Bushel Full of Murder (22 page)

I’d gotten better. I’d become less nosy and less risky over the last year or so. I was more careful now, but the sight of that truck leaving Bailey’s made me forget all those good practices and the promises I’d made to Sam and the rest of my family about taking better care of myself.

I ran at it like it was the last truck off a dying planet.

In all fairness, it wasn’t moving very quickly. My experience with Peyton’s truck had proved that these vehicles weren’t built for speed.

I reached the truck just as it was ambling out onto the two-lane highway. It was turning right so the passenger side door was on my side. I pounded on the door, but it was a tall-enough vehicle that Mel couldn’t see who was trying to get in.

The truck stopped abruptly and the passenger door swung open.

“Are you out of your mind?” Mel said to me from the driver’s side.

“You can’t leave yet,” I said, my breathing heavy and fast.

“Yes I can. Get out of my way, or I will run you over. I swear to you I will do it.”

“Okay, but . . .” I jumped into the truck and sat on the passenger seat. I closed the door. “I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not,” he said. “Get out.”

“No. You go, I go.”

Honestly, the fact that I’d put myself into a food truck with a potential killer didn’t even occur to me at that point. The overriding thought in my mind was that I wanted to know the truth. I wanted answers that would prove that Peyton was innocent, and this man could potentially give me those answers. I didn’t want those answers to get away.

“Suit yourself, but you’re an idiot.”

Mel put the truck in gear and started off down the road. I was surprised that his truck was much speedier than Peyton’s. I grabbed the seat belt and fastened it across my lap.

“Who are you?” I said.

“Name’s Mel.”

“You’re from Arizona?”

He laughed and looked over at me. “Aren’t you the little blond Sherlock?”

“That’s where you’re from, right?”

“Nope. California originally. Moved to Arizona six months ago.”

“Okay, so you might as well tell me what happened. I
know you killed Robert Ship,” I said as I grabbed on to the seat and the door handle. It was at that moment that I truly realized the stupid position I’d put myself in.

Oh, you might be a killer? Let me come along for a ride in your truck
.

Mel was right; I was an idiot.

“You know nothing of the sort,” he said.

“Did you know Peyton in Arizona? Why didn’t she know you?”

“Because she’s a snotty bitch.”

“Hey!”

“You asked. We worked together for two days. I thought she was hot. I asked her out. She said no.”

“So you framed her for theft, assault, and murder?”

“Actually, I was only shooting for the theft, but she kept putting herself right there. It was all too easy.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I stole the recipe the first day I was at the restaurant. Your cousin left two days later. About a week later, I heard the owners complaining about her opening the hot dog truck and the sauce she served. All I did was tell them I saw her leaving their office the day she quit. That was it. That was all they needed to have to run with their accusations. She’d ignored me. The day we’d met, she ignored me. I had the recipe. I was going to make it, bottle it, and sell it. But they believed me and went after her. It was pretty priceless, really. Then to top it off, when I went to her food truck in Arizona, ordered her food, paid for her food, said hello, she didn’t even recognize me. If you haven’t noticed, she seems to not recognize me here, either. What a bitch.”

I didn’t like him calling my cousin what he was calling her, but I had more important things to worry about. As I’d already noted, this truck could go much faster than hers.

“Mel, you need to pull over. You’re going to hurt us both, or worse.”

“What difference does that make now? You jumped in for the ride. You get to face the consequences.”

I planted my feet as firmly as possible and held on tight to the seat. Someone must have seen us leave. I’d already talked to Sam. The police would be here shortly. We just needed not to wreck. That’s what I needed to remember.

“You know, you’re right,” I said. “My cousin is a horrible person. I’m sorry about the way she’s treated you.”

“Damn straight.”

“She was just under some strain maybe. Starting a food truck has to be hard. It has to take a lot of your attention.”

“It’s not that hard.”

I looked at Mel’s profile. His jaw was set too firmly, his eyes too squinted, but at least they were looking ahead at the road.

“How did you get the taco truck?” I had to know, even though I sensed something bad must have happened to Paco.

Mel laughed. “That’s another thing. How did your cousin not recognize this truck? It was always parked close to where she parked hers.” He took his eyes off the road and glanced over at me. I gulped at the anger and perhaps torment I saw in his eyes. “I went to work for Paco when I left the restaurant so I could be closer to Peyton, and she still didn’t pay me any attention.”

Obsession. Scary, all-encompassing obsession. I’d never
seen it in person before. It was even worse than in the movies. Mel’s entire life had, at least for a short time, been dictated by my cousin. And there was something in him that wouldn’t let her go. Was it ego? Was it fear? Or was it just simple reaction to rejection? I didn’t know, but he had become so obsessed with her that he’d lost sight of reality. Big time.

