A THIEF OF ANY MAN (Food Truck Mysteries Book 6) (4 page)

“So now we’re going to find out who this woman was, right?” Land asked. “I can tell from the set of your jaw that you’re determined to show up Danvers again. Is that really such a great idea?’

“There’s nothing to show up, remember? We saw an attack, but no murder. So he has nothing to worry about.”

Land shook his head as if he didn’t agree. “Even if he’s right, that the woman got up and left, there’s still the matter of assault. Danvers could claim that the crime is an open investigation for assault and try to keep us away from the case.”

“But he won’t, will he?” I asked. I was already mapping out a list of things to do which would help us answer some questions.

“Unlikely. If he was going to take this seriously, then he would have impounded the truck. Since he didn’t, I think he’s calling this matter closed.”

That stopped me cold for a moment. While things were better than ever for the food truck business, the thought of days with no income would hurt. We needed both trucks running on a regular basis to make a profit. So while I might not have any threats to my person, I would have to watch my step so that I wasn’t without an income.

Despite the late night and the multiple viewings of the food truck the previous evening, I was twenty-five minutes earlier than Carter the next day. While the previous evening felt like a dream at times, the hole in the chain-link fence at the secured parking lot reminded me of the night’s reality when I returned that morning. I still drove through the gate and parked the car. No one could have told from my demeanor or routine that we’d seen a woman strangled in the food truck last night. The lot was serene looking in the early morning light. The first orange rays of light rose over the maples, and I could see outline of the downtown skyline in the distance.

Bryson, the morning guard, was on duty, and I waved as I drove out of the lot. I wondered again where the evening guard had gone. The day guard wore a dark blue uniform, which had not been the woman’s attire. So it was unlikely that we’d seen the guard killed. So where does a guard go when not doing his or her job? I indelicately wondered about bathroom breaks on the job, but the length of time she’d been gone suggested other reasons for her disappearance. Perhaps the night guard had something to do with the crimes?

I drove to Elm Street, parked, and started setting up. I counted the money twice, but there was no cash missing. Either the strangled woman was the thief who had been killed before she stole the money, or multiple people were visiting the truck on a nightly basis. I leaned towards the former, since the lot really was supposed to be secure.

When Carter rolled in, he already knew about last night’s adventures. “Where was she when she got killed?” he asked by way of greeting. His head swiveled around, taking in the insides of the truck.

“How did you know about this?” I eyed him suspiciously. If he actually had been taking money from the truck, then he could have killed the woman in the food truck. However, realistically, since he didn’t have a car, the odds of him walking home from a murder seemed virtually nil.

“Land texted me last night. He didn’t want me to freak out when I got in today.” Carter shrugged off his jacket and got to work without pausing. “So what exactly happened?”

I explained the entire situation with the missing money, the video feed, and the murder. His mouth had fallen open by the time I was finished.

“At least you didn’t think I’d done it,” he said. He was beaming about that fact.

I gave him a smile, but didn’t answer. I had suspected him of the thefts, but I had strong doubts that Carter would have killed someone with his bare hands. He’d broken a wrist as a child, and he still had to open all of the condiment bottles with his left hand. While it didn’t affect his work or his cooking, it had affected his grip slightly, enough that he would never be a strangler.

Carter came out from behind the prep area. “So I’m dying to know. Where did it happen?” he asked, looking around now. His head swiveled around, looking for the nonexistent clues.

I pointed out the place where the woman had been killed by having hands wrapped around her throat.

“Show me?” Carter said. “This is the type of adventure I heard about before I interviewed here. I want to make the most of it. It scared a lot of the people in my program away from wanting to work here, but I think I must have watched too much
Scooby-Doo
as a kid.” I couldn’t tell if he was talking because he was excited or nervous.

I reached up and put my arms on his shoulders. I moved Carter into position and then put my hands gently on his neck. As I did so, I realized a few things. First, the angle was wrong. The hands had been coming
down
on the woman’s neck. That meant that the killer had been taller than the woman being strangled.

Of course, that didn’t help me a lot. I had no idea who this woman was. She could have been 4’2” tall or over 6’. Height was impossible to tell without the body. I tried again to think of a place where the body could have been moved to, but I got nowhere. There’s just not a huge market for corpse storage.

I wondered if we would be permitted to look into missing persons reports in a few days, or if any corpses had showed up around Capital City who were strangled. The most likely scenario would be to dump the body somewhere local. Not being associated with the body would be the easiest way to stay in the clear.

Yet whoever had done this had gone to a lot of trouble to move the body. Why go to all that trouble only to dump it in the same region? I wondered if the strangler had wanted to hide the original location of the murder, or if the killer wanted the crime not to be associated with this setting in some way? A parking lot is fairly generic, and I couldn’t imagine someone being tied to the lot – except for perhaps the owners.

