Read Online JUSTICE Is SERVED (Food Truck 7) by Chloe Kendrick - Free Book Online
Authors: Chloe Kendrick
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shot me down. He said he was happy. He left a few minutes later. He came back and had a few glasses of water, and then headed to his room.”
“Did you ever talk to a woman named Christie? The girlfriend?” I asked, not knowing what to investigate now. I had expected a fairly simple story of infidelity from her, but I had been confronted with something entirely different.
Felicity rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, the girlfriend. She must have called me three or four times. She’s a trip. She accused me of sleeping with David. She actually threatened to show up at my work and fight me. I mean, who does that? I finally had to block her number it got so bad.”
I just sat there with my mouth open. My brain was thinking of what I’d been told about David so far. I’d heard that he was a cheat and a philanderer, but now I was being told that he was faithful to Christie, who was actually an overly jealous girlfriend.
It added a lot to the idea of Christie as a murderer, but nothing to the motive. From the sound of this, she had been more focused on getting the woman out of the picture, rather than blaming David for his own infidelities. She’d lied to me about the situation, and I wondered how much of her story was being used by the police to make a case against Land. I wanted to wait until I had some more concrete proof to take the evidence to the police, but at least I had some hope that Land’s arrest could be rescinded.
With that in mind and having too much free time now, I decided that I would pursue the mustard lead next. Gina had given me her aunt’s contact information, so I called and made an appointment to see the older woman.
When I pulled up at the aunt’s house, I was shocked. I knew that Neighbors Hill, a rather well-to-do area of Capital City was known for its historic homes, but Eunice’s house was a showstopper. It was a three-story Victorian with the old-fashioned gingerbread molding. Given that she was getting on in years, I knew that she had to have a certain amount of cash to spend on the home.
However, even the outside didn’t prepare me for the inside of the home. I was greeted by an honest-to-goodness butler, who asked me to wait in the parlor, a large room with marble-topped tables and heavily cushioned furniture. I sat on the edge of the sofa and waited.
A larger woman swept into the room, and I immediately recognized her from the wedding. She’d been in the first few rows of chairs during the ceremony, and she’d only asked for one hot dog, plain. Funny how the mind can remember the things that you’ve trained it to handle. Even though I tried to practice my powers of observation, I still couldn’t keep track of everything that went on around me.
“How are you?” the woman said as she made herself comfortable in a Victorian chair. “Gina has spoken highly of you.”
I cleared my throat and began. “I’m fine, and I hope you’re well. Did Gina mention why I wanted to talk to you?” I asked, hoping that I could bypass the full-board explanation.
“Yes, someone made a mess of your tablecloth at the wedding. Gina indicated that you wanted to find out if those two women I sat with might have done it.”
I had to hand it to Gina. She’d couched the situation in a way that was pleasing to her aunt. She hadn’t been wanting to create a family argument by accusing her aunt, so she’d put the blame on the in-laws.
“That’s right,” I replied. “If you could tell me about your conversations there and who left first, I might be able to show that they did this.” I tried to remember my best etiquette from a workshop I’d taken on interviewing. We’d been schooled on the proper fork to use and how to sit on a piece of furniture. Those skills had not been used often with the food truck, but I felt that I was being judged now.
The woman sighed. “I only remember a few things from that evening. I walked around frequently and visited with the other tables, so I can’t tell you
“Did you ever talk to a woman named Christie? The girlfriend?” I asked, not knowing what to investigate now. I had expected a fairly simple story of infidelity from her, but I had been confronted with something entirely different.
Felicity rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, the girlfriend. She must have called me three or four times. She’s a trip. She accused me of sleeping with David. She actually threatened to show up at my work and fight me. I mean, who does that? I finally had to block her number it got so bad.”
I just sat there with my mouth open. My brain was thinking of what I’d been told about David so far. I’d heard that he was a cheat and a philanderer, but now I was being told that he was faithful to Christie, who was actually an overly jealous girlfriend.
It added a lot to the idea of Christie as a murderer, but nothing to the motive. From the sound of this, she had been more focused on getting the woman out of the picture, rather than blaming David for his own infidelities. She’d lied to me about the situation, and I wondered how much of her story was being used by the police to make a case against Land. I wanted to wait until I had some more concrete proof to take the evidence to the police, but at least I had some hope that Land’s arrest could be rescinded.
With that in mind and having too much free time now, I decided that I would pursue the mustard lead next. Gina had given me her aunt’s contact information, so I called and made an appointment to see the older woman.
When I pulled up at the aunt’s house, I was shocked. I knew that Neighbors Hill, a rather well-to-do area of Capital City was known for its historic homes, but Eunice’s house was a showstopper. It was a three-story Victorian with the old-fashioned gingerbread molding. Given that she was getting on in years, I knew that she had to have a certain amount of cash to spend on the home.
However, even the outside didn’t prepare me for the inside of the home. I was greeted by an honest-to-goodness butler, who asked me to wait in the parlor, a large room with marble-topped tables and heavily cushioned furniture. I sat on the edge of the sofa and waited.
A larger woman swept into the room, and I immediately recognized her from the wedding. She’d been in the first few rows of chairs during the ceremony, and she’d only asked for one hot dog, plain. Funny how the mind can remember the things that you’ve trained it to handle. Even though I tried to practice my powers of observation, I still couldn’t keep track of everything that went on around me.
“How are you?” the woman said as she made herself comfortable in a Victorian chair. “Gina has spoken highly of you.”
I cleared my throat and began. “I’m fine, and I hope you’re well. Did Gina mention why I wanted to talk to you?” I asked, hoping that I could bypass the full-board explanation.
“Yes, someone made a mess of your tablecloth at the wedding. Gina indicated that you wanted to find out if those two women I sat with might have done it.”
I had to hand it to Gina. She’d couched the situation in a way that was pleasing to her aunt. She hadn’t been wanting to create a family argument by accusing her aunt, so she’d put the blame on the in-laws.
“That’s right,” I replied. “If you could tell me about your conversations there and who left first, I might be able to show that they did this.” I tried to remember my best etiquette from a workshop I’d taken on interviewing. We’d been schooled on the proper fork to use and how to sit on a piece of furniture. Those skills had not been used often with the food truck, but I felt that I was being judged now.
The woman sighed. “I only remember a few things from that evening. I walked around frequently and visited with the other tables, so I can’t tell you
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