Miguel looked thoughtful. “It happens sometimes when the police are more motivated to figure out what happened. The race was a big deal to have in Charlotte. I’m sure they let Helms and Marsh go all this way with it because the city took a black eye from the publicity.”

“They don’t like it when you mess with one of their own, either,” Delia added.

“I understand if Tina killed Alex and wants you to take the blame for it. She had motive for that,” I told Miguel. “But why would she kill Reggie or the police detective?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she killed any of them.” He glanced at Delia. “I know you disagree, but I’ve known Tina forever. She’s not that kind of person.”

“After all the years you’ve worked as a lawyer, you still don’t get that anybody is capable of anything?” She shook her head at him.

“No. I don’t believe that. Not everyone would be willing to kill to survive,” he argued.

“I can usually get an idea about people,” I added. “They feel good or bad to me. Tina doesn’t feel right. I don’t think she’s bad, but I’m not on her cheer team, either.”

The waitress came back with my drink and took our food orders. We talked about the race and what we might expect in Birmingham. Miguel asked if I had a supply list ready. I absolutely didn’t. All I’d really thought about all morning was him.

I texted Uncle Saul to see if he was in Birmingham yet. He immediately called me back with bad news.

“We have a flat. We can’t change it out here. I’m calling a tow truck. I’ll let you know what happens. See you at the hotel.”

Could anything else go wrong?

I was immediately sorry I’d asked that question. I did what Uncle Saul always did when he was afraid that he’d cursed himself. I rubbed salt into my hands and tossed a few grains over my shoulder.

“What was that for?” Miguel grinned as our greasy cheeseburgers arrived.

“To keep my own stupid thoughts from killing me. Let’s eat and get to Birmingham.”

– – – – – – –

It wasn’t really that far from Atlanta to Birmingham, but it seemed to take forever. I drove like a crazy person after we left the restaurant. The highway had dried, and a watery sun was shining down on us.

I’d hoped to catch up with the Biscuit Bowl, but we weren’t fast enough. Ollie and Uncle Saul had a huge head start. I wasn’t sure how Crème Brûlée was going to take being in a garage as the food truck was being serviced. I hoped whoever had towed us in was fair. Sometimes there was price gouging when you had no alternative.

Most of the extra money that I’d won had gone into the deep fryer. It looked like the rest, plus some, was going into a tire. The Sweet Magnolia Food Truck Race was starting to sound like a losing proposition. What had I gotten myself into?

We were in Alabama, only ten minutes from Birmingham, when Uncle Saul called to let me know that they were at the garage.

“Will the truck need a new tire?” I asked without any pleasantries.

He sighed. “I’m afraid so. But there’s still some of the money you won left. That might take care of it. I’ll be glad to help you out, Zoe. Don’t worry.”

“And how will I pay you back if I don’t win the race?”

“We’ll settle that later. I have some good ideas about biscuit bowls. Let’s think about that while they’re working, okay?”

I had no choice. I asked him about Crème Brûlée. He assured me that my cat was all right. He and Ollie were sitting out under a big magnolia tree, and Ollie had put Crème Brûlée’s bed outside for him.

“We’re fine. You all go on to the hotel and we’ll meet you there. Try not to worry.”

I finally agreed. I knew when we’d started the race that there could be complications with the older Airstream. It had already done well making it to Charlotte and back to Alabama. At least we were getting close to home.

It was hard not to worry. It was something I was really good at even though I tried not to let it show. People thought I didn’t think twice about quitting my job at the bank and buying the restaurant and the food truck. But I’d worried about it for weeks before and after. I just didn’t let it stop me.

I knew I was going to have to do the same thing right now. I was here to finish the race and hopefully win it. It wasn’t time to go home yet. I hadn’t come this far to lose everything.

The hotel in Birmingham was nice. Not as big or elegant as the one in Atlanta, but Birmingham wasn’t Atlanta. I knew the downtown area wouldn’t be as busy tomorrow, either. I just hoped we wouldn’t have thunderstorms.

I wasn’t from Birmingham, but being close to Mobile made me feel more like these were my folks. If I came up with the right food, they’d give me their hearts. I was starting to look forward to the next day—and finding a way to best Our Daily Bread.

We checked in quickly, and I ran upstairs to my room to take a shower. I wanted to be ready for Crème Brûlée and whatever bad news Uncle Saul had for me by the time they got there. I put some extra conditioner in my hair but kept the awful scarf on the bedside table. My curls needed a night of freedom.

By the time Uncle Saul called and said they’d arrived, I was ready. I went downstairs with my big tote bag for Crème Brûlée and greeted them when they pulled into one of the parking spaces designated for the food truck race. I was glad the food trucks were going to be parked outside for the night. I was tired of underground parking.

Ollie and Uncle Saul looked exhausted. I told them both to go upstairs, take a shower, and get some rest. We could always talk about how much the tire cost later. The Biscuit Bowl was where it was supposed to be. We could get ready for tomorrow’s challenge after dinner.

Since I knew Ollie had taken good care of Crème Brûlée during their unscheduled stop, I took a minute to check the back of the food truck. Sometimes I’d found that doing any work on the vehicle caused havoc in the kitchen area. I thought I might as well straighten things up now before we sent Miguel out for supplies.

I was surprised and pleased to find that everything had been tied down and put away so well that nothing had shifted.

I was even more surprised to find Tina Gerard sleeping on the floor.

She woke up, startled, when I walked up to her. “Oh, Zoe. I know what this looks like. I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you to see the police.”

“It looks like you were trying to get out of Atlanta without anyone knowing,” I said.

“That’s exactly what it is. I couldn’t deal with the police again while we were there. I hope Miguel is okay. Did you have to leave him behind?”

“No. He’s here, and he’s fine. But I think he might have some questions for you.”

– – – – – – –

Crème Brûlée wasn’t happy about going into the tote. Lucky for me he wasn’t much of a fighter. He gave me a few dirty looks and howled a little. He tried catching on to the side of the tote with his back legs.

“You don’t want to stay out here by yourself,” I reasoned with him. “We have to sneak you inside. Food will be there, and a nice soft bed. Quit fighting.”

Tina laughed as I tried to get my cat in the bag. “I don’t think he agrees with you.”

I gave him one final shove and he plopped into the bag. “He doesn’t understand. He’ll be fine once I get him inside. I think we’re both ready to go home.”

“I’m sorry I’ve caused you so much trouble,” she apologized as we walked toward the elevator.

“This whole race has been nothing but trouble.” I pressed the up button. “Do you know if the producers did some of this stuff on purpose? Like cutting the power cords and hijacking one of the food trucks?”

“I haven’t really talked to Alex in so long, I wouldn’t know, Zoe.”

“What about your daughter?” We walked into the elevator. “Is she somewhere safe?”

Tina nodded. “She’s with my mother. I don’t think anyone will bother them in Tampa.”