“Why did you kill Robert Ship?”

“Do I look like Paco?” he said.

I shook my head and looked at him. Had he not heard me correctly?

“Right. Well, that’s who’s on the Arizona license. That idiot Ship wanted to talk to him before he let me sign anything for a temporary license. How could I have ever predicted I would need a temporary license? I could ignore the banker, but not that ridiculously persistent license guy. I overheard that Peyton was meeting the banker at the bank the next morning. Again, she made it pretty easy for me to set her up. I called Ship, told him I was a vendor from the market and told him to meet me at the bank, that I needed to do some paperwork for both him and the bank guy, but we had to be early.” Mel laughed. “He asked if my name was Jeff. I went with it and told him yes. So easy. Killed him and then put the recipe card in his hand. Pretty brilliant if you ask me. Only problem I almost had was that Peyton was early for her appointment. She almost saw me. But she didn’t.” He laughed. “That was such a rush, getting out of there.”

“Where’s Paco?” I said softly enough that he might not have heard me.

“Had to get rid of him. He didn’t want to do this tour. When I heard that Peyton had signed up, I knew I had to go to. It was
easy to request to go the same places she went. It was a long trip—and she still doesn’t even know my name.”

I was scared, but a flare of anger shot up my throat and momentarily overpowered the fear. I was angry for my cousin, for Robert Ship, for Paco, and
at
myself.

“Maybe you should have just found another girl,” I said, loud enough that he couldn’t mistake a word.

“You know, I even tried to be romantic. I wrote her a love note and buried it. I tried to make it a fun treasure hunt. I wanted her to follow clues to see who’d sent it to her. She picked up the note, but she didn’t even follow the first clue. She doesn’t care about anyone but herself.”

“Or she wasn’t in the mood for romance, Mel. Not everyone needs that, you know.”

“We would have been perfect together.”

“And yet you framed her for horrible things.”

“She would never have been convicted.”

“The police didn’t know you were from Arizona, Mel. The recipe card was found in Robert Ship’s hand. Who were they supposed to think was his killer?”

“Peyton. But I knew they’d figure it out eventually. I planned to be gone by then, but then
you
got all curious. I knew I should have left yesterday.”

“Where were you going to go?”

“I was going to hide. I would have thought of something. How’d you figure me out?”

“You didn’t have any license plates on your truck. I don’t know when you removed them, but that was pretty suspicious. I looked up Paco’s Tacos—Facebook and Twitter were your ultimate downfalls.”

“If I’d had Paco’s passwords, I would have lasted longer.”

“Come on, Mel, pull the truck over. This is dumb.”

As we’d been talking, he’d slowed the truck down to only a slightly unreasonable speed, but my request managed to remind him that he was supposed to be escaping. He pushed his foot hard on the accelerator.

“What—you’ll tell that police officer boyfriend of yours to be easy on me?”

I shook my head. Mel was obsessed, but he wasn’t stupid. Telling him I had any control over Sam or any other officer for that matter wouldn’t make sense. It was unbelievable even to someone who’d lost their grip on reality.

“I just think it’s all bad enough, Mel. Why would you want to make it worse?”

“Once you reach a certain point, nothing is worse.”

As if to punctuate his defeatist stance, the noise of sirens suddenly sounded loud and close.

I tried to see out the back of the truck by looking down the inside middle, but the mini restaurant was in the way. I looked out the side rearview window and my heart soared at the sight of a police cruiser with flashing lights right behind us.

“Come on, pull over, Mel,” I said.

“Not gonna do it. You should never have climbed aboard.” Mel’s voice was maniacal, wicked enough to scare me again and make me double-check my seat belt.

He looked out his side mirror and cursed loudly, causing spit to fly out of his mouth. It was an odd thing to watch—his spit. It landed on the windshield just as the world started to turn funny.

Mel yanked the steering wheel—on purpose—sending us down an embankment. The move was done at a higher speed and with much more intent to harm than Peyton’s journey off road.

Mel’s truck didn’t just bump funny down the hill and then stop harmlessly. The food truck rolled, the sound of the vehicle combined with the sounds of crashing kitchen dishes and utensils. I’d dropped so many bowls in my day that my ears picked out those sounds and focused on them as the seat belt yanked my legs each time the truck was upside down. There were two rolls.

I’m sure I screamed, but I don’t remember.

The next thing I knew, I was being pulled out of the now-right-side-up truck.

“Becca, Becca!” Sam held my arms and looked at me, checking to see if I was aware enough to answer back.

