JUSTICE Is SERVED (Food Truck 7) (3 page)

The larger man, whose name was Wells, stayed with us. He was about 6’3” and weighed well over 200 pounds. He had grizzled hair with eyebrows that grew like undergrowth. The other man entered the restroom and returned within seconds. “Yeah, there’s a dead body in there alright,” he said as if that was a major deduction on his part.

Wells grunted and used a device to confirm the report. Apparently they had to check out reports of death before sending their crime scene team. It seemed logical not to waste the time of an entire team for every call they got. I still had yet to determine who Land knew through Detective Danvers.

At the same time, two cars pulled up and stopped. I could easily recognize the first car. The windows had been soaped with “Congratulations” and “Just Married.” Gina and Trent stepped out of the car and approached us.

The two policemen pointed the flashlight at them. The couple had changed out of their wedding attire. Both wore jeans and long-sleeved t-shirts. They would probably be wishing that they’d worn coats in a few minutes. “We’re here to help identify the body,” Gina explained. “I believe he was the best man at our wedding here at the park today.”

I admire her conciseness under the circumstances. She hadn’t gone into much detail, jus the basics to explain their presence. No one wanted to start talking ill of the dead, especially before they knew if it was really David or not.

Wells explained that a team was on the way, and that no identifications would be made until they’d arrived and processed the scene.

The second car held a lone woman. She was dressed in a sweatshirt with CCPD emblazoned across the front and a pair of jeans that had seen much better days. The pants had rips along the knees and across one ankle. Her face wore no expression at all as she approached us.

The policewoman looked at the people and shook her head. “What the hell? Who decided to hold a party here?”

“Actually we did,” Gina chimed in. She gave her a small smile. “We had our wedding today, and I think that the victim may be a member of the wedding party.”

The policewoman grunted. Her expression still had not changed. “Good for you. Who found the body?”

I admitted that I had found it while cleaning up after the reception. I explained how the women’s restroom had been locked, so I had used the men’s facilities. She looked at the food truck in the distance, only the top of it visible over the rise. “Is that yours?”

I nodded.

“Did you touch anything in there?” she asked, pointing to the doorway of the restroom.

“I was cleaning the tablecloth, so the sinks and the knobs there. I checked for a pulse on his wrist and his neck, so there too. The door handles of course, and I think that’s about it.”

She closed her eyes for a second and then opened them. “Okay,” she said, turning to the patrolmen. “Has the tech team been called?”

Before they could answer, another truck pulled up, and several men stepped out. Given their equipment and the sanitary gear, I guessed that the question about the tech team had been answered. They spoke for a minute with the patrolmen and entered the restroom en masse.

The woman who had just arrived talked to the patrolmen, and then she too headed into that restroom.

The four of us stood with the two patrolmen acting as if we would make a run for it at any second.

We didn’t talk much while we were waiting for the police to finish their work in the restroom. I was nearly dead on my feet from the long day, and the realization that in less than 24 hours I’d need to be in bed for going back to work. The thought depressed me.

Gina and Trent appeared to be regretting their decision to come back and be a part of the investigation as well. They shuffled from foot to foot and checked their phones obsessively for the time.

I passed the time by asking them about the tablecloth with the mustard and Table 15. “Who sat there?”

Gina thought for a few minutes, trying to recall her seating chart. “That would have been my aunt Eunice, and two of Trent’s maiden aunts as well. We thought they’d all get along. Eunice doesn’t get along with many people. She has a very sharp tongue.”

Trent nodded. “I could see her putting mustard on a tablecloth, just to think she ruined it, but I don’t think she’s so scheming as to write ‘help’ on it. My aunts are entirely too proper to pull a stunt like that. I honestly think they’d be most happy to go through life with no paying any attention to them at all. Writing on a tablecloth with mustard would only serve to get them noticed.”

I agreed, not being any further towards solving the mustard mystery than before. I got the contact information for Eunice and knew I’d be seeing her at some point. It seemed too coincidental that a warning message had been written on the tablecloth at approximately the same time that the best man had been murdered. The two events had to be connected.

It was nearly midnight by the time the crime scene crew had finished with the scene. The policewoman in the sweatshirt came out after them. Two other men rolling a gurney stopped outside the doors. The woman in the sweatshirt motioned for Trent to join them. Without speaking, she pulled back the covers and revealed the man’s face.

Trent looked like he might be ill. Obviously Gina had not married someone who was quite so enthusiastic about crime solving as she was. “Yeah, that’s David. He was the best man today.” He turned around and took a few steps away from the gurney.

The woman came over to Land and looked him up and down. “You’re Land Mendoza, right? You’re the one who called.”

Land just nodded.

“I’m Sheila Green. After I talked to you, I called Danvers. He vouches for you with a few caveats. So what happened here?”

