Having a Kluckin’ Good Time at the Flat Rock Foodie Fest

Every once in a while, the characters of the Originally Pressed Mysteries get the chance to step outside their own stories and cross paths with characters from other cozy mysteries.

Today, Brenda Welch gets that chance when a visit to the Flat Rock Foodie Fest introduces her to Beth and Seth Lloyd, two of the main characters from Carmela Dutra's Food Truck Mystery series. As you might expect, the conversation doesn't stay focused on food for very long.

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Coffee with Brenda: Beth and Seth Lloyd

It was the second year of the Annual Flat Rock Foodie Fest, and sunshine in the day's forecast already put it one step ahead of last year's event, which had been rained out.

There were at least a dozen food trucks lined up along the edge of City Park. That meant that my boyfriend Tony had already spent part of the morning devising a game plan. We'd start at one end of the grassy expanse, check out every truck and all our options before deciding what to eat, and then work our way around from vendor to vendor in some semblance of order. At least that was his plan. I, on the other hand, knew that within half an hour we'd be zig-zagging haphazardly across the park because the line was too long, something smelled good, or we'd changed our minds about an option we'd passed up ten minutes earlier. My system involved finding something that smelled good and getting in line.

We left his vintage record shop in the capable hands of his sole employee and walked a block south on Monroe. Minutes later we were cutting between a break in the wooden fence that surrounded the park, entering the festivities between a truck selling mini-donuts and one offering up a variety of chicken wings. “I’m getting us something to drink,” he said, nodding toward the VFW beer tent across the park.

“Sounds good.”

“What do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

He gave me a look I’d become familiar with. The one that told me I’d just assigned him a task requiring extensive research and possibly a background check.

“I’ll wait here,” I said.

After watching him head off to the other side of the park near the bandshell, I turned to begin surveying some of our options. And that’s when I spotted the sign.

KLUCKIN’ GOOD.

Okay. They had me.

I made my way over to the yellow truck with the red-and-white awning. A woman was working inside while a man moved around behind her, both still busy prepping for the day’s event.

“We’re almost ready,” the woman said when she spotted me contemplating the Golden Gate heat wings on their menu.

“Take your time. Sorry, we’re early. Tony has a thing about being on time…”

I glanced toward the beer tent where he’d disappeared.

“…And apparently being on time means getting here before everyone else.”

She laughed, and I decided to introduce myself.

“I’m Brenda, by the way. Brenda Welch. My business partner and I own the Bear Claw Bakery, just over on Jefferson.”

That got the woman’s attention.

“Another food person,” she said.

“Guilty.”

“I’m Bethany Lloyd, but I go by Beth. I’m co-owner of Kluckin’ Good,” she said, and then pointed to the man mixing what I assumed was a spice rub behind her, “This is my twin brother, Seth. I’m the older one, for reference.”

“By two minutes,” Seth said.

“Two very important minutes.”

“And yet, somehow, she’s seven years younger than me.”

“You’re such a jerkface for bringing that up.”

“You started it,” he said, and then turned to me. “For the record, when I’m not working on the truck with my sister, I practice law part-time at Buford and Meyers, in Clementine, California.”

“You’re a long way from home,” I said.

“We were at the Taste of Minnesota last weekend,” he responded, “and heard about your town’s event from another food-truck owner there. We had some time to kill before we had to make the trek back to the West Coast, so we thought we’d give it a shot.”

“You should do well,” I said, stifling a yawn. “People in Flat Rock love their chicken.”

"Late night?" Beth asked.

“No," I replied. “Early morning. Bakery hours and all. But it’s what gets me out of bed.”

The woman nodded. “If you asked me what gets me out of bed, I’d probably say mostly the bathroom—”

“That comment is what I’m talking about,” Seth said. “I doubt that’s what our new friend meant.”

Beth sighed at her brother. “To be more specific, my emotional support chicken, Teriyaki, usually wakes me first, and coffee motivates me to keep going.”

As if on cue, I spotted what I could only assume was their official mascot peeking around the corner of the truck. It surveyed the scene and went back to pecking at something near the side door of the mobile establishment.

“Coffee is basically a drip line for my sister,” said Seth.

“It is in the bakery, as well. I’ve probably had four cups already this morning, and it’s not even noon yet.” I told them.

“Well, coffee gets me out of bed to start the day, and the food truck is what keeps me there.”

“That’s more accurate,” her brother responded.

“Is it hard running a food truck?” I asked. “Stacy and I thought about that option at first, but then the Keils, who owned the town’s bakery, were retiring. Brick and mortar seemed like a natural choice for us.”

