To Catch a Stolen Soul

by R. L. Naquin

  “Hey.” Lucas dropped his arms to his sides, looking a bit lost.

  “Were you here, too?” Truman took out a notebook and scribbled something into it with a pen.

  Lucas shook his head. “When I finished for the night, I noticed Sandra’s truck was still there, so I went over to say good-night. You know, make sure she didn’t need any help. Her truck was empty, so I went looking for her. That’s how I ended up here.” As he spoke, he never took his eyes off the body.

  I could always be wrong, but I didn’t think Lucas had been the one to kill her.

  Truman turned to me. “Anything you didn’t tell me on the phone?” He switched his gaze from me to Lucas and back. His words were guarded so as not to give me away.

  “I met a lady with a shopping cart coming this way right before I found Sandra. I stopped and talked to her. She could have done it, I suppose. She was in the right place at the right time. But I don’t think she was physically capable of it. She said her name’s Bonnie. And she stopped at the side door of the café before I lost track of her. You might want to talk to whoever gave her food in there.”

  He made some notes. “You didn’t see anyone else?”

  I shook my head. “Nobody.” I shivered. “Which is impossible.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I must’ve walked right past them in the dark while it happened.”

  * * *

  I didn’t sleep well in my lumpy motel bed. I kept seeing Sandra’s face as the light went out of her eyes forever.

  I hadn’t stuck around long after the OGREs showed up. I needed to get a good look around the alley in case there were some sort of clues left behind, but I’d come back to look on my own in daylight. Even with the van’s headlights, things hadn’t been lit up enough to find something subtle.

  Plus, I knew Truman would report anything they found to me.

  I walked back to the motel with a heavy heart, a chattering brain and no idea how I was going to find that missing reaper ring in the next six days.

  Ash fed me grilled cheese and tortilla chips when I got back. It was probably delicious, but I didn’t remember tasting anything. I was on autopilot.

  “I need to call my boss.” I pushed the empty paper plate into the trash can.

  Ash poured me a second glass of ginger ale. “Sorry I couldn’t buy alcohol for you. Looks like you could use a drink.”

  I shrugged and took a sip. “This is fine. You’ve been awesome. Thank you.”

  She slid my phone across the table to me. “Go ahead and get it over with. Then maybe you can get some sleep.”

  I stared at the phone for a long moment before wrapping my fingers around it. After a deep breath to clear my head, I dialed Art’s number.

  It rang twice before he picked up. “Kam? I was going to check in with you tonight. How are things going?”

  “Not good, Art.”

  “You haven’t found Pete yet?”

  “Oh, sure. I found him.” I took a deep breath. “He was dead and hidden inside a food truck. Whoever killed him took his ring. The local OGREs are helping me, but so far, all I’ve got are three dead bodies and a missing ring.”

  “Three? And the ring is missing?” He groaned, and I heard ice clink in a glass. “What the hell is going on over there?” His breathing quickened into the phone, and he started making a clicking sound close enough for the phone to pick up. It was probably his favorite stress pen.

  “Someone’s killing the food truck people. They’re all Hidden. It has to be related, since Pete was in the truck that belonged to the first woman who was killed.” I paused, trying to figure out what could possibly connect Pete with Anna and Sandra. “Art, what could an untrained person possibly do with a reaper stone?”

  He cleared his throat, and the clicking stopped. “Well, I don’t know. To my knowledge, there’s never been an instance of a civilian getting ahold of one.”

  “If you could find out, maybe I could figure out what’s linking the murders with the theft. Or not. Maybe they aren’t related.” I glanced around the room, wishing I had a clicky pen to work out my anxieties.

  “I’ll see what I can learn. In the meantime, be careful, okay? Zoey would kill me if she thought I sent you into danger.”

  I smiled, though I knew he couldn’t see it. “Don’t worry, Art. I won’t rat you out. Call me when you’ve got something.”

  “You do the same.”

  I hung up, and my smile faded. “Well, that was no help.”

  Ash took my phone from my hand and set it on the nightstand between our beds. “Go take a shower and go to bed.” She brightened, though I could tell it was forced. “We have to feed people toast in the morning. And I need you perky to bring in the business.”

  I gave her a one-armed hug. “I’m glad you knew how a binturong smells when I picked you up. You’ve been my smartest dumb move ever.”

  She grinned and pushed me toward the bathroom.

  The shower was welcome. Even though I’d washed my hands three times before dinner, I still felt like I was covered in Sandra’s blood.

  I hoped eventually that feeling would go away.

  It never really did.

  * * *

  After tossing and turning all night, I ended up oversleeping. Since the only other person in the room was a teenager, nobody woke up when the alarm went off.

  We were the last ones to pull into the parking lot for the breakfast crowd. Because my luck wasn’t holding, I found myself at the far end, parked right next to Burrito Bandito.

  We prepped our breads and jams quickly, then I came out and opened our awning and made a few adjustments to the menu to reflect our expanded offerings.

  “Vegemite? Really?” Lucas stood against his truck with an amused expression on his face. “You think anybody’s going to eat yeast on their bread, Jeannie?”

