Twice Dipped Murder: A Rita Reincarnated Cozy

by DeWitt, Daphne

  “Good. Bring that to table three, and you’ll get some answers,” he barked, and then turned.

  “The things I put myself through,” I muttered, shaking my head and heading out into the dining room.

  Setting the food down, I promised to give the man at the table, a tall guy I’d never seen before, a bottle of ketchup on my next pass over the room, and headed back into the kitchen.

  “This goes to table seven,” he said, thrusting a plate of angel hair pasta toward me.

  “Oh no!” I said, shaking my head. “Answers first. Then you get your free labor.”

  He looked at me, curly hair and a five o’clock shadow that hadn’t changed in at least five years, and saw a girl he barely knew as opposed to one who grew up just down the street from him.

  “You gotta ask me while we’re walking,” he said, pulling the pasta back and handing it to another woman, someone I hoped was an actual waitress.

  “I can do that,” I said as he turned back toward the end of the kitchen.

  “What you got for me, pie girl?” he asked without looking over his shoulder.

  “My name is Rita,” I said, correcting him.

  “Funny,” he chuckled. “That was the last pie girl’s name too. Hope you fair better than she did.”

  I grimaced. “So am I.”

  “What’s your question?” he asked, rounding the corner and standing in front of a grill filled with ten darkening burger patties. My mouth watered as the smell hit me, but then I thought about how sweaty Eddie had just been, and my appetite disappeared rather quickly.

  “What section of the restaurant were you waiting on at about eleven thirty this morning?” I asked patiently.

  “I’m a cook, pie girl,” he said. “You’re the waitress.”

  “I’m actually not a waitress,” I answered.

  “Then why did you take the meatloaf to table 3?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “That was weird.” I sighed, pushing past his somehow absent and one track mind.

  “What table, Eddie?” I asked, trying to refocus the situation.

  “I told you, I don’t wait tables. Not even today.” His chest puffed up pridefully. “I’m much too crucial to what goes on back here.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured. “You’re an integral cog in the machine alright. Does anyone else call a mushroom burger without onions a forty-three, no tears?”

  “No,” he complained, “and it really upsets me. I set up that numeric system for a reason, you know. It wasn’t just for kicks and giggles.”

  “Someone overheard you say that at eleven thirty this morning,” I said.

  He sighed, flipping the burgers over. “So?” he asked. “I say a lot of things.”

  No argument there.

  “I’m trying to figure out who might have been in a position to overhear you say that?” I explained.

  “Anyone standing in the kitchen,” he said. “Though, if they were in here, I doubt I’d be the only thing they overheard.”

  He was right. This place was loud, too loud for Myra to have even been able to make out words, let alone a death threat. Besides, that would have meant someone would have threatened Myra’s life in a room full of people, and that didn’t seem logical.

  “Anywhere else?” I asked, looking at him. “Please, try to think.”

  “Well, I did burn some onion rings earlier,” Eddie explained. “Which is totally out of character for me. I’m usually a wiz in this kitchen.”

  “I’m sure you are,” I answered in an attempt to put his mind at ease.

  “I opened the window for a few minutes to clear out the smoke. I guess if someone was standing in the back of the building, they might have been able to hear me.” He scratched his chin. “Time works out too.” Then, cocking his head to the side, he asked. “What’s this about?”

  “Nothing too important,” I said, smiling at the man. “Do you mind if I go out and take a look behind the building?”

  “That depends,” he answered, pointing to a refuse bin in the corner. “On if you mind taking out the trash.”

  “Fine,” I muttered. “Though, I probably deserve a split of the tips after this.”

  “Dream on, pie girl,” he said as I grabbed the trash bag, and brought it out the back door.

  I sighed as I heaved the bag into the large trash bin in the alley behind the building. This place was pretty secluded. I couldn’t imagine there were too many people moving back and forth through it in the run of a day. If I wanted to make a secret death threat, I could think of worse places.

