THE REAL GYRO (Food Truck Mysteries Book 4)

by Chloe Kendrick

  “How can you tell if Danvers is listening in on that thing?”

  Carter lifted his shirt and showed me his remarkable abs again. “This red light means that someone has switched the device to record and listen in. That’s the signal that lets me know he’s listening.”

  I nodded. “Dick move on your part, Danvers—dick move.” It didn’t help anything, but I felt better for it. Janelle was not the only one who could be a little spiteful.

  We arrived at the Nolans’ home again. I didn’t see any cars out front, but I knew someone had to be home. When we got out of the car, I could hear the sound of the TV blaring in the background. We walked to the door, and I knocked.

  Mrs. Nolan answered the door. Her face was more haggard than when she’d sold the truck to me two weeks ago. I wondered if the strain of all of this family drama had worn her down.

  “What do you want?” she asked, eyeing Carter. She barely acknowledged my presence.

  “We need to talk to you,” I said. “Can we come in?”

  “I don’t see why,” she said, starting to shut the door.

  “Well, I can accuse you of killing Janelle on the porch, but it’s probably not going to be very private.” I looked around at the other houses. I wasn’t sure that anyone was home, but it worked on Mrs. Nolan. She opened the door wide and let us pass. Into the spider’s lair, I thought.

  Carter and I took seats on the sofa in the living room.

  “Now what is this nonsense? Why would you think that I would ever harm my baby girl?” Her eyes became watery, and for a moment, I thought I might have made a huge mistake, but I mentally reviewed the evidence I’d accumulated and decided to continue this quest.

  “There are several reasons why I think that you’re involved,” I started. “The flash drive was the first reason. It looked good to see that information was being passed through the food, in case something was discovered, but the flash drive you used had your son’s name on it. So much of this case revolves around having access to keys.”

  “The police think that Janelle went to Jeremy’s house and took the flash drive. She would have had access to my keys—or her father’s keys.” Mrs. Nolan was visibly upset. Her voice was loud and clear, so I knew that the police would be able to hear everything she said.

  “That’s exactly what you wanted us to believe,” I replied. “You wanted us to think that Janelle was behind the passing of information from people here to people in Morocco. It was her truck, so it had to be her conduit. However, anyone with access to the truck and the food supplies could have done this.”

  “So do you think that I just went to her truck and put that information inside the food wrappers? When would I have done that? Why would I have done that?” She took a few steps toward us. Carter wasn’t much help. He visibly cowered and moved closer toward me.

  “It kept all the police watching Janelle. If she’d really been doing all of this, someone would have known. They would have gone to her apartment and looked for the missing communications—but they didn’t. No one went to Janelle’s apartment. The police watched it day and night. Just as no one came to talk to Janelle during the truck’s operating hours. The police watched that too…but again no one ever showed up.”

  She shrugged, trying to look like she didn’t care. “The police are sloppy. That’s not my fault. They could have watched closer and seen what they needed to see.”

  I took a deep breath and plunged into the midst of the case. “But that doesn’t explain the murder. Someone killed Janelle. The motive seemed uncertain. If she was running a successful courier service through her food truck, no one would want to kill her. She’d be doing this rebellion a big favor. So it either had to be someone who wanted to stop the courier service or something that wasn’t related to the passing of information at all.”

  “Which would make it a family affair,” she said plainly. The mood in the room had changed. I wasn’t sure what emotion she was feeling, but it was obvious on her face that she was holding back some serious emotions. I would have loved to have known what they were.

  “Exactly. So again, I came back to the family. There were only four of you: you, your husband, Jeremy and Janelle’s uncle. Jeremy wouldn’t put a flash drive with his own name on it in the yogurt. He’s not that dumb. Your brother lost his investment if Janelle died, so he was out too. That only left the two of you.”

  “So I had to be the one? Why is that?” Her eyes flashed as she spoke. I tried not to show that I was frightened of this woman. Her passion was overwhelming; I could almost feel it radiating from her.

  “It’s your country that was involved. You would have wanted to help a rebellion. You wanted to make sure that your daughter wasn’t going to get in the way.”

  She laughed, but didn’t speak. Another voice came from the staircase. “My wife is not Moroccan. She’s Egyptian. I’m from Morocco.” He came down the rest of the stairs. He was carrying a gun in his hand, probably the same one that had killed his daughter. “You Americans always think peoples are interchangeable, but they’re not. Their passions are different. Their beliefs are different. My wife has absolutely no interest in Algeria, but I do.”

  Mrs. Nolan’s eyes grew wide. I could see the same fire in them as before, but now it was focused on her husband. “You did this? You killed Janelle?”

  “She was going to ruin everything. I had worked so hard to set up this network to help the cause, and she was just going to ruin it all. She was going to switch vendors and I would lose the entire network. I tried to reason with her, but she laughed and said that she was American. She didn’t care about the old ways and the old feuds—that’s what she called them.” His hand was trembling as he brought the gun up and pointed it in my direction.

  Several things happened all at once then. The police broke in through the front door. The men were heavily armed with shields and weapons that I had never even seen before. One minute it was a suburban home, the next it was a war zone. I grabbed Carter by the arm and pulled him down. He landed on top of me with a thud, causing me to lose my breath.

  However, they weren’t quick enough. At the sound of the interference, Mr. Nolan was distracted and Mrs. Nolan lunged at her husband, fierce as any lion. By the time that the police pulled her off him, Mr. Nolan was dead.

  While my plan had not been foolproof, I had determined who had killed Janelle Nolan and how she’d been left in a locked room. That was two for me, and zero for Detective Danvers in my book.

  Carter remained on the truck. I had spot checks of his shirt to look for wires and others for his phone to make sure that nothing was being recorded. He passed those and so he came back to work with me after Basque in the Sun was up and running.

  One morning Land came over before his shift started. He was looking well-rested and amused. “You realize that you never uncovered the answer of who was picking up the information from the trash barrels around Government Square,” he said.

  I smiled as I watched Henry walk by with his basset hound. If half of what he’d told me was true, the man had been left with nothing except the dog. Call me softhearted, but if the police wanted to solve every crime, they’d have to do it without me. I’m just a sucker for a dog.

  ~ END ~

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