Pop-Up Truck and Peril Page 3

  “What makes you say that?” Dan walked Amelia to the back of her truck and gently took her hand in his to help her up the steps.

  “Because I was one, once.” She rolled her eyes and smiled.

  “Hey, Lila.” Dan nodded at the other woman. “You’re looking lovely today. Do me a favor, would you? Keep an eye on this one.” He jerked his thumb in Amelia’s direction. “I have the feeling that all of her best intentions will still lead her into trouble.”

  “I agree,” Lila teased.

  “Thanks a lot.” Amelia went to the first oven and checked the time on the timer. “Like he needs any encouragement.”

  “You know, she just does it to impress you, Dan,” Lila offered.

  “I thought as much,” Dan replied, smiling.

  “You guys are horrible,” Amelia mumbled.

  Within a few seconds, Dan was heading into the Master Ketchup office to interview the staff.

  Chapter Five

  Work whistles went off around the neighborhood, and the streets became void of any pedestrians. The trucks that noisily rumbled by were all huge, heavy behemoths, rattling chains from their back bumpers or shaking like thunder as the empty trailers bounced over the massive potholes caused by so many big trucks cruising down the street.

  A garbage truck lifted and overturned enormous dumpsters filled with everything from fast food lunch bags to bags of shredded, ten-year-old tax forms. Heavy scraps of wood, metal, and plastic cascaded noisily into the garbage truck’s open maw and then were crushed under the pressure of the hydraulic press, which kicked in with a whine and shudder.

  “For a place with so few people on the street, it is noisy out here.” Lila scattered some flour on the clean cutting board, in preparation for creating her very first lavender petals made out of frosting. “There could be six people getting murdered down the block, and we wouldn’t hear them if they were screaming… well… bloody murder.”

  “Well put,” Amelia replied, chuckling and focusing on two mixers she had going simultaneously.

  In Food Truck Alley, people visited the Pink Cupcake steadily throughout the day, but here, foot traffic just about stopped by eight o’clock. Just as the midday-break whistle shot through all the other noises in the area, Amelia placed the last batch of Dreamsicle cupcakes on the rack at the service window.

  Just in time, too, as the employees of all the nearby factories and mills came spilling out of their buildings to enjoy a little fresh air or a cigarette, or to grab something to eat from one of the several food trucks parked along the way.

  Amelia kept her eye on the people coming from Master Ketchup. It was quite a diverse group, to say the least. The murmurs and bits of conversation Amelia could overhear were of Danielle Wilcox and the murder. Some women were visibly shaken, wiping their eyes with crumpled-up tissues they’d probably been using all morning. Others nodded and gave sympathetic glances and pats on the back.

  But there was one fellow who caught Amelia’s attention. Leaning up against the brick wall by himself was this short guy who reminded Amelia of some of the boys she’d seen at Adam and Meg’s school, strutting around in tight clothes to show off their physique, striking poses leaning against the gym walls, and acting as if they were really too good to be with the rest of the crowd.

  In reality, the crowd usually found them too obnoxious to be around. Fascinated, Amelia studied him as he smoked a cigarette, and she saw him roll his eyes at more than one female who walked by, dabbing her eyes or crying outright. Another guy joined him. This new guy was at least a foot taller and wore glasses. The half-pint changed his attitude. He became animated, laughing, smiling, shrugging his shoulders, and cracking jokes that only he laughed at.

  Not normal, Amelia thought. Like some men who suffer a Napoleon Complex due to their height, this guy was determined to make himself known—even if it was by being as insufferable as possible.

  “You suspect Shorty over there?” Lila whispered, adding a five and two tens to the register.

  “Yeah, how did you know?”

  “He stands out like a sore thumb. Doesn’t look too broken up about this whole murder, either.” Lila smiled at the next customer in line.

  Amelia would describe him to Christine later. In the meantime, while Amelia knew Dan and Gene were still in the building taking statements and looking for surveillance-camera footage, here on the sidewalk, a very nervous guy in overalls made a dash across the street.

