What I knew, without the faintest shadow of a doubt, that I couldn’t live with would be if something happened to Darrin while all of this went down.
Dread filled me as we moved through the dark space toward the woods.
“You’re sure they’re going to be here?” Darrin asked.
“Surer than I want to be,” I answered, swallowing hard. The truth of this weighed hard on me. It would almost be enough to let Angela go if I could just be wrong about this. But, I knew I wasn’t. I knew it in my gut and, as I made my way into the shallow edge of the woods, I was proven right.
There he stood. He was arm in arm with Angela, looking at her longingly with eyes that were as familiar to me as my own.
“Stop right there!” I said, bursting through the treeline and pointing the gun at them.
“You,” he said, his eyes wide and his mouth agape.
“I mean it,” I answered, blinking hard and looking at him. “Don’t move, Harvey.”
27
Harvey stared at me. To the Rita he saw in front of him, he probably assumed he was mysterious or an enigma. But the Rita that actually resided in this body could read his expressions like they were a road map.
He had met Angela here, at his speed trap spot at the town line because it was his place. He had always loved it here, at the end of Second Springs- where it looked out at the rest of the world. He could clear his head here, think about the life he wanted to have, about the man he wanted to be, and all that other essential nonsense people are always wringing their hands over.
But if this is what he came up with, if this was the man he decided he wanted to become, it seemed he might have had too much time on his hands after all.
“I saw her in the woods,” Harvey said. “She seemed afraid. I wanted to make sure she was okay.”
“Stop lying,” I demanded, holding the gun in the air toward him.
Harvey looked past me at Darrin, who had settled beside me. “Boss, you’ve got to believe me. I don’t know what this woman told you, but I’m not lying. I was just here trying to make sense of things.” A slow smile spread across his face. “You know me, Sheriff. I’m always trying to make sense of things.”
“And you just happened to run across Angela?” Darrin asked, apprehensively.
“Did she do something wrong?” he asked, looking from Darrin, to me, to Angela, and back again. He was trying really hard to make it work and, as hard as he was trying, I was trying even more. I wanted to believe that Harvey had nothing to do with this more than anything, but I couldn’t. There was too much evidence. I was about to lay it out at his feet.
“Deception doesn’t suit you, Harvey,” I answered. “It never did. Now please tell your girlfriend this is over. She needs to come with us peacefully.”
“You’re not a cop!” Angela screamed. “You’re not anything but a stupid girl who doesn’t know enough to mind her own business!”
“Stop,” Harvey said, putting his palm against her arm. “Look, I’m sure I’m missing something and, if you need to bring this poor widow in for questioning to clear something up, then I’m sure we can arrange that. But I’m not lying, and this woman certainly isn’t my girlfriend.” Harvey shook his head. “She just lost her husband, for goodness sake.”
Darrin looked over at me, his eyes narrowing.
“You know, I was wondering how the killer stayed one step ahead of everyone, how she stayed one step ahead of me,” I said. “I figured she had to have an accomplice, but after I’d found out it was Angela, I assumed that Patrick had helped her kill Mrs. Hoover before things went south for them. I was right, of course. I just didn’t realize how deep everything went.”
I moved toward him, trying desperately to keep the gun from shaking in my hands.
“When you confronted me in the police station, I actually believed you thought I was Amelia Hoover, but you never did. You always knew Angela was actually Amelia. You threw the name at me to see if I would lie about it. Which makes sense, given the timing of my arrival in Second Springs, but you couldn’t help but tip your hand, could you?”
“What are you talking about?” Harvey asked. Looking over at Darrin, he added, “She’s crazy, Sheriff. You can’t listen to anything she’s saying.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he answered. “There are officers on their way, Harvey. I’ve alerted authorities in the next three counties. They're setting up road blocks. This is over.”
“Lair!” Angela yelled, dropping the useless pretense of innocence. “If you had backup, they’d be here right now.”
“I thought it was strange how upset you got about Amelia not speaking to her mother for so long. You seemed emotionally invested in it somehow. And then you said something that wasn’t like you at all,” I continued.
“You don’t know me!” he screamed.
“You said family was everything. You said you had just begun figuring that out. I didn’t know what that meant at the time. But then Angela said the same thing when we confronted her about the pregnancy.”
“Shoot her, Harvey!” Angela yelled.
Harvey didn’t move, his face looking pained and confused.
“I didn’t want to believe it at first, and honestly, that wasn’t enough evidence for me to brush past the kind of man you had always been. Yet, Darrin told me about the floor.”
“The floor?” Harvey asked.
“Shoot her!” Angela screamed.
“The floor of Mrs. Hoover’s house was torn to shreds, but it’s not in any of the police reports. In fact, it says exactly the opposite, as if someone on the inside doctored them after the fact.” I shook my head. “After you learned the truth about Angela, she convinced you to alter the reports, to delete the photos. That way, when the case went cold, no one would think you were looking for something.”
“Shoot her right this instant, Harvey!” Angela yelled.
I looked down. The gun sat untouched on Harvey’s hip.
