1 Death on Eat Street by J.J. Cook

companion.

TEN

    “He doesn’t look like trouble to me,” Ollie said. “He looks hungry. Probably starving to death eating crepes. What kind of food is that for a man to live on anyway?”
    Sure enough, the man came and pounded on the back door. I couldn’t let Ollie take all the tough situations. “Can I help you?”
    “You can get your biscuits out of my spot,” he roared back. “I was here yesterday. You can’t come in and take someone’s place.”
    “I didn’t see your name on it.” Ollie loomed up behind me. “Go find your own spot. Get up earlier. We were here first.”
    Suzette, or whatever his name was, didn’t like that idea.
    He kicked the tire on my food truck as he walked by. “You really want a battle?” he asked as he came to the open customer window. “I’ll give you a battle.”
    “Maybe we should move,” I whispered to Ollie. “I really don’t want a battle.”
    “What’s he gonna do—throw his little crepes at us?”
    Suzette (I didn’t know what else to call him) kicked a tire again and flipped us off. Then he went back to his crepe truck. I let out a sigh of relief.
    We waited as the lunch crowd began to trickle out of the surrounding buildings. I saw people heading for us with delight. When they suddenly veered away, I wondered what was wrong.
    “I’m going outside to see what’s happening,” I said after this had happened several times.
    “Let me,” Ollie said. “I don’t like people messing with our business.”
    I waited for a few seconds after he’d left the food truck. I finally followed him, imagining all kinds of things that could be going on.
    What I didn’t imagine was that “Suzette” was standing in front of our food truck giving away free samples of
his
food and directing people to his crepe truck.
    I heard Ollie growl when I came up behind him. That couldn’t be a good sign.
    “Get me some biscuits, Zoe,” he said. “Two can play at this game. I’ll bet I can play it better.”
    I scurried to do what he asked. I stood beside him with a big, welcoming smile on my face, giving out little menus as he gave out biscuits. Delia watched from the window as she put apples into biscuit bowls.
    “Suzette” looked our way a few times as people began to come toward our food truck. I had to give up handing out menus to serve our customers.
    I was thrilled when people began ordering both sweet and savory biscuit bowls. A few sat on the café chairs and smiled when they bit into the treats. Some even ordered a savory biscuit bowl and then came back for a sweet one.
    There was actually money in the cash register. The crowds I’d remembered from yesterday were lining up at our window. It was almost too much to keep up with. That wasn’t a good thing since poor service has been the death of many a restaurant. I called to Ollie so he could give me a hand. It was all Delia could do to keep up with filling the biscuit bowls.
    For the next hour, we were so busy, I didn’t have time to look up from the rapidly disappearing biscuit bowls. My fears about not having enough food were almost right. We were down to the last pan of biscuits when the crowd vanished as fast as it had appeared.
    It was almost two P.M. “That was the lunch rush.” I took a deep breath.
    Delia let out a sigh of relief. “How were you doing all that by yourself, Zoe?”
    “I wasn’t. This was my first really busy day!”
    Ollie grinned. “I think they liked us.”
    “I think so.” I smiled back, elated. “You and Delia were my lucky charms. Well, your gumbo, too.”
    “I told you, give them what they want, and you’ll be fine.”
    “That, and being an aggressive marketer, and scaring away potential thieves,” Delia said.
    I agreed. “Thanks for your help, Ollie.”
    “Happy to be here for you, Zoe. You should take a breather. I’ll straighten up a little.”
    I liked that idea, though I felt guilty once I was sitting outside on one of the café chairs. I was lucky to have Ollie