THE REAL GYRO (Food Truck Mysteries Book 4) by Chloe Kendrick Page A
Authors: Chloe Kendrick
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this mess wrapped up quickly. We could have the truck running in no time, especially if we bought the permits with the truck. And after all, we’d already been looking at the truck until she outbid us in the middle of the process.” Permits had been a major pitfall in my aunt’s journey to get her truck up and operational. I really didn’t relish going through the same course.
Land looked thoughtful for a minute. “That might work. You’d have a way in with the family and could learn a lot more than we could without a subpoena.” I was a bit surprised that Land was talking like a policeman. He must be in pretty deep with Detective Danvers on this case if he was thinking in terms of legal documents.
“I was thinking that I’d run it past Danvers. I thought that might lift some of the suspicion off me, if I do this.” I wanted to let Danvers know that I was going to beat him to the punch in this matter and keep the credit for myself this time.
“Of course. He’ll just scratch you off the suspect list.” While Land grumbled about the English language at times, he had mastered sarcasm quickly.
In the end, Land texted Danvers, who came out after lunch. He approved the general plan that I was to approach Janelle’s parents—who had received everything since she had not created a will—about buying the food truck. That would give me an opportunity to review all the paperwork for the truck and possibly turn up something that might help the case. Danvers had been a little too interested in the fact that Janelle had taken the truck from under our noses, but I played it off as if it wasn’t something to care about.
After he left, Land looked at me. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Buy another truck? We’ve been talking about it for ages,” I said, trying to deflect the real question.
“You know what I mean. Get involved in a crime again,” Land said, his face looking stern.
“How are you at gyros?” I asked. “I can loan you Carter for a few days, if you need some extra help.”
Land snorted. “You can keep him. I’ll be fine. Maybe I can get Danvers to help me clean up the truck. It was a crime scene and all.”
I had to admit that the thought of Jax Danvers cleaning would be something new to behold. His hands and nails were far nicer than mine were.
The next couple of days passed quickly. The funeral for Janelle Nolan was held. We chose not to go. I hadn’t known her well in life, and the reminder that I was the one who found her would be an unpleasant thought on the day of her funeral. The press had taken an interest in the unsolved, impossible crime, and I thought it best to keep my distance. I did buy copies of the two Capital City newspapers and read all the articles on the murder. They had little in them that I didn’t know already.
On the Friday after the funeral, I decided to pay a visit to the family. The case had all but dried up. The Capital City newspapers had even stopped reporting on it. Land and Danvers wanted me to wear a wire, but I pointed out that my phone has an audio recorder so that I could tape the conversation if I thought it relevant.
I knocked on the door of the Nolan home after work. I’d gone home, taken a shower, and dressed in one of the suits I’d worn to interviews just out of college. I looked like the consummate professional. I was carrying a satchel, which mainly had empty folders and virgin notepads. Even so, I exuded business and money.
The Nolans’ home was exquisite from the outside. It was a large two-story home in one of the nicer neighborhoods of Capital City. I had been through the area a few times, but my friends certainly couldn’t afford to live there. We were all still struggling to make ends meet.
A woman answered the door, and I gave my explanation for visiting. After I was done, she told me that she was the maid, which meant I’d have to restart the entire spiel over again with the parents. The maid stashed me in the entryway
Land looked thoughtful for a minute. “That might work. You’d have a way in with the family and could learn a lot more than we could without a subpoena.” I was a bit surprised that Land was talking like a policeman. He must be in pretty deep with Detective Danvers on this case if he was thinking in terms of legal documents.
“I was thinking that I’d run it past Danvers. I thought that might lift some of the suspicion off me, if I do this.” I wanted to let Danvers know that I was going to beat him to the punch in this matter and keep the credit for myself this time.
“Of course. He’ll just scratch you off the suspect list.” While Land grumbled about the English language at times, he had mastered sarcasm quickly.
In the end, Land texted Danvers, who came out after lunch. He approved the general plan that I was to approach Janelle’s parents—who had received everything since she had not created a will—about buying the food truck. That would give me an opportunity to review all the paperwork for the truck and possibly turn up something that might help the case. Danvers had been a little too interested in the fact that Janelle had taken the truck from under our noses, but I played it off as if it wasn’t something to care about.
After he left, Land looked at me. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Buy another truck? We’ve been talking about it for ages,” I said, trying to deflect the real question.
“You know what I mean. Get involved in a crime again,” Land said, his face looking stern.
“How are you at gyros?” I asked. “I can loan you Carter for a few days, if you need some extra help.”
Land snorted. “You can keep him. I’ll be fine. Maybe I can get Danvers to help me clean up the truck. It was a crime scene and all.”
I had to admit that the thought of Jax Danvers cleaning would be something new to behold. His hands and nails were far nicer than mine were.
The next couple of days passed quickly. The funeral for Janelle Nolan was held. We chose not to go. I hadn’t known her well in life, and the reminder that I was the one who found her would be an unpleasant thought on the day of her funeral. The press had taken an interest in the unsolved, impossible crime, and I thought it best to keep my distance. I did buy copies of the two Capital City newspapers and read all the articles on the murder. They had little in them that I didn’t know already.
On the Friday after the funeral, I decided to pay a visit to the family. The case had all but dried up. The Capital City newspapers had even stopped reporting on it. Land and Danvers wanted me to wear a wire, but I pointed out that my phone has an audio recorder so that I could tape the conversation if I thought it relevant.
I knocked on the door of the Nolan home after work. I’d gone home, taken a shower, and dressed in one of the suits I’d worn to interviews just out of college. I looked like the consummate professional. I was carrying a satchel, which mainly had empty folders and virgin notepads. Even so, I exuded business and money.
The Nolans’ home was exquisite from the outside. It was a large two-story home in one of the nicer neighborhoods of Capital City. I had been through the area a few times, but my friends certainly couldn’t afford to live there. We were all still struggling to make ends meet.
A woman answered the door, and I gave my explanation for visiting. After I was done, she told me that she was the maid, which meant I’d have to restart the entire spiel over again with the parents. The maid stashed me in the entryway
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