Read A THIEF OF ANY MAN (Food Truck Mysteries Book 6) Online
Authors: Chloe Kendrick
A THIEF OF ANY MAN (Food Truck Mysteries Book 6) (9 page)
Based on that, I handed over every detail of contact information I had for Gina to the man. He wrote it all down and left. I thought she would get a kick out of getting a reward for helping out.
I thought about calling Land or Carter or perhaps setting up a three-way call, but in all honesty the news did not change anything for us at the moment. It was all speculative, depending on when I got the money. I decided to keep it to myself for the moment and mull over what to do.
After Danvers left, I made myself a cup of tea and sat down at the table. I had some thinking to do.
I had a strong idea about what had happened with the murders. I knew the why and the how, but I was still unclear on the who, though I had some suspicions. I contemplated who I should talk to about the matter. Danvers was out of the question, since he’d always thought I was holding something back from him and would resent my interference. Land was preoccupied with Sabine’s arrest, and frankly I worried that he’d want to rush to announce what I’d learned, even though the analysis wasn’t fully formed yet. I wanted to have all the evidence I needed before I presented it to the police. I didn’t want to destroy any chance of getting Sabine out as soon as possible – and keeping her out for good.
That left Carter, and while I liked my chef, I wasn’t sure that he was mature enough to help out on something this important. I needed a certain level of professionalism, and I was going to work with a guy who wagged his eyebrows at me to suggest romance. However, I wasn’t sure what else to do.
I gave him a call an hour after Danvers had left. We arranged to make an appointment one hour after we finished work on the food truck the next day.
The next day flew. While both of our minds were on other things, we worked well together and finished the day without issue. The money count was perfect again, and I was done with the financials and some of the cleaning by the time we had to leave.
I’d made an appointment with the widow of the parking lot’s owner about buying the lot. She hadn’t seemed shocked, and she quickly agreed to the idea of a meeting. While I was interested – and impressed with Carter’s ability to spot a potential investment – I had ulterior motives in calling. I wanted to validate my ideas about the lot and wanted to see if they were correct.
When we arrived, the owner’s wife was waiting for us. Not many people ever just hang out in a parking lot, so the rather tall, gangly woman dressed in a pair of black jeans was easy to spot when we pulled in. I had told Carter of my ideas, but I hadn’t told him what exactly I suspected.
She was carrying a manila folder, which I hoped contained the information that I needed in order to solve the case. She greeted us formally. I asked a few questions about the lot and its capacity as my pretense for meeting, but in all honesty, I’d already found out this information from the wonders of the internet.
She gave me a tour, directing her comments to me while Carter lagged a few steps behind, inspecting the fence and the perimeter of the lot. She gave me the folder grimly. “I was never in favor of owning this place,” she confided. “I found it rather mercenary, selling services for a piece of asphalt. My husband disagreed.”
I thanked her. “Thank you for meeting us. I’ll take a look at these figures and get back to you.”
She nodded at me. “I’d rather not stay here, if you don’t mind. I feel that this lot brought about my husband’s death, and I’ll be glad to be quit of it.” With those words, she headed to her car.
Carter and I decided to take a look at the information here, while at the lot. I was anxious to see if my theory was correct, and he was always wanting to get involved in a case.
“There aren’t any openings big enough to squeeze an adult through,” Carter told me when we were alone. “They fixed that hole the police made. It has wiring wrapped around each set of links, so it would take hours to make an opening large enough to squeeze through.”
I nodded. I scanned through the list of clients. I was the only one with multiple spaces, but the lot was fairly full. I scanned down the names again, but none of them were familiar to me. I closed the folder.
Before I could speak, though, the door to the food truck opened.
“Did you have more information on the lot for us?” I began to ask, but the words fell to a whisper.
Bryson stood in the doorway with a gun.
I hadn’t expected such a rapid or deadly reaction from Bryson. I had expected him to want to learn what I was doing with the paperwork, but I hadn’t predicted an immediate or potentially violent response.
“What are you doing, Maeve?” he asked. The gun didn’t move, but it seemed to be trained on me alone. He must not have seen or heard Carter, because his focus was on me.
