A PIZZA THE ACTION

STREET FOOD COZIES, BOOK 4

GRETCHEN ALLEN

SUMMER PRESCOTT BOOKS PUBLISHING

Copyright 2023 Summer Prescott Books

All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication nor any of the information herein may be quoted from, nor reproduced, in any form, including but not limited to: printing, scanning, photocopying, or any other printed, digital, or audio formats, without prior express written consent of the copyright holder.

**This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places of business, or situations past or present, is completely unintentional.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Also by Gretchen Allen

Author’s Note

Contact Gretchen Allen

CHAPTER 1

Billie Halifax sat in her favorite chair in the middle of her small living room. She could hear the wind and the rain pelting the exterior of her tiny house. For the first time since arriving on the small island southwest of the Florida coastline, she wondered how bad of a storm was actually coming her way.

She watched the large Tibetan Mastiff she had inherited after his owner’s unfortunate death, pace up and down the length of her home. Animals have a sixth sense for such things and by the way the dog was acting, Billie was certain something bad was coming. Already, she had learned to leave the barn door that hung between her bedroom and the rest of the house open. Otherwise, the dog would stand in front of it and bark until it was opened.

Billie looked up and glanced at the digital clock on her stove. “It’s two o’clock in the morning, Waffles,” she said to the still pacing dog. “At this point, I say let the storm come and sweep us away!” She stood up and checked the windows once more. Under the parking lot lights that dotted the festival grounds in the middle of Sea Glass Island where she lived and worked, she could see the wind blowing the rain, but the trees were not bending from the pressure of the wind. That had to be a good sign.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said to the dog as he walked past her to the front door where he stopped and whined. “You can’t possibly want to go out there right now. It’s pouring rain.”

Waffles whined once more; this time somehow seeming more pathetic. By the way he was acting, Billie was sure he’d rather be outside in his mansion of a doghouse than inside with her.

“I’m sorry I’m not better at this, buddy,” she said. “You’d think I’d know how to handle things having lived in Florida during culinary school.” In reality, she’d never had any bad weather hit back then, so she had no idea what to expect. She knew from the news that it wasn’t a hurricane, but with how scary it sounded outside, she wasn’t so sure she believed what the weatherman had to say.

The dog passed by her again without comment. “You know what, Waffles?” Billie threw her arms over her head. “You go on and wear a trench in the floor.” She tossed a small throw pillow at the dog when he scampered past her again, missing him by a yard, and trotted off to her bed. She left the dog to his pacing and flopped down, covering her head with her pillow.

Billie tried to ignore the click clack of the dog’s toenails over her wood floor. She forced herself to think of the finer details of the new food truck she expected to be up and ready for its debut over the weekend when a large car show would overtake the festival grounds. Her new truck manager was due to arrive later in the day. Before that, she had plans to travel across the bridge to the mainland with Rhonda Knapp, her late grandmother’s friend, where she would see the redesigned panel truck for the first time since the specialized wood fired brick oven had been installed. Nolan Wiggins, the man hired to remodel all of the food trucks, had told her the truck had to be sent out for the specialty installation. Billie hardly wanted to wait until the pizza truck arrived back on the island to see it.

No matter how hard she tried to distract herself to sleep, the dog’s constant walking and whining at the front door kept her from succumbing. “Fine!” She threw back the covers and pitched her pillow to the side. “I’ve had enough of this, Waffles!” She almost fell when she jumped out of her bed and stomped out of her room.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She walked to the front door and sucked in a breath, not wanting to open it. Before she knew it, Waffles was by her side with his nose pressed against the door. He trotted in place and looked back at her. She sighed and opened the door.

Waffles dashed outside and ran in circles a few times before racing toward his dog house. Billie couldn’t believe how his mood had changed. She gazed at him for a bit longer, the rain and wind pelting her entire body. His house really was a mini mansion. After Travis’s death, she’d learned that none of his other relatives or friends were willing or able to take Waffles on, so she had gone over a hundred miles inland to find a massive dog house for him, complete with lights and a working heater.

Once she was satisfied that Waffles was okay, Billie shut the door. As soon as she took a step, her feet flew out from under her. She landed in a puddle of rain water that had blown in while the door was open.

“One point to Waffles.” She pulled herself up with the help of the kitchen counter, grabbed a towel and threw it over the water, then mopped it up with her foot. Muttering as she went, Billie headed for her bedroom to peel off her now soaked clothing. She pulled on a tank top from her drawer along with some exercise shorts and climbed back under her warm blankets. Her hair and her skin were both damp, but she decided to hunker down under the covers and hope that she could fall asleep in spite of it.

Half an hour later, the covers had warmed her up enough that she began to fall into a deep sleep, at long last. But her victory was short-lived. The sudden, sharp knocking on her front door was just about enough to send her over the edge. Billie groaned and pushed the barn door open so hard it bounced off of the wall. She stomped across the floor and peeked out the narrow window.

She yanked the front door open and stood there, heaving in anger. “What?” she demanded.

Asher Scanlan. He owned the other half of the festival grounds and the large commissary kitchen she worked out of in the middle of the grounds. His job amounted to managing the grounds, the building, and scheduling the many events that took place year round.

Billie’s was to launch the dozen trucks that had been left to her by her late grandmother Adeline Lynch, along with half of everything else, into a fleet of thriving food trucks. Soon, the fourth in the fleet would be ready for her inspection, which was why she needed an actual full night of sleep. Instead, she was standing at her front door at three in the morning with her angry business partner and neighbor staring back at her like she had two heads.

“I, um, your dog.” Asher cleared his throat. Billie was puzzled by his response to her question. Since she’d been on the island, she had become quite familiar with him. They had fought and flirted, and even shared a kiss or two in front of a romantic sunset. Nothing too earth-shattering, but the awkward first meeting stage had certainly been in the rear view mirror for some time.

“What about my dog?” Billie challenged; despite the dog’s high-pitched, playful bark she could clearly hear in the background.

“He’s uh, he’s keeping me awake,” Asher said. He looked over her shoulder at the inside of the tiny house kitchen, and then to the side where the dog was sitting outside of his mini dog mansion, and finally at his own feet. “He seems to be having a party outside and it’s kinda loud.”

“I know. I’m sorry. He was pacing and making all kinds of noise earlier to be let outside. I don’t know why he wants to be out there. I guess I’ve got a dog who loves the rain or something.” She threw her arms up over her head and turned halfway around, catching her reflection in the front of her stainless steel refrigerator for the first time, completely forgetting the fact that she had gone to bed in a small tank top and her shorts that never saw the light of day. She turned back to Asher, red faced. “Oh, my gosh,” she said, practically launching herself toward the small sofa for a blanket. She picked up the soft fleece throw she liked to snuggle with after work and wrapped it around her body.

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Asher grinned. “As a matter of fact…”

Billie felt the anger swirling around in her middle mix with her abject embarrassment and come shooting out of her mouth right at him. “As a matter of fact, you can turn yourself around and head straight back to your own house right now, and never you mind the noise my dog is making,” she spat at him. “The only thing I can tell you is if you don’t want to hear a dog in the middle of the night, go rent one of those condos on the other side of the island where they don’t allow pets or kids or anything else worthwhile!”

Asher continued to grin in such a way that tempted Billie to ball up her fist and land it square on his nose. “You weren’t quite this feisty three weeks ago when we had margaritas under the moonlight,” he said.

“Go,” Billie said. She reached out one arm and pushed him by the shoulder down the steps. One side of her blanket fell down off of her shoulder, exposing her thin tank top and bare legs again.

“Okay, I’ll go under one condition.” Asher smirked. “You wear that the next time we go out to the beach.” The rest of his words were muffled behind the front door after Billie slammed it shut.

“For the love of Pete,” she said when she locked the door and turned back to her living room, borrowing one of the phrases she had heard from her friend Rhonda. What would Rhonda have to say to her, standing there opening the front door to a man, dressed like that? Or, rather, undressed like that. She closed her eyes and sighed heavily, knowing full well that it would be a good six months before Asher would ever let her forget about it.

Billie removed the throw blanket from her shoulders and headed back to her bed. On the way, it dawned on her that the dog had stopped his noise. She tiptoed over to the window and peeked in on him.

A small light glowed from inside the dog house. All she could see of the large fluffy dog was his tail wagging contentedly outside of the door. The rest of him was safe and sound inside the dog house. No doubt he would be a wet, smelly mess in the morning, but at least he was happy. Quiet and happy.

CHAPTER 2

“I need coffee like I need air this morning,” Billie announced when she entered the commissary kitchen a few hours later. She rolled out of bed before seven, showered and dressed quickly, then headed into work. The activities of the night before had managed to nearly slip her mind. “Good morning, Rhonda,” she said when she spotted the older woman waiting for her outside of her office.

“My, aren’t we chipper this morning?” Rhonda said. “I figured the rain would have kept you up all night like it did me. Why don’t you fix a cup of that gourmet stuff Asher keeps on hand for the both of us. We can fuel up before we have to head onto the mainland to see about your new pizza truck.”

“Asher, that man is something else,” she said and made her way toward the kitchen where the coffee was. As she walked, memories of the night before began to slowly land in her head. By the time she entered the expansive area in the center of the large building, the memories hit her full force.

“What is the matter with you?” Rhonda asked her. She placed a concerned hand on her shoulder. “You just went from peppy and perky to red-faced and looking like you’re about to throw up.”

“Oh, my gosh,” Billie said. Her hands went to her face when Asher stepped in front of them.

“Good morning to you, ladies. I have to say, it’s very nice to see you this morning. I haven’t seen enough of you lately.” He winked at Billie.

“Oh, gosh,” Billie muttered. “Maybe we could just leave and get some coffee on the mainland.”

“Nonsense,” Rhonda declared. “Asher Scanlan! Aren’t you going to offer two ladies a cup of coffee this morning?”

Asher crossed his arms over his chest. “Why, of course I have coffee for two beautiful women like you,” he said. “You wouldn’t go accusing me of being anything less than gallant, would you? I was just going back to my office to retrieve my cell phone so I can join the two of you.”

Billie rolled her eyes. “You don’t even drink coffee.”

“Yes, well.” He grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “I just thought it would be nice to spend time with you both this morning. Is there some reason you don’t want that?”

For the second time in a matter of hours, Billie wanted to commit an act of violence toward him. She looked past Asher to Marcel Johnson, the manager at her food truck, Taco the Town.

“Good morning!” she called to him, waving him over.

“Good morning,” Marcel said as he approached the group. “Did I hear someone mention coffee?”

“You better believe it, Marcel, old buddy.” Asher continued to grin. He threw an arm around the chef’s shoulders. “I haven’t seen enough of you lately. I see a lot of Billie around here, though.”

Marcel looked at him. “Are you insinuating that I don’t put in enough hours, because I can…”

“Asher, stop it,” Billie hissed under her breath. Marcel simply stared at them as he was led to the seating area in front of the kitchens.

