Potluck and Poison by Bailey Booth

Author:Bailey Booth [Booth, Bailey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bailey Booth

Thirteen

Kenzie groaned. “What is she doing?”

“That was her claim when she talked to me. She says—”

“I know what she says. We’d love to let her husband go home. But the police think that the cast and crew might be a flight risk. They’re only allowed to go to set and to the hotel. Nowhere else.”

I raised a brow. “Aren’t you considered crew?”

She sighed. “They’re making an exception for me so the show can keep running. Not everything can be delivered.”

“Like talking cats and hot dogs.”

“Pretty much.” She laughed.

Marci’s face brightened when she saw me. There wasn’t any harm in waving back. I felt bad for her and her husband. If I didn’t have such a great staff at Helping Paws, I’d never be able to take time away to solve these crimes. It had been about two weeks since the poisoning. That was a long time to be away unexpectedly.

Marci left the reporter in the dust and ran over to us.

“Addie! I’m so glad to see you here. Have you had a chance to talk to Nick?”

“Not yet,” I said. Kenzie rolled her eyes, but the disappointment on Marci’s face was real. “I traveled yesterday, and by the time I saw you, I was exhausted. I’ll talk to him as—”

“Addie’s here to solve the crime.” Kenzie cut me off before I could make any promises.

Marci narrowed her eyes at her. “Don’t let this one give you the wrong idea about me or my husband. Nick only came to this show because he thought it would help his career. Not destroy it.”

“I’ll do what I can.” I stepped away from her, but Persephone lingered. Maybe it was the umbrella. I coaxed her away and picked her up. My jacket was wet, too, and didn’t offer much shelter. I’d have to find her a heater and a warm towel as soon as possible.

Maybe she could warm up in one of the Potluck trailers.

Kenzie was already in line at Chloe’s Dogs. The food truck offered a DIY menu. Choose the dog, the bun (or lettuce), and the toppings.

“Any suggestions?” My brain was jumbled after that run-in with Marci.

“You have to get it with cream cheese, caramelized onions, and sriracha. It’s a Seattle tradition,” Marci stepped in and said. “But I wish you would consider getting your lunch from any of these other food trucks. They’re full of hard-working locals. Not celebrities.”

Kenzie bit her lip again.

“I might be here for a while, and I’ll be sure to check them out.” I wasn’t exactly in a position to snub lunch from anyone associated with Parking Lot Potluck.

And George had found the way to my heart. There were fried pickles on the menu.

Kenzie placed our order.

“Persephone would probably like the salmon dogs. Hold the bun and the garnishes.”

Since we ordered for the whole crew—and the animals—we had to wait for our food to be ready. Every time someone approached the truck, Marci would ask them to consider having lunch elsewhere.

“She can’t keep doing this,” Kenzie said. “George will lose his mind at this kind of bad publicity.

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