I wondered what the caveats were, though I strongly suspected that I was probably one of the biggest warning Danvers had given. The detective would likely warn any police officer about my talents for getting into a murder case.

Land ignored her comments and went through a few details of the evening, ending with calling the police. He was concise and totally honest about what had happened. Green didn’t take any notes as he spoke, but I could tell that she was paying attention to every word he said.

Green took a deep breath and began. “It appears that the victim was poisoned. Do you have any samples of the food that you served this evening?”

I spoke up, since I’d done a lot of the clean-up and kept track of the inventory. “We have the hot dogs that weren’t used today, but for the most part the condiments were dumped out after we were done. We make them fresh daily, and many of them wouldn’t taste good on the second day.”

“Spare me the freshness commercials. What were the condiments served today?” Now she pulled out a notebook and took notes.

“We had Mexican dogs, with jalapeno, pepper jack cheese and salsa. We had sweet and spicy dogs with a ginger glaze and brown sugar and vinegar, and another with a pineapple-mango salsa. Then we had the American, which is just homemade mustard and relish, and finally the slaw dog with cole slaw and chili.” I named a few more as well.

Green pulled a phone out of her pocket and held it out to me. “What type was this?”

The photo was obviously of a sweet and spicy dog. Since this detective hadn’t been at the wedding, she’d obviously found this at the crime scene, but I hadn’t noticed any of our food lying in the restroom, which puzzled me. The recipe was one that Carter had come up with after he started working at the food truck, which tied the crime to me.

“We found this in the dead man’s jacket pocket,” she said by way of explanation. “Of course, it’s going to be tested for every type of poison. It’s a shame that all of your fixings are down the drain and can’t be tested as well. That would answer a few questions for us.”

I didn’t like the implications and was going to say something, but Land put his hand on my arm in a clear sign of restraint. “The condiments are stored in containers that we serve from. If one person got poisoned, then all the guests got the exact same poison as well. There was no way for us to know in advance who was going to take any particular hot dog.”

“You didn’t do any special requests tonight?” she asked. “Anything out of the ordinary that would require you to create a hot dog for just one person. Like perhaps for a diabetic person?”

“Only to put some other condiment on the dog or leave one off. We didn’t make any additional condiments just for one person. The condiments were served to everyone who ordered that type of dog. And I wouldn’t recommend sweet and spicy to a diabetic. White sugar is used in that recipe.” I bristled at the questions. The last things we needed was to be linked to a poisoning case. Our business was mostly by word of mouth, and I didn’t want the food truck to be tied to dead customers.

“Interesting,” she said. I wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, but I didn’t like it at all. “If you’re to be believed then someone had to poison his food after he took control of it. That means it’s a pretty personal crime.”

“So it was poison?” I replied, wanting to learn a bit more about this mess.

“Looks that way. He still had a bit of a bun in his mouth when he died, and he had an untouched hot dog in his pocket. I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean. It’s definitely not a mafia symbol, though synonyms for hot dogs might indicated something about infidelity.”

Gina piped up. “David was an eating machine. It wasn’t unheard of for him to stash food away and eat it later.”

“Just because he saved pizza for a day or two doesn’t make him a hoarder,” Trent said. “He just could eat and never gain weight. I wish I could have been like that.”

I remember looking at David’s doughy middle. He might have been able to have eaten like that when he was younger, but now in his late-20s, his metabolism had started to decrease, and he’d been left with that spare tire around the middle. It was interesting that Trent still thought of him in the old familiar way.

Green cleared her throat. “Do you know his next of kin? We’re going to need to contact them about his death.”

The implications of a real murder must have hit Gina, because she started to cry. They were silent tears that I could only see because of the number of headlights in the vicinity. Little sparkling diamonds slid down her cheeks. Her husband’s best friend was dead, killed and on the day of her wedding. Their event would also have an asterisk behind it as the day that David was murdered.

Trent finally spoke. “I would guess his parents would be his next of kin.” He rattled off a phone number that Green wrote down. “He and his girlfriend, Christie, had been dating for a long time, but they weren’t married or even living together.”

“I wonder why,” Green said, looking around the group for an answer. “Anything there might be a motive for murder?”

Gina looked around, waiting for someone else to speak, and then spoke up. “There have been some jealousy issues. Dave had a wandering eye, and Christie caught him nearly red-handed a few times.”

Trent poked his wife, and she stopped speaking. However, the damage had been done, and I wouldn’t have wanted to be Christie right about now. She had a prime motive for murder.

“Well, then, might as well give me her number too.”

Trent complied though he didn’t seem happy about the act. He shot Gina a few uncharitable glances. I hoped that Gina’s mouth hadn’t ruined the rest of the wedding night for the newlyweds. I wouldn’t want to spend my honeymoon involved in a murder. I wouldn’t want to spend my honeymoon arguing about fingering the best man’s girlfriend for murder either. .