“Oh, now Billie,” Asher said with mock concern. “We’re all just a part of the same great big old family, aren’t we? Sometimes we don’t see quite enough of each other. Other times, we see way too much.”

“Coffee!” Billie shouted so suddenly Rhonda startled next to her. “I thought you were going to serve us that gourmet blend you think so highly of.”

Asher stared dead on at her and exhaled slowly. “Coming right up, my dear,” he said. Billie took a seat next to Rhonda and waited while Asher prepared three mugs and added creamer to a serving tray.

“So, Marcel,” Rhonda began. “How goes the taco truck? You’re sure busy every time I step out of the community center to gaze at the boardwalk. If you ask me, I think you work plenty of hours.”

Marcel nodded. “I have been very busy lately,” he said. “Seems like the taco truck has caught on in a big way. That’s one reason I’m here this morning. I hope to do some major prep work so I can get through the day a little better than I did yesterday.”

“Why don’t you hire some help?” Rhonda asked him. “What do you call an assistant chef? You know, like Dillon has in the barbecue truck.”

Billie nodded. “We can certainly afford to hire a sous chef for you, Marcel. I know we discussed it before, but now is a great time. Why don’t you see about putting an ad in the local paper and the mainland papers as well?”

“Don’t you want to go through your grandmother’s lawyer, Alex Regent? Shouldn’t this sous chef person be from the same culinary school your other managers have come from?” Rhonda asked. She was aware of some of the requirements that had come with Billie’s inheritance.

“Dillon’s assistant was a cop here,” Asher pointed out. “Do you have to hire from the school if they aren’t managers?”

Billie shook her head. She refused to look directly at Asher, but she was grateful for the shift in the conversation. “Not necessarily,” she said. “I’ll consult with Alex later today anyway, but I think we can go ahead and start our search here locally.” She consulted with Alex often enough, but she didn’t think it was necessary to run every decision past him.

After everyone finished their coffee, Billie collected the empty mugs and hurried to load one of the smaller dishwashers before she left with Rhonda.

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about with Asher, or do I have to keep guessing?” Rhonda asked when they pulled out of the parking lot a few minutes later.

“I would really rather not get into it,” Billie said, covering her face again.

“Now you have to tell me,” Rhonda said. “I haven’t seen that shade of red on a human being in forever. Come on. Spill it.”

Billie shook her head and closed her eyes before she spoke. “Waffles was making a huge fuss last night and Asher pounded on my door complaining about it,” she said.

“What’s so strange about that?” Rhonda asked. She drove skillfully around the winding shore road toward the bridge Billie so loved to hate.

“Knocking on my door wasn’t the problem, it’s what I was wearing when I answered it,” Billie said.

Rhonda looked at her sideways. “Please tell me you were not sleeping in the buff, Billie Halifax,” she said.

“In the buff? Stop!”

This time it was Rhonda who blushed slightly. “So, you weren’t in the nude.”

“Nothing that horrible.” She sighed, not eager to share the sordid details. “I usually have a t-shirt and pajama bottoms on, but they got soaked from the rain when I brought Waffles outside. Actually, there was a puddle of water and I fell in it.”

“And that’s why Asher was making those obvious comments to you just now?” Rhonda asked. “Because he saw you slip?”

Billie shook her head. “No, it’s because of that I peeled off my pajamas and put on a tank top and...”

“Oh no, Billie! Were you wearing your underpants?”

Billie turned sideways and gawked at Rhonda. “First of all, I cannot believe you just called them underpants and second, this is insane. We can’t keep talking about this or I’m going to die of embarrassment.”

Rhonda began to snicker quietly to herself. “You answered the door for that young man in just your underpants and a tank top? No wonder he looked like his eyes were going to bulge out of his head.”

“I had shorts on, but I really don’t want to talk about this any longer,” Billie said. She folded her arms and sank down into her seat.

“You can stop pouting,” Rhonda teased her. “I’ll drop the subject, but you should know I don’t think that picture is going to leave Asher’s head any time soon.”

“I know, I know,” Billie said. “That’s why I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I thought the two of you were dating a few weeks ago,” Rhonda said.

“We had a date a few weeks ago,” Billie corrected. “That’s why this is so awful, Rhonda. I realized how much I wanted him to ask me out again, and then this happened.”

“I don’t think what happened last night is going to hurt your chances of him asking you out again.” Rhonda cackled.

Billie said nothing more as they drove toward the main part of the city. She pushed the thoughts of her late night encounter out of her mind and concentrated on the day ahead. The excitement of meeting Nolan Wiggins at a fabrication shop on the mainland to view the new pizza truck had her reeling.

When they first discussed the truck, Billie floated the idea of installing a wood burning brick oven inside. After a lot of research, she convinced Nolan that it was not only possible, but that there were ovens made specifically for mobile use. Despite that, she was not ready for what she saw. Rhonda stopped her car just outside of the garage where the truck was parked. The work from the fabrication crew was done. She had not seen the truck since Nolan had come to the festival grounds to drive it back to his garage on Sea Glass Island. When he left, the truck was still in the same shape as the rest of the fleet waiting for their turn to shine.

The first thing that caught her eye was the sleek, dark blue paint job on the outside of the truck. The paint was shiny enough that she could have walked up and checked her makeup in her reflection on the side panel. The truck was slightly longer than the rest of the fleet. Nolan and the fabrication crew had created an open section on the back of the truck, something like an open deck with a metal roof over the top of it.

“This is… I can’t even find the words,” Billie said.

“I hope that means you’re impressed.” Nolan beamed.

“Impressed? I am absolutely blown away by the way this looks,” Billie said. She walked around the deck at the end. The large serving window was down and the awning above it had been rolled out. She could see the mushroom-shaped wood oven in the back.

“I can’t get over how bright the oven is,” Rhonda said. “Who decided on fire engine red? And where are the bricks?”

“The color was my idea,” Nolan said with a smile. “I thought the bright red looked good with the dark paint on the outside and the chrome inside. The bricks are inside the oven, by the way. That’s what makes it a brick oven, not the outside of the oven.”

“Got it,” Rhonda said. “What’s the deck on the back supposed to be for? A seating area? It’s not very big.”

“Actually, the small seating area is for the food truck crew,” Nolan said. “And the rest of the space is for stacking wood.”

“Why is there a seating area back there for the crew and not the customers?” Rhonda asked. Billie was content to walk around the inside of the truck as they talked.

“Well, because it’s going to get pretty hot in there, especially when the weather outside is warm,” Nolan said. “If you’ll notice, I made a door in the back of the truck that leads to the deck. It’s no accident that the oven is right there, too.”

“So they can keep the door open and vent some of the heat?” Rhonda asked.

“Exactly,” Nolan said. “And also, so the wood is handy for them when things are really busy.”

“Have you met your new manager yet?” Nolan turned his attention to Billie as she stepped down out of the truck.

Billie shook her head. “She’s due later today,” she said.

“Oh, so it’s a she?” Rhonda said. “I wondered if you were going with another guy.”

“I’m going with the most qualified,” Billie said. “And trust me, this one is that and a whole lot more. She grew up in her parents’ Neapolitan pizza restaurant. She’s a little younger than I am and went to business school before she went to culinary school.”

“Seems like she has her life planned out pretty well,” Nolan said. “Anyway, I hope she likes the set up in there.”

“I don’t know why she wouldn’t,” Billie said. “You’ve got it set up like an actual pizza joint with the ingredient station and the dough making area.”

“The pizzas are really going to be made inside the food truck?” Rhonda asked.

Billie nodded. “Everything will be made from start to finish in this truck,” she said.

“Then you won’t need the commissary kitchen for this one, I suppose,” Rhonda said.

“Actually, the manager, Isa, will use it for some of her prep work, and maybe for some dough so she can start out ready to go first thing. The thing about Neapolitan pizza is the time it’s in the brick oven. It doesn’t take long once it goes in, but it does take a little bit to prepare it and the pizza toppings.”

“Did you happen to see the warming drawers I added for the pizza dough?” Nolan asked.

Billie smiled. “I did,” she said. “I don’t know, Nolan. I think you’ve out done yourself with this one.”

“Do you like the font on the side panels with the name?” he asked.

“Are you just hunting for compliments?” Rhonda asked him. “And who thought up ‘Pizza Peddler?’”

“Billie came up with the name and no, I am not looking for compliments, you old bat,” Nolan shot back at Rhonda. “I just want to be sure this one meets her expectations. It’s a little different from the others.”

“Hush, you old codger,” Rhonda teased her long-time friend. “I’d say you went beyond her expectations.”

Rhonda joined Billie inside the truck then. Billie couldn’t stop gazing at the buffet type table Nolan had built into the counters for the ingredients. “I can’t believe you got that large of a fridge in here,” she said.

“This one isn’t going to be easy on the gas mileage,” Nolan replied. “There’s a lot of weight back there to haul.”

“It’s just perfect,” Billie said. She walked up and down the space between the prep counter and the serving area several more times.

“Uh, is this the new food truck meant for the island?” A young woman approached them in the parking lot. Billie couldn’t see much of her face behind her round sunglasses. Her dark hair bounced in ringlets around her face. She was dressed in a leopard print shirt tucked into tight leather pants. For a moment, Billie thought she was looking at a dark-haired Marilyn Monroe impersonator. She stepped out of the truck and approached the young woman.

“Are you Isa?” she asked.

The woman removed her sunglasses, revealing flawless alabaster skin and deep blue eyes. “I am. Isa Carello, at your service,” she said and extended her hand.

“Billie Halifax. And this is my good friend Rhonda Knapp,” Billie said, shaking her hand. “And that over there is the maker and designer of all of our food trucks, Nolan Wiggins.”

“The hero of the hour, it seems,” Isa said. She smiled amiably at the older man and turned back to Billie.

“Do you mind if I climb aboard? I would like to take a look for myself.”

“Help yourself,” Billie said. “I planned to let you have all the time you wanted in it the rest of the day anyway.”

Isa nodded. “I love the exterior already,” she said. “I had my Uber driver drop me off here. Mr. Regent told me where I could find the truck. I decided to take a look at it before I’m due to meet with you on the island. I hope that’s okay.”

“It better be, since you’re already here,” Rhonda said.

Billie smiled at her motherly protection, but nodded quickly to Isa. “Of course it is,” she said.

“Good. You’ll learn that I am more of an ‘ask for forgiveness’ type of person than an ‘ask for permission type,’” Isa said. Her tone was matter of fact and diplomatic.

“Noted,” Billie said, remembering Dillon had said the very same thing when he first started. She looked around behind the younger woman. “Do you have any luggage? Can we help you find a ride to the island?”

“I sent my things ahead to the apartment I rented,” Isa said. She had the mannerisms of a smart, New York socialite from a movie set in the 1950s.

