“I’ll do that.” I glanced around the kitchen. “It looks like we’re ready to go at six. Thanks for all the hard work. Everybody take a break.”
I went back outside into the cool morning air. I knew it wouldn’t last for long. It was summer in the South, which meant hot weather. I was grateful that my food truck had air-conditioning as long as the portable generator was working. Not all food trucks were so lucky.
I found Miguel sitting on a bench near the Biscuit Bowl and sat beside him. There was a small magnolia tree hanging over us. I thought it was a very romantic place to talk. I wished I had something to say to him that didn’t involve what I wanted him to do for the food truck race.
“Everything ready?” he asked.
“I think so. The oven worked better than I thought it would.”
“Good.” He smiled and nodded.
Seriously? I was thirty years old and this was the best I could do? It was like I couldn’t get my tongue to say what I was thinking.
“I—uh—need you to get people to fill out these little forms on whether or not they like the food.” I showed him, deliberately leaning closer to him.
“I can do that.” He took the forms and scanned them. “I do this after you sell the food?”
“Yes.”
“No problem.”
“Thanks.” I sighed. Now what?
“Zoe?” He looked down into my face.
“Yes?” My heart was beating fast.
There was another loud noise from the Dog House. It wasn’t arguing this time—more like a dull thud followed by a loud groan.
“That didn’t sound good.” Miguel got to his feet. “I’ll check it out.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Whatever he’d been about to say was lost as we walked to the back door of the Dog House. Leave it to Reggie to ruin my perfect moment with Miguel.
Miguel knocked on the back door. There was no response. He pounded, and I called Reggie’s name. Still no response.
“Is there a problem, sir?” a burly Charlotte police officer asked. “Ma’am?”
“We’re from the other food truck.” I pointed behind us. “We heard a strange noise up here and were worried about our friend, Reggie. This is his trailer. We’re both from Mobile.”
I wasn’t really worried about Reggie. I was talking nervously because I was wondering what Miguel was thinking and feeling. Had he planned to kiss me before this happened?
The faster we got through this, the sooner Miguel and I could sit on the bench and talk again. Or kiss.
The officer frowned at my words, but he took our concerns seriously. “Step aside, please. Let me handle this.”
Reggie had a pickup truck hauling the Dog House behind it. There was no access between the two vehicles. The side window on the trailer, where Reggie sold hot dogs and sausages, was closed and locked. It would probably break if the officer forced it open.
Miguel and I followed him as he circled the truck and around the other side of the trailer. The only logical way into the cooking area was to open the back door as Reggie had done earlier to yell at me.
By this time, another officer had joined us. The two officers discussed the situation for a moment as they tried to decide what to do. There was no way to be sure it was an emergency. We didn’t even know for sure that Reggie was inside the trailer. One of the officers called in the problem while the other decided to use a crowbar to open the back door.
Alex Pardini had seen the commotion and had brought his cameraman with him to investigate. “What’s going on, officers?”
“We’re not sure, sir. Step back, please.”
“We heard a bad sound inside.” I filled Alex in on why Miguel and I were there.
“What kind of sound, Zoe?” Alex wondered.
“I’m not sure.”
He conversed with the officers as they worked. “What are you hoping to uncover here? What do you think happened? Should our other drivers be worried?”
The officers stared at him like he was crazy.
The camera was taping everything when the officers finally managed to pry open the door to the Dog House. It splintered away from the side wall. Reggie wasn’t going to be able to use it again.
But it didn’t matter.
Reggie was on the floor with a refrigerator on his chest. It looked as though he might not need a door, or a food truck, ever again.
FOUR
“Is he dead?” Alex asked with a look of revulsion on his handsome face that wouldn’t have been good for his ratings. “I mean, seriously, someone should call an ambulance in case he’s still alive.”
The two officers assured him that they had already called for medics and an ambulance. They asked us to move away from the trailer again.
Everyone affiliated with the race was suddenly there with us, pressing closer to find out what had happened. There were murmurs of disbelief and horror that one of the food truck drivers had been seriously injured or killed—and a few unsportsmanlike comments about there being one less competitor for the fifty thousand dollars.
Miguel stayed there to hear what he could about Reggie’s condition. I went to the back of the Biscuit Bowl to tell everyone inside what had happened. My team had remained hard at work despite what was happening outside. I could hear the sound of sirens as other police cars and the ambulance arrived.
“That poor man,” Delia said after I’d told her. “Is he going to be okay?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t tell.” I shivered, thinking about the look on Reggie’s face. “I hope so. I think the strap broke that was holding his refrigerator in place.” I felt guilty after I’d thought such terrible things about him. I was going to feel really bad if he was seriously hurt—or the other.
“Accidents happen in the food industry just like any other,” Uncle Saul added.
“It seems strange that I was just over there talking to him. Well, he was yelling at me, like always, but still.”
“You mean when you heard him arguing with Alex.” Ollie shook his head. “Too bad you couldn’t hear what they were saying.”
“I don’t think Alex had anything to do with it. Miguel and I were sitting outside, talking about filling out the tasting forms, and I think we heard the refrigerator fall. Alex wasn’t anywhere around then.”
“I thought the big fridge was a good idea,” Ollie remarked. “I guess I was wrong. But I’m not shedding any tears for that jerk anyway. There were a few times I wanted to kill him back in Mobile!”
“You shouldn’t say that now,” Delia cautioned.
“Just ’cause he’s hurt doesn’t mean he’s suddenly a good guy,” Ollie argued.
“I’m sure it was only an accident,” Uncle Saul said. “I saw Reggie putting in the refrigerator when we were getting ready to leave Mobile. I was wondering how he was gonna manage to keep it in place.”
I shrugged. “It was terrible anyway. I hope he’s okay.” It didn’t really look like it, but I knew looks could be deceiving. It wasn’t a great way to start the race.
“He’s probably fine,” Uncle Saul said as he drank a soda. “One time I dropped a truck on myself as I was changing a tire. I pushed myself out from under it. I was banged up and had a few broken ribs—well, all of them were broken—along with my collarbone, both shoulders, and one hand. But I’m alive, and I drove that old truck until I had to send it to the scrap heap.”
“I had something similar happen to me.” Ollie began telling another amazing, and improbable, tale of survival after something had fallen on him.
Miguel burst in after their colorful tales. “He’s dead. Reggie is dead.”
“How do they know so soon?” Uncle Saul asked. “Didn’t they have to take him to the hospital?”