1 Death on Eat Street (11 page)

I took out some cookies I was saving for a special occasion.
I’d like to have you on retainer, or any other way.
“Well maybe we should do that. I don’t want you to go bankrupt while you take care of my legal needs.”

Was he seeing someone? Or was he still traumatized from his wife’s tragic death? I hoped it wasn’t either case. There was no way to know without hinting around in a sneaky way to find out.

“Thanks for worrying about me. Your father and I have come to a good financial agreement. He’s worried about you, too.”

“He’s always worried about me. He doesn’t try to stop me like my mother does. He just worries, while he’s fishing or whatever.”

“As for billable hours,” Miguel said, “I’m lucky to be my own boss. I don’t have anyone looking over my shoulder or asking me why I’m doing what I’m doing. It’s great.”

“Good. I’m glad that’s all settled.” I bit into a cookie and smiled at him. “What’s Ollie’s story? I know he was in the military. You said he’s been in trouble with the police. Was there something that happened to him?”

“Ollie killed his wife,” Miguel said, without hesitation. “But he’s a good man.”

“Ollie killed his wife?” I squeaked a little in surprise.

I was imagining that he had some disorder left over from being in the military. I hadn’t thought about him killing anyone—
especially his wife
.

“It’s not what you think,” Miguel explained. “Let me tell you ahead of time, he doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“I won’t mention it to him.” That thought was furthest from my mind. But if I was going to be alone with him in the food truck, I felt like I deserved to know the truth. “What happened?”

“Ollie’s wife was in the military, too. She developed PTSD. No one realized. She came home on leave. Ollie was sitting across the breakfast table from her. She pulled out a gun and started shooting at him.”

“Oh my God! Poor Ollie—and his wife.”

Miguel shrugged. “He tried to restrain her. The gun went off. The shot killed her. She’d managed to shoot him three times. He barely survived, and he lost it for a while. He was discharged, and then started wreaking havoc on the civilian community. That’s when I met him. I got him into rehab and he began to get better.”

The terrible ordeal tugged at my heart. I knew Ollie was a good person. It was awful that he’d had to go through so much. No wonder he didn’t want anyone to depend on him.

“I don’t know how he survived.” I ate another cookie, promising myself it was the last.

“You get through one day at a time,” Miguel told me.

I knew he spoke from experience. I wanted to ask him about
his
tragedy, too, but I couldn’t find the words.

He didn’t stay long after that. I didn’t get to hint around about any possible girlfriends he might have. I told myself to be patient. He was on retainer. I could call him anytime I wanted.

I locked up the diner after he left. I saw his car pull out of the parking lot and I turned out the lights.

Delia was finally out of the shower. She’d been on the phone laughing and talking most of the evening. I didn’t ask her who she was talking to.

When I told her about Don Abbott, she said she hadn’t heard anything. I knew she was lying. She probably didn’t want to be involved.

I managed to take a shower and put on my pajamas before I fell into bed with Crème Brûlée. It was hard going to sleep. I thought about Ollie and his wife. Then I thought about Terry and his partner, Don.
What could he be looking for?

Terry certainly hadn’t said anything to me about something valuable that he was hiding. I couldn’t imagine that he wouldn’t have sold whatever it was right away. Goodness knew he needed repairs on his taco truck. I knew that’s where I’d put my money if I had something worth enough money to kill someone over.

He must have told his partner about it. Maybe they’d even found, or stolen, it together. Anything was possible.

I snuggled up with Crème Brûlée, who bit my arm softly and then licked it.

Maybe tomorrow there would be more answers. Maybe there would also be more customers buying biscuit bowls. I hoped this was only the start. I hoped I was finally on the road to success.

• • •

I was up before the alarm went off in the morning. I got dressed, and fed Crème Brûlée. He was tired of the chicken-flavored cat food and stuck his nose up at it. He sat down and looked at me expectantly. I got another bowl and tried tuna-flavored food. He liked that.

I made ten trays of biscuits. Delia put the first two in the oven. While they were baking, we made scrambled eggs with sausage and peppers for the breakfast crowd. There was a new recipe for my savory customers—spicy chili with jalapeños. It smelled good, as Ollie had suggested, and filled a biscuit bowl nicely.