“If you want to, you can ride back with me,” Nolan said. “One of the guys from the welding shop volunteered to drive the food truck over for me.”

“I can drive the truck myself, if you’d like,” Isa volunteered. “Besides, if I’m going to manage this truck I better get used to handling it. And before you ask, I have driven a box delivery truck for years. I worked for a delivery company all through business school.”

Billie smiled. “I guess we can all head back together,” she said.

Rhonda sighed. “You’re lucky your grandmother was my friend,” she said. “You sure run back and forth a lot.”

Isa studied the older woman. “I thought you were one of the other managers,” she admitted. “Enid? I assumed you worked for Billie.”

“Oh, I do work for Billie, just in a voluntary support role,” she said. “Billie won’t drive over the bridge on her own.”

“Yeah, she had her own car towed onto the island,” Nolan chuckled.

“Hey, you two,” Billie said. “Lay off!”

Isa stared at the trio for a moment, then broke into a wide grin. She was even more gorgeous when she was smiling, Billie decided. “I think I’m gonna like working with you,” she said. “You remind me a lot of working with my own crazy family.”

CHAPTER 3

Billie was quiet while they drove back from the mainland, but Rhonda chatted lightly about Isa. She wondered all sorts of things out loud, like how long she would stick around on the island as beautiful as she was. She also questioned if she might be Audrey Hepburn reincarnated.

“I think she’s a cross between Audrey and Marilyn Monroe,” Billie spoke up at last. They pulled back into the festival grounds. Billie was surprised to see a number of classic car owners had arrived and were beginning to set up for the large weekend show that was set to begin soon.

“Looks like the car people are already here,” Rhonda said.

“Yeah, looks like it,” Billie said. She wasn’t entirely pleased to see the number of people already setting up. After the night she had endured with Waffles, she had hoped for one night to catch up on her sleep. Rhonda parked her car and waited while Billie got out. “By the way, you should come back here a little while later when Isa prepares her food for Asher and me.”

“Text me ahead of time and I’ll be here,” Rhonda said. She hesitated, then tapped her steering wheel. “Just be sure you face that young man, Billie. There’s something between the two of you. Any fool can see it.” She smiled and backed up her car, then headed out of the parking lot. Billie sighed and turned to go into the commissary kitchen. Might as well square up her shoulders and face the music, she thought.

She entered the building on the side farthest from her office and could hear Asher moving around somewhere in one of the kitchen areas. She forced herself to smile and headed down the hallway.

“You’re back,” Asher said when he spotted her.

“We just got back from the mainland,” Billie said. “Nolan had me come and look at the oven he had installed in the pizza truck. Oh, and the new truck manager is on her way here in the truck.”

“On ‘her’ way? So, your new food truck manager is a woman?” Asher asked. His face betrayed no emotion.

“Does it matter?” Billie asked him.

Asher nodded his head, surprising Billie. “It does matter to me,” he said. “I cringe each time some new guy comes around.”

“Is that right?” she asked. “Jealousy is kind of annoying, you know.”

“I’m not jealous, but I’ll admit that I want to be the only one you surprise at the front door in the middle of the night,” he said.

Billie looked down at the floor and blushed. “You do know that wasn’t in any way deliberate,” she said.

Asher nodded his head. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “But I also know there is something between the two of us, Billie. And I want to pursue that. There. I said it. I want to pursue whatever this is.”

“Okay,” Billie said. She looked up at him for the first time. He stood just ten feet from her. His arms hung at his side, not crossed defensively over his chest like earlier in the day. His eyes reflected an openness, almost sadness. Billie walked toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She gazed at him and smiled when she felt his arms circle her waist.

The door on the other side of the large building swung open and sunlight spilled inside. “Hey, everyone,” Nolan Wiggins called out. “We’re here! Billie? Come on out!”

Asher hung his head. For a moment, he pressed it into her forehead and sighed. “Rain check?” he asked.

“You better believe it,” Billie replied. She dropped her arms to her side and walked around Asher and headed to the open door where Nolan stood. He followed her toward the exit where Nolan was waiting.

Billie walked past the older man who held the door open for her. “What’s going on?” she asked. She was quickly silenced when Nolan pointed to the pizza truck, driven by Isa, that was parked in the middle of a large group of people.

“All of these people are super excited to try wood fired pizza from your brand new truck.” Nolan grinned.

“Is she okay in there?” Asher asked, pointing to Isa.

“I think she’s having the time of her life, to be honest with you,” Nolan said.

“Who are all of these people?” Asher asked.

“I think they’re the folks that decided to come a little early for the car show,” Billie said. “I need to get over there and check on her.” She patted Nolan in the arm and headed into the crowd, which was now about seven or eight people deep.

“Pardon me. Excuse me,” she said as she made her way through the throng of people. She approached the serving window and knocked. “Isa? Are you alright in there?”

Isa pushed the window up and smiled. “Is there any chance you already have the ingredients I requested in the commissary kitchen?” she asked.

“Yeah, everything is in there,” Billie said. “Weren’t you planning to make a sampling of your best dishes today?”

“I was,” Isa said, looking around. “But what if we park this truck where you intended for it to be during the car show and fire up the oven? We could actually test the product on the crowd itself.”

“But you don’t have any prep done,” Billie said. “Are you sure you want to start out this way? You might be overwhelmed pretty quickly.”

Isa rolled her eyes slightly. “Clearly you have never been called home from school in the tenth grade because your whole family got sick and you were the only one left to run the restaurant,” she said. “If I can handle the dinner rush in the middle of Brooklyn with no prep work, I can handle this.”

“We’ll pitch in and help out,” Asher offered. Billie was aware of his presence behind her for the first time. “Won’t we?” She could feel his hands on her waist.

Billie smiled. “Of course we will,” she said with a grin. “Why don’t I have Asher show you where to park while I address the crowd?”

“Okay,” Isa said. “Tell them, two hours. All I need is two hours and the first pizzas will be ready.”

Asher hopped up into the food truck while Billie stood at the front. “Excuse me, ladies and gentleman,” she said. “Hello? Can I please have your attention?” She clapped her hands and tried everything to capture the attention of the group of people gathered around the food truck. She walked around close to the group. A few people glanced at her, but she was unable get them to all to focus on her.

Nolan approached the group and placed two fingers in his mouth and uttered a loud, shrill whistle. Immediately, the crowd turned toward him and hushed. “If y’all will listen up, we have an announcement for you about the pizza truck.” He pointed to Billie and turned around to step back on the sidewalk.

“Okay, everyone,” Billie began. “First of all, welcome to the Sea Glass Island Festival Grounds, even if it is a day early for the car show.” Laughter rippled over the crowd. “For those of you who don’t know, this is the maiden voyage of the ‘Pizza Peddler,’ our pizza truck featuring a wood fired brick oven. We have just now moved the truck to the grounds, and although it was not on our agenda for the day, if you all can be patient for two hours while we make some preparations, my food truck manager informs me that she will be ready to begin serving pizza.”

The crowd clapped and whistled, and a few people cheered with their arms over their heads. One at a time they moved away from the truck and began to walk back to the slots where their classic cars were parked. Billie turned back to the commissary kitchen and headed straight for the pantry behind the kitchen areas. She pulled the ingredients together quickly on a wheeled cart and then headed for the kitchen.

Each of the cooking areas were empty at the moment. Billie selected the space in the middle and began to unload the items onto the counters. She set the fresh green peppers, red onions, white mushrooms, whole garlic, and Roma tomatoes in a group close to the stove. She wondered how the pizza truck would be ready when Isa planned to make her sauce from scratch.

She ignored her questions and set the high protein flour on the counter next, along with the various seasonings and spices, as well as the fast acting yeast Isa had requested.

Finally, she unloaded the meats: pepperoni, fennel sausage, salami, and pancetta. She placed several pounds of fresh mozzarella and other cheeses inside one of the fridges and then replaced the cart in the storage room across from the pantry.

Isa breezed into the commissary kitchen area then and stopped to look around. “This place is huge,” she said. “Much larger than the photos. The pictures don’t do it justice.”

“What can we do to help you get ready?” Billie asked. Asher walked back inside then and joined her.

Isa stopped and surveyed the food laid out on the counter. She checked her watch and narrowed her eyes for a moment. “I can handle the pizzas,” she said at last. “But if the two of you would see to the construction of a simple salad, I would appreciate it. I almost prefer a Greek salad with my pizzas.”

“So, fresh greens, cucumbers, feta cheese, and kalamata olives?” Asher asked.

Isa smiled and snapped her fingers. “Sounds perfect,” she said. “I’ll prepare dough for breadsticks, too.”

“What can we do to help?” Nolan asked. Rhonda appeared next to him.

“I thought you went home,” Billie said, surprised to see Rhonda.

“I was going to, but I turned around and came back when Nolan called to tell me what was going on. I thought I might be able to help.” Rhonda grinned. “That and I didn’t want to miss out on the gourmet meal you promised me.”

“If the two of you could feed the fire in the brick oven while I work,” Isa said to them. “That would be the most helpful.”

Billie returned to one of the large coolers and retrieved several pounds of greens and the other ingredients for the salads.

“Do you need some help?” Asher asked from outside of the cooler.

“Yeah, I have to find a container for these salads,” Billie said. “I don’t think Isa thought about them, and I don’t have anything on order.”

Asher nodded and entered the kitchen area a few minutes later with a stack of clear plastic clamshell containers. They quickly set up an assembly line and put together the salads. Billie looked up several times to watch Isa as she worked on the other side of the room.

Two hours later, she walked alongside Asher through the crowd waiting outside the food truck once again. The aroma of burning wood filled the air outside. Billie watched as the first customers lined up in front of the food truck for their own gourmet pizzas.

“This is incredible,” Asher said when they moved closer. “She got the entire thing ready in just under two hours.”

“How’s it going?” Billie called up to Isa from outside the serving window when they moved closer.

“Oh, it’s just terrific,” Isa practically sang. She moved around with the energy of a small child. “Come on up!”

Asher and Billie moved around to the back of the food truck and stepped onto the small deck. Billie chose to go around the backside of the truck because she wanted to discourage any impatient customers from trying to enter from the deck. She pushed the small door open and was hit by a wave of heat from the brick oven.

“Wow,” she said when she moved further into the truck. “That sure heats up fast.”

“It does, but you get used to it,” Isa called. She reached around Billie for a spoonful of black olives.

“How are you doing this without a menu?” Asher asked.

“Simplicity,” Isa said as she worked. “Right now, I’m using one size crust and a handful of toppings I can rattle off the top of my head. I will offer more tomorrow and the following days, but for now, this works.”

“I would say it works,” Billie said. She could hardly contain her enthusiasm for both the addition of the truck itself to her fleet and the manager handpicked by Alex Regent himself. “Nolan will be along first thing in the morning to add the signage for the menu.”

“That’s wonderful,” Isa said. “Does he know what we want on it?”

