MURDER IN THE SPOTLIGHT (Food Truck Mysteries Book 2) Read Free

don’t want a repeat of that last time.” He was referring to the incident where someone had made off with one of our ingredients. I still had enough faith in humanity to think that it was a mistake, but Land was certain that someone had done it on purpose to win the challenge. While he feigned indifference to the entire show, Land had shown a decided competitive streak on several different occasions. He wanted to win and he didn’t trust anyone around our truck. He continued to watch out for any mistakes, keeping track of who came around to our truck and their movements.
    I slid the paper into my front pocket, thinking that no one was going to go reaching in there without me noticing it. We headed back to the set to wait for our instructions. Marsha was standing outside of the double doors to the studio, checking off people as they came in. Fortunately, we were not required to make any recordings in the green room at this stage of the challenge, though people could ruminate at any time they wished. Betty Troxler practically set up a second home in there, hoping for maximum exposure.
    I’d found that most of the contestants fell into one of two broad categories. The first were the truck owners who wanted their business to be recognized, feeling that honor would bring them additional revenue. The second group of truck owners was more interested in personal fame. While I was sure that they probably wanted their truck to succeed, their own personal recognition was worth far more to them.
    Betty Troxler was definitely in the second category. She was in her early thirties, but she dressed as though she was a college student—or rather, how she envisioned a college student might dress. I knew from recent experience that most of us had preferred sweat pants and t-shirts that allowed us more time to study. She went for a look that was more low-cut and revealing. She still had a nice shape, but her skin and the small crow’s feet around her eyes gave away the affected look.
    It’s not that she wasn’t an attractive woman. She was. However, I struggled anytime a person decided that they wanted to wear clothes that are too young for them. I hoped that I would age gracefully, not worrying what others might think. That had been one of the lessons my Aunt Alice, the relative who had bequeathed me the truck, had taught me early on. Alice had been a rebel who tried to live true to herself. Dressing for others meant that you couldn’t be yourself.
    So it wasn’t a surprise that Betty was going all out for personal fame. She frequently talked about Jim Tolliver; he had been on the food truck show last season and was now a minor celebrity with his own book published and a spot on some premium cable talk show that I had to look up. I wasn’t impressed. My goal had been to make more money from this business through advertising. This was just one form of marketing that I wanted to engage in. Land hadn’t been too thrilled, but I’d pointed out to him that growth in the business would allow for a second truck that he’d be able to take on himself. That had silenced his complaints—for the most part.
    When Marsha determined that we were all present, we loaded the bus and headed to the grocery store. The store was local to Capital City, and I figured that they had paid dearly to be included in the reality show. As we disembarked from the bus, Marsha gave each of us a credit card with the amount of last week’s earnings already loaded onto it. We would have 15 minutes to find the ingredients and purchase them for the money we’d been allotted. After that we would have six hours to prep for the challenge, which would include selling the products in our typical parking spots.
    I took the list from my pocket and began to shop. Land had gone off in search of two of the ingredients, the salted cod and the cherries, which he felt were paramount to the dishes being successful. I had the rest. I loaded my cart with everything I needed, getting