I looked at my hands again on Carter’s neck. The left thumb went over the right thumb. In the video, it had been the other way. I wasn’t sure what the odds of that being were, but it did make up a part of a profile on the killer.

The angle was different too. I had originally thought that the woman had been near the cash register, in order to steal money. However, now that I was acting this out with Carter, I realized that the strangler was next to the register and the woman was standing away from it, with her back to the prep area. I wasn’t sure if this meant that the strangler was the thief, but it was a possibility that I had discounted before. That supposition would not explain why the woman was in my food truck to begin with, but the theory meant that only one person was a criminal, instead of two. Yet, I had no idea whether the victim or the killer was the thief.

“Okay, you’re kind of creeping me out here,” Carter said, breaking my train of thought. “Hands off the throat, please.”

I apologized as I pulled my hands down. I explained to Carter the things I’d been thinking about. He nodded and added some suggestions about the angle of the strangulation. “However, unless she’s really tall, we can’t exclude very many men from the line-up. An average man is taller than an average woman. So we’re dealing with a large number.”

I nodded. He was right. I’d only managed to exclude the shorter people in Capital City. That was hardly a victory in my attempts to solve this crime.

The rest of the shift went quickly. I was busy thinking about the money and the truck. When Land drove the other food truck to its location in the afternoon, I ran over to tell him my deductions. He was much like Carter in that he thought they were valid conclusions, but he wasn’t sure how much my thoughts would help us in the long run. He made a suggestion that in our free time tomorrow we look in all the cabinets and behind the appliances to see if there were any clues that were not easily accessible.

I walked back to the original truck in silence. Carter had already left for the day, and I drove the food truck back to the lot. I decided to both leave the video feed on for this evening, in case there was another robbery, and lock the doors to the truck. I wasn’t taking any chances now that we’d already had a murder inside of it.

About 9pm, I decided to watch the video feed from tonight. I wished Land and the popcorn were with me, but I was on my own tonight. I thought about picking another time to do this, but it was shortly before I went to bed and I had the evening chores done already.

I fast-forwarded through the footage, much like I had before. At about the 8pm mark, I slowed down the feed. Two people were in the food truck. My blood stopped pumping as I leaned forward to watch.

I could make out the features of the one person in the food truck. It was Land. I relaxed for a moment, until I realized that there was a woman in the food truck with him.

They were having an argument of epic proportions. They were both screaming and gesturing. Unfortunately, the video feed was not set up for sound. That feature would have cost me extra, and I had not wanted to pay the additional money for it. Now I cursed my frugality.

The woman looked familiar as they continued to bicker. As I watched them in animated conversation, it struck me. Land was arguing with the security guard from the lot. Apparently they knew each other and had a lot to say this evening.

I ran through the feed three more times, but I only grew more certain of the woman’s identity. About a month ago, I had been at Land’s apartment, and a photo of Land and a woman had hung on the wall. Land had identified her as his sister.

Since Land rarely spoke of his family, the mere fact of her existence was counted as a plus. I was fairly certain that the woman on the wall was the woman talking to Land in the food truck. My first question for Land was whether or not he’d been telling me the truth about the relationship. Land didn’t lie to me, typically, but he did leave out things when he felt a need to cover his own trail.

On the surface of it, he had no reason to lie about the woman being his sister. I didn’t suspect him of cheating. I knew where he was most hours of every day, so he really didn’t have time for a full-blown romance. Given the fact that he’d taken his own sweet time in committing to me, I knew that he wasn’t likely to be the player type.

In every situation I could think of, he had told me the truth about his sister. So the only question that remained was, why was he meeting her in the food truck in the middle of the evening? It was odd, even for the highly secretive Mendoza family. I’d never met any members of Land’s family, even though he’d met my parents and had worked for my aunt before I’d inherited the food truck. Yet he persistently had denied any family in Capital City and had not invited me on any trips to the Basque to visit them.

I was now presented with a situation. I could either go to the truck now and confront Land about the meeting and the hidden family in town. Or I could sit on this information and wait for the proper time to address it. I actually chose the latter, feeling it more adult, which was not always my first instinct.

I did have a big advantage in the matter. I knew that I could get in touch with Land’s sister whenever I needed to. She was wearing the uniform for the secured lot where we parked our food trucks.

A few things made sense now. We hadn’t seen anyone on duty either time we’d visited the lot in the evening. I had thought it odd, considering how the owners prided themselves on the level of security they provided. However, not finding a dead body in the food truck had thrown me for a loop.