“It’s a flatscreen,” Asher offered. “We have the software to program the menu.”

Isa smiled and sailed around them. Her system was almost impeccable. She wrote a few notes down from the order window, then turned to the counter behind her to assemble the pizza and the ingredients. Within minutes, the pizza was under the heat and back out again.

“Any chance I could use the commissary kitchen tonight?” Isa asked while placing a pizza inside a plain, brown serving box. “Typically, authentic dough needs a day to proof before use. I know a few shortcuts to make things happen sooner, which is what I did today, but I want to offer the real deal when we officially debut.”

Asher glanced at Billie and nodded. “Sure,” he said. “Absolutely. You can use the kitchen all night if you need to.”

“Are you going to need an extra set of hands?” Billie asked.

Isa stopped and looked around for a moment. “No, I think I can handle it,” she said. “As long as you have the ingredients I asked for on hand, we should be ready to go tomorrow at about eleven.”

“I think we better get out of your way,” Asher announced. “It sure seems like you’ve got this handled.”

Isa flashed her Hollywood smile at them and nodded. “If you could bring a few more salads out, that would be great,” she said, both thanking them and dismissing them at the same time. “I think there are five left in there.”

“On it,” Billie said. She glanced around the kitchen one more time and headed back out. “We will be back in a few minutes with the rest of the salads.”

Asher followed her out the door and down the steps from the deck. They walked close together across the festival ground toward the kitchen building. When they were free of the crowd, Asher reached for her hand and held it as they walked.

CHAPTER 4

Billie reached for the last salad from the cooler and set it on the small cart. She scolded herself for not purchasing another wagon after Enid took over the use of the one she’d been using. “There is no way that’s going to make it across the sand to the truck,” she said to Asher when he appeared from behind.

“I might have a solution,” he said and disappeared again. He returned a second later with a wagon of sorts. But unlike a child’s toy, this wagon had thick mesh metal sides. The tires looked worthy of a cross-country trek.

“What is that?” Billie asked.

“It was in the utility closet,” he said by way of explanation. “Works for me.”

“Me, too,” Billie said. She began removing the salads from the cart and handing them over to Asher. He piled them on the floor of the wagon.

A few minutes later, Billie pulled the wagon through the hallway and out the door. She jumped a little when another classic muscle car drove around the parking lot. The owner revved the motor slightly. He caught a glimpse of her and chuckled when she was startled.

“These classic car guys are a different breed,” she said to Asher when he caught up with her.

“Yeah, you can say that again,” he said. They walked together across the festival grounds until they could see the pizza truck again.

“Hey, look,” Asher said, pointing to the front of the truck. “Looks like your other managers have met the newest member of the family.”

It was true. Billie smiled when she spotted the taco truck manager Marcel Johnson standing next to Dillon Frazier, her barbecue truck chef, and Enid Greene, the artistic manager of the mousse truck gathered in front of the serving window.

“Looks like the gang’s all here,” she said when she approached. Asher quietly took the wagon handle from her hand and moved around the back of the food truck.

“Except for a certain sous chef, we are,” Dillon said. He explained that his assistant was off doing other things while she had time to herself.

“Well, how’s it going?” Billie looked up at Isa.

“It’s slowing down a bit, but there are a few stragglers coming around here and there,” Isa said. Asher appeared behind her with an armful of the salads they had just brought in. He opened the large fridge door and began stacking the salads inside.

“I’m going to show up early and help out in the morning,” Enid announced. She pointed up at the serving window. “This crazy Italian said she’ll allow me in her kitchen if I work hard enough.”

Isa laughed. “As long as you’re sure you won’t be needed in your own truck, I welcome the extra set of hands.”

“I don’t think a classic car show is quite the venue for a bakery mousse truck.” Enid laughed. “I’m more than happy to help out.”

“Are you still serving?” an older man called out a few feet away from where they all stood together.

“We are,” Isa answered with a grin. “Do you know what you want?”

“Give me a second,” he said, looking around. “My lady will be along in a moment. She’s the one who’s big on these artisan pizzas.”

The man stood well over six feet tall, and she guessed him to be somewhere north of sixty-five. His face was tanned but not terribly wrinkled and he sported a full head of thick, white hair with a goatee to match. For an older man, he was what Billie would consider quite handsome. She wondered which of the classic cars belonged to him.

It was no surprise to her when “his lady” joined him in line at last. At first glance, Billie wondered if had actually meant his daughter rather than his significant other. She might have been either, until she found her way to him. Immediately the tall blonde wrapped her arms around his neck and began nuzzling into his neck. Even from ten feet away, Billie could hear the woman simpering at him.

After several very uncomfortable moments, the couple stepped closer to the ordering window. “I can’t see a menu, baby,” the blonde said to the older man.

He cleared his throat and nodded toward Isa. “Is there a reason I don’t see a menu anywhere?” he asked.

“We just opened,” Isa said. “Actually, we weren’t supposed to even open until tomorrow.”

“I don’t care about your excuses,” the man said. Billie was shocked at his terse reply. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that this is your first day, too.”

Isa nodded her head. “Like I said, this truck has only been open for a couple of hours.”

“Maybe I can help you,” Billie said. She moved around the others and stood just a few feet from the couple.

“And who are you?” he asked.

“I’m the owner, actually,” she said. “And my manager here is correct, sir. We had no plans to open tonight. The menu will be affixed after the truck is shut down for the night but given the demand from the early crowd here for the car show, my manager thought it would be something of a service to open the truck up and prepare food for them. You might have noticed that she has not taken a single dime for any of the pizzas she has served.”

“So, it’s free?” the blonde asked. “Oh, baby! If it’s free, let’s get lots of pizzas.”

“No, no,” the man said. He held the palm of his hand up to her. “We’ll take one pizza. There will be no taking advantage of this situation.”

Isa let out her breath and smiled. “Tell me what you like, and I’ll get something going for you. We also have a few side salads available.” She rattled off the available ingredients and wrote the man’s order down.

“Why can’t we get more than one, baby?” the blonde asked. “It would make me happy, and you know what I’m like when I’m happy.” She sang the words when she spoke. Two fingers crawled up the middle of his chest and her waist-length hair swung around. Billie felt the sudden need to vomit.

“I can double the recipe for you, sir,” Isa offered.

“Oh, that would be so nice,” the man said. “I’m going to run to the little boy’s room. I will be right back.” He trotted off toward the outdoor restrooms.

The blonde stood in the middle of the line, looking over her phone as he left. As soon as he was out of sight, she stood up straight as a board and smoothed her hair back with one hand. “Hey, you, ma’am,” she said, snapping her fingers at the window.

“Yes?” Isa turned back from the prep counter and addressed the woman.

“You better listen to me,” she said. “If you get any ideas toward my man, I want you to remember that he is all mine. You got it? I’m not even joking with you right now.”

Isa cleared her throat, Billie noted the left side of her mouth twinge, as if she was fighting back a smile. “I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.

“Yes, you do.” She looked back toward the restrooms and then refocused her attention on Isa. “You’re a looker, I’ll give you that, but you’re also a terrible flirt. I saw the way you were looking at him. Back off. That’s all I am going to say about it.”

“Look, lady,” Isa said. “I don’t know what you think you saw but he’s all yours, sister.”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say until they get a load of his wallet,” she said. “You just stay clear of me and Tom.”

“That might be a little hard to do given the fact that there is a three-day car show about to begin, but okay,” she said and slid the pizza boxes out the window to her a few moments later.

“That smells terrific,” Tom said when he returned. He placed his hand on the small of the woman’s back and grinned up at Isa. “This whole place smells like burning wood. It’s awesome!”

Isa flashed her best smile and leaned over the counter. “We aim to please,” she said. “You just make sure you stop back by here as many times as you want to this weekend, you hear?” She handed the rest of the food out to him and resumed her position.

“Come on, Tom,” the blonde said.

“Just a second, honey.” He turned to Billie. “I’ve got a couple of classic Mustangs and a 1965 Camaro you should stop by and see. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“My partner and I will be glad to stop by later,” Billie said. She glanced up at Asher and smiled. The blonde pursed her lips at her but said nothing. She pulled on Tom’s arm and led him away from the food truck. She glanced back once and stuck her tongue out.

“What a child,” Isa said, standing back upright.

“You could say that again,” Dillon added. “I’d watch out for that one.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Anyway, I’m heading home,” Enid said. She glanced up at Isa. “I will see you before dawn.”

“I’m out of here, too,” Marcel said. “I have a feeling we might be a little busy down on the boardwalk tomorrow.”

“I hear you, brother,” Dillon said. He clapped his hand on Marcel’s shoulder. “I’ll see everyone tomorrow.”

“They’re nice,” Isa said when the other managers walked away. “I’m surprised they offered to help.”

“Don’t be,” Asher said. “You’re going to find out sooner or later that these guys are a pretty tight group. You’ll fit right in.” He walked around the back of the pizza truck and joined Billie on the other side.

“You want to walk around a bit before we head back to the kitchen?” he asked her.

Billie smiled and nodded. “Sure,” she said. “Let’s have a look around. Who knows if we’ll get the chance again tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Asher said. He slipped his arm around her waist. “But you have to promise me you’re going to keep your clothes on if we do.”

Billie pulled back from him and swatted at his arm. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

Asher grinned and slowly shook his head. “Not on your life,” he said.

“Oh, good grief,” Billie said. She resumed walking beside him. They crossed the road and headed toward the far side of the festival grounds, close to the entrance. Already about one quarter of the spots had been filled by the early arrivals for the car show. It made sense to her that some folks would show up early.

“More of these guys are going to be showing up all through the night, you know,” Asher said to her as they walked. He pointed to a couple of classic round-hooded pickup trucks. “My grandpa had one like this.”

“Oh, yeah,” Billie said. Asher talked so rarely about his family that any mention of them interested her.

“It was dark green with wooden panels on the back. But yes,” he said, changing the subject. “When these car shows happen, it takes a long time for everyone to get on the island. “It’s messy when they leave, too. Some come in by boat, but probably nine out of ten cars drive over the bridge to get here.”

“Sounds like a major traffic jam to me,” Billie said.

“More like a major headache,” Asher added. He looked around for a moment, then pointed to the right.

“Hey, isn’t that the couple we just saw? The older guy with the blonde?”

Billie ducked behind him. “I think he sees us. He’s waving us over.”

“Do you want to go?” Asher asked. “I want to see this guy’s Camaro, but I can do it alone or just walk on by if you aren’t comfortable.”

“No, no. It’s fine,” Billie said. “We can walk over there. Besides, it wasn’t us she gave that stern warning to.” She looked up at him with a smirk.

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe you should drape yourself around me and beg me to buy you a pizza.”

Billie stopped walking and placed one hand dramatically on her hip. “Honey, I own the pizza,” she said.

