Read Online JUSTICE Is SERVED (Food Truck 7) by Chloe Kendrick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Chloe Kendrick
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dark circles under her eyes and a grayish complexion.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it’s nothing serious.”
The woman flushed before speaking again. I wondered what had bothered her with my statement, which seemed to be a relatively harmless platitude. “Well, dear, it’s actually one of your hot dogs that made her ill.”
My mouth dropped open. In all our time in business, we’d never had one complaint about food poisoning – until this wedding where one man had died of poisoning and now another was saying that she’d been made ill by our food. It was hard to believe.
“What happened?” I asked, really wanting to hear this story. I was shocked, but it had a ring of truth to it that made me worry.
“We’d finished eating, and Marie, that’s my sister, she complained of feeling ill. I felt fine, but as the night wore on, she grew sicker and sicker. I could tell that she wasn’t feeling well. She wasn’t like herself at all. Her color went bad, and her lips had an odd shade of blue to them.”
I sat up straight, thinking back to the corpse I’d found in the bathroom. He’d had a bad color and blue lips as well. I was concerned now. Had someone just put poisoned hot dogs out for the guests at the wedding? In that case, it was of no use trying to discern a motive, since the only ones who would suffer would be the unlucky souls who picked those hot dogs. I tried to think of anyone who would benefit from a scheme like that, but I couldn’t. It’s seemed too surreal to comprehend, random poisoning.
Yet that would explain how the poisoner was able to administer the poison. He or she just didn’t care who it went to – as long as someone suffered. I must have looked concerned or upset, because the woman cleared her throat twice.
“Are you okay, dear? You look flushed.” She leaned towards me as we spoke.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied. “What happened then?”
“I had driven us to the wedding so I took my sister to the hospital. They pumped her stomach there and kept her overnight.” She looked pleased with herself for some reason.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” I was still shocked by this news.
The woman shrugged. “We did tell the nurses at the hospital, but – well, we’d eaten so many hot dogs that the nurses put the problem down to quantity and not a food poisoning issue.”
I remembered what Eunice had said about the women eating too much, and now I understood why. Without a tox screen, there’d be no way to tell if the food had been poisoned, and even if the evidence was still available, Land had indicated that cyanide dissipates quickly. I wondered if it would disappear from the food as well as the body, but the answer really was moot without evidence.
“So when did you leave the wedding? Was it towards the beginning or the end of the reception?” I asked, wondering if the sick woman had written on the tablecloth before she’d left. Had the word “help” been a cry for medical assistance? I wondered.
“It was probably about seven pm or so. Most of the event was over, but there were still a number of people there.”
“Was Eunice gone by then?” I asked. The timing was too close for me to make a decisive call on who was there last, and therefore able to write on the tablecloth without being seen.
“I think not, dear. She was flitting around the entire area, so I can’t say for sure, but I was pretty certain that she was still in the area. Is that important?”
I wondered now what had really happened with the tablecloth. Eunice had made it sound as if she’d left earlier, but these women were telling me that they’d left earlier than their tablemate. Eunice would certainly have made a fuss if someone had written on the tablecloth with mustard, or so I thought. I was struggling to learn what had happened. It had seemed so easy, but now it was becoming a convoluted mess.
I decided to level with them. Worst case scenario was that they’d tell someone, but I
“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it’s nothing serious.”
The woman flushed before speaking again. I wondered what had bothered her with my statement, which seemed to be a relatively harmless platitude. “Well, dear, it’s actually one of your hot dogs that made her ill.”
My mouth dropped open. In all our time in business, we’d never had one complaint about food poisoning – until this wedding where one man had died of poisoning and now another was saying that she’d been made ill by our food. It was hard to believe.
“What happened?” I asked, really wanting to hear this story. I was shocked, but it had a ring of truth to it that made me worry.
“We’d finished eating, and Marie, that’s my sister, she complained of feeling ill. I felt fine, but as the night wore on, she grew sicker and sicker. I could tell that she wasn’t feeling well. She wasn’t like herself at all. Her color went bad, and her lips had an odd shade of blue to them.”
I sat up straight, thinking back to the corpse I’d found in the bathroom. He’d had a bad color and blue lips as well. I was concerned now. Had someone just put poisoned hot dogs out for the guests at the wedding? In that case, it was of no use trying to discern a motive, since the only ones who would suffer would be the unlucky souls who picked those hot dogs. I tried to think of anyone who would benefit from a scheme like that, but I couldn’t. It’s seemed too surreal to comprehend, random poisoning.
Yet that would explain how the poisoner was able to administer the poison. He or she just didn’t care who it went to – as long as someone suffered. I must have looked concerned or upset, because the woman cleared her throat twice.
“Are you okay, dear? You look flushed.” She leaned towards me as we spoke.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied. “What happened then?”
“I had driven us to the wedding so I took my sister to the hospital. They pumped her stomach there and kept her overnight.” She looked pleased with herself for some reason.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” I was still shocked by this news.
The woman shrugged. “We did tell the nurses at the hospital, but – well, we’d eaten so many hot dogs that the nurses put the problem down to quantity and not a food poisoning issue.”
I remembered what Eunice had said about the women eating too much, and now I understood why. Without a tox screen, there’d be no way to tell if the food had been poisoned, and even if the evidence was still available, Land had indicated that cyanide dissipates quickly. I wondered if it would disappear from the food as well as the body, but the answer really was moot without evidence.
“So when did you leave the wedding? Was it towards the beginning or the end of the reception?” I asked, wondering if the sick woman had written on the tablecloth before she’d left. Had the word “help” been a cry for medical assistance? I wondered.
“It was probably about seven pm or so. Most of the event was over, but there were still a number of people there.”
“Was Eunice gone by then?” I asked. The timing was too close for me to make a decisive call on who was there last, and therefore able to write on the tablecloth without being seen.
“I think not, dear. She was flitting around the entire area, so I can’t say for sure, but I was pretty certain that she was still in the area. Is that important?”
I wondered now what had really happened with the tablecloth. Eunice had made it sound as if she’d left earlier, but these women were telling me that they’d left earlier than their tablemate. Eunice would certainly have made a fuss if someone had written on the tablecloth with mustard, or so I thought. I was struggling to learn what had happened. It had seemed so easy, but now it was becoming a convoluted mess.
I decided to level with them. Worst case scenario was that they’d tell someone, but I
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