“That’s all for now,” she said. “But leave your contact information with the officers. I know I’ll be wanting to ask more questions of you all later.”

It was after 2am when I finally arrived home Sunday morning, and I stayed in bed for most of the day. Being out until all hours of the night made me sleepy on Sunday morning along with the realization that I’d be getting up at 4am on Monday made me long for sleep above all else. So I turned off my phone and curled up in my new sheets, thinking of nothing more dangerous than what to have for dinner.

Monday arrived long before I wanted it. I rolled out of bed and managed to have the truck at our typical spot on Elm Street by 5am. Elm Street ran along side of Government Square in downtown Capital City between Fourth and Fifth. The north and southbound streets were numbered, and the east and westbound streets were named after flora and fauna. It made the downtown fairly easy to navigate. So did the lack of traffic at 5am on a Monday morning.

Carter rolled in at nearly 6 o’clock, complaining about the time and the lack of available hours in a weekend. I noticed that he had a cup of the local coffee shop’s coffee in hand, which meant that Aaron had driven him to work. His other option was the bus, which I was certain didn’t make stops so that Carter could grab a cup of coffee.

Carter had started working for the food truck when Land had taken over Basque in the Sun, the second food truck. I needed another person to prepare the condiments and hot dogs while I manned the cash register and the coffee.

He’d needed a job just out of chef school, but he’d also had to move home to help his chronically ill mother. She’d been in better health for a while, but recently Carter had shared that her health had taken a turn for the worse. I knew that every available cent went to her care and skyrocketing medical bills, which is why I’d given him a used PC at one point. My thoughtfulness stopped short of buying him a car as well, but Aaron drove him to work several days a week.

“So I heard that you went and had a murder without me?” he said after taking a sip of coffee. “That’s not very nice of you.”

I shrugged. “I had no idea that anything was going to happen. Since when do dead bodies come to mind when you think about a wedding?”

“Yours will definitely have a murder or seven,” Carter quipped. “So tell me everything.” He continued to cut up the cabbage for the cole slaw as he waited for me to start. Slaw dogs were a perennial favorite at the food truck, and Carter usually started the week with them. The rest of the condiments were rotated, and Carter tried to add in a new set of condiments once a month for variety.

I finished getting the coffee ready and told him the story of the mustard tablecloth and the dead body in the bathroom. It didn’t take long, but I told him everything I knew. He didn’t ask any questions during the entire process.

I had barely opened the window for business when I spied Detective Jax Danvers in line. Great, I thought, this is just what I needed. He had undoubtedly come to make my life a bit more miserable.

Fortunately, he waited his turn in line, so I could practice a few zingers should the occasion arise. He ordered a coffee to go. He got out his wallet to pay, but I waved it away, hoping he’d take the hint. I thought it would be hard to be mean to me if I’d just comped his coffee.

Normally, he stops by around 1:30pm, when business is light so that he can impart whatever clues he wants to drop on us or any warnings he may have without interrupting our sales.

Today though, his comments apparently couldn’t wait until a lull in the business traffic.

“What?” I asked when I saw that he had no intentions of walking away. I knew the man behind him, and I began to fill his order while waiting for Detective Danvers to express himself. I felt my nerves start to jangle, waiting for him to say something.

Carter sensed my mood and came up front to help out. Typically, no one ordered hot dogs until after 9am, so he had three hours to get the condiments and prep work done. He took over the register, and I let myself out of the food truck’s door.

“What?” I asked again. Danvers had still not said anything to me, though he obviously wanted to tell me something.

“So now you’re finding dead bodies at weddings?” he asked. “When did that become a thing? Not enough corpses for you in a normal work week?”

I shook my head. “We catered a wedding for a friend. Remember the woman with the bloodhound? She and her fiancée got married.”

Danvers nodded. Land and I had both speculated that Danvers was dating Land’s sister, Sabine, but neither one of them would ever confirm the relationship. I wondered if they’d ever discussed any formal type of courtship, or getting married. I thought about asking now, just to throw him off, but he seemed to have something he wanted to tell me, so I just waited.

“So this Sheila Green called me today, first thing. Got me out of bed. She wanted to know all about ‘that food truck lady and her hunky boyfriend.’”

I bristled a little. While I knew that other people, men and women, found Land attractive, this Sheila Green was supposed to be doing her job, not checking Land out. I worried about how her behavior might affect the investigation. Would she lock me up so she could have a clear shot with Land? “What did you tell her?” I asked, wanting to get away from that subject. I wasn’t about to share my insecurities with Detective Danvers, who might use them against me if he thought he’d get a promotion out of it.