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Zusatztext Praise for Neil Flambé and the Bard's Banquet “The constant suspense! innocent romance! a lovely recipe for scones! and the flamboyant! irrepressible chef will captivate fans of the series and impel new readers to the nearest bookstore or library.” Informationen zum Autor Kevin Sylvester Klappentext Neil and his friend Larry travel in their new food truck to the Salsa Verde ranch in Arizona to participate in the legendary food-truck gathering, but when Neil discovers that the Verde ranch is in danger of foreclosure, the only hope for the ranch is a treasure map left behind by the very first Verde, a chef who discovered a mine while escaping from a murderous army colonel.Neil Flambé and the Duel in the Desert CHAPTER ONE BORDER CROSS Neil could see the look of shock on the border guard’s face before they reached the inspection booth. “This is not going to go well,” Neil muttered. Larry slammed on the brakes, which let out an earsplitting squeal with a side order of blue smoke and a soupçon of burning rubber. Neil’s head whipped forward, then snapped back. “On the contrary, it’s going AWESOME!” Larry said. Neil caught a glimpse of the guard through Larry’s window. She had her eyes closed and her hands clapped tightly over her ears. She was frowning. Larry turned off the ignition, let out a giant “WHOOP!” and began playing an imaginary drum solo on the steering wheel. The guard coughed and waved the smoke away. She leaned out of her kiosk, taking in the length and height of the strange vehicle that had just appeared in front of her. She gave her head a bewildered shake. Larry smiled and winked at Neil. “I think she’s impressed with the FrankenWagon.” “Ugh.” The FrankenWagon was the new Flambé food truck, and Neil hated it. It was a hybrid in the same way chicken-chocolate ice cream is a hybrid. It was welded together from an old Volkswagen van at the front and a silver Airstream trailer at the back. There was a visible welding line that ran around the entire cab, like a scar, and Neil was sure it was going to split apart every time they turned a corner. The guard narrowed her eyes and growled. “I don’t think ‘impressed’ is the right word,” Neil said, secretly wishing that border guards had their kiosks on the passenger side. “Open the window!” the woman bellowed. Larry smiled and pointed his finger in the air in the universal sign for wait a second. “NOW!” Larry nodded. Neil watched as Larry used an electric mixer to quickly roll down the window. He’d had to lean down to plug the mixer into the makeshift socket he’d installed in the dashboard, and it looked very suspicious, Neil realized, like maybe Larry was hiding something quickly at his feet. The window lowered slowly, slowly, and Neil was sure he saw the guard reach for her weapon. “Where are your hands?” the guard demanded. Larry raised them, still holding the mixer. “Pretty sweet, eh?” he said. “I made that myself after the original handle broke off.” She frowned. A bead of sweat ran down Neil’s forehead. “Passports,” said the guard. Larry leaned on the door frame. “No worries. My cousin will just fetch them from yonder glove compartment. Speaking of fetching . . . may I get a name to put to the lovely face and oh-so-fetching uniform?” The guard stayed stone-faced. Neil had seen Larry’s charm work on all sorts of people, but the border guard seemed immune. Neil grabbed the passports and leaned past Larry to hand them to the woman. She snatched them from hi...