“We’re looking at buying the lot as a new venture,” I said, not making any sudden movements. I did point at the folder on the counter.
“That’s it?” he asked me. His eyes were alert and darted around the space. “You’re not adding up the facts and seeing that it would have been difficult to move the body into the lot, break into a car, and move the body without being spotted by someone? That it would take a considerable amount of time and familiarity with the lot to do that?”
I wanted to be honest that I had deduced just that – along with the fact that the security booth kept keys of the various cars. I’d realized that when I was told the story of how Emma had wanted the lot attendants to move the cars. The convenience of the Corolla’s owner being out of town for months had been another clue that someone knew the people in the lot personally. I suspected that the police were thinking the same thing when they arrested Sabine. However, I decided that discretion was the best course at this point.
He continued. “The list of customers would tell you that no one has more than one spot besides you. So moving the body would involve having it in one car and moving it to another. I can’t think that many killers would want to do that. They would want as little visibility of the body as possible. Plus Big Tony was named that for a reason. The guy’s body is heavy.”
I nodded. The rest of the disappearance and execution of the mobster seemed to have been well-planned. It was hard to believe that they would have just hoisted a body from one vehicle to another at random. There had to be a reason for this lot, and a reason for hiding it in the trunk of a car.
“I have some gambling debts,” Bryson explained. “They asked me to do them a favor after I brought in a bunch of things to one of the pawn shops. They knew I couldn’t say no. I owed too much.”
“So you gave them the keys to the Corolla and let them in after another car at the lot,” I added, knowing that I’d seen this done a few times there. “You just had to look the other way.”
Bryson vigorously nodded. “I didn’t have anything to do with the killing. Nothing.”
“But Emma–” Carter blurted out.
Bryson was suddenly aware of the other person in the food truck. The gun now swiveled back and forth between us. “She saw them move the body. She was in the lot, probably trying to rip off some cars, and she saw the whole thing. The guys who dumped the body told me it was my problem. I had to deal with it.”
“But what about her house?” I asked. “Did she have documents or evidence that she’d seen you?”
Bryson nodded. “After they found her body, the owner called me and told me that they’d found Emma’s body and Big Tony. I had to get rid of the evidence before the police found it.”
“And then you had to get rid of the owner when he determined that he’d likely told the killer about the bodies – which made him an unwitting accessory.” I was looking around for a weapon, but of course, I’d been on a cleaning kick and had put everything where it belonged. I would have to reach in a drawer to fight back, and I wasn’t sure that I’d get that opportunity. Bryson was looking too anxious to use the gun and remove his latest problems.
“It wasn’t my fault. The mob shouldn’t have made me help. It all started because of them.” Bryson looked like he might burst into tears, which seemed ironic since Carter and I would be the ones getting hurt.
I looked at my phone on the counter with the file. Land could find me, if he wasn’t too distracted by Sabine’s arrest. However, I wasn’t sure that he was. I had come here without informing him, so I was on my own. I would have to come up with my own way to solve this issue.
However, before I could do anything, the door to the truck flew open. Aaron, Carter’s sometimes boyfriend, was standing there. “We were supposed to meet an hour ago,” he announced.
Bryson swung around to see who was speaking. I grabbed at a knife, but Carter was faster. He snatched up a cast iron skillet that he loved and swung it as hard as he could. The cookware connected with the back of Bryson’s head. He crumpled to the floor in an eerie replay of Emma’s last moments.
It took a lot of convincing for Danvers to believe that Bryson had actually confessed to us. It might have been the concussion that we gave him, or the fact that Carter and I both had reasons to want Sabine released.
Yet, in the end, the police started checking the details of the story and found supporting evidence for each fact. Bryson had indeed been in debt to the mob. He couldn’t account for his whereabouts during the time of the arson. His DNA was found inside the trunk of the Corolla.
Danvers did not believe for a minute that some mysterious mobsters had done away with Big Tony. The “hit” had been too sloppy and unprofessional. Bryson was charged with the murder of Big Tony, along with those of Emma and the parking lot owner.
Land and I are discussing the purchase of the parking lot. He’d rather put the money towards another truck in our growing “fleet,” so I’m looking at the numbers until we decide...
~ END ~
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