Leftovers (15 page)

I nodded. “I don’t see that we have a choice. We’re long past the point of giving him more information. He botched the Zoz meeting, and he didn’t make any announcement about Betty Montgomery. It seems like he’s totally dropped the ball on this.”

Land rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that he’s off working on his next big case. Supposedly there’s a new trial starting tomorrow. He’s testifying at the trial for a mob boss. He’s one of ten witnesses from the CCPD. I doubt that he’ll like that, not being the only one.”

“Do you think that he’s involved with the mob?”

Land paused. “No, but the fact that I had to think about it doesn’t say much for my opinion of him. However, I expect that he thinks that he’ll get a commendation out of this, maybe a promotion. I would expect Danvers to get something for his trouble.”

“So my other option is to learn what I can about NBG and try to use the letter against them.”

Land actually had Wi-Fi service in his apartment, and I used his phone to look up information about NBG. I still couldn’t understand why they’d paid off Linda. I was reading more about the company when I came to a stop. “Land, look at this.”

He read over my shoulder. The Citian hotel was owned by NBG as well. The hotel that had employed the man who had tried to kill me was owned by the same company who apparently had killed Betty Montgomery.

“Do you have the cards of those people you talked to? Maybe you can call one of them and tell them about Betty Montgomery. Maybe you’ll get something from one of them.”

I pulled the papers out of my bag and found the cards. I looked at the first card and froze.

“What is it? Did you think of something?” Land asked. He took the card from my hand and looked at it.

The contact phone number for Jacob Stanton was the same one that had been written on my arm—and had been in Betty’s phone.

Land handed the card back to me. “Well, that pretty much ties things up. We have two people in the financial organization of the company who were involved in bribing people. Who better to pay out money than the CFO and her organization?”

I shook my head. The answer to my question regarding the owner of the phone number had been in my pocket for days. “He knew that she’d been hit. He practically admitted it.”

“It’s good to know,” Land replied, “but that wouldn’t stand up in court. We need a lot more than practically admitting knowledge.”

“What would convince Danvers and the police beyond a reasonable doubt?”

“Motive. Nobody is going to believe that a global corporation decided to kill a bunch of people to corner the market on food trucks. It just isn’t plausible. So if not to make a few extra dollars, what did they want?”

I tried to think of what they could want. The obvious answer of the food truck business just didn’t make sense. So what else was gained? “My aunt always said that the food truck business was all about the permits and the location. Could it be something about where we park?”

Land shook his head. “Spend hundreds of thousands of dollars just to get a particular corner? No, I just don’t see that happening either. You need to think big. The stakes have to be much higher than a few hot dogs.”

I tried to think of what it could be, but my mind was still frazzled from the day’s events and as I sat there and tried to think, I dozed off.

Getting ready for work with your co-worker is an odd experience. I awoke, still lying on the sofa. Apparently Land’s hospitality did not involve giving up his bed for me. My neck and back protested when I sat up straight. It was going to be a long day; I could tell that already.

Land came out of the bathroom, obviously fresh from a shower. His short hair still had drops of water in it, and he was wearing only a towel, which was incredibly distracting. No one could say that I don’t have a keen eye for deductions. His cheeks flushed, and he scuttled into the bedroom to get dressed.

I figured that left the bathroom clear for me, so I took my bag in with me and hurriedly finished getting ready. Nobody expects too much from the hot dog lady, so I was done in a few minutes.

We drove my car to the secured lot, since Land’s sports car was still missing windows. He’d arranged for an insurance adjuster on my policy to come and take a look at it today. I knew that he didn’t like riding in the Buick, but at least it was intact.

Work seemed odd. We had less to talk about than normal, since we’d seen each other all night. Neither of us had come up with a reason why a multinational corporation would want to kill people for food trucks, but I had hopes that we’d uncover some explanation for the crimes.

Business was good. All day, I kept thinking of Betty Montgomery and her death as I watched people come and go throughout the government square. Could the food trucks have been used to shoot people? Did NBG want mobile hit men?

I advanced the idea to Land, but he shot it down, so to speak.

“Why would you want to be at ground level? It’s harder to hit your target and you could get boxed in by traffic or police cars. I wouldn’t want to try to make a shot from Dogs on the Roll. Too many factors.”