“Why do you think I like to flirt with you so much?” Asher leaned in and teased her. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and walked her toward the cars.

“Hey, you two,” Tom said when they approached. He was seated in a lawn chair between a red Mustang and a blue and white Camaro. “Tom Kyser.” He thrust his hand out to Asher.

“Asher Scanlan,” he said. “And you’ve already met Billie Halifax.”

“Right, Billie. And you own this place?” Tom asked.

“We own the festival grounds and that big metal building right smack in the middle over there,” Asher said, pointing toward the center. “But she’s the owner of the food truck fleet.”

“Fleet? You have more than one?” Tom asked.

“Yes, four that are operational right now,” Billie said. “Eight more will be added one at a time.”

“That’s interesting,” Tom said. The blonde made her way toward him again. “Here’s my girl Susie again.

You all enjoy looking around.”

“Thanks,” Asher said. He leaned over to Billie. “I think we’ve been dismissed.”

Billie chuckled and walked around the first Mustang. “This is pretty nice,” she said.

“Yeah, for sure,” Asher said. “I have to say I’m all about that Camaro, though.”

They walked around the first two cars. She nodded at Tom again. Susie narrowed her eyes at her, then rested her head on Tom’s chest. Billie turned her head and rolled her eyes. They circled the Camaro and then headed to the front of the second Mustang. The sun was beginning to set in the gulf.

Billie leaned in to get a better look at the interior. “I like this one,” she said.

“Me, too. That interior looks original. This is a Mach 1.” Asher grinned.

Billie left him gazing into the passenger side window. She walked around the back and waited for Asher to finish gawking at the car. Just as he predicted, several more classic cars rolled slowly into the festival grounds. She turned back to the Mustang and smelled something awful. She checked the bottom of her shoes. Her feet were clear, but the odor still lingered. It wasn’t constant, and it smelled more like rotting meat than anything from a dog.

She walked behind the car and searched the ground nearby for signs of something, maybe a dead squirrel or a discarded hamburger. But the ground was clear, thanks to the amazing crew Asher employed to keep everything in shape.

Billie turned around, eager for Asher to join her. She didn’t want to catch a whiff of the same odor again. She spotted something under the bumper of the Mustang and moved in a little closer to inspect it.

“What are you looking at?” Asher asked when he came around the back of the car.

“Nothing, really,” she said. “I’m not sure, anyway. It looks like there might be something hanging out of the back of the trunk.”

Asher moved in closer, and Billie crouched down next to him on the ground. “Looks like clothing,” he said.

“Yeah, clothing with something sticky all over it,” Billie said. She leaned in even closer. “Oh, gosh!”

She fell backwards onto the ground. The odor she had detected before overwhelmed her when she got too close to the trunk lid.

“What is that smell?” Asher asked when it hit him. “Hey, Tom?” he called over to the older man.

“Yeah, what is it?” Tom yelled back.

“Man, I think you’ve got something going on in the back of your car here,” Asher said.

“No, baby. Stay here,” Susie whined.

Billie turned her head and rolled her eyes again. She had a hard enough time with the smell emanating from the car, let alone stomaching the woman’s babyish behavior.

“I have to go check this out, sweetie,” Tom said. “I’ll be right back.” He walked stiffly toward Asher.

“What’s going on?”

“Dude, take a whiff. I think there might be something in the back of your car,” he said. “And there’s a piece of clothing or something hanging out of the back. I think whatever stinks is on the clothing, too.”

“That’s really strange,” Tom said. “These cars are garaged except for shows like this. Hey, Susie. Bring me the keys over here.”

“But I want to sit down, baby,” Susie whined.

“Could you please just bring me the keys to the Mach 1?” Tom asked. “They’re with the boat keys in my jacket pocket.” His impatience appeared to be growing.

Susie rose from her chair and reached into the open window on the passenger side of the Camaro. She walked slowly toward them and placed the keys in Tom’s open hand. “Fine,” she said with a pout. “Here.”

“Thank you,” Tom said. He turned to the car and shoved the key into the trunk lock. Billie stood back, ready to cover her nose and mouth with her hand as he raised the lid. Tom pushed the lid up slightly and gasped.

At first, it was difficult to make out what was in the trunk. The light had dimmed enough that Asher shone the flashlight on his phone inside. Billie covered her mouth with her hand. She spotted a discolored arm first, and then was overwhelmed by the horrid stink. Nausea overtook her. She stumbled backward and fell to the ground.

She looked up in time to see Asher grab Tom by the shoulders. He yelled something too incomprehensible for Billie to understand. Asher was busy trying to keep Tom standing upright as people began to gather around them. One older woman stepped close to the trunk and screamed.

“Somebody call the police,” another man shouted. Billie managed to get back to her feet. She pulled her own phone out and dialed 9-1-1.

CHAPTER 5

“Are they going to shut down the car show?” Isa asked.

All of the food truck staff aside from Enid and Olivia had come back to the commissary kitchen when they heard the news. Billie rose from her seat between Asher and Isa to refill the coffee cups around the table.

“I don’t think we’ve been informed of that yet,” Asher said. “But I can’t imagine they’ll want to start the festivities first thing in the morning.”

“Have they identified the body?” Dillon asked. He rose slightly out of his chair to hold up his cup for Billie to refill. “Thank you.”

“Not that I know of,” Billie said. “After Chief Abernathy arrived with the medical examiner, they were hunched over that trunk checking things out for quite a while.”

“I thought I heard one of them say they assumed the victim was female and young,” Asher added.

“What happened to that older man we saw from the line at the pizza truck?” Marcel asked. “It was his car, right?”

“He was hauled off to the hospital,” Billie said. “He nearly collapsed right there in Asher’s arms.”

“I take it no one thinks he knew anything about it, then,” Isa said.

“It’s hard to believe that he did, but who really knows.” Asher shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s the thing,” Dillon said. “Who really knows?”

“This is insane,” Isa said. She stood up and headed for the kitchen area.

“Are you regretting your decision to come here?” Marcel asked.

Isa folded her arms. “No, not really. I guess I just thought there would be very little crime here,” she said.

“Usually there isn’t much,” Asher said. “Most of the time folks can leave their doors unlocked at night. Everything is good, until it isn’t.”

“Yeah, like the P.I. who was killed here a little while back,” Marcel said.

“Wait, someone was killed? Here on Sea Glass Island?” Isa walked back toward the seating area.

Billie nodded her head. “It was a contained incident,” she said, avoiding mentioning any other issues. “Not random violence.”

Isa sat back down in her seat. “I guess that’s better than a shoot-out at the marina,” she chuckled.

“Here’s the way I see it,” Dillon said. He leaned forward on his elbows. “You’re going to find crime anywhere and everywhere you go. Wherever there are people, there will be crime. By and large this island is very safe.”

“Besides, if you think about it, what we saw outside wasn’t really a reflection on this island at all,” Billie pointed out. “Tom Kyser is not a resident, and that body had been in there for at least a few days.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to believe he didn’t know it was in there though,” Asher said.

“Tom did say the cars are garaged until there is a show,” Billie reminded him.

“How many cars did he have?” Marcel asked.

“Three I think,” Billie said.

“He must have brought them in on a trailer or something,” Marcel said. “He would have needed a car hauler for all of those cars.”

Billie walked back to the kitchen area and replaced the coffee carafe on the burner. She glanced up at the clock and sighed. It was after ten in the evening. So far, they had been asked to remain where they were. When her staff showed up at the grounds, she thought the chief was going to send them away, but they’d been asked to stick around.

She wanted to leave and check on Waffles, having barely seen him since earlier in the day. Usually, she was able to spend much more time with him. After his fit to be outside the night before, all Billie could think about was how she wished it was still storming outside. That would have been much easier to handle than what was going on instead.

“I just wish we could go home,” Marcel said. “I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help, but I’m getting pretty tired even with all this coffee.”

“Amen to that,” Asher said.

They chatted together for a little while longer and around eleven, the exterior door down the hall from Asher’s office opened and the chief of police walked in. “Hello, folks,” he said. He looked around the kitchen area and nodded toward Billie. “Is there any of that left?”

Billie smiled and rose from her chair. “I’ll get you a cup, Chief,” she said.

“Thank you,” the chief said when she handed off the mug to him. He paused to take a long sip, then gestured toward Isa. “Are you the new food truck manager?”

She nodded. “Isa Carello,” she said. “I can give you all of my contact information.”

“Sounds good,” Chief Abernathy said. “I came in here to tell you all that we’ve decided to shut down the car show until further notice. A message has gone out from the organizers to the other people who might be en route, and we have asked everyone who was already on the island to hang around long enough to give a statement.”

“That’s a monumental undertaking,” Dillon said.

The chief nodded his head and sipped more coffee. “You got that right,” he said.

“Do we know anything about the person in the back of the car?” Asher asked. “Who was it?”

“We could tell that the victim was a female in her late twenties or early thirties. We then found a New Jersey driver’s license in the back of the trunk beneath the body. The family has been notified,” Chief Abernathy said.

“In other words, you think you’ve made a positive identification,” Billie said.

“We’re sure enough that we have released the name to the proper channels,” the chief said. “Turns out the woman was missing for the past two weeks.”

“The woman in the trunk had been missing for two weeks? That’s awful,” Asher said. “Was she killed? I mean, I can’t imagine that anyone would have volunteered to be put in the trunk of a car.”

The chief frowned. “Cosette O’Leary had been missing, yes.”

Isa dropped her cup of coffee onto the floor. “What did you say?”

“Cosette O’Leary,” the chief responded, his brows raised.

“Oh, my gosh,” Isa said. She reached for the cup on the floor under her chair. “I just made a mess. I am so sorry.”

Billie raced to the kitchen for a stack of towels. She tossed half of them to Asher and began cleaning up the spilled coffee. He caught the towels midair and wiped down the table and two chairs the coffee reached.

“Maybe you should share why you reacted that way,” Chief Abernathy said. “I take it you knew her?”

Isa nodded her head slowly. “I assume it’s the same person,” she said. “Cosette O’Leary was my roommate through business school. We shared an apartment with two others. I haven’t seen her in more than five years, though.”

“That’s quite a coincidence,” the chief said. “You haven’t heard from her at all in five years?”

“At least,” Isa said. “We lost touch after school. We were friends, but not best friends or anything.”

“Why wouldn’t you keep in touch after spending that much time together? Were there any hard feelings between the two of you?” the chief asked her.

“Absolutely not. We just lost touch. I went back home to Brooklyn for a couple of years before I moved to Florida for culinary school,” Isa said. “Like I said, there were two others in the same apartment.”

“I am going to need an official statement from you, Miss Carello,” Chief Abernathy said.

“Sure, uh, yeah. Of course,” Isa stammered and looked to Billie for support.

CHAPTER 6

Billie headed for home sometime between midnight and one in the morning. She waited around the commissary kitchen as long as she could remain awake, just to check on Isa. When she went to bed. Isa still had not returned from her conversation with the chief.