  In between handling the cupcakes and putting them carefully into their hot-pink boats or tiny pastry boxes, she observed that there wasn’t anything across the street except a car impound lot. It wasn’t the kind of place that let people in to just roam around. In fact, there was a guard booth at the front with a rather large man with a frown on his face reading the paper inside.

  Squinting, Amelia spotted the man in overalls as he jogged along the chain-link fence that kept all the booted cars safe during the off hours. He disappeared behind a Ford Taurus and the other brick building behind the fence.

  For a second, Amelia wondered if she should call Dan and let him know. For all she knew, the person was fleeing the scene. He could be the person responsible for murdering Danielle Wilcox, and she was letting him get away.

  Could it really be that simple? Did the case already get solved? No—not until the guy is in cuffs and in the back of Dan’s car.

  She reached for her phone, and just as she was about to hit Dan’s number on her speed dial, a woman in a tight black skirt and kitten heels walked, with her arms folded over her chest, in the same direction. Amelia shut her phone off and put it back in her pocket. “Well, that’s interesting.”

  “What?” Lila wiped her forehead, leaving a streak of white powder behind like Indian war paint.

  “Nothing. Just saw a couple slip off behind that building.”

  “A couple of what?” Lila asked, only half listening to Amelia.

  “A couple. You know, a man and a woman.” Amelia chortled.

  “Oh.” Lila smiled. “Eww. Love behind the auto pound. How romantic.”

  Amelia nodded, but she wasn’t completely convinced their behavior was love. Maybe she was just being paranoid.

  “Excuse me!” a shrill voice called. “Excuse me. Do you work here?”

  Amelia snapped out of her daydream and looked down from the service window. Staring up at her was a gargoyle from the spires of Notre Dame.

  Chapter Six

  “Yes, can I help you?” Amelia wasn’t accustomed to people being rude to her, but as soon as she decided she didn’t like this woman, who had a large, sparkling diamond wedding set on her ring finger and several of those Pandora bracelets jingling around her wrists, she remembered that the customer is always right. Quickly, she put on a smile.

  “Are these made with cage-free eggs?”

  Amelia almost started to laugh. Yes, ma’am. The eggs were never placed in any cages. However, I do believe they were subjected to baskets. “I’m sorry. These were made with eggs from the grocery store. I can’t for certain say the chickens were cage-free.”

  Amelia was proud of herself for telling the truth. It gave her a twinge of satisfaction that the truth would probably make this miserable-looking woman stomp away.

  But the enticing smell of sugary sweetness, the beautiful presentations and the continual “yums” and “wows” coming from the other new patrons seemed to be too much for this dame. She jumped from the moral high ground and ordered three Dreamsicles.

  “I hope you enjoy them. I’ll look into that cage-free business. It might be a good option for us,” Amelia offered sincerely, smiling.

  “Don’t patronize me.” The woman gave Amelia a quick smile, the kind of smile that said, I’ve decided you’re trash. You and your tacky pink truck and caged eggs. “Animals have rights, too. They deserve them more than people do.” Without allowing for a reply, the woman turned and elbowed her way back into the building.

  “What in the world was that all about?” Lila st
ared at Amelia with wide eyes.

  “You know, you just can’t make some people happy.” Amelia shook her head. “But you’ll notice she took the cupcakes. Not too proud to eat the cupcakes. Sheesh.”

  Animals have rights, too. They deserve them more than people. Not a smart comment to make after a murder. But, unfortunately, it was a common mantra among many people in this day and age. It wasn’t against the law to be weird.

  Before Amelia had a chance to take a deep breath, a petite, mousy woman came running up to the window, her brown eyes bugging from their sockets and red around the edges. She ordered a Dreamsicle, a chocolate and raspberry, and one of the PB&J cupcakes, which Amelia served to her.

  “Thank you.” She sniffed, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve and hurrying into the factory just as the whistle blew. Like Pavlov’s dogs, everyone had been trained to know that whistle meant it was time to get back to work.

