“Well, hello, hello,” he said as the stage lights all went on. “Welcome back for a new week and another challenge. I hope you’ve all had time to rest up for what’s in store.” He flashed a smile at the camera. I knew that he didn’t care about our rest or the difficulty of the challenge.
Marsha handed him the clipboard, a moment that was sure to be edited out. His lack of preparation was legendary.
“Today’s challenge is something that you might find happening while you’re out on the road. You can’t prepare for every contingency, like the one that you’ll face today. Each of you will receive a single card. That card will contain one ingredient on it. You’ll have to make today’s menu, which will be the standard fare for the truck, without that ingredient.”
A murmur went up from the contestants. For the many truck owners who were on the road so often, this might not be a problem. However, for trucks like mine that parked and sat in an urban center, it was something that didn’t happen. If we ran out of hot dogs or relish, I could just jump out of the truck and run down the street to the nearby convenience store. Crisis averted. Making the menu without an ingredient was something that just didn’t happen in my world.
I braced myself for the worst. I had visions of us having to get by without hot dogs or buns. I wondered how that would work for a challenge. I was just glad that we had immunity for this week’s challenge.
“As always, two judges will be stopping by to taste your fare. You’ll be judged on how well you’ve improvised for the missing ingredient on your menu. The judges will rate you on taste, ability to tell that the ingredient is missing and, as always, how much cash you earn from today’s challenge—in that order.”
Marsha walked around to the various contestants and handed out cards to each one of them. She walked up to Land, handed him a card and gave him a smile. I had to walk over to him to see what we’d be working without.
The card simply read “avocado.” One of the things that the customers of Dogs on the Roll raved about was Land’s guacamole topping for the hot dogs. He made it from scratch every day, and he insisted that the recipe was from his grandmother. I wasn’t sure if the latter was true, but he spent time every day cutting and mashing the ingredients for the guacamole. I wasn’t sure how we’d make it without the main ingredient.
Land didn’t seem overly worried by the challenge. I was feeling a little panicky, not because I thought that we’d be thrown out of the contest. I knew that wasn’t going to happen, but I couldn’t envision our guacamole without it. My goal had been to get new customers out of the reality show, not lose customers because of off-beat foods and weird-tasting condiments.
Johnny Ruck made a few closing comments, and we were free to go. We had three hours in which to prep for today’s traffic and to find a way to get around our missing ingredient. Land and I drove to the truck in silence. We would be met on Elm Street by a camera crew who would record our every move so that we didn’t cheat. If there was any hint of shenanigans, then the tapes could be reviewed for fair play.
Once we were inside the secured lot, but outside of the truck, Land grabbed one of my arms. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret,” he said. “We have this in the bag.”
I squinted and stared up at him. “What do you mean?”
He sighed deeply. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but the store was out of avocados last week, so I just replaced them with frozen peas. You didn’t even notice.” He gave me a smile.
My eyes widened. “What?”
“My grandma used to do that when we were little. If the avocado harvest was bad, we used peas. Everyone always has peas.” He shrugged as if this was no big deal. I was ticked that he’d not even bothered to mention that one of the favorite condiments for the truck had been substituted—and I hadn’t even noticed it. I felt stupid and undermined, which was not a great combination. I waited a minute before responding. In examining the news again, while I still wanted to be informed of changes to ingredients, this was good news for this challenge.
“So we’ve served this before, and we’ve not had a problem?” I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I’d thought that we would be ruined with the forbidden ingredient, but here Land was telling me that we’d done this before.
“Nope. You even had one for lunch and didn’t notice.” With that, he got in the truck and waited for me to join him. “I still have some in the freezer unit too. So we’re ready to roll.”
I got in the truck, and we drove to our regular location in silence. I didn’t want Land to know how relieved I was. I wanted to play at it as if I was annoyed, so that he wouldn’t make a habit of replacing ingredients without informing me. I was trying to run a business, and I couldn’t do my best if I didn’t have all the information. If nothing else, I could’ve researched a secondary source for avocadoes so that wouldn’t happen again.
We pulled into the space on Elm Street and began our normal prep. Land pulled out the peas and began to whip up the guacamole. I took the beans Land had selected for the coffee and began to brew that. Our coffee was also freshly ground and brewed. Land selected a mixture of beans that he ground himself each day. I knew that I depended on him quite a bit for the excellent fare that we had each day, which is why I was trying not to fume about the pea guacamole.
“Where’s the cilantro?” Land asked as he diced up some onion for the recipe.
I shrugged. I typically only handled the money for the truck and helped with cleanup. He was responsible for the ingredients and the prep of the daily condiments. However, I knew enough about cooking to know that his recipe for guacamole would be harmed without the taste of cilantro.
“Did you buy it at the store yesterday?” I asked, knowing that my questions were incredibly obvious. I’d taken the grocery bill out of the books, and I’d gone over the list of things purchased to make sure everything was needed. Cilantro had been on the list.