Despite the hordes of people practically stranded at the festival grounds, Waffles was surprisingly quiet overnight. Billie enjoyed four full hours of uninterrupted sleep before her front door was nearly knocked down by someone pounding on it from the other side.

When she rolled out of bed, Billie ran her hand over the front of her body to make sure she was actually dressed before she answered the pounding on the door this time.

“Yes, what is it?” she asked when she pulled the door open.

“We wanna know where the food lady went to,” a gray-bearded man asked her. He stood on the bottom step in front of her door, hanging tightly to the hand rail and swaying back and forth as if he was on a boat.

“I, what?” Billie rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands and tried to make his words make sense in her head. “What are you asking me?”

“We want to know where the food truck lady people went to,” the man said, pronouncing each syllable distinctly, as if his careful articulation would make him sound less inebriated.

“It is four-thirty in the morning,” Billie said, matching his tone. “There are no food trucks open overnight or this early in the morning.”

“That’s the problem.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave right now,” Billie said. “You have no right coming to my home to disturb me because you are hungry. Now, please leave me alone, or I will have to call law enforcement.”

“But we want tacos,” the man said. “And the taco truck is dark and closed.” He leaned forward as if he was going to fall on the steps, but successfully caught himself with his hands before he fell.

“The taco truck will be open around eleven,” Billie said firmly.

“But I’m going to be passed out by then.”

“Then you’ll wake up hungry and ready to eat, right?” Billie began closing her front door.

“Wait, wait, lady!” Another person she had not seen before was coming in her direction. “What about the tacos? You got this whole great big kitchen all the way over there. You can just go whip us up some tacos!” He smiled like it was the best idea he had ever heard.

“I think the lady made it very plain that there will be no tacos for anyone right now,” Asher’s voice boomed deep over the small crowd. Billie looked past the man in front of her to see him standing about twenty feet back with a baseball bat over his shoulder.

“Hey, who do you think you are?” the drunk man asked. “Looks like there’s just two of you, buddy, and plenty more of us.”

“That’s just your double vision, pal. There’s only one of me but I can walk a straight line and swing like a major league player,” Asher said.

All eyes turned to Asher. For a moment, no one spoke a word. Finally, the man closest to Billie began to walk away. “Good point,” he said to Asher as he staggered toward him

He stopped in front of Asher and shook his head. “Twerp,” he shouted and fell forward, landing on his face in the sand. The other man stumbled over and pulled him up by the arms and got him to his feet. They left muttering among themselves about tacos.

“That was fun,” Billie said when they left. “Thanks for, you know, showing up with the bat and everything.”

“You’re welcome,” Asher said. He winked at her before heading back to his house.

Billie went back home herself, knowing more sleep was not going to be in the cards for her after all that. She made herself some coffee and headed to her room to read for a while before she had to get ready for work. Her eyes began to shut a few times, but she quickly forced herself awake, knowing that there wasn’t enough time for a nap.

She sighed and heaved herself out of bed to shower and start the day, no matter how early it was. She fed Waffles and took him for a nice walk by the beach just before sunrise. The only other thing on her mind aside from making sure her dog was okay, was checking in on Isa.

When she reached the commissary kitchen, she found the door unlocked and the lights on already. She bypassed her office and headed straight for the kitchen area.

“What are you doing here so early?” she asked Enid, who had occupied two kitchen spaces.

“I agreed to help Isa with the pizza truck today,” she said.

“Does this mean that the car show is back on?” Billie asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” Enid said. “But I don’t have a single event this weekend and she and I spoke last night. For the time being, she has been put on house arrest in her apartment.”

“House arrest?” Billie asked.

“It’s not really house arrest,” Asher said from the hallway. “She was just asked to stay away from here until they can clear her alibi.”

“She just moved into the place, and now she’s stuck there?” Billie felt her spirit sink. Isa was only there because of her.

“She’s not even entirely moved in,” Enid said.

“Are you two friends now or something?” Billie asked. She hadn’t meant to sound snarky but was surprised at the amount of information her bakery truck manager had concerning the brand new hire.

“Yeah, I guess we have become fast friends, sorta,” Enid said. “You don’t stay up all night texting someone without getting a little friendly with them, I guess.”

“Why were you two texting?” Asher asked.

Enid shrugged. “I texted her to see if she wanted me to bring a coffee from the specialty shop on the corner before I came in, and she told me what was going on. After that, we just kept texting.”

“Okay.” Asher nodded. “And to answer your question, Billie, yes, the car show is still canceled.”

“Oh, man,” Enid said. “Well, can we take the pizza truck down to the boardwalk this afternoon?”

“Of course we can,” Billie said. “But it’s really up to Isa. She’s the manager and the chef who will be doing all the cooking in the future. It would be better if she did it now, too.”

Enid nodded her head. “Just like it’s up to me if I want to continue to help out.”

“Yes,” Billie said. “By the way, do you know where Isa’s apartment is located?”

“Yeah, it’s in the older part of town close to the marina,” Enid said. “She told me she lived in an old boarding house. I can text you the street number.”

“Perfect,” Billie said. She smiled at Asher and headed straight for her car. The old boarding houses lined one of the oldest streets on Sea Glass Island. Rhonda explained to her that the boarding houses were built around the turn of the twentieth century to house the young women who staffed the many beach side hotels as maids and waitresses. They had since been remodeled into studio apartments. Many service workers made their homes there.

She found the four-story house with the blue paint and headed for the front door. Of course, now, the boarding houses were equipped with modern speaker systems. Billie buzzed the apartment number Enid had given her.

“Yeah? Who is it?” an unfamiliar voice said.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Billie said into the speaker. “I think I have the wrong apartment.”

“Are you looking for Isa?” the gravelly woman’s voice asked her.

“I am,” Billie said.

“Come on up,” the woman said. The buzzer sounded and the door lock released. Billie pushed it open quickly and headed inside the lobby area. She wondered who might be upstairs with her truck manager. She climbed up two flights, her leather sandals clapped on the painted wooden steps all the way to the third floor. She walked down the hall until she found Isa’s apartment on the right at the end.

“Isa,” she said, knocking quietly on the door. She raised her hand once again, but the door flew open. A short, round woman with black hair piled on top of her head stood in front of her.

“Who is it?” she asked. Her words cut off sharply at the end of each syllable.

“I’m Billie Halifax,” she announced. “I work with Isa. I mean, she works for me. I’m the owner of the food trucks.”

“You’re the woman who brought her all the way out here from Brooklyn?” the short woman asked. “You’re the whole reason she’s in the pickle she’s in right now, aren’t you?”

“Mom,” Isa shouted from behind the woman. “Cool it. Billie is not the one who put the dead body of my former roommate in the back of the old car last night. Knock it off.”

The woman stepped back from the door and made way for Billie to come in. “You don’t know if she’s the one who did it or not,” she muttered under her breath,

“Billie, this is my mother, Sofia Carello,” Isa said.

“Nice to meet you,” Billie said.

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” Sofia said.

“Mom!” Isa shouted again. Her face was pale. The skin beneath her eyes was purplish and puffy. “You need to stop. Why don’t you go for a walk on the beach or something?”

“I’ve already walked on that beach more times than I ever wanted to,” Sofia said. “But I will head back down to the boardwalk. There are a couple of cure shops down there.”

“Fine, Mom,” Isa said. She ran one hand through her unkempt hair. She waited until her mother slammed the door behind her before she sighed and turned her attention back to Billie. “I’m so sorry about that. She just showed up here.”

Billie nodded her head and offered a sympathetic smile. Her own mother was a piece of work in her own right. “Are you alright? Is there anything I can get you?”

Isa shook her head. “I ordered breakfast an hour ago.”

“Good, good,” Billie said. “Have you heard from the chief yet this morning?”

Isa shook her head. “No. I called the office at six just to see if they’d heard back from the motel I stayed in, but that’s it.”

“Is that the only thing he’s waiting on?” Billie asked. She looked around the small space. The room was small, but efficiently arranged. She was happy to see that there was a private bathroom at least. A full-sized bed had been pushed against one wall under a floor-to-ceiling window. A small couch was pushed against the end of the bed and faced the small kitchenette against the opposite wall. A small table and two chairs had been placed under the second window.

“Chief Abernathy said once he sees proof of my stay there, I’m good to go,” Isa said.

“And are you going to go?” Billie asked. She decided to come out with the question burning in her mind before Isa’s mother returned.

Isa sat down on the small couch and rested her elbows on her knees. “I don’t know,” she said. “My mother is putting a lot of pressure on me to go back to Brooklyn with her. She thinks it’s a huge mistake that I came out here in the first place. Heck, she threw a fit when I went to school in Pennsylvania.”

“How did she react to culinary school?” Billie asked.

“About the same.” Isa shrugged. “Everyone else in my family, my father, grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles. Everyone was so excited for me to follow my dreams. But not my mom.”

“Mothers can be difficult,” Billie said.

“Sounds like you know what I’m talking about then.”

Billie pulled one of the kitchen chairs away from the table and sat down. “My mother’s first words to me when I told her about inheriting this business down here? ‘Why on earth would Adaline Lynch leave anything to you in her will? She ought to know you won’t ever finish what you have started.’”

“Nice,” Isa said. “But you have. Look at the food trucks you already have up and running.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence,” Billie said. “The second thing she did was lecture me about not paying enough of her bills.”

“Yikes,” Isa replied. “What has she said since you’ve been here?”

“Three text messages. I memorized them. ‘Can you send me some money? When are you going to send me some money? Have a nice life and thanks for nothing.’”

“Wow,” Isa said. “I take it she isn’t coming to visit you anytime soon.”

Billie chuckled. “Not unless I send her the money first.”

Isa settled back into the couch cushions a bit and then laughed. “You really have a good thing going here, don’t you?”

Billie nodded. “I think so,” she said. “And Isa? I really hope that you decide to stay for a while. I think you would be good for us, and I think we could be good for you.”

About that time, the door knob rattled, and Sofia walked back inside. “I don’t know how you island people do it,” she fussed when she stepped inside. “I can’t stand that island air. Even the rain and storms don’t make it any better.”

“You were out there for all of five minutes, Mother.”

Billie stood up to leave. “Keep me updated on what you hear from the chief,” she said to Isa.

“She will do no such thing,” Sofia spoke up. “As soon as she is given the all clear, she will be packing her things and returning to New York with me where she belongs.”

CHAPTER 7

Billie parked her car as close to her tiny house as she could after she returned from Isa’s apartment. It had been next to impossible to get back in to the festival grounds. Apparently the police had given several of the car show participants the green light to leave, so all three of the exit lanes going out of the festival grounds and two out of three of the entrance lanes were crowded with classic cars, personal vehicles, and trucks with trailers hauling cars.