If Land had not wanted us to meet, then he’d likely called ahead and told his sister to get lost for a bit. I wondered where she’d hidden and, more importantly, if she’d seen anything strange happen at the lot around the time of the strangling.

Given my reaction to the scenes from last night, I was sure that Land had assumed that I would not watch the security video feed again tonight. My revulsion had been palatable, so he had likely not cared if they met in the truck. The space provided them with a bit of privacy in their conversation – a talk that could only be about the murder and the missing body.

My main priority was still finding out what had happened to the woman who had been strangled and had collapsed. If Land’s sister worked at the lot, then perhaps she had seen this woman before, or, better yet, could give us a name for her. That would help us in investigating, given that the police had done nothing beyond their initial call.

So now I had a second problem. If I wanted to learn what Ms. Mendoza knew, I would have to worm it out of Land without admitting that I’d seen him on the video feed. I could manage that trick, but it would take some finesse. He wouldn’t get mad at me for trying to get the information. He was used to my elevated level of curiosity.

Not calling him took a massive effort on my part, but I decided to wait until the following day to implement my plan. I would bring up the idea of talking to the night watchperson about the missing corpse and see if we could get an identification. The move would likely get Land to take care of that chore and provide the name if possible. In all likelihood, he’d been arguing with his sister about the identification when I saw the video feed, though without sound I wasn’t sure what had been said.

Of course, I didn’t sleep well, but I was at the secured lot twenty minutes early. I had hoped to get a glimpse of Kristoff, the night guard, but Bryson, the morning gate attendant, was already on duty when I arrived. He let me in the lot. I parked the car and looked around quickly, but no one else was around at 4:45 in the morning. That wasn’t exactly a shock to me.

I drove the food truck to our normal spot on Elm and parked it so I could begin the day’s preparations. There was silence in the gray concrete morning of downtown. It felt as if the streets belonged to me alone.

I counted the money three times to be sure, but the register did not have a discrepancy this morning. No matter what Land and his sister had been discussing, the topic apparently had not been taking anything from the till.

I started the coffee, which Land must have replenished last night at some point. I gave him props because now he had a reason to be in the food truck after hours. I still didn’t have any idea who had taken the coffee, but I wondered again if the same person was behind both of the petty thefts. Otherwise, the food truck was a magnet for small-time criminals.

Carter still hadn’t arrived at 5am, so I started doing a little of his prep work. I followed his list of things to do for today. He was obsessed with lists, and his mania made it easier for me to follow along on the days when he wasn’t there as early as he should be.

In reality, the second person doesn’t have much work at 6am. The number of brave souls feasting on hot dogs at dawn is incredibly small. Carter made use of that fact to show up late on occasion, especially if he had to go home to take care of his mother.

Having found his list, I knew the day’s condiments, so I scrounged up the board to write up the new toppings for our hot dogs. The board had been one of Carter’s ideas, and I had to admit that the messages made for quicker turnaround, since no one had to ask what today’s condiments were.

I pulled the message board out from behind the sink and stopped. Someone had written the word “help” across the board in large, scrawling letters. Alone in the food truck and still imagining the scenes I’d witnessed on the video feed, I was freaked out. On top of that, Carter had yet to show up, which made me concerned that he could be the person in trouble.

Although I had vowed not to call Land before we talked about the identity of the potential victim later today, I dialed his number. He wouldn’t make me feel stupid or uncertain, and he’d be the first to my defense.

He picked up on the first ring. “This better be good.”

“Trust me, it is. Carter’s not here yet. I’m all alone in the food truck, and the message board says ‘help’ on it. I’m a little freaked to be here alone, thinking that someone wrote help on the board.” I hadn’t realized the depth of my feelings of fright and insecurity until I started talking. Too many things had happened in the food truck lately for me to feel comfortable alone, parked on a city street at 5am.

“Be there in ten,” he said, and hung up.

I pushed the phone into my pocket and then pushed the board back to where I’d found it. I knew that I couldn’t bear the next ten minutes staring at that sign. It would have made me feel vulnerable every time I came into the food truck.

True to his word, Land was there in less than ten minutes. He knocked in the pattern he does to let me know that it’s him. I opened the door and practically threw myself into his arms.

“I like the greeting, but I could still use some sleep,” he said. He’d dressed in jeans and tight-fitting t-shirt. The comfort in his arms almost made me forget why I’d called. “So what’s up with this board?” he asked, bringing back all the memories to me.

I pulled out the board and showed him the writing. “I found this when I came in today. Carter usually writes the board each day when he comes in. It was fine yesterday morning, which means something happened last night. Someone else was in the food truck and wrote this on the message board.”