Beth continued working while she talked. “Running a food truck means there’s always something that needs to be done. Prep work, inventory, ordering, customers, cleaning, figuring out why something is making a weird noise...”

“Usually that noise is because my sister has decided she can fix it after watching one YouTube video.”

“Hey, I can fix things.”

“You once tried to fix a blender with a butter knife.” He said.

“And it worked.”

“It worked until it blew the breaker to your entire apartment building.”

“But it worked!”

As I watched the exchange between them, I began understanding their relationship. Seth seemed to have a slightly different opinion of his sister than the version Beth presented to the world.

I could relate. There were a few versions of me floating around Flat Rock that I didn't necessarily agree with.

“It’s like people get you completely wrong…” I said.

Beth nodded. “Sometimes people think I’m impulsive.”

“She is impulsive,” came the retort from her brother.

“I prefer ‘willing to act quickly when circumstances require it.’”

“That’s a very elaborate way of saying impulsive.”

“I think people also assume that because I get involved in things, I must be fearless, but I’m not. I’m scared plenty of the time. I just have difficulty standing by when someone I care about is in trouble.”

“That’s the part people should understand about Beth,” Seth said. “She’ll be terrified and still walk straight toward whatever is causing the problem if someone needs help.”

“You make me sound reckless.”

“You are reckless.”

Beth sighed, eyeing her brother. “I suddenly regret asking you to help with this event.”

“But you’re reckless in a good way.” He answered, trying to make up for it.

“Thank you.”

“Some of the time.”

“And there it is.”

I smiled. “Well, that sounds like courage to me, which shouldn’t be considered a weakness.”

“Oh, no. If you asked me what my weakness would be, I think I’d say that it’s that I don’t know when to let something go. If something doesn’t make sense, I need to understand why. It’s hard for me to ignore the unfair treatment of others. And if I think someone is lying...”

“She starts asking questions. A lot of them.” Seth said, now shredding lettuce.

“I ask reasonable questions.”

“You interrogate people.”

“I didn’t know we were throwing stones in glass houses, counselor.”

“I’m a lawyer. Asking questions is part of my job.”

“So is knowing when to stop.”

“Fair point.”

“So, are you saying that your brother has the same problem? Not knowing when to stop asking questions?” I asked.

“No, actually I’d say that Seth worries too much.”

“That’s not my biggest weakness.”

“It absolutely is. Unless you prefer I tell her what happened that time at Great America when—”

“We’ll go with Beth’s answer: I worry too much. And if you were to ask me what Beth’s biggest weakness is, I’d say she cares too much.”

Both Beth and I responded at the same time. “Aww.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

I liked these two. “That should be a rule. You can’t care too much.”

Beth agreed. “That’d be a good rule. And like all rules, I believe they exist for a reason.”

“Please remember that the next time you’re questioned by the police,” Seth said.

I looked from Seth to Beth.

“There are rules,” Beth continued, “and then there are situations where following a rule blindly can keep you from doing the right thing.”

“Which is Beth’s way of saying she ignores rules.”

“Occasionally.”

“Frequently,” her brother said.

“Selectively.”

“That’s just a synonym for frequently.”

“You’re a lawyer. Find a better argument.”

I made a mental note to introduce Beth to Tony. Or possibly never introduce Beth to Tony.

“So, are you saying that you trust your instincts, or the evidence?” I asked.

“Both.”

“Evidence tells you what happened,” Seth said. “Instinct can tell you where to look.”

Beth nodded. “I’ve learned that neither one should be ignored. Sometimes something doesn’t add up, even when you can’t immediately explain why. That’s usually when I start paying closer attention.”

Seth shook his head, “And that’s usually when I start worrying.”

“Ha! I was right. Worrying is your biggest problem. And your worrying is not my problem.”

“It becomes my problem when I have to bail you out of jail while you’re dressed as a chicken.”

The comment from the younger of the two made me pause.

Beth looked at her brother.

“One time!”

“One memorable time.”

Beth looked at me, explaining. “I got arrested one time while dressed as a chicken.”

She turned to Seth, “…and you’ve never let me live it down.”

“You were also yelling poultry profanity.”

“I was under a lot of stress!”

I forgot entirely about Tony and the beer tent.

“Poultry profanity, huh? I’ve learned that trouble seems to find some people more than others,” I said. “Do you think that’s true in your case?”

“Absolutely,” Seth said, answering for his co-worker.

“I don’t go looking for trouble,” Beth said, defending herself.

“You have literally walked toward crime scenes.”

“Because someone needed help.”