  I eyed him up and down. The jeans still looked like perfection on him, but now he had a red-and-white apron tied around his waist. It gave him a homey look that was nearly irresistible. “My name’s not Jeannie, Luke. It’s Kam.”

  “Sure. Kam.” He made a courtly bow. “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m really sorry I was an ass last night.”

  I stared at him. What was this all about? Was it because he assumed I was a reaper? Maybe he thought he could control me better if we were friends. What if he really was a nice guy? “Did Truman put you up to this?” I put my hands on my hips and scowled.

  He drew lines on his chest with his pointing finger. “Cross my heart. I want to start over. No ulterior motives.” He stuck his hand out for me to shake.

  I looked at it like it was a strange new kind of fish flopping in the bottom of my boat. “I don’t know. You were pretty bossy.”

  “I was.” He dropped his hand, unshaken. “And I’m deeply sorry.”

  He looked sorry. Sort of. He also looked especially hot for first thing in the morning. I regarded him for a long moment, hoping to make him at least a little uncomfortable while I decided how long to draw out his punishment.

  “Fine.” I stuck my hand out and let him shake it. “We’ll start over.”

  “Welcome to the Food Truck Posse.” He smiled. “Though I can’t imagine you’re going to make much selling toast.”

  I pursed my lips. “We did pretty well yesterday.”

  He shrugged. “You weren’t parked next to the Bandito yesterday.” He turned and slapped the side of his truck. “But good luck. Really.” He winked and climbed into his truck.

  Or at least I think he winked. Maybe a bug flew in his eye. Was he flirting, or did he have a facial tic I hadn’t noticed before?

  Dammit. I’d never before wanted to kiss someone equally as much as I wanted to punch him. Maybe I’d do both.

  �
�Hey.” Ash leaned out the window, smirking. “I just want you to know I saw all that.” She waved a plastic knife in a circle in my direction. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

  I made a face at her. “We ready for the morning rush?”

  She saluted me with her knife. “Ready, boss.” She ducked back into the truck.

  * * *

  Apparently, word had spread since the previous day. Before I realized it, men in suits and ties as well as in khakis and polo shirts were lined up twenty deep to buy toast. Okay, I knew it wasn’t actually the toast. At least half the orders I took contained a phone number slipped into the cash they handed me.

  And I wasn’t ashamed to say, I worked the crowd. I kept my hips swaying and my cleavage on the edge of spilling out. With each order, I opened my eyes wide and made the customer the center of my world for the few moments we had together before I moved on to the next.

  Ash kept the toast coming without slowing down, and a ridiculous number of toast lovers moved seamlessly through the queue.

  Overland Park, Kansas, appeared to have brought up its sons better than Branson, Missouri—though in Branson’s defense, most everyone there was visiting from somewhere else.

  I had only one incident of testosterone spillage.

  “What can I get you?” I stood with my order pad and pen ready, addressing the next customer in line.

  A man in a blue button-up shirt and navy slacks smiled. “Do you have whole wheat, sweetheart?”

  “I do. What would you like on it, champ?” Rather than get upset each time one of them addressed me as sweetheart or baby, I’d made it my policy to give them a stupid pet name, too. It made it feel less like condescension and more like a private party. I didn’t mind. They didn’t mean anything by it. Social graces weren’t actually taught in school anymore like they used to be. Ah, the ’40s sure had been swell.

  “Blackberry jam?”

  “Ooh, good choice.”

  He smiled, as if my validation of his choice in breakfast food meant something. I took his money and moved down the line.

  “Hi. What can I get for you?”

  The guy in front of me was probably in some sort of creative job—artist or writer. He wore a Green Lantern shirt and jeans. A few of the customers I’d seen had more casual offices. “Peanut butter on white, please.” His gaze kept flicking around everywhere but on me, though it came back to my chest several times before taking off again. He was sweating.

  Behind me, a hand cupped my left ass cheek and stayed there. I was so stunned, I didn’t do anything for the first few seconds.

  I took the Green Lantern guy’s money, then turned around slowly to meet the eyes of a big hulking guy in a white polo shirt. He was so close, he was breathing my air, and his hand on my ass never slipped as I rotated.

  I brought my face closer to his and whispered to him, almost as if we were lovers. “If you don’t remove your hand, I’ll humiliate you in front of all these nice people, and you’ll end up with your arm in a sling.” I gave him a slow smile for emphasis.

  “Will you, now?” He gave my ass a squeeze. His smug grin froze when he looked into my eyes and saw the flames that I could feel coming to life in my pupils.

  In the time it took his slow blink to complete, I grabbed his wrist and twisted my body behind his to bring his arm up the center of his back with his thumb pressed against his shoulder blade. I felt something in his arm pop, and he shrieked.

  I held his arm in place. “Did I offer to sell you a feel of my ass?”

  “No! I’m sorry!”

  “Toast. I sell toast. And occasionally grilled cheese. No matter what I’m wearing, it’s not an invitation for anything more than toast. Is that clear?”

  “Yes! Oh my God. What the hell, lady?”

  I released him and waited to see if he’d retaliate.

  He tested his arm, his breath shaky. “I think you broke it.”

  “Don’t be a baby. I didn’t break anything. But it’s going to be sore for a few days.”

