Twice Baked Murder

by Daphne DeWitt

  He walked through the door and disappeared down the hall.

  “That didn’t go well, did it?”

  I turned to find a large woman with curlers in her hair sitting at the desk. She was in a bathrobe filing her nails with an aloof look on her face.

  “I know, honeybean. Maybe if you tell him that your dog used to be the mayor, he might actually believe you.”

  “Very funny, Charlie,” I answered, closing the door, and feeling more than a little annoyed. “I really could have used the whole ‘magical appearing’ thing a few seconds ago. It would have been hard for Darrin to deny evidence like that.”

  “Oh, it’s Darrin now?” Charlie, in the guise of this woman, looked up at me smirking. “Isn’t that cozy.”

  “Shut up,” I answered, aggravated and tired of all this nonsensical back and forth. “This is a mess.”

  “I told you what would happen,” Charlie answered. “I told you no one would believe you.”

  “What was I supposed to do?” I asked. “My back was against the wall.”

  “Don’t look at me.” Charlie shrugged. “I never told you to tie your lies in with that Amelia girl.”

  “Is she the killer?” I asked.

  “How on earth would I know?” Charlie asked.

  “I thought you guys knew everything,” I answered. “Are you looking down at everything that’s going on or something?”

  “You’re giving me too much credit. I’m not God. Even if I was, this is your mystery. Giving you the answers won't help you, no matter how much I might want to.”

  “So, why are you even here?” I asked. I was starting to get more than a little upset.

  “I already told you that. I’m here to guide you, honeybean.”

  “Well, you’re not doing a very doing a very good job, are you?” I huffed, crossing my arms.

  Just then, my phone buzzed.

  “You should pick that up,” Charlie answered. “You have some pies to bake.”

  Looking down at my phone, I saw a text from Peggy.

  Oh, don’t worry about little old me. I suppose I can finish the prep for ALL these pies BY MYSELF…

  People who didn’t know Peggy would assume that this was a joke. At most, they might consider it gentle nudging toward a certain direction. But, having grown up with that girl, I knew that what I was looking at was actually the closest thing Peggy would ever get to chewing me out. A day of solo pie prep had pushed my former best friend to her near breaking point.

  Why would Charlie want me to see this? Certainly whether or not I did a good job at the pie shop fell way down on the list of things I needed guidance about. The peach festival had to come second to actually solving these murders.

  That was when I realized it did indeed.

  Charlie’s little comment was meant to spur an idea inside of me, and once that idea came to life, I winced.

  “There we go,” Charlie said, the nail file still in hand and reading my expression. “I knew you had it in you.”

  “You could have just told me and saved us both the whole song and dance,” I said.

  “That’s not how it works, I’m afraid,” Charlie answered. “Like I said, not my pig, not my farm. But I’m happy to see you finally on the right track.”

  As was I. This interaction had given me an idea. I knew how I was going to catch Amelia Hoover, but I was going to need Sheriff Dash’s help.

  Oh yeah, and Peggy was going to kill me...

  19

  The ride back to Second Springs later that evening was uneventful. Sheriff Dash had sent Officer Dunberry to escort me back, seeing as how my dusty red truck was still technically a crime scene. While I knew Officer Dunberry well enough to keep a conversation with him up way longer than the amount of time it took to go from Mt. Gregor to Second Springs, he didn’t know me -- at least, not this version of me, anyway. So I stared out the window and thought about all that was going on.

  It took about thirty seconds of that to drive myself crazy. So, instead of dwelling fruitlessly on the pieces of this ever-growing puzzle, I decided to be active about it.

  To that end, the smart phones of two years in the future (Hey! It was the future for me) proved really good at that.

  “4G,” I murmured to myself as I typed on my virtual keyboard.

  What I could find out about the Frazier family through Google didn’t do much to answer my questions. They all seemed very normal. Sure, Ralph and Patrick had been through a trauma or two in their earlier years, but all in all, the clan seemed to be pretty picture perfect.

  Though she stopped short of actually adopting the brothers, turned out Mrs. Hoover was an awesome foster mom. So good, in fact, that the boys lived with her even after aging out of the system.

  Things took a turn after her husband’s death. The obituary read cancer, which was tragic.

  What was more tragic was whatever caused the break within this family. After her husband’s death, I couldn’t find out much about the Fraziers, even Amelia. I was missing something. Something about this man’s death transformed this family. They went from loving and loyal, to ready to kill each other.

  And where was Amelia? She had already succeeded in ending every member of her family. Maybe she was off celebrating her victory somewhere, or maybe not. Angela had also been attacked. What if she was next? What if Amelia’s hatred went deep enough to put Patrick’s widow in danger, too?