“He’s not going to shoot me, Angela. Because he’s not a killer. He might have made more than a few mistakes, but he was lonely. And when he got you pregnant, he saw keeping you safe as his responsibility, even if you didn’t deserve it.” I looked back at Harvey. “But he never killed anybody. I know it for a fact.”
“How do you know that?” Harvey asked his voice shaking.
“Because I know you,” I answered. “You’re the son my father never had. You’re the kid who used to keep bullies away from me in grade school. You’re the guy who proposed to me when we were five years old, and we had a ‘wedding’ in the treehouse in the backyard. Your heart is gold, Harvey. You are not a killer.”
Harvey’s eyes narrowed, moving up and down me as though he was seeing me for the first time. “You…” he said, stammering. “You’re not…Rita, you're Rita?”
“Hey, Harvey,” I said, blinking back tears, my heart breaking as I looked at my friend. “I’m so sorry this happened to you and, more than that, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you out of it.”
“This isn’t possible,” he murmured. “I…is it you?”
“It’s me,” I answered, lowering the gun.
“I did bad things, Rita.” Tears poured down his face. Looking at him, I thought of only the young boy I knew, the one I grew up with, the one with the good heart. Still, I was a sheriff’s daughter, one who knew bad things had to be paid for.
“Shut up!” Angela yelled from beside him.
“I was so alone,” Harvey answered. “You were gone. Your dad might as well have been gone. I met her, and I thought I might have a chance to actually have a family, a real family.” He shook his head. “I know it was wrong. I know I shouldn’t have done it.”
“You didn’t kill anybody,” I said, moving toward him. It wasn’t a question. I knew this man. There might have been blood on his hands, but he hadn’t shed it.
At this point though, that might have been a distinction without a difference.
“I didn’t,” he answered. “I
tried but…”
“But he was too much of a coward!” Angela screamed. “All he’d ever do is erase security footage and change police reports. I couldn’t even get him to throw the wrench into your windshield.”
In a quick, fluid motion, Angela grabbed the gun.
My entire body tensed.
“But I’m not a coward. And I’m finishing this.”
She pointed the gun at me, and I saw my life (both of them) flash before my eyes.
“Say goodbye, Rita Redo--”
A blur of red darted past my line of sight and collided with Angela. It knocked her down, throwing the gun from her hand.
“Get it off me,” she shrieked.
Mayor McConnell sat on her chest, lips drawn back, growling in her face.
“Look at that,” I murmured to myself. “Turns out that he does care, after all.”
Darrin swooped in, holding his gun at her and stopping her for reaching for her own. I didn’t bother holding the gun to Harvey. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Like I said, I knew him.
Backup got there three minutes later and, while Darrin was getting his hand looked at by the EMTs, I decided to pay Harvey one last visit.
He sat in the back of the police car, his hands cuffed behind his back.
“Tell me the truth. Is it actually you?” he asked, as I approached him.
Things were complicated enough without me admitting to supernatural assistance, so I lied. “No,” I said, but quirked my mouth to the side.
The slightest of smiles echoed on Harvey’s lips as he looked at me.
“I’m sorry, anyway,” he answered.
“You didn’t kill anyone,” I answered. “Maybe they’ll go easy on you.”
“I made a lot of mistakes,” he answered. “I’m not sure I deserve for anyone to go easy on me. “ He looked as far back as he could, back toward Angela. “Something tells me that my kid is going to need all the good examples he can get.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw my dad walking toward the car.
“You know, Harvey. Something tells me where your kid can find those.”
I nodded at my father and started on the second (and less desirable) of my errands.
Walking toward Angela, I had one question on my mind.
“The sheriff’s daughter,” I asked sternly. “You didn’t kill her. Patrick didn’t kill her, and I know for sure that Harvey didn’t kill her. So who did it? Who pushed that poor woman to her death?”
“Why do you care about the other Rita so much?” Angela asked as a police officer began to pull her away. “What is it about that dead girl?”
“Just tell me,” I said, walking to keep pace with them. “Did you hire someone? Was someone else involved?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she chuckled as the officer guided her into the backseat.
“Listen to me!” I growled. “This is life and death! Tell me who killed that woman!”
Angela leaned forward. Looking at me, she groaned, “Drop dead.”
Then the police car drove away, taking Angela and all my answers with it.
“Been there,” I muttered, watching its brake lights in the distance. “Done that.”
In the two weeks that passed after the arrests of Angela and Harvey, things began to get back to normal in Second Springs. Sure, people were all still talking about the pair of “mass murderers” that had been living right under their noses.
People near the fireworks box even started referring to themselves as “survivors.” But, for the most part, it was life as usual in our small Georgia town.
Even for me, which was tripping me out.
I was supposed to move on now. I had finished this business. Though I didn’t have a name for the gravelly-voiced person who shoved me down the steps, I had stopped a murderer and brought a pair of criminals to justice.
Business finished.
But here I was. Every day, I baked pies, joked around with Peggy, and basked in the general splendor that was my hometown. It was just like my old life, except I was down a fiancé and I got paid a lot less.
