“You’re in a good mood,” I remarked with a yawn.
“I had a few drinks with Delia last night. It was good.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows at Miguel. “You know. I think it was very good.”
The elevator reached the underground parking lot. We were stopped by two police officers. “We’ll have to escort you to your food truck. Our investigation is still ongoing. The captain doesn’t want you foodies messing things up.”
As long as they weren’t keeping us from reaching the Biscuit Bowl, that was fine with me. An officer escorted us, and even looked around the outside of the food truck to make sure everything was as it should be.
I got a big surprise when I opened the passenger side door. Uncle Saul was asleep in the truck. Crème Brûlée meowed at him as I shook his shoulder.
“Zoe?” He yawned and stared at me through half-closed eyes. “Is it morning already? It looks so dark.”
“It is so dark. We’re in the basement, and it’s not light outside yet.” I smiled at him. “If you’d like to take a shower and change clothes, Miguel will wait for you. I have to get going.”
“No. That’s why I stayed down here. It didn’t make any sense to go up to the room for a few hours. I’m ready when you are. I can shower and change later. You got a minute to look at the new deep fryer?”
“I’ve got about that.” The other food truck drivers were already leaving. I could hear them yelling at one another excitedly as they got started for the day.
We looked in the back. The new fryer was shiny and clean. It wouldn’t stay that way for long.
“I went ahead and added the new oil last night so I could try it out. It seems good. He only charged me half price on it, too. It’s a little different from what you’re used to, but I think it will do the job.”
I crouched down beside the fryer. The oil was so clean and clear. With it being new, it looked like it went on forever.
“Thanks for doing this.” I hugged him. “You could skip working today, you know. Ollie and I can take care of it.”
He looked up and around the small interior. “Where’s Delia?”
“She’s getting herself together. She might be down already.”
We were getting in the Biscuit Bowl and Miguel’s car when Delia came running from the elevator with a police officer by her side.
“Were you all about to leave me?” she asked breathlessly.
“Of course not! Get in. Let’s go!”
“Okay! See you there.”
I started the food truck. The engine kind of clunked. It was running. That was all that mattered. Ollie had made sure everything was tied down in back before he’d left with Delia and Miguel. We were off!
We drove through the not-so-quiet streets of Atlanta toward the heart of downtown. There was actually traffic out at that time of morning. The orange glow of streetlights directed us, and we followed the other food truck drivers.
“I hope our potential customers have a lot of change in their pockets,” I muttered.
“As to that,” Uncle Saul started with a chuckle, “I had an idea.”
He went on to explain that his friend who’d brought the fryer from home was also a vending machine operator. “He had a bagful of change, Zoe. I bought it off him with the rest of the twenty-five hundred you gave me for the deep fryer. I was thinking that we could make change for people who don’t have it.”
I was amazed at the sneaky idea. “I wonder if that will be okay?”
“I already checked with Chef Art. He said there weren’t any rules pertaining to it. I think we got his blessing.”
“You have a devious mind.”
“Thank you. I needed one growing up in the Chase family. All those rules and regulations weren’t for me. Your father liked rules, I think. He still does.”
I laughed at that. He was right. My mother was the same way. That’s why Uncle Saul and I got along so well. That and the curly hair.
I saw the big white lights illuminating the area where the food truck event would take place. One of the assistants told us where to park and pointed out the cool-down tent and stage.
Miguel was right behind us as I pulled the Biscuit Bowl into the parking place designated for it. The space was a little tight, which made me a lot nervous, but I got it in.
We hopped out of the front of the food truck to begin setting up for the day. I waved to Miguel. Ollie, Delia, and I went around back to open the door.
I didn’t see where they came from. It was like one minute, it was all food truck vendors, and the next, Detectives Helms and Marsh were there with what looked like an army of Atlanta’s finest.
As Miguel reached us, the detectives stepped forward.
“Miguel Alexander, we need you to come with us.”
EIGHTEEN
“What’s this about?” Miguel asked.
“We’d like to have a talk with you,” Helms said. “The Atlanta PD has been gracious enough to allow us to continue to pursue our suspects from Charlotte and Columbia. They’re also letting us question you.”
“What are you questioning me about?” He seemed completely at ease.
I wondered if he had a lawyer he called when he needed help.
“We want to discuss the deaths of Reggie Johnson, Detective McSwain, and Alex Pardini. Will you come with us, please?”
Helms’s stern gaze said she was ready for a fight. She also looked like she hadn’t slept. Had she managed to get information from Tina about Miguel?
“Am I under arrest?” Miguel asked.
“No. Not at this time. You’re a person of interest in our investigation,” Marsh snarled. “It would be to your advantage to come with us and answer our questions.”
Miguel’s gaze searched for mine. “I might be gone for a while, Zoe. You should have everything you need.” He gave me his car keys. “If you need the car, take it. I’ll see you later.”
Marsh and Helms walked at the front of the pack. Two officers escorted Miguel until they reached the large group of police cars at the back of the food truck area. I couldn’t see him after they’d reached all the flashing blue lights.
“What’s up with that?” Ollie asked. “What do they want with Miguel?”
“They think he had something to do with what happened to those people.” Uncle Saul shook his head. “Any ideas why, Zoe?”
I glanced at my watch. As much as I wanted to go with Miguel, I knew I wouldn’t be able to help him—at least not then. I pocketed his keys and hoped for the best.
“We’ll have to talk about it while we work if we want to stay in the race,” I reminded them. “These upside-down biscuit bowls aren’t going to make themselves.”
– – – – – – –
I brought my team up to speed on what was happening with Miguel as we made biscuits, chicken salad with pistachios, and fresh strawberry filling.
Space was definitely at a premium in the kitchen area of the Biscuit Bowl. We had to make do with what we had, and walk all over one another’s feet to do it.
Uncle Saul chopped up the ingredients for the chicken salad. It was his recipe. He had Delia helping him, making sure the chicken was cut up into tiny shreds. I made the biscuit dough, and Ollie baked tray after tray of biscuits in the tiny oven. I worked on the strawberry filling between trays of biscuits.
“This was bound to be about a woman,” Ollie quoted with deep insight and a wicked grin at Delia.
“I don’t think Miguel is involved with this woman other than being friends.” Delia smiled, reassuring me with her gaze as she said it.
“That doesn’t mean she can’t mess him up anyway,” Uncle Saul said. “I don’t like it. I can tell you that. Here we are, away from home. Who’s gonna help him out of this scrape?”
There was a knock on the back door. It was one of the producer’s assistants telling us that we needed to go to the stage.