  I shook my head and minimized my browser. I wasn’t going to get to the bottom of this tonight. If I was going to find out the truth, then I was going to have to confront it head-on. That meant I was going to have to ask for a favor.

  We slid into the Second Springs town limits a couple hours after nightfall. Sheriff Dash instructed Officer Dunberry to escort me to my apartment behind the pie shop. When I saw a police car backed into Harvey’s old speed trap spot, I grinned and gave him different instructions.

  “You can just pull over right here, Edgar,” I said.

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “And how, pray tell, do you know my Christian name, little lady?”

  Gah, I’m so bad at this.

  “You look like an Edgar,” I answered. Hey, it was worth a shot.

  For his part, Officer Dunberry rolled his eyes but didn’t slow down.

  “I was told to take you home, and I’m figuring that’s what I need to do,” he said.

  “I can respect that,” I answered, eyeing the car. “I just wonder what Sheriff Dash is going to think when you deliver me with a broken arm.”

  He narrowed his eyes and glanced over at me. “What are you getting at?”

  “Well,” I answered. “I don’t suppose it necessarily has to be a broken arm. It could be a twisted ankle of a bruised shin-bone. What happens to you when you jump out of a car going this fast anyway?”

  Officer Dunberry peered over at me. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would,” I responded, reaching over him quickly, unlocking the door, and opening it before he could react. I took a deep breath, feeling the whoosh of cool air rush in.

  “You close that door right now,” he said, gritting his teeth, but he didn’t slow down.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I said, inching toward the open door. I looked down. The dark road sped beneath me, all concrete and dust. Could I really just jump? We had to be going thirty miles an hour. A broken arm would likely be the least of my worries if I landed wrong, but that was the beautiful thing about being me. I knew Officer Dunberry, and I knew what that look on his face, sweat and trembling lips, meant. I wasn’t going to have to actually jump out of this stupid thing. I was just going to have to convince him I would.

  “I will slap you in handcuffs quicker than you can blink, ma’am,” he said, but his voice shook a little. Bless his heart. He didn’t want to arrest me, but he also didn’t want me hurting myself. If I knew Edgar, he wanted nothing more than to get home, slide onto the couch, and enjoy whatever game Channel Six was willing to show him tonight.

  U
nfortunately for both of us, I couldn’t quite let that happen right yet.

  “You might,” I answered. “But you’ll have to do it from the road. “

  I lunged forward, pretending to throw myself out of the car. Edgar had already slammed on brakes, skidding to a stop right in front of Harvey's old speed trap when he realized I was bluffing.

  “Thanks, Edgar,” I answered; hopping daintily out of the car once it had come to a safe stop.

  I darted toward the parked police car, sure of whom I would find inside of it.

  “You come back here!” Edgar shouted, working his way out of his own police car.

  “Don’t bother, Officer Dunberry,” Darrin said, sticking his head out the window. “I’ll deal with her myself. “

  “She about near threw herself out of the car, Sheriff,” he answered, explaining himself.

  “It’s a pity that you stopped her,” Darrin said, looking me up and down. “Just get on home. I hear the Colts are on.”

  “Sure are, and I’m late,” he answered, sneering at me as he made his way to the car and drove away.

  “I can’t wait to hear what’s so important that you felt the need to throw yourself from a moving vehicle just to chat with me. How’d you know it was me, anyway?” he asked. “There's no way you could have made me out from that far away.”

  “Process of elimination,” I answered, walking toward his squad car like he hadn’t just ordered me out of town. “The only other cop in this town that would be out this time of night without provocation is Harvey. And you fired him.”

  A sly smile, almost like pride, flickered across his face. “And you know that because you’re the magical reincarnation of the old sheriff’s dead daughter?”

  “Honestly I have no idea whether magic has anything to do with it or not,” I admitted. “All I know is that I was me and now I’m not.” I shrugged. “I hope this isn’t going to become a sticking point between us.”

  “Of course it won’t,” Darrin answered. “Because, after tomorrow, you’re leaving town and never coming back.”

  My heart dropped. It wasn’t a question. He wanted me gone. He wanted me to disappear from the only home I’d ever known…again.

  “In that case,” I sighed. “I’m going to have to pull out all the stops tomorrow.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Darrin said.

  “Then you’ll absolutely hate the next part,” I answered. “Because I need your help. “

  He started chuckling loud and hearty. “What on earth makes you think you could get that?”