I snapped to. “I’m okay, Sam. I’m okay.”

He pulled me close, hugged me so tight that I lost my breath for a second, but I didn’t want him to know, so I battled through.

We were alone in the world. We were on one side of the truck, but no one else was there with us. I heard commotion. I heard yelling, but it was all happening in that other world on the other side of the truck. On our side, in our world, it was just us and South Carolina countryside.

Sam released the vise grip and held me at arm’s length.

“Listen to me,” he said. I nodded. “I love you more than life. Just so you know, I would go so far as kill to keep you safe even if you did something stupid and illegal. I would hide evidence. I would plant evidence. I would never, ever let you
get in trouble. If you don’t already know that, I’ve failed in showing you how much I care. I would die if something happened to you, Becca Robins. Do you understand that?”

“I love you, too,” I said, but the words sounded so wimpy after what he’d said.

“Marry me?” he said.

“Can we do that this afternoon?” I said.

Sam laughed and pulled me close again. “We can do it anytime and any way you want.”

“Then, yes,” I said, breathlessly and with a slur. He was crushing me again and my lungs and mouth couldn’t function quite right.

Not a bad outcome for a dumb girl who willingly got into a crazy person’s food
truck.

We didn’t get married that afternoon. Sam would have done whatever he needed to do to circumvent things like marriage licenses if I’d wanted to. A justice of the peace would have been easy to find. But we just got too busy.

Other than some seat belt bruising, I didn’t get hurt from the truck’s two full rolls. Mel didn’t get hurt, either, but he certainly got arrested. Sam and I missed it all, but Vivien was apparently even more forceful with him than she’d been with Peyton.

Peyton was released. Harry apologized to her. Vivienne apologized to her. I did, too, though I wasn’t at all sure I owed her an apology.

Peyton had no recollection of ever meeting or knowing Mel before sharing parking lot space with him at Bailey’s.
And he’d been correct; she hadn’t picked up on his name yet. She’d thought of him as the blond taco guy. And she’d had no idea that Paco’s Tacos was from Arizona. Neither had Harry. I thought maybe he’d kick himself for a long time for not looking more closely at the food truck chefs. His self-appointed task now was to find Paco’s body, and see that his family in Mexico was made aware of his tragic end.

I decided that Peyton needed to work on her powers of observation, which was my way of telling her the she might want to consider being less self-involved. She was young, she was beautiful, and maybe it went with the territory. But it was time for her to grow up and realize there was more to the world than the parts revolving around her.

She’d gotten the note about the treasure hunt that Mel had buried. She said she was so used to men hitting on her that she just blew it off. She didn’t want to tell me about it when I asked her while she was in jail because she didn’t think it was important. And she thought it was a ridiculous waste of time. She also said she got embarrassed from all the male attention she got. I didn’t think that was a lie, but there was something more to it than that, something she wasn’t admitting to. I didn’t take the time to think about it too much, but I thought that it had something to do with her self-involvement. I hoped that meant she was aware of the chink in her personality, but ultimately, it was something she’d have to come to terms with on her own.

She said that the outside panel of her truck had been squeaking at a spot in the top-right corner. She’d climbed up there and tried to stop the noise, which is what Basha had observed. Peyton had never hidden anything in the tube/pipe. Such an idea had never even occurred to her.

She still claims not to have committed the assault and stolen the money. Harry was going to take a closer look at the restaurant manager who told Peyton not to take the money to the bank for a whole week. That angle is making more sense to him, particularly now that so many other things have come to light. He promised he’d call when he uncovered more information.

Allison had been late to the market because she’d had to take her son, Mathis, to a dentist appointment. But the second after she confirmed I was fine, she grabbed Peyton and made her get all the money she’d kept hidden in her truck. They went to a bank and set up an account. Peyton had been forced to spend alone time with Allison. I could only imagine the lectures. Thinking about it made me smile.

Everyone came to the market that evening. My family, Harry, Vivienne, even Ian and George. We invited Lyle Manner, but he declined. So did Betsy, though she did tell Allison that if she was able to get her business license taken care of, she would come back to Bailey’s. We even invited Jeff, but he’d called Allison earlier to decline and to let her know that he’d filled out and turned in his application.

“You are an interesting woman, Becca,” Harry said to me. “I don’t understand why you did what you did. Why did you get in that truck?”

“Do you ever hear a funny sound in your house and you know that you are hearing something that every person in a horror movie hears before they’re brutally killed but you go check it out anyway?”

“Sure.”

“It was like that. I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted Peyton
to be innocent so badly that I didn’t think about what I was doing. I just did it.”

