I’d never been good at one-liners. I should have known better. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
Oh, right. He smiled and didn’t seem to take it the wrong way.
I really liked his smile. His eyes were such a perfect shade of brown—sort of like chocolate, but sexier. Very nice.
“I notice you all the time, Zoe. I can’t imagine a man who wouldn’t.”
My heart beat fast. Is that good? It sounds good.
Or was he saying I flirted a lot? I did flirt a little, but not so much.
After that, I tried to keep the mood going. I brought up all kinds of subjects—except the one I really wanted to ask about.
He responded and admitted all kinds of crazy stuff about himself—really opening up for once. We laughed about the floats at carnival last year. It was great. It felt natural to be there with him. I hoped he felt the same.
There were several accidents on the road and police everywhere as we were leaving North Carolina. I decided it would be a good time to get out my cell phone and start making my shopping list since Miguel was going to have to concentrate more on the road.
Uncle Saul had already left me a few voice mails about food ideas.
Even though we weren’t talking, I was thinking about Miguel and the death of his wife and child ten years ago. It had happened around the same time that he was framed for falsifying evidence when he’d run for district attorney in Mobile.
It was as though his life had stopped then. He’d quit the DA’s office and opened up his own legal practice. Everyone in the city now knew him as a street lawyer who would help anyone in a jam. That’s how I’d met him. He’d been Ollie’s lawyer.
I knew Miguel was still getting over that tragedy—if anyone could ever really get over something like that. From what I could find out—and I had investigated extensively—he’d never even dated during the last ten years.
It didn’t matter to me. I was willing to wait for the butterfly to emerge from the cocoon. I wanted to be the one he thought about when it was the right time for him.
I just hoped the mystery woman in Charlotte wasn’t in line before me.
My cell phone rang as I was making my list. It startled me, and I dropped it on the floor. It was the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department.
“Miss Zoe Chase?” the unfamiliar voice asked. “We’re gonna need to talk to you again.”
SEVEN
Miguel and I were less than thirty minutes outside of Charlotte. We turned around and drove back to police headquarters.
The man on the phone had been vague. It wasn’t Detective McSwain, and yet the caller had said it was about him.
“I gave Detective McSwain my business card after I talked to him about Alex Pardini and Reggie,” I explained to Miguel. “He said he might need me to testify about hearing the argument and the phone conversation. This seems too soon for that.”
Miguel didn’t like it. “They need to work on the investigation. They shouldn’t call you for more information every few minutes.”
I knew he was trying to protect me, and I felt good about that.
I couldn’t afford to pay him. I could hardly ask him to act as my legal counsel if I needed one.
My father had paid my legal fees with him last year when I’d been investigated for murder. I wasn’t involved in the same way this time—although Reggie had been part of what had happened last year, too.
I didn’t have much money of my own—everything I had was sunk into the business. I could offer him food. That was about it.
We parked the car and went inside the police station. I asked for Detective McSwain. The officer at the desk looked at me a little strangely and then asked us to wait. He said someone would come and talk to us right away.
A few minutes later, Detective Macey Helms came out and shook our hands. She was an attractive, heavyset black woman with braided hair. Her deep purple suit was very nice. I complimented her on it.
“Thanks.” Her voice said she wasn’t impressed. “If you two will come this way.”
We went with her to a small conference room. The metal bar on the table reminded me that criminals were interrogated here. It made me uncomfortable, which was probably a good thing. I have a way of running off at the mouth sometimes. I was sure this wasn’t an appropriate moment for that. I clamped my lips closed as I sat down.
Just let Miguel do the talking. Don’t say anything you’ll regret.
Another detective, who introduced himself as Stanley Marsh, stood at the side of the room while Detective Helms sat down with us. He looked like he was in his thirties, maybe, with dirty blond hair and blue eyes. His clothes were worn and dirty. Maybe he was an undercover cop.
I could tell Miguel was a little agitated. His face was alert as he spoke to the two detectives. “What’s going on? Miss Chase understood that she was here to speak to Detective McSwain.”
Detective Helms put a card on the table. “Recognize that, Miss Chase?”
That was easy enough. “Yes. It’s my business card. Was there something wrong with giving it to Detective McSwain?”
The two detectives glanced at each other.
“We found your card on Detective McSwain’s body a short while ago,” Detective Helms said in an accusatory tone.
I sat forward in my chair. “Body? He was perfectly alive and well when I saw him last. You can ask all the police officers who were out there with the food truck race. I barely even talked with him alone.”
“A short while ago, Detective McSwain was found dead. He appears to have been the victim of a hit-and-run.”
“That happened very quickly,” Miguel added. “We were only thirty minutes out of Charlotte.”
“So the two of you were together?” Detective Marsh asked.
“Yes. We’ve been together since I left Detective McSwain.” I peeked at Miguel. He didn’t seem to have a problem with me saying that.
“What did you and Detective McSwain talk about?” Marsh was standing against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.
“He asked me a few questions about Reggie Johnson the first time. Later, I told him that I’d heard Alex Pardini from the race talking about killing Reggie.”
Helms nodded to Marsh. “The dead man from the food truck.”
Marsh moved toward the table. “And what did you tell him?”
“I told him that I barely knew Reggie. We were both from Mobile and had food trucks. That was about all we had in common. I was walking past an RV when I heard Alex talking to someone about Reggie’s death like it wasn’t an accident and there could be more to come. Alex was talking about covering it up.”
“And you and Mr. Johnson were both competitors in the food truck race, no?” Helms suggested.
“Not really.” I smiled at both of them, not wanting to sound superior, but let’s face it—the Dog House wasn’t a real competitor with the Biscuit Bowl. “I make most of my food from scratch. Reggie put hot dogs on buns and dressed them up.”
Marsh slammed his hand on the table. “Did you kill Reggie Johnson, or were you in any way responsible for his death?”
Miguel sat forward. “What’s this about? I was with Miss Chase when she was speaking to Detective McSwain. He never said anything about her being responsible for Mr. Johnson’s death. In point of fact, Miss Chase was constantly with others, who will be glad to vouch for her entire morning.”
Detective Helms made a dismissive motion at Detective Marsh. The man immediately backed off to stand against the wall again.
“Here’s what we’ve got,” Helms said. “We have a food truck driver who was found dead after a strap was cut that held his refrigerator in place. That happened before the race. We had reason to think it might be suspicious even without what Miss Chase just told us. We have a fine detective who was found dead as he was investigating that death. We know Detective McSwain wasn’t accidentally struck by a vehicle. And we have your business card in his coat pocket, Miss Chase. How do you think all those things go together?”