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

enough to make meals for close to 100 customers. That seemed adequate to make a profit from the challenge.
    With three minutes to spare, I found Land and headed to the check-out. We were well under the allotted amount and breezed through the line. Of course, the bad part about doing what was asked of us was that we would likely not be included in the clips showing the competition.
    Betty had apparently gone over her amount. She was asking other competitors to spot her the cash to pay for her groceries. Land gave her a smile and a definite “no.” She started to have a meltdown in line, and we decided that we’d wait outside.
     

Chapter 2
 
     
    Each of us had a camera assigned to us as we prepared the meals. As Land had suggested, I did most of the prep work for the meal. He cut the cod while I prepared the cherry soup and the stew. Soon we had all three dishes simmering away, and the truck smelled incredible. I was so used to the smell of the hot dogs and the condiments that they rarely made an impression on me, but these new smells fueled my hunger and made me yearn to try the dishes. I knew we had a success on our hands.
    At the end of our six hours, we were ready to begin sales. Our normal spot was downtown in Capital City on Elm Street near the government buildings. It was a bit late in the day for most of our usual customers who needed a quick cup of coffee on the way to work or a bite to eat at lunch. However, we didn’t get to pick our time frame for the challenge.
    True to his word, Land took over the front line duties. He opened the truck panel and began to talk to people as they walked by. It was no surprise that many of our first customers were women. Land could be charming when he wanted to be. I witnessed that every day; I just never got to see it directed at me.
    Two of the women purchased the cherry soup. Another man bought the stew. A few more people came up to the truck, mainly in hopes of getting on a reality show as an interview or as a reviewer of the dishes. They ordered something and then spoke with the cameraman about the offerings on the new menu. I tried to eavesdrop, but with the food cooking, I couldn’t take my concentration off of the fare long enough to listen in.
    As with most things, the interest of a few people—and the presence of TV cameras—meant that more people were attracted to the truck. If nothing else, I was glad to see that we’d get a few new customers out of the show. Normally by 2pm, we’d cleaned the truck and put it away for the day. Perhaps the late day customers would look us up for breakfast or lunch.
    We both knew that one or more of our customers that day would be anonymous food critics who would sample the food and write a review of the dishes for the judging. The final decision would be based primarily on the food, but they would also give weight to the amount of money earned for the day and the originality and out-of-the-box thinking that went into the process.
    I was glad in a way that I was back by the stoves and not watching the crowd, wondering who was here to critique my fare. It would have been nerve-wracking to watch all the customers, knowing any one of them could be the judge. Land didn’t even seem to notice that he might be judged for the dishes he’d suggested. He just took orders and gave change.
    I knew that the people here today would be shocked to learn that we were normally a hot dog food truck. Even though I couldn’t pronounce it, I knew that Basque food was hot these days. I’d recently read an article about a new Basque restaurant in Capital City as part of the trendy new fare being offered downtown. So, not only did we have Land selling the food, we had trendy food as well.
    Land asked for three more bowls of cherry soup. He used the Basque name for it, but I translated it in my head. I could barely speak conversational Spanish. The thought of learning a new language was beyond me.
    I scraped the bottom of the pot to fill the last