“Come on, Mayor McConnell,” I said, patting the empty piece of bench beside where I was sitting.
It didn’t surprise me at all when he scowled at me and remained on the ground.
Saving me was one thing, it seemed. Seeing fit to gift me with his presence was something else altogether.
“How about me? Can I sit there?”
Charlie, in his original guise, the old man with the hat and cane, sidled up beside me. Without waiting for an answer, he plopped down.
“How're things, honeybean?”
“I figured that you’d know,” I answered.
“I do, but I like hearing it anyway,” he grinned.
“So what’s up?” I asked, pressing down the front of yet another floral print dress. “You said I needed to finish my business and then I’d move on.”
Charlie shrugged. “Guess it’s not finished, then.”
“Really?” I asked. Reaching down to Mayor McConnell, I gave him a hearty pat on the head, and recapped my list of accomplishments. “Angela is in jail, awaiting trial on four counts of murder, Harvey is getting a reduced sentence in exchange for a plea deal. Darrin has tentatively allowed me to stay in town, though I get the feeling that he doesn’t quite know what to believe anymore. As soon as Mrs. Hoover’s insurance policy is found, I’m going to lobby to have it donated to a charity that helps victims of domestic abuse. And, as if that wasn’t enough, my Dad has started proceedings to adopt Angela and Harvey’s unborn child.”
I have to admit, the last part made me exceptionally happy.
“So it looks to me like things are running exceptionally smoothly, even by your supernatural standards.”
“They’re not my standards,” he shrugged. “Though I suppose your definition of ‘smoothly’ is up for debate. Either that, or you’re not quite finished with your work yet.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “But how will I know what I’m supposed to do? It’s not like there are signs or anything.”
“Sure there are,” Charlie grinned. He pointed forward, toward the road. “Case in point.”
A brown truck squealed to a stop in front of me, leaving skid marks on the street as he hopped out.
That new delivery truck driver was fast.
“Rita Redoux?” he asked, with a long brown box under his arm.
“That’s me, I guess,” I answered.
“Sign here,” he handed me a form and then, after signing it, the box.
Pulling it open, I saw the ugliest purple gown I had ever seen in my life. But hey, at least there were no flowers on it.
Sitting on top of the dress was a square card with stylized gold writing.
It was a wedding invitation; an invitation to Peggy and Aiden’s wedding.
And I was a bridesmaid.
Talk about awkward.
“The wedding?” I asked, turning to Charlie. “The wedding is a sign?”
“You said it, not me,” he chuckled. “Besides, that thing says you can bring a plus one. Sounds like it could be fun.”
“Please,” I scoffed. “I’m not even sure how long I’m going to be around, and in any event, I’m not exactly in a ‘plus one’ place in my life right now.”
Charlie looked past me. “Something tells me that might not be true.”
Following his gaze, I saw that he was looking at Darrin. The new sheriff was ordering coffee and chatting it up with Mrs. Dykstra.
“Him? Don’t be ridiculous,” I answered, but color rose in my cheeks again.
“Well, everything has its time, Rita Redoux.” Charlie grinned, looking over at me. “Some things have two.”
I smiled, shook my head, and we watched the sun go down.
Rita’s Chocolate Pecan Supreme
1 batch of whole wheat pie Crust
½ cup corn syrup
1 cup honey
7 tablespoons butter
¾ cup h
eavy cream
4 large eggs + 1 egg for egg wash
2 ½ cups pecan cut in half
8 ounces chocolate chips (preferably dark chocolate)
½ teaspoon salt
A few pinches of nutmeg for that special flavor.
Heat oven to 325°F. Don’t forget to preheat.
In a small saucepan over low heat, combine brown rice syrup, honey, butter, and optional molasses. Increase the heat to medium-low, stirring until butter is melted, about 10 minutes. Stir in the cream and salt. Remove from heat and allow to cool for about 10 minutes.
Roll out the pie dough to a quarter inch and set into your pie pan. In a large mixing bowl, whisk the eggs. Slowly pour in the syrup and butter mixture, whisking constantly until evenly incorporated. Stir in the chocolate chips and pecans and add the nutmeg.
Pour into the uncooked pie shell. Whisk the egg yolk and brush the egg wash around the edges of the pie crust.
Bake for 45-55 minutes until the filling sets in the middle (You’ll be able to tell because it won’t jiggle anymore) Careful not to let the crust burn. Nobody likes that.
Set it out and let it cool, maybe add a big scoop of ice cream and then dig right in.
Thank You for reading!
Curious about what happens to Rita next?
* * *
Find out in Twice Layered Murder!
Dear reader, if you REALLY want to read my next Cozy Mystery novel- I’ve got a bit of bad news for you.
Unfortunately, Amazon will not tell you when the next comes out.
You’ll probably never know about my next books, and you’ll be left wondering what happened to Rita and the gang. That’s rather terrible.
There is good news though! There are three ways you can find out when the next book is published:
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Twice Baked Murder Page 16