  I turned, brushing my hands together and surveying the area.

  I didn’t see much at first, but as I looked down, I noticed several footprints.

  All of them were like the prints I had just created, going straight to the dumpster, and then straight back.

  All but one. There was a set of prints that seemed to run in a tight circle: large, wing-tipped prints. Someone in very fancy shoes Had walked in circles out here.

  As I neared it, I saw that at the end of that circle was a wadded up piece of gum paper. A sliver of white gum wrapped in silver and plastic sat on the ground.

  Judging from the placement of all of this as well as the fact that something was overheard during the call, it stood to reason that the gum and the circling shoe prints might have come from whoever was responsible for the death threat. I couldn’t be sure, but it was a definite possibility. Pulling out my phone, I snapped a photo of the prints and, taking a napkin out of my pocket, I grabbed the gum, wincing as I picked it up, really grossed out by the fact that there was only a thin sheet of paper between my fingers and a piece of gum that had already been in someone’s mouth. “The things I put myself through.”

  17

  “Just do it, okay?” I asked, looking down at Mayor McConnell and motioning toward the hula-hoop hanging from a cord tied to my clothes line. I was standing in front of my apartment behind the pie shop hoping, for the third time tonight, I might be able to convince my dog to jump through this stupid thing.

  He just stood there, his snout turned up in the air and his eyes careful not to meet my own.

  He wasn’t budging.

  “You know, I have no idea why you have to be so difficult,” I said, shaking my head and stomping my foot. “I know you can understand me. I’ve seen your journals in the town library. You spoke English very well!”

  Again, the former mayor turned Irish Shepard only ignored me.

  “Don’t you think we’ve had it hard enough?” I asked, trying to keep from losing my temper. “I was thrown down a flight of steps and you were buried alive, for Pete’s sake. Not to mention all the grief your great, great granddaughter has put me through lately.” I stomped my foot again. “We’re on the same team, you know. Maybe we should start acting like it.”

  Again, he ignored me.

  This dog was a really difficult nut to crack.

  “You know what? Fine!” I said, pursing my lips. “I’m not the one who’s going to look like an idiot out there tomorrow.” I sighed. “Well, I’m not going to be the only one.”

  I huffed, a bit of misplaced anger rolling through me like a wave. Who did this dog thing he was anyway? Was it really too much to ask to ask to run through a few simple tricks in preparation for a dog show we were almost certainly going to be laughed out of?

  It wasn’t like I wanted to do this either, but the mayor was pretty insistent and, more importantly, I wasn’t any closer to finding out who was responsible for Lionel’s death or for threatening Myra’s life.

  I sent the shoe print photo to Darrin along with the disgusting wad of chewing gum. I suggested he have it analyzed for DNA, but since Second Springs wasn’t exactly a booming metropolis with a crime rate to boot, he would have to send it off. That would take days or weeks. After all, we what we were investigating basically boiled down to a possible homicide the entire media was happy to write off as a suicide and a threatening prank call from behind a diner.

  Something told me
it wouldn’t go straight to the top of lab’s pile.

  So I had to do this. I needed to be in that dog show if I was going to get close enough to find the answers I was looking for. I couldn’t do that with a dog that wouldn’t even listen to a simple command.

  I plopped down on the ground, glaring at Mayor McConnell with irritated eyes. He was already sitting but instinctively, I said, “Sit down. We need to talk.”

  Because he was just that kind of dog, Mayor McConnell stood up on all fours and turned his head the other way.

  “Now you’re just being contrary,” I said, shaking my head. “Look, I know this probably isn’t the way you saw your life going. I seriously doubt coming back as the world’s most aloof Irish Shepard was on your list of things to do.” I took a deep breath. “But you know what? I didn’t intend on getting pushed down the county’s most tragically misplaced set of outdoor steps either. I know it’s not the same as getting buried alive by your black widow wife, but it wasn’t fun. I had a life to lead. I was going to get married. I was going to have kids. I was going to raise them up right and then they’d have kids, and I would just spoil them rotten. You see, I had a plan for all of it.”