I sighed, trying to come up with another reason. “I was just thinking of the hotel balcony and the view from the NBG building. Both of those could easily see the square and our food truck. I’m just wondering if that’s coincidence or something else.”

Land shrugged. “Snipers thrive on those kinds of views. They can get a clear shot without people in the way, and then they can sneak out while the police are still trying to figure out from what angle the shot came. It’s a no-brainer. Food trucks couldn’t be used like that, and I doubt that anyone would use a food truck to cut off someone’s head either. The trucks aren’t going to be used to kill anyone that I can tell, and even if they did, no one said that they had to be in any one spot to do it.”

Detective Danvers came up at that moment and ordered a coffee. We had been so intent on our conversation that I hadn’t even noticed him. He had on an obviously new suit, a dark gray that went well with his hair and eyes. I wondered again about the money he spent on clothes and himself. Did he have a second source of income? One that perhaps came from something illegal? Those thoughts prohibited me from admiring what I saw.

Then again, I wondered how Land had a sports car. Maybe I just needed to budget my money better. Everyone else had the things I wanted.

“The new trial starts today,” Danvers explained. “The reporters are already lining up at security to get in.” He pointed to the doors of the government building, where I recognized a few of the nightly news people. “You should be seeing me on the news tonight.”

“If I watch,” I said plainly, handing him the coffee. I normally gave it to him gratis. I thought about making him pay, but he was still a member of the police, and we routinely gave to the rest of the men in blue. I chose not to single him out one way or the other.

The shift continued without issue. Business was up because of the impending trial, so we didn’t have much time to talk or think about what might be happening. I wasn’t sure that any additional time would be beneficial. We were missing one piece to this puzzle, and I wasn’t sure that we could get to it by mere deductions. We needed another clue. Somewhere was an explanation for why they needed so many food trucks.

I looked around the square and I could count that two trucks belonged to NBG. Why wasn’t that enough?

We were just finishing the shift. The window had been put down, and I was counting cash when I heard a terrible noise from outside and the food truck shook like a cradle. Land was out the door before I could stop him. I followed as fast as I could, stuffing the money in my bag so that it wouldn’t be stolen. I wouldn’t put it past anyone these days.

Another food truck had clipped the front end of Dogs on the Roll. The axle looked like it might be broken and the right front tire was now flat. I cursed, thinking of the fact that I would now have to put in another insurance claim. I didn’t want my rates to go up, but this case would definitely be putting us in the high-risk category.

The driver of the other truck stepped out, looking sheepish. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. When I looked up, I was about to hit someone. It was a choice of either them or you. I thought the truck would handle it better than the person would.”

He came over and shook my hand. “Are you the owner? No hard feelings, I hope.”

I eyed him suspiciously. Not only was the truck likely to be out of commission for a few days, he’d actually assumed that I was the owner of the truck. I could count on one thumb the number of times that had happened. Everyone assumed that Land, that Basque alpha male was in charge. I strongly suspected that he knew about our truck and me before he ever careened toward our food truck. This was some sort of set-up.

The statement made me reassess the situation. Our truck had been put out of commission. That would likely mean that another truck—possibly a NBG truck—would fill our spot for the foreseeable future. NBG had achieved their goal. For whatever reasons, they had wanted to fill more of the spots around the government square—and so they had. The truck would be towed off, and we’d be gone for a few days.

So the object of their plan was to take our location—or remove one more competitor from the game. I still wasn’t sure which one applied; it seemed ludicrous to assume that NBG was killing people and paying off others to make a few more dollars in the food truck business. As Land had said, the motive had to be much larger and it had to be something that would convince Danvers and ultimately a jury.

I looked over to the entrance of the government building, thinking about the trial that was starting there today. At the same time, I saw three men from NBG Security head into the building. I had an awful feeling that I knew exactly what was wrong. Land had missed it. He was busy arguing with the errant driver about the truck and the lost time and money.

I could see it all clearly now. We were being misdirected. The point had not been about getting the truck business. It had been about getting close to the government building. If the witnesses were all assembled prior to the trial, as Danvers was now, it would be simplicity itself to detonate a bomb of some sort and kill them all. No witnesses, no charges, no conviction. I’d seen that in action yesterday when Andy Zoz had disappeared. Danvers had not believed my story based on a few shells.