  He looked at me like I was crazy. Maybe he was right. He took a step toward me, and someone in line grabbed his good arm.

  “Dude. Let it go. You were totally out of line.”

  The big guy groaned, rubbed his arm, gave me one last scowl and strode off toward the office buildings.

  I thought about the idiots at Pirate Frank’s and grimaced. I’d found in my life that men, as a rule, were regular people. They were a lot like women in how they thought and felt and saw life. The only difference was that they walked around with penises. This didn’t make them either more decent or less than their female counterparts. Every now and then, though, some misogynistic asshole turned up to provide fuel for angry women everywhere. As far as I was concerned, they were all nice guys until proved to be otherwise.

  I took a deep breath to compose myself and got back to work. “Okay. Who’s next in line?”

  For the rest of the morning, all the sweethearts turned to ma’ams.

  Chapter Ten

  Toward the end of the breakfast rush, when all good professionals were nestled in their offices munching on their toast, breakfast burritos, pastries or other breakfasty food truck tasties, my clientele changed.

  I passed the last of the orders through the window to Ash, and she got to work on the cinnamon toast and our latest offering, an onion bagel with cream cheese. I did a spot check to make sure I hadn’t missed anyone and found Bonnie standing off to the side, a hopeful smile on her face, her cart by her side and two other people with her.

  I jingled in their direction with what I hoped was a welcoming smile on my face. “Bonnie, you came! How are you?”

  She held out a gnarled hand to me, and I cradled it with care in both of mine. “I hope you don’t mind. You were so sweet to invite me.” She tipped her head toward the couple next to her. “These are my friends Verne and Maizy.”

  I released Bonnie’s hand and shook theirs. “It’s very nice to meet you both. I’m Kam.”

  Verne was tall and athletic with a tuft of gray on his head. Maizy was short and round with full lips and short curly hair. If I had to guess, I’d have said they were both in their late sixties or early seventies.

  I waved all three of them to follow me to the truck. “I know it’s not much, but what sounds good?”

  Maizy smiled and licked her lips. “Whatever you have left is fine. We’re not fussy.”

  I’d been down on my luck so many times in my life. I’d been homeless more times than I could count. Technically, I was currently homeless, and maybe I sort of had been for over a hundred years. But I’d always found a way out of the worst of it, usually because of someone who was generous enough to help me.

  “Give me a moment. I’ll be right back.” I climbed into the truck where Ash was humming to herself and wiping down the counters.

  She looked up and grinned. “Hey. We made a killing today. Good call on those bagels. We done for the morning?”

  “Well, we’ve got three more, then we’re finished. What do we have left?”

  She frowned at the odd question, then stuck her head out the window. “Oh.” Her voice was soft. “We’ve got loads of stuff. We’ve already got what we need for lunch. Let me fire up the grill.”

  She was a blur of activity as she whipped up half a dozen grilled cheese, sliced some apples and wrapped them in plastic, gathered bottles of cold water and bags of potato chips. She set it all on paper plates, her expression consumed with worry. “Do you think that’s enough?”

  I squeezed her shoulder. “It’s wonderful. You did a great job. Do you want to come out with me to give it to them?”

  She hesitated, then shook her head. “No, you go.” She ducked her head and went to work cleaning the grill. “I’ll be right here.”

  I worried a littl
e about Ash. She worked so hard without complaint, but she didn’t like to interact with anybody but me. I couldn’t tell if she was shy, antisocial or simply afraid of getting caught by the authorities before she was legally on her own.

  The idea that anyone would go to the trouble of chasing down a runaway they didn’t really want days before her eighteenth birthday was laughable. Still, at that age, it felt like everyone was out to get you. The best I could do was make her feel safe.

  Of course, a murder investigation wasn’t the best way to make anyone feel safe.

  Outside the window, I handed off the food to Maizy and Verne and carried Bonnie’s for her so she could push her cart. We sat in the grass and chatted while they ate.

  Verne had been in construction, and Maizy had taught third grade. They’d retired ten years earlier and had enjoyed it for all of three years.

  “Then Maizy broke her hip, and the medical bills wiped us out.” Verne sipped his water, the twinkle in his eyes dimmer while he recounted the story.

  Maizy reached over and took his hand. “It was a struggle after that. Eventually, we lost everything. I recovered, but our finances never did.”

  “Things just didn’t work out.” Verne shrugged and ate a slice of apple.

  The look on Maizy’s face as she gazed at him was filled with love. “We’ve got prospects. We’ll be fine.”

  I hoped someday someone would look at me with that kind of faith and love. Verne and Maizy may not have had a roof over their heads at that moment, but they were wealthier than most people on the planet.

  Bonnie sat in silence, eating her sandwich while the other two talked. She didn’t offer her story of how she’d ended up in an alley with a cart full of junk and nothing to eat. I didn’t ask, because I didn’t want to pry. Giving somebody a sandwich or two and a bag of chips didn’t give me the right to demand their story.

  I did, however, desperately need a clue to lead me forward in the investigation.

  “That alley is awfully dark at night,” I said. “Don’t you think it’s dangerous to walk through there alone?”