“Yeah, and now it’s gone.” I could tell from the tone of his voice that this was not good. The rules stated that once we were in place, we couldn’t leave the location until we were out of food or the time limit had been reached. That meant we had no cilantro and no way of replenishing our stock.
I lifted the window enough to see that the camera crew was already here and setting up. I couldn’t even cheat with them here. I cursed several times before getting myself together enough to start thinking.
Land’s composure was cracking. He wasn’t as blasé as he’d been before. He looked around the area again for the cilantro, even though we both knew it wasn’t there. This was the work of the prankster. We’d heard the rumors that someone had missed an ingredient during one of the challenges. I wondered if it had been the truck owner who had won the previous week. I’d have to look into that.
I pulled out my phone and began to Google replacements for cilantro. There was absolutely nothing in the rules that said I couldn’t look up information online. This was not a part of the challenge, since the challenge was to replace the avocado. So this was in bounds for what I was allowed to do. I found a recipe website that included replacements for ingredients and handed it to Land. “See what you can do with this,” I said, hoping for a way out of this. We still had about 45 minutes before we had to open for business, and no telling how much time before the judges came by to try our guacamole.
He scrolled through a couple of pages of text before he handed the phone back to me. “Okay, here goes nothing.”
Those words did not inspire confidence in me. Land pulled out some honey and parsley. He loved parsley as a garnish for the dogs, but I saw no use for it—until now. Apparently, parsley could be used as a replacement for cilantro, though it tasted a touch bitter. Land found some honey that he’d quickly gone and purchased last week when a customer had demanded honey in their coffee. One of the downsides to having a food truck is that when the customers get loud, everyone hears.
Now I was glad for the recalcitrant customer. He’d given us a reason to get a sweete
ner. Land started experimenting with the concoction. Occasionally, he’d ask me to taste the new dish, but other than that, I had to take over the rest of the prep work and leave him to the guacamole.
Finally with about 10 minutes left of our prep time, he declared himself ready. We opened for business. The early morning customers tended to just want a cup of Land’s coffee. The brew was fantastic and cheaper than the Starbucks down the street. It wasn’t until nearly 11 a.m. that people really started ordering the dogs.
I kept an eye out for anyone who looked like a judge. There was one older man whom I pegged for a judge, and I made sure to give him particularly good service. However, even knowing that each contest typically had two judges, I was unable to pick out the other candidate.
We finished the shift with strong sales. Detective Danvers stopped by and ordered a dog with everything. I doubted that he was a judge for the contest, given that he nearly inhaled the hot dog and then asked for another. He got them gratis, either because he was a public servant or because he and Land were friends. He didn’t mention our earlier conversation, and neither did I.
Land and I cleaned up the truck and drove back to the secured lot in silence. Finally, when we left the truck and headed to the car, he spoke, “How much did we make?”
I rattled off a number that was slightly more than our sales for the last challenge. The fact that we’d earned more with our normal fare than Land’s Basque menu made me second-guess myself on possibly changing the menu. If we could do this well every day, I would be able to maintain the business indefinitely.
“And the judges?” he asked.
“I think I saw one, but not the other. Too many people ordered the guacamole for me to know for sure.” I was still nervous about the challenge, and I felt the butterflies in my stomach.
“Did anyone say anything about the flavor?” he asked giving me a sideways glance.
I shook my head. “Not a word. So I’m guessing that the fake stuff was a hit. That should keep us out of trouble for this week.” I knew that even though we had immunity, it didn’t mean that we couldn’t be humiliated at the end of the episode, explaining why we’d made the choices we had in our ingredients. I had binge watched the earlier seasons of our show, and I had seen more than one chef with immunity be reduced to tears by Johnny Ruck.
We were one of the last ones back to the set. When we arrived, Marsha quickly maneuvered us into the set area where the lights already shone brightly and ten sets of eyes gazed at us. Johnny Ruck must have been waiting for our return, as he came out of the wings as soon as we were in place.
“We have the results of the challenge here, but first I’ll announce who can leave the set. The remaining food truck owners will stay behind to talk to the judges and await the final decisions.” He had the clipboard in front of him already this time, and he started to call off names.
“Wait a minute. Aren’t we going to talk about what happened here? I had ingredients taken from my truck. I don’t know how and I don’t know when, but someone was inside of my truck and stole things that made it nearly impossible for me to complete this challenge.” Annabella had her hands on her hips, and she looked ready for a showdown. Her nostrils flared as she spoke.
Jerry piped up. “I was missing two ingredients from my truck.”
Johnny Ruck looked at both of them with disdain. “The show is not responsible for your forgetfulness and lack of preparation. If you were missing ingredients for today, that’s your problem, not mine.” He went back to the clipboard list.
I looked to Land, but he said nothing. His eyes were squinting, watching the other contestants to see if they, too, were missing ingredients. No one spoke. After a long pause, the recitation of names continued.
We were on the list of people who were safe this challenge. That meant that we had completed the challenge and we hadn’t sucked. We were walking from the set when Land stopped me. “Who else has been the subject of a prank since the show started?”
