“You should try asking Tina Gerard, like I said. She may be your missing link.”
“We’re going to, when we can find her. I think we’re all wrong about Miguel, but I can’t prove anything. Not yet. Stay sharp. Who knows what else is coming your way.”
“I will.”
Helms sighed. “This will all make sense once we have the right pieces. But who knows where we’ll find them.”
– – – – – – –
I went to the ladies’ room and freshened up after talking to Detective Helms. I was glad I wasn’t responsible for figuring out what had happened to Reggie, Alex, and Detective McSwain. Making food was much better.
Because Miguel’s reputation, and maybe more, was also on the line, I tried to imagine what had happened. How did all the deaths, Dante’s hijacking, and the cut power cords fit together?
Maybe Reggie was killed to try and stop the race. Alex had been working with someone who wanted to shut down the race. McSwain got in the way of the plan. Alex was killed because he hadn’t been able to stop the race.
I couldn’t imagine Alex killing anyone, though. He hadn’t seemed the type to me. And what would that have to do with Tina?
Maybe the race wasn’t even part of it. Everything else that had happened was just to make it appear like it had something to do with the race.
I definitely didn’t want to be a cop!
My brain was starting to hurt, and I was hungry. I left the ladies’ room after a cursory glance at myself in the mirror. There wasn’t much I could do to repair the damage until we got to the hotel in Birmingham. I had to hope that Miguel was tired and distracted enough not to notice what a mess I was. We were nowhere near the part of our relationship that I could think it didn’t matter.
I noticed, as I found the circular booth that Miguel had chosen, that he’d placed himself in the middle so that Delia would be on one side and I would be on the other. The two of them already had coffee and sweet iced tea. I ordered the sweet tea from the waitress who went by as I sat down.
“I got a call from Detective Helms,” I told them. I explained, as best I could, about Reggie. “She asked me again about the conversation I’d overheard in Charlotte between Alex and whoever he was talking to.”
Miguel looked thoughtful. “It happens sometimes when the police are more motivated to figure out what happened. The race was a big deal to have in Charlotte. I’m sure they let Helms and Marsh go all this way with it because the city took a black eye from the publicity.”
“They don’t like it when you mess with one of their own, either,” Delia added.
“I understand if Tina killed Alex and wants you to take the blame for it. She had motive for that,” I told Miguel. “But why would she kill Reggie or the police detective?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think she killed any of them.” He glanced at Delia. “I know you disagree, but I’ve known Tina forever. She’s not that kind of person.”
“After all the years you’ve worked as a lawyer, you still don’t get that anybody is capable of anything?” She shook her head at him.
“No. I don’t believe that. Not everyone would be willing to kill to survive,” he argued.
“I can usually get an idea about people,” I added. “They feel good or bad to me. Tina doesn’t feel right. I don’t think she’s bad, but I’m not on her cheer team, either.”
The waitress came back with my drink and took our food orders. We talked about the race and what we might expect in Birmingham. Miguel asked if I had a supply list ready. I absolutely didn’t. All I’d really thought about all morning was him.
I texted Uncle Saul to see if he was in Birmingham yet. He immediately called me back with bad news.
“We have a flat. We can’t change it out here. I’m calling a tow truck. I’ll let you know what happens. See you at the hotel.”
Could anything else go wrong?
I was immediately sorry I’d asked that question. I did what Uncle Saul always did when he was afraid that he’d cursed himself. I rubbed salt into my hands and tossed a few grains over my shoulder.
“What was that for?” Miguel grinned as our greasy cheeseburgers arrived.
“To keep my own stupid thoughts from killing me. Let’s eat and get to Birmingham.”
– – – – – – –
It wasn’t really that far from Atlanta to Birmingham, but it seemed to take forever. I drove like a crazy person after we left the restaurant. The highway had dried, and a watery sun was shining down on us.
I’d hoped to catch up with the Biscuit Bowl, but we weren’t fast enough. Ollie and Uncle Saul had a huge head start. I wasn’t sure how Crème Brûlée was going to take being in a garage as the food truck was being serviced. I hoped whoever had towed us in was fair. Sometimes there was price gouging when you had no alternative.
Most of the extra money that I’d won had gone into the deep fryer. It looked like the rest, plus some, was going into a tire. The Sweet Magnolia Food Truck Race was starting to sound like a losing proposition. What had I gotten myself into?
We were in Alabama, only ten minutes from Birmingham, when Uncle Saul called to let me know that they were at the garage.
“Will the truck need a new tire?” I asked without any pleasantries.
He sighed. “I’m afraid so. But there’s still some of the money you won left. That might take care of it. I’ll be glad to help you out, Zoe. Don’t worry.”
“And how will I pay you back if I don’t win the race?”
“We’ll settle that later. I have some good ideas about biscuit bowls. Let’s think about that while they’re working, okay?”
I had no choice. I asked him about Crème Brûlée. He assured me that my cat was all right. He and Ollie were sitting out under a big magnolia tree, and Ollie had put Crème Brûlée’s bed outside for him.
“We’re fine. You all go on to the hotel and we’ll meet you there. Try not to worry.”
I finally agreed. I knew when we’d started the race that there could be complications with the older Airstream. It had already done well making it to Charlotte and back to Alabama. At least we were getting close to home.
It was hard not to worry. It was something I was really good at even though I tried not to let it show. People thought I didn’t think twice about quitting my job at the bank and buying the restaurant and the food truck. But I’d worried about it for weeks before and after. I just didn’t let it stop me.
I knew I was going to have to do the same thing right now. I was here to finish the race and hopefully win it. It wasn’t time to go home yet. I hadn’t come this far to lose everything.
The hotel in Birmingham was nice. Not as big or elegant as the one in Atlanta, but Birmingham wasn’t Atlanta. I knew the downtown area wouldn’t be as busy tomorrow, either. I just hoped we wouldn’t have thunderstorms.
I wasn’t from Birmingham, but being close to Mobile made me feel more like these were my folks. If I came up with the right food, they’d give me their hearts. I was starting to look forward to the next day—and finding a way to best Our Daily Bread.
We checked in quickly, and I ran upstairs to my room to take a shower. I wanted to be ready for Crème Brûlée and whatever bad news Uncle Saul had for me by the time they got there. I put some extra conditioner in my hair but kept the awful scarf on the bedside table. My curls needed a night of freedom.
By the time Uncle Saul called and said they’d arrived, I was ready. I went downstairs with my big tote bag for Crème Brûlée and greeted them when they pulled into one of the parking spaces designated for the food truck race. I was glad the food trucks were going to be parked outside for the night. I was tired of underground parking.
Ollie and Uncle Saul looked exhausted. I told them both to go upstairs, take a shower, and get some rest. We could always talk about how much the tire cost later. The Biscuit Bowl was where it was supposed to be. We could get ready for tomorrow’s challenge after dinner.