Next came my sweet fillings. Today, I was trying an apple with rum sauce filling, and planned to use the rest of the strawberry from yesterday.

Delia was a big help in her cheerful pink tank top and cutoff jeans. She was good with a knife, too. We made short work of everything. I liked working with her.

From time to time, I glanced outside to see if Ollie was there. It looked like he was staying home for the day. I knew I’d miss him. He was good company, as well as a strong arm with setting up, and getting the food truck ready. He also made me feel safer with everything going on.

I reminded myself that I’d started this venture alone, and hadn’t planned to hire anyone until I’d made a profit for a while. I wasn’t sad or worried about it then. I wasn’t going to be now, either.

When everything was ready, I walked outside and backed the food truck close to the front door. It was cool and dark. It felt like rain was coming. I could do anything except control the weather.

Of course, people still had to eat. I had awnings for them to stand under. Even if I didn’t make as much money as I would on a sunny day, my customers needed to know they could depend on me.

I went back inside the diner. I’d forgotten to print new menus. Handing those out with samples yesterday seemed to be a winning combination. I learned something new about the food business every day.

I started up my little printer—it took some pounding to get it to work. Delia waited for the copies to come out. I grabbed my rain poncho, and Crème Brûlée’s bed, and headed for the food truck again.

Before I could get out of the door, a face appeared in the dark glass. I jumped back, startled, and held my cat bed in front of me like a shield.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

It was Miguel. I sagged in relief, and started breathing again. “You scared the
life
out of me. What are you doing here so early? Did something else happen?”

“No. I didn’t have any meetings today. I thought I’d come by and check out the food truck business in Mobile.”

“I have the flyers, Zoe,” Delia said. “Hello, Miguel!”

As Delia and I were setting up the food truck, Miguel offered to help. “I can do something, too.”

I noticed that he wasn’t wearing his usual suit and tie. He looked much better in his jeans and pale blue T-shirt, a dark blue waterproof jacket covering them. I couldn’t believe he wanted to spend the day in the food truck.

My little heart was beating double-time at the thought! I kind of realized then that I liked him a lot.

I knew I couldn’t afford him. I didn’t want my father to pay my lawyer to help me serve biscuit bowls.

“I don’t know,” I hesitated. “I’m not sure I’ll make enough money to pay both of you. I’ve had days when I didn’t make enough money to buy supplies for the next day.”

He shrugged. “I’m just along for the ride. You don’t have to pay me. Neither does your father.”

That alleviated my problem with him. I was still a little unsure about what had brought him there. It would have been nice to think he wanted to spend time with me. It was probably more like he was worried about me.

While I wasn’t crazy about that idea, I wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to get to know him better. I thanked him for his offer and sent him to bring out the rest of the biscuits.

I went back for water to put in the warmer and almost walked into Ollie, who was carrying the pot of chili.

“This is good,” he told me. “It needed a little cayenne. I added it. Don’t worry.”

I didn’t mention that he’d told me not to depend on him. I was glad he was there. If he decided to stop helping at some point, I’d have to get over it. In the meantime, it looked as though I had a full crew.

Crème Brûlée was always the last on board. I tried to make sure he’d visited the litter box before we left. Usually, he was good for the day after that. If not, I had his harness and could walk him a little in the grass. I was a little worried about the tuna—his little tummy sometimes had problems with fish. There was nothing I could do about it then.

Ollie rode with me to police headquarters. Miguel and Delia took his car. They were going to park in the public lot that adjoined the building complex and join us there.

Suzette’s Crepes beat us to the prime location. I sighed but took the second spot without complaining. People would be willing to walk the few yards that separated us.

“I’ll take care of this.” Ollie started to get out.

“No. It’s fine. Like we told him yesterday, it’s the early bird. He got here first. That’s okay. We have biscuits, scrambled eggs, and chili. People will find us.”

Ollie wasn’t happy with that. I finally convinced him that it was for the best. The sky was turning gray as we set up. A light rain was falling. People were running by with newspapers over their heads.

