“Should I send her out to sell biscuit bowls?” I asked Ollie when Allison was walking in front of us.

“I don’t think so. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” he said. “I’ll go out. You keep her with you, and keep her busy.”

I took his advice. It was what I’d been thinking, too. We got back to the truck and looked for our menu.

I read the printed card. “Carrot, raisin, and apple compote for the sweet, and barbecue chicken for savory.”

“Who eats carrots for something sweet?” Ollie’s expression said that he didn’t.

“I guess whoever buys our biscuit bowls today.” I set Allison to shredding carrots. It was the only way I could imagine using them for something sweet with apples and raisins.

“I’m sure Bobbie is having the same problem,” I told Ollie.

“I could check and see what Mom is doing,” Allison offered.

“No. That’s okay. Let’s get our stuff ready. Finding out what they’re doing doesn’t really matter.”

Ollie started stewing the apples and raisins. I started making biscuits. At least I knew how many we had to have to win. The barbecue chicken was already cooked. It just needed to be warmed before it went into the biscuit bowl. That was a plus.

“I think the carrot shredder is broken.” My new crew member held up the broken article. “Mom has one. I could go borrow it.”

“We’ll have to do without,” I told her. “There’s no borrowing, remember? You have to do with what you have.”

Was this going to be Allison’s agenda? Was she constantly going to volunteer to go back to her own food truck and annoy me to death?

I tried to be charitable—she was a teenager trapped into working with strangers. Maybe she was nervous. None of us had set out to do it this way, but Uncle Saul and Delia were older. They had the maturity to deal with situations that she might not have.

“This is looking good,” Ollie said of the apple and raisin mixture. “Want me to add some cinnamon?”

“Oh. Let me!” Allison grabbed the cinnamon and dropped the whole container on the floor. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

I wasn’t sure if I believed her or not, but I had no plans to turn her in for refusing to cooperate so I could win the race that way. We could work around her.

I grabbed an extra can of cinnamon from the cabinet above my head. “Use this, Ollie.”

With the first tray of biscuits in the little oven and the fryer getting hot, I made some quick white icing to drizzle over the sweet biscuit bowls. Almost anything tasted good with white icing.

“I have these carrots shredded,” Allison said. “Where do you want me to put them?”

“Let me have them over here,” Ollie said. “What’s that red stuff all over them?”

Allison looked at her hand. “I guess I cut myself. Sorry. I’ll wash off the carrots.”

“I don’t think so,” I intervened. “We’re not using carrots with blood washed off of them. Go and find me a producer’s assistant so we can ask what we should do without the carrots.”

She agreed and ran out of the food truck.

“That’s the last we’ll see of her.” Ollie shook his head. “She’s a devious little thing.”

“We had to expect something from her. She’s working against her mother.”

“We should turn her in.”

“Do you want to win like that?”

He thought about it. “Sure.”

“I don’t want to. We can win on our own.”

I was putting in a new tray of biscuits, wondering how to deal with the problem of not using the carrots, when I felt someone else come into the food truck. With my head down, it was hard to see around Ollie.

I looked up, about to think better of Allison for coming back, but she wasn’t there.

It was Detective Marsh.

“What are you doing here?” I tried to make a quick detour between getting food ready and finding him there with us.

“I think we’ll find the killer here today. This is the end of the food truck race.”

Ollie snorted. “Right. Miguel is conscious. We know what happened. You might as well turn yourself in. Otherwise we’ll call Zoe’s friend in the police department. She’ll know what to do with you.”

I wiped my hands on a towel. “Ollie’s right, Marsh. Everyone knows the truth about you. We’re guessing you were paid to kill Tina. Everything else was to cover that up. You’ll have to leave now. We’re trying to get ready for the race.”

“The race.” He spat back at me. “This whole race thing was a big, stupid mistake. It should have been a perfect setup. Alex was going to pay me Reggie’s money plus two hundred thousand to kill his wife.”

“Reggie? He was supposed to kill Tina?”

“He didn’t know what he was doing. Alex didn’t, either.”

I was tired of hearing his confession, and wondered how we could alert the police. He pulled out a gun. “I need you to get me out of here, Zoe. No one is going to question your food truck leaving. You can come or go as you please. I can’t hang around and wait for the police to catch up with me.”

I carefully considered my next words. “You’re wrong, you know.” I put three biscuits into the deep fryer. “Everyone is going to question us if we leave before the challenge is done. Have you seen the police officers outside the rope in the crowd? We aren’t getting out of here until it’s over.”

He glanced around the kitchen. “Fine. I’ll be your extra team member until we can get out. Don’t think about trying anything. I know how this whole thing works. Where is that other guy who was working in here? Who’s selling the biscuits?”

“I’m selling the biscuits,” Ollie said.

“Okay. You go wait outside until everything is ready.” He jammed the gun in my side. “And don’t tell anyone what’s going on if you want Zoe to live to see her prize.”

“Just take it easy,” Ollie said. “There’s no reason for anyone to get hurt.”

“You’re right. Do what I say, and no one will get hurt.”

Ollie stared at me as though he was trying to devise a plan.

I nodded. “Go ahead. Open the window and I’ll hand out the food.”

“What about the other one?”

“You mean our other team member who had to go to the restroom?” I filled in quickly.

“Zoe! I hear you’ve lost your carrots.” Chef Art walked right into the middle of our mess.

“You’re the other team member?” Marsh looked at him in surprise, probably taking in the white suit that didn’t look much like something anyone would cook in. “Get in here. Ollie, you get out. Keep in mind that Zoe will die before I do if you give me away.”

Ollie agreed and went outside.

“What’s this?” Chef Art asked. “What’s going on? I don’t recall this being part of the challenge. Who are you, sir?”

“I’m the new Biscuit Bowl team member.” Marsh smiled, painfully shoving the gun deeper into my side. “Let’s all get our aprons on and do some cooking, shall we?”

“That’s not my job today. I’m a sponsor. It would look bad. You two sort out your problems. Zoe—win the race.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Marsh told him. “Didn’t you hear what I told the giant? I have a gun in Zoe’s side. You do what I tell you until we can leave. You got it?”

Chef Art put down his cane and took off his jacket. “I think I understand now. What do you need me to do, Zoe?”

I tried to stay calm. Panic wouldn’t help. My heart was racing, and the greasy breakfast I’d eaten was threatening to come up.

“Ollie was going to fill the sweet biscuit bowls.” I forced my tone to sound normal as I pulled up another basket of fried biscuit bowls and put another one down. “I’ll bake biscuits and fry them. Marsh will put the barbecue into the savory biscuit bowls.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” he told me. “I’m the one with the gun, remember?”

“Not putting out any biscuit bowls will give you away,” I snarled. “There are television cameras, producers, and assistants crawling around here like ants on a watermelon. You made Ollie leave. I need your help to get through this.”