He moved me toward the green room. He snatched a piece of yellow legal paper from the table by the door and began to scribble down names. Several of the contestants stopped and told us that they’d received a nasty anonymous note, or they’d been the victim of a prank that could have cost them a spot on the show.
As Land talked to them, I began to write down names and events. I might not be the best chef, but my business degree did help me with organizational skills. I sketched out a chart that showed the names going down the page and possible events across the top. I checked a box for each report that I received. Land managed to catch all of the safe candidates on the way out of the studio, and I began to see patterns in the pranks.
The other safe contestants left the building after they’d shared this information with us. Land sat down and crossed his legs. “Might as well take a load off,” he said. “We’re going to find out which of the others were pranked as well.”
“I already marked Jerry and Annabella on the list based on what they said earlier. Someone has been very busy since we’ve been here.”
We heard the announcement of the winner—Jerry had come in first place. I couldn’t hear the name of the person going home, but I knew I’d be able to tell from the people leaving.
The six truck owners came out shortly. Jerry was all grins as he walked through the double doors. He paused when he saw us standing there. “I would have thought you’d be long gone,” he said as he slowed up. “You heard the good news?”
I nodded. “Congrats. It’s a great feeling, isn’t it?”
His grin grew even wider if that was possible. “Yeah, I needed it after the week I’ve had and the stupid pranks.”
I took a deep breath and jumped in. “That’s what I needed to talk to you about. Can you be more specific about the pranks that you’ve experienced and the notes? I’m trying to cross-reference all of them into a chart, so that I can keep track. I’m hoping that we might be able to establish some sort of pattern. If we do find something, of course, we’d turn it over to the police.”
“Well, just today, I was told to do without sauerkraut. So fine, I was going to do a freshly made version of it with cabbage, vinegar and a few other things, sautéed in a pan. No trouble. But when I got to the truck, someone had taken all of my cabbage as well. So I was out of luck there. Fortunately, I had some green peppers, so I grated those and used them instead of cabbage. But if I hadn’t been thinking fast, it could have ruined me today. I could have been going home instead of winning.”
“Have there been any notes?” I asked, wondering if he’d received the same treatment as we had.
“Just one. It accused me of slipping some of my own cash into the till in an earlier round of the competition. I took it to the producers. They weren’t worried about it. They said that a bunch of these notes had been going around. So I tried to forget about it as much as I could.”
Annabella had been the last to appear from the doors, and I suspected she’d been one of the bottom three contestants. Her eyes were red and puffy. “Are you talking about the problems we’ve had here? I’ll be happy to share what that jackass did to me today.”
Without prompting, she went into a long story about how someone had taken her hard taco shells this morning, meaning that she had only soft tacos and burritos to sell. “Of course, the judges blamed me for not having them. They wouldn’t even listen to the possibility that the same person who peed on your pots and pans got into my truck to steal supplies. They had a fit when I mentioned the peeing incident on camera. You’d have thought that I said the f-word during a live performance. I can’t stand this frustration. I’m about ready to just quit the whole thing.”
I took some notes as she spoke, filling in my chart with what had happened to her. By my count, there were five truck owners who had experienced missing supplies this morning. Eight of the truck owners had received nasty notes to them about their behavior, their food or just general threats to their wellbeing.
On my chart, only one person
had not received any notes nor experienced any pranks. Tracy Jones, one of the other taco truck owners, had been left alone.
Chapter 5
The first thing that I did after making my chart was to make copies of my chart. There’s not an office anywhere in Capital City that does not have access to copy machines these days, and I quickly found the one at the network’s offices. I made about a dozen copies of the chart, thinking that I might share these with the producers and the police.
I wasn’t sure about sharing this piece of evidence with all of the contestants. Some of them were talking about leaving the show. On the one hand, it would be beneficial to me for that to happen, since we’d still be in the running. However, it could mean additional attacks, and I knew that the pranks were likely to escalate over the course of the next few weeks.
Land had no desire to do the follow-up with this. His attitude was that everyone should just suck it up and persevere. Great attitude, but I remembered how pissed he’d been when they’d taken his cilantro. He indicated that he was going to pick up some avocados and cilantro at the store on the way home, and that he would meet me at the truck tomorrow. I agreed and decided to start with the police.
Part of my decision was based purely on the fact that I found Detective Danvers attractive. I couldn’t help it. He was a good-looking man with a good-looking body underneath his suits. Given that I would have gone to him at some point anyway, I didn’t think my logic process was too far off base.
It felt weird to drive back to Elm Street downtown without the truck, but I found a place to park in the garage and made my way to the police station located on an upper floor of the government building downtown. While I’d been to his office twice before, I was immediately lost in the jumble of cubicles and offices that filled the small space. I had to ask directions twice to finally find his office.
Fortunately, he was at his desk. I looked around again, checking for photos, but he still didn’t have any pictures of a wife or children, two things that would have dampened my enthusiasm. There were a lot of files and papers on his desk, and I looked for a place to put my chart. Finally, I gave up and handed the paper to him directly.
FOOD TRUCK MYSTERIES: The Complete Series (14 Books) Page 18