I hoped the rain would be gone by lunchtime. Ollie had set up the tables and chairs between us and Suzette’s Crepes. Miguel had put up the awnings, and I’d filled out the menu. We were ready for customers.

While Ollie stirred the chili, and Delia was ready to take orders at the window, Miguel and I sat in the front of the food truck and talked.

“What did the police say about Don Abbott?” I asked him for news.

“He made bail, and they had to let him go. I showed Delia his picture. She said she recognized him as Terry’s friend and his partner in the taco truck. That was about it. She said they argued about money sometimes.”

I made a face. “What’s going to happen next with Delia?”

“Well, nothing has changed in her case. Don Abbott may be violent, but he has a good alibi for where he was when his partner was killed.”

“So we’re right back where we started.”

“Not exactly. What do you think Abbott wanted from you? Have you thought about it at all?”

I admitted that I had thought about almost nothing else. “I don’t have any idea what he thinks I have. Believe me, Terry and I didn’t spend any quality time together when he was in my food truck. I don’t know why someone put him here.”

I glanced around, uncomfortably, at the seat I occupied.

“It sounds like it could’ve been Abbott that put him here. He obviously knew you and Terry had a disagreement. It would be the perfect way to throw off suspicion. But it would help if we had some idea of what Terry had that was so valuable.”

“I don’t know. I keep thinking about it. It doesn’t make any sense to me. I barely knew Terry. Why would anyone think he’d give me something valuable?”

“I hope we find that out before Delia’s trial,” Miguel said. “She’s got a record, mostly petty violations. But she has one arrest that helps the police—she was picked up with a gun last year. Since she had a relationship with Terry that ended badly, she’s the perfect suspect.”

I agreed with Miguel. I hoped the police would sort it all out in time. Whatever Terry had, people were willing to kill for it.

Customers started coming up. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle again. The smell of biscuit bowls frying had enticed them to visit us. Delia was smiling and courteous as she asked for their orders and took their money. Ollie was dipping steaming bowls of chili, even though it was still early.

We had a break at about nine thirty. I was glad because all of the scrambled eggs were gone.

Note to self: make more eggs next time.

Ollie and Miguel were outside, drying off the café tables and chairs. Delia was helping me get ready for the lunch crowd. I was expecting it to be huge.

“I don’t know how to thank you for giving me this chance, Zoe.” Delia fussed with some paper towels, eventually putting them in the trash.

“I’m glad to have you. You might not want to thank me once the big lunch crush starts.” I smiled at her.

She looked even prettier without all the glitzy makeup, her hair down on her shoulders. She still needed feeding, though.

She laughed. “Once you’ve been in as many tough scrapes as I have been, honey, you don’t get too messed up over things.”

I thought about the questions Miguel and I had posed to each other earlier. “Delia, do you have any idea what Terry’s partner could’ve come looking for at my place?”

“You know, I thought about it after you told me what happened last night. I don’t know, Zoe. Abbott is a crazy man. It could be anything.”

“Was there something special—something valuable—that Terry had that Don could be looking for?”

“Honey, Terry Bannister never had a blessed thing that was worth spit unless he got rid of it. He’d never hold on to something that way. If he was skulking around your parking lot at the diner the night he was killed, you can believe he was trying to sell whatever he had.”

Her tone was ironic, but I couldn’t help noticing that her hands were trembling.

“How long had you and Terry been broken up when he was killed?”

She smiled in an especially girlish way. “When weren’t we broken up? The longest we were together was a few months. Then he’d start drinking, and that would be it. I’m not gonna let no fool slap me around. I’m my own woman. Just because I make my money waiting tables doesn’t mean I’ll put up with stuff. You know what I mean?”

I agreed with her. “I’m sorry for all the questions. I know the police have asked you plenty.”

She put her hand on my arm. “You’re no bother, Zoe. You have such a good heart, it makes all of you glow.”

“Thanks. Would you like a biscuit bowl?”

“Except for that. You have to quit feeding me. I’ll look like a buffalo in no time. I don’t want to end up looking like my mama. All she could wear before she died were these big, flowered dresses that hung down to her ankles like sacks. Shoot me if I ever get that bad.”