  As if on cue, the woman in the tight-fitting black skirt came hustling back from across the street. She was smoothing her hair back and looking down as she tugged at the bottom of her blouse. A few seconds later, the man in the overalls made his appearance, heading back into the factory by way of another door off the alley.

  Amelia turned and saw Christine, who looked tired. “How’s it going?”

  “I’m okay.” She smoothed her hair out of her face. “Jason drove me in this morning. Like I predicted, he and the kids wanted to know all the gory details, but he’s going to pick me up when he gets off work, so you don’t need to drive me.”

  “I’ll be happy to wait with you if you’d like. In fact, I’ve got a few questions for you about some of the characters I saw today.”

  “Sure. Sounds good. I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll see you at lunchtime.”

  Christine waved and said goodbye to Lila then disappeared inside the factory.

  “I don’t know. There is something about this part of town that feels weird,” Lila said. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the business and, other than the free-range-chicken lady, everyone has been pleasant enough. It just feels weird.”

  “Maybe it is because a murder took place right in this building?” Amelia offered.

  “No. It’s sort of like an incestuous feeling.”

  “Good Lord, Lila. What kind of trashy novels have you been reading?” Amelia teased.

  “Hear me out.” Lila took a seat and grabbed a bottle of ice water for each of them. “The financial district and the shopping district are too far to walk to. There are no restaurants. There is a bar over there”—she pointed down the street to its southwestern corner—“and another one behind us about two blocks. The only people these people see are the people who work here. There are no tourists, no out-of-towners, no other business people. It’s like they are in a bowl.”

  Amelia nodded. Lila was absolutely right. If you were a single lady looking for romance or a man looking for opportunities, both options were pretty limited.

  “So, what does it mean?” Amelia asked.

  “I don’t know. But the chances of an outsider roaming into this wasteland to bump off a secretary are pretty weak.”

  That made sense. The only problem was that even in this “incestuous” bubble of people, there were hundreds of possible suspects. Sure, Amelia picked a few weirdoes out of the bunch, but the chances of any of them being the actual slicer were pretty slim.

  That’s okay. She soothed herself. You are here to make Christine feel safer. You don’t have to solve this case. That is why Dan is here.

  But he had yet to come out of the building. Even after the lunchtime whistle blew, she hadn’t seen him or Gene. No matter how hard she tried to control herself, she couldn’t help thinking the jittery feeling would only be relieved once she talked to Dan.

  But, with every passing hour, with each request for business cards and compliments on the cupcakes, there was still no sign of him. He wouldn’t have just left without saying goodbye. Something had to be going on inside the building that was keeping him very busy.

  “Hey, Lila. Before you pack up for the evening, let me run inside and use the bathroom.” Amelia untied her apron and pulled it over her head.

  “Sure,” Lila said as she began to get the routine cleaning started before tackling the receipts.

  Amelia walked to the entrance of the Master Ketchup and yanked open the door. The coolness of the air conditioning sent a shiver up her back. First, she scanned the lobby for the familiar man in the gray suit, but Dan was nowhere to be found.

  “Can I help you?” A young woman with squinty eyes and heavy gloss on her lips stared at her.

  “Yes.” Amelia walked up to the semicircle reception desk. “I work at the Pink Cupcake food truck outside. The guys from the auto pound and the factory across the street staked their claim on the Porta Potties out there. Is there any way I can use your restroom?”

  “We don’t have a public restroom.” She pulled her shiny lips away from her teeth like she was ripping off a bandage.

  “I know. But I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t kind of an emergency.”

  She pulled the keycard from behind the lip of her desk. “Can you make it quick? I’m not really supposed to do this.”

  “I’ll be in and out.” Amelia raised her hand as if she were taking a solemn oath. She took the key and followed the receptionist’s directions, heading down the hallway, making a left before the water cooler, and then down to the white door with the little red tomato with eyelashes on the door.

  “Cute.” Amelia looked around and headed further down the hallway to what looked like a corral of cubicles.