“Land, will you get his contact information and then come help me? I’m concerned about the cash drawer from today,” I lied. The cash was already stored in my bag. However, Land didn’t know that, and I needed him to play his part well at this point. Within a few moments, Land was by my side. I’d particularly used the cash, since that had been the impetus for him accompanying me to the bank. I’d hoped that he would get a clue from my word choice, but I could tell as he approached that he hadn’t.

“What’s up with the cash? Lock the door and it should be fine, but don’t leave it in there when they come to tow the truck.” He looked at me with a puzzled frown. Land was much more used to me giving instructions than asking for them.

“Forget the cash. I—we have a much bigger problem than that.”

Land looked at the truck. “I’m sure his insurance will pay for it.”

I shook my head. “I’m positive that they will. It’s a NBG truck that hit us. Does that tell you anything?”

Land slapped himself on the forehead. “I should have suspected something. How do you know?”

My eyes widened. “I read it in the report you gave me. He was one of the trucks that got a permit while my aunt was being shut out. I remember the food truck name.”

Land nodded. “Good work. So what do you think that means?” He furrowed his brows. “I’m not stupid. It means that this was no accident. He hit us on purpose.”

I nodded. “It means a whole lot more to me than that. Do you trust me, I mean, really trust me? Because I’m going to do something that requires you to open up to me.”

He winced. Apparently that was not high on his list of things to do today. “What do you want?”

“You’re ex-military, aren’t you?” I swallowed hard, waiting for his reply. In my head, I urged him on—to tell me the truth.

He squinted his eyes and stared at me for a minute. “Yeah, I am, not sure where you’re going with this though.”

I took a deep breath and let it out. “What do you know about IEDs?”

His mouth dropped open. “Wherever I thought you were going with this, it sure as hell wasn’t there. I know enough. Saw some people lose an arm or a leg over them. Why are you asking this?”

I explained. The NBG Security team was not going into the building to ensure its safety. It was going into the building to plant some sort of explosive. The food trucks needed to be in the vicinity so that they could detonate the bombs at the proper time. They would want to wait until all of the witnesses were inside but the defendant was not yet. If they did it right, the mob boss could be right outside or on the government square so that it could even appear as if he was the target, but in fact the bombs would be for all the witnesses and not the defendant. Without witnesses, there would be no trial and no conviction.

“You mentioned the Russian mob before, but this is just as bad as anything they could possibly do.”

Land’s eyes were wide now. “We need Danvers now. It’s the only way it’s going to work.” He pulled out his phone and texted Danvers a short message. He hit send and waited. After three minutes, I tried. No reply to me either.

“Damn him,” Land said, “he’s probably doing another interview with the press. We don’t have the time to wait much longer for him. We’ve got maybe 20 minutes before the defendant arrives and this plan goes into action. We can’t wait for him.”

I nodded in agreement. Time was running out. “Do you have any contacts that could help?”

Land took a deep breath. “I know a guy who has radio scramblers. I’m going to call him. He can hook them up using the food truck. If he can get here in time, he can prevent the other trucks from setting off the bombs. That would be the ideal situation.”

I swallowed hard, thinking about what I was going to say next. I was actually going to put myself on the line for a guy who said that our kiss was a mistake. I wondered if he would do the same for me. To be totally honest, I wasn’t sure. He might get his suit dirty and not look good in the media.

As for me, I was wearing wrinkled clothes that smelled of hot dogs and coffee. I had nothing to lose in the looking good department at the moment.

“We have to find the bombs,” I said. “Someone needs to go inside and find the witnesses and find the bombs.”

Land nodded. “I can’t ask you to do that. It’s dangerous, and if you’re close to the weapons when they go off, you could be killed. That’s too much.”

“I could say the same to you. It’s too dangerous for you as well.”

Land’s face told me that something was up. Maybe I just knew him well, but he would stink as a poker player.

“What?” I asked.

“I still do some freelance missions for companies and individuals. I might have a client for this—who wants what you do—to stop these bombs.”