She checked in on Waffles before heading to the commissary kitchen to talk to Asher. She wanted to get his opinion on what to do now that the event was canceled. Her original plan was to move the pizza truck to the boardwalk, but with Isa having to stay away for now, she wasn’t sure that was the best idea. Billie wanted the customers to start off right and get the food made by Isa, not someone else.

One thing she knew for sure was that Isa had to stick around. The last thing she wanted to do was place a phone call to Alex and request another culinary student be sent to the island to take over the food truck. She had done it once before, with her very first truck. It was not an event she wished to repeat.

“Asher,” she called when she walked past his office. The door was closed, and the lights were off. “Asher?” She continued through the kitchen expanse and over to her side of the building.

“In here,” he called at last. Billie followed his voice to the pantry where she found him stocking shelves.

“I thought we hired people to do that,” she said.

“Yeah, normally,” Asher said without turning around. “But this weekend we’re in a budget freefall. So, I figured I had better do some of this myself.”

“What do you mean, a budget freefall?”

“The car show,” Asher snapped. “They canceled it. It’s over and done with, and this is one of the single biggest events we have all year.”

“Why do you sound angry?” Billie asked. “A few hours ago, you were flirting and friendly with me. What gives?”

Asher tossed the empty box he’d been unpacking. He sighed and turned to look at her. “I don’t know,” he said. “But it seems like since you and these food trucks and all of these new people have come into my life, everything is topsy turvy, including my business.”

“Our business,” Billie said. She meant to emphasize the fact that they sank or swam together, thanks to the arrangement her grandmother had made with him many years ago. But Asher’s face hardened when she spoke.

“It used to be mine,” he said. “Before you came along.”

“Wow,” Billie managed to say. “That stung.” She turned on her heels and walked back out of the pantry. She passed through the kitchen area without looking too hard at the tables where she had been seated with her friends, including Asher, a day before. Anger and frustration burned in her. Outside, she could hear the many cars and trucks still trying to make their way out of the festival grounds.

She wondered if Tom and his girlfriend had reappeared. Last she heard; they had made a hasty retreat. Billie stopped just outside of Asher’s office. She was tempted to turn the door handle and check to see if it was locked. Just what she thought she would find inside, she wasn’t sure.

An idea hit her, then. She picked up her pace and practically ran out of the metal building and headed toward her tiny house on the other side of the lot. She wove her way through the crowd, dodging people and cars on her way to the RV hookup area where her home was parked next to Asher’s fifth wheel.

“Hey, buddy,” she said to Waffles when he greeted her. Billie unhooked his collar from the cable tie out and let him in the front door ahead of her. She pulled the door shut behind her and waited patiently while the large dog sniffed around the place, as if he had never been there before. It was his normal routine.

“Are you finished?” she asked when he sat down at last and looked at her, waiting patiently for his treat like the good boy he was. Billie smiled at him and retrieved a bacon shaped dog treat from the crock next to her fridge. Waffles caught it midair and trotted off while she went straight to her bedroom for her laptop.

Something she had learned about the people who turn up for events like the car show was that their enthusiasm for the event did not begin or end during the yearly events that brought them together. She counted on this and began searching for Tom Kyser’s name on the many message boards and websites she could find. In less than five minutes, she had his profile page pulled up on a site dedicated to some national car show association. She didn’t take too long to learn about the association itself. She was more interested in the man and his girlfriend.

Both Mustangs and the Camaro were featured in his photos, along with several more cars and a few trucks. She wasn’t sure what Tom had done before his retirement, but he surely had made a good amount of money.

Most of the photos on the site were dedicated to the classic cars and trucks, but Billie’s search went back far enough that she found a few photos of younger Tom standing next to a woman closer to his own age.

She was blonde and smiling in many of the photos, along with a few smiling adult children. His arm was around her in a couple of the photos captioned “Tom and Winnie, 35 years.”

Immediately, Billie opened a new tab and began to search for Winnie Kyser. Seconds later, she found multiple social media profiles with her name. She looked closely. Clearly it was the same woman, based out of Bend, Oregon. There were more photos with the same adult children, two boys and two girls, standing in front of the mountains and smiling with young kids at their feet. Tom was absent from the photos.

Billie returned to the tab with Tom’s name. She searched a few social media sites and found a little used profile for him. This time, the photos included the woman he had with him at the car show. Billie hovered her mouse over the photos and searched for a tag. Curiously, none of the photos were tagged with her name.

She sighed and stared up at the ceiling. What had she hoped to find? A smoking gun that would tie the odd couple to Cosette’s death? Unfortunately, Isa’s connection to her appeared to be the one and only tie. Refusing to believe Isa would have come all the way to the island just to kill someone, Billie clicked through a few more photos and stopped on the clearest view of the woman. She clicked on the photo and began to download it to her hard drive.

Billie opened a third tab and began a reverse image search. Ten seconds later, she was staring into the eyes of Amanda Clark, professional model and fitness trainer based out of Sacramento, California. She found a flurry of social media pages and began scrolling through photos. Susie, also known as Amanda, had a penchant for beautiful places and sunny beaches. Most of her photos were taken on a beach somewhere. Several of them featured older men, and not just Tom.

She scanned through the woman’s social media friend list. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she found it toward the bottom of the list. Cosette O’Leary was listed among her “close friends.” That had to mean something.

CHAPTER 8

Waffles howled when Billie pulled the door shut behind her. She ran down the steps and headed to her car, which was still parked close by. She threw her phone on the passenger seat and looked around. The lines of cars had thinned out to just one. Before she got too far, she veered around where Tom’s cars had been parked. Two remained behind. Wondering why he’d left his cars there, she pulled into the line of cars and inched toward the exit, intending to find out.

As soon as she hit the road, she turned right instead of left like the other cars. After living on the island for as long as she had, she’d learned the back way to the marina where she suspected she might find the missing couple. Tom had said the keys the Mach 1 were with the keys to the boat.

With so many people trying to get off of the island, Billie found very little traffic on her way to the marina. She drove slowly through the near-empty parking lot. She made it down to the boat slips and parked her car. When she got out, she walked toward the dock and began peeking in between the moored vessels.

She found the pair just ten minutes later. They were arguing, and Tom had his hand on a large padlock while his girlfriend hissed at him to hurry up and get her off of the island. Billie stepped back out of sight; sure the padlock would keep them busy long enough for her to call the police.

Chief Abernathy himself arrived just two minutes later. Billie met him at the car and showed him the social media profile for one Amanda Clark as they walked toward the dock. A second officer stood behind him with his gun drawn.

“Thomas Kyser,” Chief Abernathy called out. “Walk slowly this way. You too, ma’am.”

The second officer walked down the gangway. As soon as he could slip by, he fell into step behind them and led them back to the parking lot where the chief was waiting.

“What’s this all about?” Tom insisted.

“I demand you release me right now,” the blonde said.

“Amanda Clark, you are wanted for questioning in the death of Cosette O’Leary,” the chief said.

“Who is Amanda?” Tom asked. He looked from the Chief to Amanda to Billie. “Why did you call her Amanda?”

“Because that’s her name,” Billie said softly. “Her real name anyway. And she was a friend of Cosette’s.”

“The dead lady? But you said you didn’t know her,” Tom said.

“I also told you my name was Susie Underwood and you believed that,” Amanda said. Her voice had deepened significantly. She turned to the Chief. “I knew her, yes. But I swear I did nothing to her. I hadn’t even spoken to her in two full years. We were friends, or we had been, anyway. I’ve had no contact with her and I had nothing to do with her death.”

“Are you sure she wasn’t threatening your sweetheart scam with this guy?” the chief asked her.

“What do you mean, her scam?” Tom asked.

“If you think you’re the first older man she has cozied up to, you’re kidding yourself,” Chief Abernathy said.

Amanda hung her head and nodded. “Look, I’ve dated a number of men in my life, and I have profited handsomely from those connections,” she said. “Nothing illegal or dangerous.”

“Just immoral and disingenuous, right?” the chief asked.

Amanda raised her head and smiled weakly at Tom. “Disingenuous, yes. Deadly, no.”

Billie waited in the parking lot until the chief and his officer left. Tom was in the backseat of the chief’s car with his head down, while Amanda was in the back of the other police car. She wondered if the chief had chosen to place Tom in the back of his own car in order to have a heart to heart with him on the way to the police station. She didn’t believe he was part of Cosette’s death one bit.

After they left the parking lot, Billie began her short journey back to the festival grounds. A lump had formed in her throat as she drove. She had to face Asher. She hated that she needed to have the chat with him she was going to have. If she was honest with herself, the feelings she had for him had developed almost from her arrival on the island, and over time, the feelings had deepened. She could only hope that his resentment toward her wasn’t as deep as it had appeared.

“Billie,” Asher said the second she opened the door to the metal building. His face was pale, and he stood just inside the door. “I wasn’t sure where you went.”

“Down to the marina. I found Tom Kyser and Amanda Clark,” she said.

“Amanda?”

“Susie. You might remember her as the blonde woman hanging all over Tom,” she said. She felt the fatigue of the past few days catching up to her.

He raised a brow. “So, her real name is Amanda. How’d you find that out?”

“I did a little detective work online and now the pair of them are in police custody,” she said.

“Whoa,” Asher said. He grinned at her. “You solved the murder?”

Billie shrugged. “It sure seems like that,” she said. “Turns out Amanda knew the victim, just like Isa did.”

“Did she know Isa as well?”

Billie shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I think it was just a coincidence that they both knew her.”

“Like three degrees of separation or whatever it is,” Asher said.

“Something like that.” Billie smiled.

“Listen, Billie,” Asher said. He took a step toward her and placed his hands on her arms. “Earlier I said some things I didn’t mean. I was tired and overwhelmed, but I meant none of them, okay? I’m glad you’re here, and I want to continue what we’ve started.”

“What you said hurt,” Billie admitted.

“I know and I’m sorry. Can you accept my apology?” Asher asked her.

Billie nodded her head. “Of course I accept it, but I don’t know about continuing what we’ve started,” she said. “I can’t be with someone who changes his mind so often.” Her own words surprised her, but she felt the years of disappointment and pain returning to her, full force. She forced an awkward smile and headed to her office to gather her thoughts.

CHAPTER 9

By noon, most of the cars had left the festival grounds. Marcel and Dillon were busy with their trucks down on the boardwalk, and Billie was left with the same decision as before. She hated not to have the pizza truck make its official debut, but she’d really wanted Isa to be part of it. Before she was able to talk herself into moving the truck to the boardwalk herself, and create the pizzas singlehandedly, word came that Isa was free to come back to the grounds.

Billie had to admit that she was a little worried when she heard that Isa wanted to meet with her. At first, she was excited about opening the truck, and was pleased to know Amanda was being thoroughly investigated for the murder, but the more time she had to think, the more certain she was that Isa was going to laugh in her face when she asked her to open the truck.

