I glanced at Bobbie.
She frowned and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“These small moments are important, too.” He tried to persuade us.
“I think we’re about to get started,” Bobbie said. “Catch us later.”
He shrugged and moved away.
“So we’re down to the last two food trucks in the Sweet Magnolia Food Truck Race. It looks like it’s going to be a good morning in Mobile, Alabama, for one lucky food truck owner. We’re all excited to see who that will be.”
There was more applause and some wolf whistles. The crowd was excited and ready to go.
“As we discussed last night, the Biscuit Bowl will be giving up two team members to Shut Up and Eat. Since Shut Up and Eat only has two team members, they will give one team member to the Biscuit Bowl. Team members—switch to your new team.”
Allison came to stand between me and Ollie. Delia and Uncle Saul went with Bobbie.
“That’s right,” Patrick said. “It’s the big switcheroo. It’s not going to be easy to win the race with newbies on your team.”
Everyone else applauded, but I noticed that Bobbie didn’t. Neither did I. And Allison, Bobbie’s daughter, was dressed down like Delia in a baggy T-shirt and jeans.
“Now for the second part of the Mobile challenge. Food is being delivered to your kitchens as we speak. You’ll see your menus when you get back. These are in keeping with the food you’ve served throughout the race. Your primary food menu will stay the same.”
“How much money do we have to make?” Bobbie asked.
“I’m glad you brought that up,” Patrick answered. “Each team will have to sell one hundred and fifty of their basic menu items. That’s pieces, not dollars, so there will be no tie breaking because you’ve equaled each other. Whoever sells that one hundred and fifty items first is the winner. Are we ready to go?”
Again there was applause and people screaming out Patrick’s name as well as the names of the two food trucks.
“I can hear our name! It’s louder than Shut Up and Eat,” Ollie said. “We’re home!”
The two girls on stage turned on the electronic board. It went completely blank (as usual) and refused to come up again.
Patrick shook his head. “Never mind. You guys get started.”
THIRTY-FOUR
“Should I send her out to sell biscuit bowls?” I asked Ollie when Allison was walking in front of us.
“I don’t think so. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” he said. “I’ll go out. You keep her with you, and keep her busy.”
I took his advice. It was what I’d been thinking, too. We got back to the truck and looked for our menu.
I read the printed card. “Carrot, raisin, and apple compote for the sweet, and barbecue chicken for savory.”
“Who eats carrots for something sweet?” Ollie’s expression said that he didn’t.
“I guess whoever buys our biscuit bowls today.” I set Allison to shredding carrots. It was the only way I could imagine using them for something sweet with apples and raisins.
“I’m sure Bobbie is having the same problem,” I told Ollie.
“I could check and see what Mom is doing,” Allison offered.
“No. That’s okay. Let’s get our stuff ready. Finding out what they’re doing doesn’t really matter.”
Ollie started stewing the apples and raisins. I started making biscuits. At least I knew how many we had to have to win. The barbecue chicken was already cooked. It just needed to be warmed before it went into the biscuit bowl. That was a plus.
“I think the carrot shredder is broken.” My new crew member held up the broken article. “Mom has one. I could go borrow it.”
“We’ll have to do without,” I told her. “There’s no borrowing, remember? You have to do with what you have.”
Was this going to be Allison’s agenda? Was she constantly going to volunteer to go back to her own food truck and annoy me to death?
I tried to be charitable—she was a teenager trapped into working with strangers. Maybe she was nervous. None of us had set out to do it this way, but Uncle Saul and Delia were older. They had the maturity to deal with situations that she might not have.
“This is looking good,” Ollie said of the apple and raisin mixture. “Want me to add some cinnamon?”
“Oh. Let me!” Allison grabbed the cinnamon and dropped the whole container on the floor. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
I wasn’t sure if I believed her or not, but I had no plans to turn her in for refusing to cooperate so I could win the race that way. We could work around her.
I grabbed an extra can of cinnamon from the cabinet above my head. “Use this, Ollie.”
With the first tray of biscuits in the little oven and the fryer getting hot, I made some quick white icing to drizzle over the sweet biscuit bowls. Almost anything tasted good with white icing.
“I have these carrots shredded,” Allison said. “Where do you want me to put them?”
“Let me have them over here,” Ollie said. “What’s that red stuff all over them?”
Allison looked at her hand. “I guess I cut myself. Sorry. I’ll wash off the carrots.”
“I don’t think so,” I intervened. “We’re not using carrots with blood washed off of them. Go and find me a producer’s assistant so we can ask what we should do without the carrots.”
She agreed and ran out of the food truck.
“That’s the last we’ll see of her.” Ollie shook his head. “She’s a devious little thing.”
“We had to expect something from her. She’s working against her mother.”
“We should turn her in.”
“Do you want to win like that?”
He thought about it. “Sure.”
“I don’t want to. We can win on our own.”
I was putting in a new tray of biscuits, wondering how to deal with the problem of not using the carrots, when I felt someone else come into the food truck. With my head down, it was hard to see around Ollie.
I looked up, about to think better of Allison for coming back, but she wasn’t there.
It was Detective Marsh.
“What are you doing here?” I tried to make a quick detour between getting food ready and finding him there with us.
“I think we’ll find the killer here today. This is the end of the food truck race.”
Ollie snorted. “Right. Miguel is conscious. We know what happened. You might as well turn yourself in. Otherwise we’ll call Zoe’s friend in the police department. She’ll know what to do with you.”
I wiped my hands on a towel. “Ollie’s right, Marsh. Everyone knows the truth about you. We’re guessing you were paid to kill Tina. Everything else was to cover that up. You’ll have to leave now. We’re trying to get ready for the race.”
“The race.” He spat back at me. “This whole race thing was a big, stupid mistake. It should have been a perfect setup. Alex was going to pay me Reggie’s money plus two hundred thousand to kill his wife.”
“Reggie? He was supposed to kill Tina?”
“He didn’t know what he was doing. Alex didn’t, either.”
I was tired of hearing his confession, and wondered how we could alert the police. He pulled out a gun. “I need you to get me out of here, Zoe. No one is going to question your food truck leaving. You can come or go as you please. I can’t hang around and wait for the police to catch up with me.”
I carefully considered my next words. “You’re wrong, you know.” I put three biscuits into the deep fryer. “Everyone is going to question us if we leave before the challenge is done. Have you seen the police officers outside the rope in the crowd? We aren’t getting out of here until it’s over.”