“Shh!” I felt like losing Dante was worse than losing Alex. Not to be indelicate, but Dante was one of us. What happened to him could’ve happened to anyone.
The board flashed a few times, and the pretty girls smiled brilliantly.
“So here we are now,” Patrick announced. “Six food trucks left in the race. Two seemingly impossible challenges for tomorrow. Are you ready for it?”
“I might be,” Bobbie said. “If you go ahead and tell us what the challenges are.”
Patrick dramatically ripped open a large envelope. “The first challenge for Atlanta is making, presenting, and selling your signature dishes upside down.”
We all looked at one another.
Daryl Barbee was the first to speak. “Are you saying we have to make, present, and sell our food standing on our heads?”
Patrick laughed. “No! You misunderstood me.”
“Then what are you saying, son?” Reverend Jay Jablonski asked from the front table.
“I’m saying the food has to be served upside down.” Patrick glanced behind himself for support from the sponsors. All of them shrugged and looked away. “For instance, upside-down cupcakes, upside-down pizza, and upside-down biscuit bowls. See?”
Everyone nodded. After a few comments, Roy Chow asked about the second challenge.
“You’re gonna love this one.” Patrick smiled, showing his perfect white teeth against his perfectly tanned face. “You have to sell one hundred dollars of upside-down product, and all of the money you collect has to be in change.”
“Change?” Antonio asked.
“That’s right. Dimes, quarters, nickels, and pennies.”
“What about those gold dollars and fifty-cent pieces?” Reverend Jablonski asked.
Patrick glanced back again. One of the producers nodded.
“Those work, too. No folding money, checks, or credit cards,” Patrick confirmed.
“Most people don’t even carry change anymore,” Bobbie complained.
“That’s why they call it a challenge, right?” Patrick smiled and applauded.
“Is that it?” Ollie asked.
“That’s it,” Patrick responded. “Enjoy your dinner. Get some sleep. We’ll see you at four A.M. tomorrow.”
I did as he suggested and enjoyed some delicious chicken with risotto and a nice glass of red wine. I know you’re supposed to drink white with chicken, but I liked the red better.
Halfway through dinner, Uncle Saul’s phone rang. It was his friend from Mobile with the deep fryer. I started to get up and go with him. He told me to sit down and finish my meal.
“This way, my buddy and I have some private time to talk. We’ll get the fryer in. He’s gonna want to get paid. Want me to take care of it?”
“No. Take the cash.” I grabbed the envelope that held my winnings from Columbia and gave it to him. “Call me if you need my help.”
“Doubtful, but I will if it comes up.”
There was a lot of grumbling and outright complaining as the food truck teams finished dinner and left the large room. Patrick and the producers were long gone. The electronic board and the pretty girls had gone with them.
Chef Art finished his dinner. “I’m going to meet with the other sponsors of the race and see where we stand in all of this. I don’t know if anything has to be changed yet. I’ll let you know. See you all in the morning. Get some sleep, Zoe. You’re looking a mite peaked.”
“Thanks.”
Ollie went off with Delia to get drinks. Uncle Saul went to bed.
“I guess it’s me and you.” Miguel smiled and took my hand. “We could go out and take in some of the local night life if you want.”
“I’m really tired. Maybe a drink and then I’m ready for bed. I know that’s not very exciting. But you already know I’m not a very exciting person.”
“I think you’re pretty exciting. Almost too exciting for me. I lead a boring life in comparison.”
I laughed as we wandered down the long hall with the ugly, brown-flowered carpeting underfoot. We were walking in the general direction of the hotel bar.
I glanced up to reply and saw Miguel’s beautiful female friend in a crowd of people filling the hotel lobby. The sponsors and producers of the race were answering questions from a large media group about Alex’s death. She was right in the middle of it.
It was one thing to have seen this woman in Charlotte the first morning. A little odd to see her in Columbia the next day. Why was she here in Atlanta, too?
Lots of questions occurred to me.
We sat down in the crowded bar. We were lucky to get a secluded booth from a couple that was leaving. Miguel ordered a whiskey sour and I got my usual margarita.
“I know this isn’t any of my business, but did you agree to come with me for the race so you could meet your friend here and in Charlotte and Columbia?” I smiled to take the edge off the question.
“I had already agreed to come with you when Tina called about meeting her somewhere to talk. She said she was going to be in Columbia, and that worked for me.”
Our drinks arrived, and I pushed the subject a step further. “Does Tina know about the race?”
He shrugged. “Yes. Alex Pardini was her husband.”
“What?”
After dropping that bombshell, Miguel leaned closer to me. “I told you about her husband trying to take everything away from her.”
“I guess she doesn’t have that problem now.” I thought about those black boots and jeans that I’d seen before I fell down the RV stairs. “That’s a very good motive to kill someone.”
“What I didn’t tell you, Zoe, was that there have been two recent attempts on Tina’s life. Alex may have been killed because of those attempts.”
I had to admit that the phone call I’d overheard in Charlotte could have been about Alex killing his wife or hiring someone to kill her. I was still only guessing from the stilted words I’d heard. “But why have her killed during the race? Wouldn’t someplace private had been better? And why is he dead instead of her?”
“Maybe to provide an alibi for himself. I don’t know. I’m trying to understand it myself.”
“Maybe that’s the part I heard about payment right before Alex was killed. Maybe the killer wanted more money. But why would Alex kill Reggie?”
He shrugged. “To throw everyone off when he killed Tina?”
“I guess that’s possible.”
His phone rang and he stood up. “Excuse me, Zoe.”
It only took a minute for Detectives Helms and Marsh to spot me alone at the booth and move in. They weren’t exactly the faces I wanted to see across from me.
“How was the dinner?” Helms asked.
“It was pretty good for catered food. I enjoyed it. How was your dinner?”
“We haven’t had dinner yet.” Marsh sounded as though he wasn’t too happy about it, either. “We’ve been in the parking garage with the Atlanta police investigating another murder involved with this race.”
“Are they shutting the race down now?” Helms asked.
“No. Not at all.” I sighed. “There were a lot of good words about Alex Pardini and that he’d want the race to continue. We’ll be up and running again tomorrow at four A.M.”
“What about the sponsors?” Marsh wondered. “Aren’t they worried about bad publicity from being involved with the race?”
“I don’t think most of them are all that worried. I know Chef Art wasn’t.”
“What about Pardini’s death?” Marsh leaned forward after pushing Miguel’s drink out of the way. “Have you remembered anything else that happened before he was killed?”
“No. I told the police what I heard and saw. It wasn’t much.”
“Zoe, were the boots you saw men’s or women’s?” Helms questioned.
“I’m not sure. I only caught a glimpse of them.”
“If you think of anything else—” Marsh began.
“I have your cell phone numbers. I’ll call.” I wanted information from them, too. “Do you still think Miguel is involved with this?”