Her mind had already turned to the thought of resuming her search for a pizza truck manager. Between that worry and Asher, who was hanging around the kitchen and smiling at her whenever he caught her eye, Billie’s stomach was in knots.

“Can we have a seat and talk?” Isa asked when she walked into the kitchen area.

“Sure,” Billie said. “Would you rather speak in my office or have a seat out here?”

“If a seat out here includes a cup of coffee, I’ll find the closest chair,” Isa said.

“Coming right up,” Billie said. She poured two cups of coffee from the kitchen area where Asher had prepared it. She walked to the table and had a seat across from her. “Well, we’ve had quite the couple days, haven’t we?”

Isa chortled. “Yeah,” she said. “You can say that again. And you weren’t even the one who had to spend the last however long in a small apartment with a mother who refused to leave.”

“Is she still here?” Billie asked.

Isa nodded. “She has a way of sticking around in places for too long.”

“Okay.” Billie sipped the coffee. “The suspense is killing me,” she said. “I have a feeling you’re about to deliver some very bad news to me. Can we just get it over with?”

“Hey, Billie,” Asher said from across the kitchen. “You have a visitor.” He nodded toward the police chief, who stood on the other side of the first kitchen counter. Billie glanced at Isa, who had immediately stiffened up.

“Okay if I have a word with you ladies before you continue?” Chief Abernathy stood close to the counter and waited for an official invitation.

“Isa,” Billie said quietly.

“Sure, Chief,” Isa said. “I’ll hear what you have to say.”

The chief walked slowly toward them. “I just wanted to tell you that despite our initial introduction, I hope that you are not reconsidering coming to this island,” he said. “I know that it might be hard for you to understand, but I was doing my best to follow the law without making things harder for you. Looking into your background, it’s clear that you are an upstanding young lady. If you have passed Alex Regent’s inspection, you have to be a good egg.”

“What are you trying to say, Chief?” Asher interjected.

“Just that I hope this incident won’t color her opinion of this place and the opportunities she might have here. Because if you take a look at what the lady seated across from you has accomplished so far, you’ll see what’s possible.”

“Are you saying that just because you’ve made an arrest in Cosette’s death?” Isa asked.

“Not at all,” the chief said. He shook his head as he spoke. “We haven’t made an arrest. We have two people in for questioning, but their alibis are solid so far.”

“So, you don’t know who killed the girl in the back of the Camaro?” Asher asked.

“What are you doing here?” Sofia shouted from the hallway. She hustled down the hall toward the kitchen where they were seated.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” Isa said. She stood up from her chair and set the coffee down on the table. “I don’t have anything more to say to you right now.”

“Have you told this woman what I told you to say to her?” Sofia demanded, pointing at Billie.

“Me?” Billie stood up from her chair as well.

“Oh, sit down and shut your mouth,” Sofia hissed at her. “This is between me and my daughter.”

“I think you ought to let your daughter speak for herself,” Asher said. “Isa is a grown woman and a talented chef. She needs to decide what’s best for herself.”

“How about all of you calm down?” the chief directed. “Whatever is going on here can be settled in a better way than this.”

“No, what needs to happen is my daughter needs to leave and head back north with me, where she belongs,” Sofia insisted. She was at Isa’s side with her hands around her upper arm. “We go through this every time you decide you want to leave home.”

“Mother,” Isa shouted. She pried the women’s hands off of her arm and stepped back. “I tell you each and every time that I have my own life to live! I am almost thirty years old. There is a lot I want to learn on my own.”

Sofia’s face twisted into a sarcastic scowl. “And you think these people have anything to teach you? This one has an entire row of junky old trucks parked outside here that she thinks she can turn into thriving food trucks,” she said. She turned to Asher. “And this idiot can’t even remember the kind car they found a dead body in. It was a Mustang and not a Camaro, genius.”

Billie felt her heart start to race. She looked to the chief for support.

“Mrs. Carello, ma’am,” he said slowly. “Surely you can see what a beautiful place this is.”

Sofia spit on the floor in front of her. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out. I’ve barely left my daughter’s apartment for a reason. I don’t want to see any more of this place than I have to, and I definitely don’t want to meet any more people if they’re anything like you.”

Billie stepped in front of Isa and stared at the woman. “You went for a walk when I was visiting Isa and you said you’d already been on the beach before that. Like the chief said, it’s a beautiful place.”

Sofia pushed Billie out of her way and reached for her daughter again. “I don’t care what any of you think.”

“You know,” Billie continued. “It’s pretty curious to me that you knew to correct Asher here on which car Cosette had been found in. How would you have known that, Mrs. Carello?”

Sofia turned toward Billie. “Because I read it in the newspaper, she sneered. “How stupid are you, really?”

“The only problem with that explanation is, ma’am, that we have yet to release that information to the press,” the chief said. “There is no way you could have read that in the paper.”

“Oh, well then I guess I overheard it somewhere,” Sofia said, reaching for Isa again. “This is a small town and people talk, you know?”

“But you said you didn’t leave Isa’s apartment,” Billie reminded her. “Who could you have heard it from?”

Isa’s face paled. She gripped her mother by her arms this time and turned her forcefully to her. “Mom, what is going on here?” she asked. “What did you do?”

“Oh, stop overreacting, Isa,” Sofia said. She pushed free of her daughter’s grasp. “I took care of a problem I should have handled all the way back during your first year of college. That Cosette girl was awfully needy. She is the reason you left home the first time.”

“Mother, did you hurt Cosette?” Isa asked.

“She tried to get in touch with you again,” Sofia continued. She rattled on like there was no hurry to her explanation. “She wanted you to join her in California at some restaurant there, so I tracked her down and stabbed her in the back like she did to me thinking she could take you away. Then I made sure that fool of a man and his twit girlfriend were heading here. It wasn’t that hard to get done since he was so busy trying to please her and she was too busy spending his money to pay attention to anything else. All I had to do was a little research about this horrid island. It was easy to find people coming here for one of those stupid events.”

“Is that why you told Dad you were going on vacation with the girls?” Isa asked. “We should have known better; you never go anywhere with your friends.”

Sofia’s eyes flashed as Isa pieced things together. “That girl needed to leave you alone and find her own life. You don’t belong in California any more than you belong here. I took care of what needed to be taken care of like only a mother can do.”

“But I am here, Mom,” Isa said slowly. “I’m going to stay here and make a life for myself on this island.”

Sofia turned back around. Fire flashed in her eyes, and she lunged for Billie. “This is all your fault,” she screamed. “You’re the reason she came all this way out here! She doesn’t need to be here with you. She needs to come home with her mother where she belongs.”

Chief Abernathy quickly grabbed the woman’s arms and secured her wrists in a pair of handcuffs. “Sofia Carello, you are under arrest for the murder of Cosette O’Leary.”

Sofia suddenly stopped talking. She stood upright and turned her head over her shoulder and stared at the chief. “You better let me go, old man,” she said coldly. “If you know what’s good for you.”

“Mom, you need to shut your mouth,” Isa said. Tears streamed down her face. “Don’t say another word. I’m going to call Dad.”

Sofia turned to her daughter. Her face softened and she smiled sweetly. “That’s right, pumpkin,” she said. “Call Daddy and have him get in touch with my lawyer.”

Isa stared with her mouth agape as the chief of police led her mother down the hallway and out of the building.

CHAPTER 10

“With a mother like that, who needs a guardian angel?” Dillon asked. He carried a fresh tray of breadsticks over from one of the central kitchen areas in the commissary kitchen. Isa stood at the stove stirring the best marinara sauce in the world, or so she promised.

“I spoke with my older brother Paul last night,” she said. “Mom has always been a little intense, and he told me some stories about things she did when I was young. I guess she just couldn’t handle when things didn’t go her way.” She turned the burner off beneath the large saucepan and shook her head. “I just can’t believe it was all that serious to her. I have four other siblings and she never acted this way when they left home.”

“I wish I knew what to say.” Billie frowned.

Isa shrugged. “I know she’s my mom, but I believe people need to take responsibility for the things they do. It wasn’t okay for her to do that.”

“Do you think you will go and visit her in jail?” Rhonda asked. She sat at the table next to Asher and across from Billie. As soon as she heard about the dinner that night, she insisted that she had been cheated out of her Italian dinner and requested a plate at the table.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do about my mother just yet, to be honest with you,” Isa said. “Honestly, I’m still getting over the fact that she tracked down an old roommate of mine just because she blamed her for me leaving home all those years ago.”

“Yeah,” Billie said, thinking of what the older woman had said to her the day she had visited Isa’s small apartment. “That is a lot to take in.” Behind closed doors, she had shared her opinion with Asher that her name might have been next on the old woman’s murder list, given what she had said to her the first time they met.

“What makes this the best marinara sauce in the world?” Enid asked. She stood in front of a large sink while draining the pasta into a colander.

“Well, the recipe doesn’t come from my mother’s side of the family,” Isa said with a grin. “My paternal grandmother brought the recipe with her from Naples when she was a girl.”

“Smells great,” Asher said. He was eager to eat real Italian food, as he had told Billie several times on their walk over from their homes.

Together, Enid and Isa plated the pasta and sauce. Billie stood to help out with the antipasto salad she had prepared for the dinner. Fresh French loaves had already been set on each table, along with herbs and olive oil in a ramekin for dipping bread at each place.

Dillon was the first to dig in. “Okay, you did this the right way,” he said, pointing his fork at Billie.

“How so?” she asked.

“Let’s see.” He swallowed a mouthful of pasta before he continued. “You’ve got Marcel the genius down there with his tacos, and Tex-Mex or whatever fresh-Mex magic he conjures up down there on the boardwalk. Then we have Olivia and me over here with the gourmet barbecue, and Enid, the queen of desserts. To that you have added this exceptional young woman who can make a pizza that tastes like it came straight out of your Italian grandmother’s kitchen.”

“Write that down,” Asher said. “I think you just came up with the best advertising slogan for these food trucks I have ever heard.”

“That reminds me,” Isa said. “Is there a name for this group of food trucks? Your letterhead just said ‘Billie Halifax’ on it.”

“You know, I don’t think I have ever been asked that question,” Billie said. “I have never paid attention, either. Alex has always just referred to the food trucks as ‘Sea Glass Island Food Trucks.’”

“That sounds about right,” Dillon said.

“Well, I guess I need to raise my wine glass to Marcel the Genius, Enid the Dessert Queen, Dillon and Olivia, barbecue royalty, Isa the Italian grandma,” Asher said. “Oh, and Billie the Brain.”

“Why am I Billie the Brain?”

“Probably because Billie the Sleuth doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as well,” Asher joked.

***

If you enjoyed A Pizza the Action and are looking for more food truck adventures, preorder Control Your Tempura, today!

ALSO BY GRETCHEN ALLEN

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Also by Gretchen Allen

Author’s Note

Contact Gretchen Allen