Work whistles went off around the neighborhood, and the streets became void of any pedestrians. The trucks that noisily rumbled by were all huge, heavy behemoths, rattling chains from their back bumpers or shaking like thunder as the empty trailers bounced over the massive potholes caused by so many big trucks cruising down the street.
A garbage truck lifted and overturned enormous dumpsters filled with everything from fast food lunch bags to bags of shredded, ten-year-old tax forms. Heavy scraps of wood, metal, and plastic cascaded noisily into the garbage truck’s open maw and then were crushed under the pressure of the hydraulic press, which kicked in with a whine and shudder.
“For a place with so few people on the street, it is noisy out here.” Lila scattered some flour on the clean cutting board, in preparation for creating her very first lavender petals made out of frosting. “There could be six people getting murdered down the block, and we wouldn’t hear them if they were screaming… well… bloody murder.”
“Well put,” Amelia replied, chuckling and focusing on two mixers she had going simultaneously.
In Food Truck Alley, people visited the Pink Cupcake steadily throughout the day, but here, foot traffic just about stopped by eight o’clock. Just as the midday-break whistle shot through all the other noises in the area, Amelia placed the last batch of Dreamsicle cupcakes on the rack at the service window.
Just in time, too, as the employees of all the nearby factories and mills came spilling out of their buildings to enjoy a little fresh air or a cigarette, or to grab something to eat from one of the several food trucks parked along the way.
Amelia kept her eye on the people coming from Master Ketchup. It was quite a diverse group, to say the least. The murmurs and bits of conversation Amelia could overhear were of Danielle Wilcox and the murder. Some women were visibly shaken, wiping their eyes with crumpled-up tissues they’d probably been using all morning. Others nodded and gave sympathetic glances and pats on the back.
But there was one fellow who caught Amelia’s attention. Leaning up against the brick wall by himself was this short guy who reminded Amelia of some of the boys she’d seen at Adam and Meg’s school, strutting around in tight clothes to show off their physique, striking poses leaning against the gym walls, and acting as if they were really too good to be with the rest of the crowd.
In reality, the crowd usually found them too obnoxious to be around. Fascinated, Amelia studied him as he smoked a cigarette, and she saw him roll his eyes at more than one female who walked by, dabbing her eyes or crying outright. Another guy joined him. This new guy was at least a foot taller and wore glasses. The half-pint changed his attitude. He became animated, laughing, smiling, shrugging his shoulders, and cracking jokes that only he laughed at.
Not normal, Amelia thought. Like some men who suffer a Napoleon Complex due to their height, this guy was determined to make himself known—even if it was by being as insufferable as possible.
“You suspect Shorty over there?” Lila whispered, adding a five and two tens to the register.
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“He stands out like a sore thumb. Doesn’t look too broken up about this whole murder, either.” Lila smiled at the next customer in line.
Amelia would describe him to Christine later. In the meantime, while Amelia knew Dan and Gene were still in the building taking statements and looking for surveillance-camera footage, here on the sidewalk, a very nervous guy in overalls made a dash across the street.
In between handling the cupcakes and putting them carefully into their hot-pink boats or tiny pastry boxes, she observed that there wasn’t anything across the street except a car impound lot. It wasn’t the kind of place that let people in to just roam around. In fact, there was a guard booth at the front with a rather large man with a frown on his face reading the paper inside.
Squinting, Amelia spotted the man in overalls as he jogged along the chain-link fence that kept all the booted cars safe during the off hours. He disappeared behind a Ford Taurus and the other brick building behind the fence.
For a second, Amelia wondered if she should call Dan and let him know. For all she knew, the person was fleeing the scene. He could be the person responsible for murdering Danielle Wilcox, and she was letting him get away.
Could it really be that simple? Did the case already get solved? No—not until the guy is in cuffs and in the back of Dan’s car.
She reached for her phone, and just as she was about to hit Dan’s number on her speed dial, a woman in a tight black skirt and kitten heels walked, with her arms folded over her chest, in the same direction. Amelia shut her phone off and put it back in her pocket. “Well, that’s interesting.”
“What?” Lila wiped her forehead, leaving a streak of white powder behind like Indian war paint.
“Nothing. Just saw a couple slip off behind that building.”
“A couple of what?” Lila asked, only half listening to Amelia.
“A couple. You know, a man and a woman.” Amelia chortled.
“Oh.” Lila smiled. “Eww. Love behind the auto pound. How romantic.”
Amelia nodded, but she wasn’t completely convinced their behavior was love. Maybe she was just being paranoid.
“Excuse me!” a shrill voice called. “Excuse me. Do you work here?”
Amelia snapped out of her daydream and looked down from the service window. Staring up at her was a gargoyle from the spires of Notre Dame.