  I ran a hand through my stupidly unruly red hair.

  I hated this hair.

  “The thing I’m trying to say is, I get it. I understand how hard it is to have your life ripped away entirely too soon and not have the chance to say goodbye. I understand how it feels to leave the people you care about without being able to give them the closure they need to move on. But don’t you get it? That’s what happened to Lionel too. It’s what his wife is going through right now. That’s got to be part of the reason why we’re back here. We’re meant to help the people who ended up like we did, to give their families the closure ours never got, and to give them the peace that comes with it.” I shrugged. “At least, I think that’s why.”

  I heard the pattering of paws against pavement. Looking over, I saw a French poodle running toward the hula-hoop. With a single graceful leapt, she soared through it, landing on the other side with all the poise of an Olympic gymnast.

  Mayor McConnell looked over at the poodle, and his expression said all the things his mouth couldn’t.

  Show-off.

  “Cleopatra?” I asked, narrowing my eyes and looking over at the animal.

  “That’s a good girl,” a voice said from beside me.

  A mid-twenties guy with freckles and red hair like mine walked toward me, clapping his hands and smiling.

  My body tensed and I jumped to my feet before I realized what was going on.

  “Charlie?” I asked, glaring at the guy.

  “Look at that,” he answered, smiling. “I didn’t even have to call you honeybean this time.” He arched his brows at me infuriatingly. “Someone’s getting the hang of things.”

  “I’d get the hang of it much quicker if you’d just stick to one body,” I answered.

  “Would if I could, HB,” he said, shortening honeybean, which I instantly decided I didn’t like. “But no can do. Copyright issues.”

  “You seem to have a little more pep than usual,” I muttered.

  “What can I say?” He shrugged. “I like being a ginger.”

  “That makes one of us,” I answered, once again blowing a tuft of red hair out of my eyes.

  I was going to have to start investing in hairclips to pin it back with.

  “Where have you been?” I asked, putting my hands on my hips. “All this time, and no word from you. Can’t you see I’m in over my head with this one?”

  “Oh no,” he answered. “And we made you so much taller than before.”

  While I was tempted to ask who the ‘we’ in question was, I figured it was better to stay on topic. In any event, I probably wouldn’t get anything more than infuriating fortune cookie speak for my trouble.

  “This is serious, Charlie. I think I’ve hit a wall with this,” I admitted.

  “Better than hitting the ground,” he answered. “You know, seeing as how poorly that ended for you last time.”

  “Very funny,” I said as a flash of irritation ran through me. Now was definitely not to time for me to be reminded of how my life as Rita Clarke ended. “You’re not doing me any favors, you know,” I continued. “You’ve saddled me with a dog who won’t so much as listen to any of my-”

  I turned to motion to Mayor McConnell only to find him leaping through the hula-hoop too.

  “You were saying?” Charlie asked, beaming at me.

  “He wouldn’t do that before,” I muttered.

  “Well, maybe you got through to him, HB,” Charlie said. “You’ve got to remember. He’s an old-fashioned guy, and he’s used to having power. It must be kind of a drag for him to be put in this situation.”

  I hadn’t thought about it that way. For all the trouble my new life was, I did have the dignity of going through it as a human being. It must have been really hard for the mayor to put up with it in animal form, and over a hundred years later to boot.

  “Kind of a drag, indeed,” I answered, looking from the mayor back to Charlie. “Though that phrase kind of dates you too, doesn’t it?” I asked, remembering the way Greg Brady used to say things were ‘a drag’ during the Nick at Nite reruns of my youth.

  “HB, if you knew my real age, you’d think that was positively futuristic of me,” he said, smiling.

  That raised an entirely different set of questions I didn’t have time to ask given that Charlie had one of his own.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me why Cleopatra and I came here?” he chimed.