  “I don’t care,” a male voice said. Slowly, Amelia peeked around the corner and saw the angry half-pint she had witnessed smoking this morning. “She was a bitch.”

  “Aren’t you even the least bit sad?” Another male voice could be heard, but Amelia could only see his shoes emerging from the cubicle he was sitting in. “I mean, there was a time you wanted to go out with her.”

  Half-Pint shrugged his shoulders and again rolled his eyes. “Yeah. What a waste. I should have known she was just a tease.”

  “She wasn’t a bad person, though. I thought she was kind of nice,” the mystery man argued. “She was nice to me, anyways. Always smiling and laughing.”

  “Yeah. Well, she’s not laughing now.”

  “I don’t know, Lenny. It doesn’t mean she deserved to be killed.”

  “Sometimes a man just gets pushed to his limits.”

  “It’s ‘pushed to his limit,’ you knucklehead,” Amelia whispered. Hearing footsteps behind her, she quickly turned around and pretended to be looking for the bathroom. Before anyone saw her, she tapped the keycard to the door handle and, as soon as the light turned green, she slipped inside. Peeking out the door, she saw the strange caged-egg woman stomp past. Thankfully, she didn’t come in the bathroom. That was the last place Amelia wanted to run into her.

  Taking advantage of the opportunity, Amelia stepped into the corner stall closest to the door, slipped the lock into place, took a seat, and pulled a pen from her pocket. On the palm of her hand she wrote the name “Lenny” so she wouldn’t forget Half-Pint’s real name.

  Two women came into the bathroom. “I still can’t believe it,” one said, and Amelia instinctively pulled up her feet and held her breath as she heard the ladies checking for anyone else in the bathroom who might be listening.

  “It had to be one of the guys from the warehouse.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “The way she’d go out there, she’d flirt with anything in pants. And you know as well as I do that some of those guys back there don’t have the greatest reputations. What about Keith? He’s got those spiderweb tattoos on his elbows. Those are prison tattoos. I know it. I saw that on Cold Case Files.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh, yeah?”

  “Why are you telling me this? I have to go out there three or four times a day to make sure my samples get se
nt.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not out there shaking it and practically holding up a sign for the guys to notice you. I’m telling you, as sure as I’m standing here, it was one of those dudes from the warehouse. In the next couple of days, we’ll get a memo that says so-and-so will no longer be working at Master Ketchup because he’s a psycho who slashed Danielle’s throat.”

  Amelia had propped herself up with one hand against the stall wall, with both feet up in the air. She tried to stretch her neck to get a look at an outfit or a pair of shoes through the tiny crack between the stall wall and the door, but there was nothing. She had no idea who the women were, or even a slight detail to identify them to Christine.

  Without wasting any more time, she took a deep breath, emerged from the stall, and dashed to the door. Tightly, she gripped the handle and pulled the door open, only to find Dan and Gene coming from the direction of the cubicles.

  “Oh, hey.” She stroked the back of her neck and tilted her head to the right. “I had to use the ladies’ room before the long ride home. You guys have a good day?”

  “Let’s just say we had a day.” Dan slipped his hands into his pockets. “Gene, you go ahead to the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Sure thing, Dan. G’night, Amelia.”

  “Have a nice night, Gene.” Amelia liked Dan’s partner. Sure, he was still green, at least compared to her favorite crusty old investigator, but she knew he had Dan’s back. That was important to her. She looked up at Dan.

  “What are you doing tonight?” he asked, his voice aching like a sore muscle.

  “Well, I was going to make sure Christine’s husband picked her up, and then I was just going home. Why? What have you got in mind?”

  “Nothing but a couple of burgers at Moody’s and a little conversation about anything but this case.”

  “It’s not looking good, huh?”

  Dan shook his head and clicked his tongue. “There are a lot of secrets in this place. I’m not sure what to make of it all, but with this many people and the possibility of a deliveryman or bike messenger thrown into the mix, it seems like a needle in a haystack. That’s all I can say.”