“You have questioned suspects while serving them wings.”

“It would be rude to do so on an empty stomach.”

“You have followed people.”

Beth looked from her brother to me. “Brenda, that sounds worse than it was.”

“It was exactly as bad as it sounds.” Seth corrected.

“Just admit it, sometimes trouble finds you.”

“Trouble usually finds me because I’m near you.”

There was something familiar about all of this. Not the chicken costume. At least not yet. But the questions. The refusal to accept the easiest answer simply because it was easy. It described Tony to a fault. I continued.

“So, finding answers is important. They lead to justice. Would you agree?”

“Justice is seeking the truth,” Seth said. “Not the easiest or most convenient answer. If someone is responsible for something terrible, they should be held accountable.”

Beth, who was busy writing their specials on a wooden chalkboard, piped up. “But I also don’t believe in deciding someone is guilty simply because they’re easy to blame.”

“Agree, everyone deserves a fair chance to tell their side of the story.”

“Even when the truth isn’t what you hoped it would be.”

“Especially then.”

That sounded like someone I knew. Someone I spotted walking towards me, a beer in each hand.

“Did you find something interesting?” Tony asked as he approached the truck.

“I did,” I told him. “I found interesting people. My new friends and I were just discussing finding justice. Beth and Seth, meet Tony DeLucca, my boyfriend.”

The three said their hellos and then Tony turned to me. “Sorry it took me so long; I had to wait for them to find the cups.”

“That’s what happens when you arrive twenty minutes early, like you’re scared something’s going to happen without you here,” I said, laughing.

“Everyone has something that scares them, but I wouldn’t say that would make the top of my list,” he answered.

I rolled my eyes and then thought I’d pose the question to Beth. “What’s something that scares you that might surprise people who know you?”

“Losing someone I love.”

“She said something that might surprise people,” Seth said.

“I know what she said.”

Seth turned to us. “Anyone who knows Beth knows that she cares with her entire being. That isn’t exactly a secret. What is a secret is that she hates heights.”

“I do not hate heights.”

“You once screamed on a Ferris wheel.”

“That Ferris wheel was going to move!”

“That’s generally what Ferris wheels do.” Seth set down what he was working on and looked around the truck. “And with that, I think we’re officially ready for business. You two want to be our first customers of the day?”

Tony stepped closer to the menu. “What do you think?”

I’d already made up my mind. “Bayou wings.”

“And the Plucked and Truffled fries,” Tony added.

“Good choices,” Beth said.

Seth started on our order while Beth moved to help him.

A few minutes later, as the smell of whatever they were doing to those wings began making me reconsider whether we'd be visiting any of the other trucks at all, Seth looked at Tony and me, and then at his sister.

“Did you tell Brenda about the chicken suit story?”

“No.”

“What about the assault?”

“Seth, we are moving on.” Beth shook her head. “My brother makes me sound like a disaster.”

I laughed. “I don’t know. From where I’m standing, it sounds like most of the disasters happen because you’re trying to help someone.”

Beth was quiet for a moment before speaking.

“Underneath all the sarcasm and the chaos, I’m really just someone who loves her family, friends, community, and the life we’ve built. I don’t always know what I’m doing, and I definitely don’t always make the right choices. But I show up.”

“For the people she loves, she’ll show up every single time,” Seth said.

“And you?” I asked Seth.

“What about me?”

“What would you want people to know about you?”

“That I’m the responsible one.”

“No, you’re not,” Beth snapped back.

“I’m significantly more responsible than you.”

“That’s a very low bar.”

Seth slid a basket of wings across the counter, followed by an order of fries. “And yet somehow you keep clearing it in the wrong direction.”

Beth held up a hand, blocking anymore comments from her sibling and looked at me as Tony paid for our order. “If you ever find yourself in Clementine, stop by Kluckin’ Good for a basket of wings on the house.”

“And if you see Beth asking suspicious questions—” her brother said.

“Seth—”

“—or Teriyaki in a matching outfit—”

“Seth!”

“Run.”

I laughed and thanked them and then took the wings while Tony grabbed the fries.

We hadn't made it more than a few steps from the truck when Tony looked over at me.

“Okay. How much did I miss?”

I considered where to start.

“Emotional support chicken. Lawyer. Crime scenes. Questioning suspects. Arrested in a chicken costume.”

Tony looked back toward the truck.

“I was gone twenty minutes.”

“I know.”

He stared at me for another second.

“And you wonder how trouble keeps finding us.”

I stole one of the fries from the basket he was carrying.

“Actually, I think I just met someone who might have us beat.”