He squinted at the board, not moving at all. He stayed that way for several minutes before he stood up again. “Well, you’re right. It’s recent. The writing is a bit smudged. Did you do that?”

I shook my head. The text had appeared to be rubbed in a few places, but I hadn’t brushed the board up against the sink when I pulled it out. “It was like that when I found it.”

Land looked at the board again. “And you found it behind the sink? Is that where it normally goes?” He pulled out his camera and took a few quick shots of the board. I wished I’d thought of that. I could have sent Land the photos and not disturbed what sleep he’d end up getting today.

I explained that Carter had a habit of leaving the board wherever in the food truck. The space wasn’t all that large, and frankly, it took all of two seconds to look around and find it again.

“So someone wrote ‘help’ on it and then pushed it behind the sink. That seems odd.” He took a few steps away from me and began to look under the cabinets and around the prep area. I couldn’t discern whether he saw anything or not.

I did see what he was getting at though. “If you were truly in danger, then you’d leave the sign out. Is that what you’re implying?”

He nodded. “Who writes a message and then hides the sign? It’s like making a rescue fire and not lighting it, or loading the flare gun and not firing.”

“So what are you saying? It’s a hoax?” I was annoyed. I hated the fact that I’d been freaked out by the incident. I hated more that I’d woken up Land for a prank.

“A hoax to upset you, perhaps – or Carter? Where is he, by the way?” Land looked around again, as though he were just noticing that the new cook was missing.

I shrugged and then checked my phone. Carter had texted me twenty minutes ago, saying that he’d be here by 6:15, which is almost was. I was feeling more stupid by the moment. No one had needed help, and Carter was fine.

“He’s running late. He’ll be here in a few minutes,” I replied, feeling a bit sheepish. “So now who broke into the food truck? The truck is getting to be a major thoroughfare, and it’s supposed to be secured.”

“Did you turn on the video feed last night?” Land asked. It seemed a harmless question, but I could see the tension in his arms and neck as he asked. Was he worried that I’d look at the feed and learn about his sister?

“No, no such luck. I did lock the doors last night though. It should have been secured.”

Land looked around. “Nothing’s been taken that I can see. You said the cash reserve was fine, so no money was stolen. So we’re just supposed to think that someone randomly needed help while they broke in here by themselves to do nothing.”

“Maybe the robbers came back?” I asked, trying to come up with an explanation. The situation was getting weirder by the moment.

“Right, because thieves would immediately ask for help from the people who own the truck. You’re just skittish at the moment. You’ll be fine in a few minutes, and you’ll have some better ideas on what might have happened.” He stepped closer to me. I could feel the heat radiate off of him as he moved into my space. I looked up at him and smiled.

He moved in and kissed me. The press of his lips against mine helped me forget the last few days inside the food truck and how worried I’d felt just twenty minutes ago. Now I felt foolish for my concerns.

The door opened, and before we could break apart, Carter had stepped into the food truck. “Don’t let me stop you,” he said as he bustled around the prep area and began the food prep. I hadn’t gotten very far, so he was definitely behind schedule.

Carter noticed the message sign and frowned. Before either of us could speak, he wiped it clean. “You seem to be doing quite well for yourself.” He gave me a big grin.

While Carter had spent his first six months working here certain that Detective Danvers was hot for me, he had quickly switched teams to root for me and Land. It was nice to have a private cheering squad.

Land started to say something and stopped. He had the documentation of the message board and its cryptic word. The original wouldn’t persuade the police or anyone else that we hadn’t done it ourselves.

Carter checked his watch. “What are you doing here? You didn’t call him in because I was late, did you?” He showed some worry over his last sentence, likely concerned that he would lose his job.

“We had a little problem. It’s been resolved,” I said truthfully.

Land just nodded, kissed me, and left. “I’ll talk to you when I get back,” he said on the way out.

I wasn’t at all surprised that he hadn’t mentioned his sister or the rendezvous at the food truck. Our time together had been short. He was tired. Carter showed up. However, I wondered if he planned to keep this a secret. Could his sister be the one who needed help? It couldn’t have been the strangling victim, since Carter had used the board the day after we saw her fall to the floor in the food truck.

My day went quickly after that. I tried to focus on the job and the sales, but I had to correct my change a few times. I was more distracted than I should have been. I hated that I distrusted my own safety in the food truck. I’d never had a second thought about the security of working there at night or in the early mornings, but after seeing that video feed, I’d been jumpy about spending any length of time there alone.

Finally, Land drove up in Basque in the Sun. I left Carter to clean up and headed over to the other food truck. The brisk walk across Government Square helped clear my head. The day was cold, but there were still people milling about the benches and art.