  “It had crossed my mind,” I admitted. “Though, honestly, I just figured you came here to show up my dog.”

  “That was just icing on the cake,” Charlie answered. “I popped in because you were in the middle of a very deep conversation, and I needed to shut you up so you could hear.”

  “Hear what?” I asked, my brows knitting together curiously.

  Just then, a loud bang came from inside the shop.

  My head snapped around, and I saw a flashlight moving back and forth.

  Someone had broken into the Pie Ladies’ Paradise. They were in there right now.

  Charlie answered in a sing-song voice. “To hear that, of course.”

  18

  My heart raced as I looked at the flashlight bobbing back and forth inside the shop. Someone had broken into the place I had built, the store I’d convinced Peggy to move back here and help me run. This place had been my life’s work. Blood, sweat, and tears had gone into it, and now someone was ransacking it.

  But for what?

  This place was a small town bakery. There was nothing of value to a thief in there. Peggy and I sold out of pies nearly every day and, on the days we didn’t, one of us delivered them to the church or to a family in town who we thought might need them or who had been going through a difficult time.

  There certainly wasn’t much money to consider. Peggy deposited everything in the bank before she went home every night. All anyone would find were pots, pans, and rolling pins. That was all.

  I quirked my mouth to the side. This led me to believe that something else was afoot here. This had to be connected to what was going on, and if I didn’t find out why, I might never get to the bottom of this.

  I needed to go in there, but that might be foolish. I had no way of knowing who I’d meet on the other side of that door, though I doubted whoever it was would be friendly or happy to see me. I might be throwing myself into a very dangerous situation but, then again, if I let this chance pass me by, I might not get another one.

  I turned back to Charlie, attempting to ask him his opinion on what I should do. When I turned though, I saw my momentarily freckled spirit guide had vanished along with his show off of a French poodle.

  “Of course,” I muttered.

  Instead, I pulled the phone out of pocket and dialed up Darrin.

  “Rita?” he said concerned. “It’s almost eleven o’clock at nig
ht. What’s wrong?”

  “Someone broke into the pie shop, Darrin,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “They’re in there right now.”

  “Rita,” he said, his voice, calm, slow, and collected. “I want you to go back into your apartment and lock the door. Do you understand me? I’m on my way. Just head back to your apartment, lock up, and wait for me.”

  He knew me too well for that.

  “What if they leave?” I asked, still gazing at the flashlight as it moved around my establishment.

  “Rita, you are not to go into that shop,” he said, his voice raising a pitch point or two. “I’m getting dressed right now. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “Ten minutes might be too long,” I answered, swallowing hard. “What if they’re connected to what happened with Lionel?” I asked, reacting to the gut feeling I had that this was all intertwined somehow. “I can’t just let them go.”

  “How would this be connected to Lionel, Rita?” he asked, a ping of panic clear in his tone. “Someone is breaking into your shop. That’s all. It’s not a conspiracy. They’re probably hungry or broke, and they thought it would be an easy take.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” I said, shaking my head even though he couldn’t see it. “There’s no money or food in there, and there are news vans on every corner. No one’s going to break into a bakery in the middle of the night, Darrin. We both know that. This is deeper than that.”

  “Rita,” I’m not fighting with you about this,” he answered, and now he was almost yelling. “I’m getting into my car right now. I can run both red lights between us right now. I’ll be there in five minutes. Just promise me that you will not go into that shop. Promise me, Rita!”

  I watched the glow from the flashlight turn and then head sharply in a certain direction. They were headed for the door. I couldn’t let them go.

  “Just get here as quickly as you can,” I said, hanging up the phone.

  “Promise me, Ri-” he started before I pressed the ‘end’ button.

  I really did want to promise him. I didn’t want to throw myself in harm’s way, and I certainly didn’t want to give Darrin another reason not to trust me, but if this person was leaving, I needed find out who he or she was before they did.