“I should have realized that’s what you were like when you were in Arizona. I should never have agreed to our deal to both investigate your cousin.”

I laughed. “It wouldn’t have mattered if you agreed or not, Harry. I was going to do what I was going to do. Sorry about that.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Me, too.”

He tipped his hat before his eyes wandered over to the cupcake truck.

“Excuse me, Harry,” I said. “I should go see if Allison needs any help.”

Allison didn’t really need my help, but she was happy to hand me a tray to deliver to Daryl’s truck as she carried a giant pot.

“So I guess Mel is in trouble in both South Carolina and in Arizona. Where first?” she said.

“Here. Our murder trumps the other stuff. That’s what Sam told me.”

“Makes sense.” She lowered her voice. “We put about sixty thousand dollars into a bank account for Peyton. Do you think it’s actually money she earned?”

“I think so. I hope so.” I spied Peyton talking to Ian and George.

“She must be really good at scrimping and saving; that’s a lot of money.”

“It is.”

“Maybe Harry will figure it out.”

“If anyone will, he will.”

We delivered the tray and the pot and then I helped Allison set out some battery-powered lights. The parking lot by the remaining trucks turned into a party zone. The truck chefs served the food—Allison told them the market would reimburse them for everything they served this evening. Sam had to attend to some business so he got there a little late, though he arrived dressed as casual Sam, not official Sam, which pleased me.

By the time he arrived, I thought I’d listened patiently to everyone’s lectures about my behavior. My parents, Allison, Harry—no one was happy with what I’d done, but they were all grateful I was okay. All’s well that end’s well, or so I said a hundred times or so.

Daryl and Hank had no idea what type of person their new friend Mel truly was. They’d spent the evening apologizing to everyone and being baffled that they hadn’t seen it.

That day I’d seen Hank just appear from between the trucks, when I thought he was behaving strangely, he was, but his behavior had nothing to do with Peyton or the canvas bag. His truck had been deemed okay by the food safety inspector, but one of his refrigerators had suddenly stopped running. He was worried he was going to be shut down—what I’d seen were his concern and his mind working through how he was going to fix his problem. He did fix it and the food safety inspector never even knew it had broken.

I introduced Harry to Basha, and thought I saw a little spark between the two of them. Maybe, maybe not. All I could do was make the introductions.

The other spark I saw worried me. Not only did Peyton
seem to know Ian’s name, but she seemed to pay way too close attention to him and hang on his every word. They were both over twenty-one and it really was none of my business, but I hoped that Peyton decided to go back to Arizona soon, just for Ian’s sake.

“Hey,” Sam said as he snuck up behind me while I was talking to my parents.

I faced him, went up to my toes, and kissed him way too passionately considering my parents were in the general vicinity.

True to Jason and Polly, they went with it.

“Goodness, Becca, let the man breathe,” Dad said.

“I don’t know, Jason, he doesn’t seem to mind,” Mom said.

“Not even a little bit,” Sam said. He turned to my parents. “I don’t want to be rude, but can you excuse us a second?”

“Of course,” Mom said with a smile.

She’d been supportive of all my husbands and boyfriends, but there was something in her smile I’d never seen before when it came to one of my significant others: relief.

It was something I might need to ask her about, but for now I just took Sam’s hand as he led us through the parking lot and to my truck. It was parked close to the office building and far enough away from the party that no one there would notice us.

Sam helped me into the bed of the truck and then jumped in behind me.

“What’s this?” I said to the two lawn chairs and the bottle of apple juice chilling in an ice bucket.

“Have a seat,” Sam said.

I sat as he sat on the other chair and took my hand.

“I meant it, you know. That was a real proposal, but I thought I should solidify the offer. I was going to take you someplace wildly romantic, but then I realized that this was better. Your crazy old truck, the Bailey’s parking lot, your family close by.” He tapped on the back cab window and Hobbit popped her head up and smiled and panted a greeting. “I even grabbed her.”

“Hey, girl.” I patted her head. I turned to Sam. “How did you get her to do that?”

“Told her the plan. She agreed.” Sam shrugged.

“Sam. This is perfect. You were right.”

“So what about it?” He moved down to one knee, shoving the lawn chair back with a clatter. He reached into his shorts’ pocket and pulled out a ring. “What do you think, still want to marry me?”

The ring was simple, and beautiful, the diamond embedded more into the band than on top of it. I would be able to wear it at Bailey’s, or working in my kitchen. It was perfect, too.

I looked at Hobbit, I looked at my family and friends just far enough away, and then I looked at Sam. It was a perfect South Carolina summer evening.

Life could be so unpredictable.

“As soon as possible,” I
said.