pretty good.”
He smiled. “I don’t think he wanted to hear that.”
“That’s what I mean. You must be right about the police suspecting Reggie’s death wasn’t an accident. I was thinking before about who might want to kill him. If it was another vendor, maybe they knew him in Mobile.”
“Unless it was another vendor in the race and they wanted to eliminate some of the competition.”
“I guess that’s true.” I bit my lip. “I felt a little bad not telling him about hearing Reggie argue with Alex in his truck. Do you think I should tell him?”
“I don’t think we should even consider that idea, or any other idea that pertains to Reggie’s death. We’re here to win the race, right? Let’s concentrate on that.”
He was right. I let go of the questions that had wandered into my mind.
“Are you driving to Columbia now?” I asked him.
“I am. I’d like to get the supply part out of the way in Charlotte in case you have something difficult to find.”
“There shouldn’t be any problem. I don’t make complicated food for the Biscuit Bowl.”
“I guess I’ll see you down there then.”
I smiled at him, wishing I didn’t feel so sweaty and full of grease. I smelled like biscuit bowls and bacon. Not a bad combination, usually. “Thanks again for being here, Miguel.”
“I’m having a good time, Zoe. That’s what vacations are all about, right?”
“You used your vacation time to be here?” I felt bad about that.
“Actually, I haven’t had a vacation in so long that I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with one. Besides, I’m the boss—like you. I get to take off when I want to.” He smiled back at me. “I just haven’t had a good reason to until now.”
Our gazes locked and we moved a little closer to each other. I closed my eyes, excited that this would be our first kiss. My heart was pounding and my stomach was in knots.
Ollie came running around the side of the Airstream. “Forget Miguel’s car. Delia has decided to stay in Charlotte and hop a ride with a friend of hers who lives here. She’ll be down in Columbia later.”
“What does that have to do with my car?” Miguel took a step back.
The golden moment was gone.
“Nothing.” Ollie shrugged his broad shoulders. “I want to ride down in the Biscuit Bowl.”
A brilliant idea sprang to mind. I flipped him the keys to the Airstream. “You and Uncle Saul can ride down in the truck. I’ll ride down with Miguel. We can talk about tomorrow’s menu on the phone.”
I was so proud of myself. My stomach was doing flip-flops. It was about an hour to the next stop. Miguel and I would have time to talk by ourselves with nothing getting in the way. If I managed to get the shopping list done in time, I could go shopping with him, too. Then maybe we could eat dinner together.
It would almost be a date.
“Anything you think we need on the supply list?” I asked Ollie before he left.
“I guess the usual—flour, water, shortening, fruit, and meat. Have you thought about doing drinks for the crowd in Columbia? We had a lot of people ask about that today. If so, we need sodas. You ditched what we usually carry to make room for other things.”
“You’re right about the drinks. I’ll check on that before we go. Thanks, Ollie.”
“I’m ready when you are,” Miguel told me. “No hurry.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I ask someone about the drinks and find Uncle Saul.”
Uncle Saul was easy to find. He was wandering around through the other food trucks that hadn’t left the area yet. His hands were full of pork pot stickers, a few fish tacos, and a chocolate cake pop.
“Are you worried about going hungry between here and Columbia?” I asked him with a laugh.
“They made too much. There was good food about to be thrown away. I took what I could.”
I knew he was right. That was one of the problems with finding the right balance between how much food you made each day and how much you could sell. Some basic staples could be used over again. When I had deep-fried biscuit bowls left over, I either had to find someone who wanted them or I had to throw them away. It looked like every other food truck vendor had the same problem.
It was different with the race, but with the excitement and having made food twice, it was easy to see how some vendors made too much.
I told him about the travel arrangements.
“This is good.” He rubbed his hands together. “I want to give Ollie some pointers about how to attract a woman. He sure needs some help. We can discuss it on the way.”
I wasn’t sure if Ollie was going to want to take romantic advice from a man who lived in the swamp with an alligator and probably couldn’t remember when he’d had his last date. But I didn’t say anything. Whatever they talked about was up to them.
I needed to plan my strategy for talking to Miguel.
“I’ll see you down there.” I hugged him. “Thanks for all your help.”