  “Because we both want the same thing.” I was at his window now, and I leaned down to meet him. “You want to get to the bottom of these murders. Well, so do I, and I have a plan to get that done. You said I had one day left. That’s all I need.” I bit my lip. “That, and for you to issue an order moving the Peach Festival to tomorrow night.”

  “Oh, is that all you need? For me to upend the plans of the entire community at a moment’s notice.”

  “I know it isn’t ideal,” I said. “But I promise you that this won’t fail. After tomorrow night, you’ll have your culprit. If not, I’ll leave without a word. You’ll never hear from me again.”

  “Tomorrow night?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “If I agree to this, you’ll be on a short leash.”

  “I wouldn’t know any other kind,” I answered.

  He looked me up and down. “Tomorrow night,” he said. “You better not be wrong.” Leaning a bit further out the window toward me, he said, “Now tell me about this plan of yours.”

  20

  After filling Darrin in on the details of my (admittedly self-proclaimed) brilliant plan, I started back toward my new apartment behind the pie shop.

  The sheriff offered me a ride back, given how late it was now. He practically insisted actually. But I needed some time to clear my head and besides, this was Second Springs. What sort of harm would come to me in a town like this?

  …a town where a series of murders was -- even at this very moment -- currently being committed.

  …a town where I had actually been murdered.

  …on a night just like this one, actually.

  Okay, so not my best idea, but the pie shop was only a couple of blocks away, and what was the worst that could happen to me?

  After all, I was already dead. Could I even die again if I wanted to?

  My heart had nestled squarely into my throat by the time I made it to the pie shop. I probably should have drug my body right back to the twin-sized bed in my closet-sized new apartment.

  Given that Mayor McConnell caught a ride back from Dalton with Harvey, he had almost certainly made it back before me and was probably stretched across my bed, greedily taking the covers. I didn’t have time to sleep. I had successfully convinced the sheriff to move the Peach Festival to tomorrow, which was good for my plan, but absolutely horrible for business.

  Peggy was already killing herself trying to get prep ready for the weekend and, after bailing on her today, I couldn’t let her wake up to an even closer deadline.

  So, pulling the spare key from the place I had left it two years ago under the ceramic frog by the front porch, I slid it into the front door of the pie shop and opened the door.

  The door was already open…

  My heart jumped even further up my throat. Someone was here. Someone had broken into this place and was waiting for me.

  My mind raced. There was a bat in the far closet, Peggy’s and my idea of a security system back when we opened. All I needed to do was rush back there and get it.

  I just had to run all the way across the front room to get it.

  I darted toward the far closet, half expecting to be tackled by some unseen assailant, maybe Amelia looking to put an end to the person digging into her past and her scheme.

  “Hey there,” a familiar voice sounded, stopping me in my tracks.

  Grinding to a halt, I looked over.

  Aiden stood behind the counter, pastry powder on his face and elbows deep in dough.

  “In a hurry?” He smiled.

  My heart somehow pulled even further up, though this time for a completely different reason.

  His jacket was thrown across the glass container, and his sleeves were rolled up. He looked a little tired, but more than that, bright -- the bright he'd only had for me.

  The bright he now had for only Peggy.

  “I’m just…” I stammered. “I- the Peach Festival is tomorrow now.”

  “I know,” he answered, kneading the dough.

  “You do?”

  “Sheriff Dash called me a few minutes ago,” Aiden explained. “I guess he figured Peggy could use the heads up.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” I answered, pulling at my fingers.

  “Is she here?” I asked, looking around the seemingly empty pie shop.

  “Peggy?” he asked. “No. She’s been asleep for hours, and I couldn’t bring myself to wake her up. Besides, she’s worked herself into a stupor today as is. I figured I might as well help her out.”

  “That’s sweet of you,” I answered, instinctively moving closer. I caught myself though. I wasn’t the old Rita anymore, not to Aiden anyway. He didn’t know me like that, no matter how much I wished he did. “Listen,” I said. “About me flaking today.”

  “It’s alright,” Aiden answered. “Sheriff Dash explained it to me.”

  “He did?” I gulped, wondering if he had explained everything. Did Aiden know I thought I was the reincarnated version of his dead fiancée?

  Which, of course, I was -- not that I’d have much luck convincing him of that.

  “Yeah,” he answered. “Said you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Almost got yourself run over in a police sting.” He shook his head. “Sounds intense.”

  “You could say that,” I answered, looking to the floor. I kept trying to keep focused, trying not to drown in the closeness of him, of the tragic nature of our current relationship. />
  “Are you okay?” he asked, momentarily taking a break from the dough.

  “I’ll make it,” I answered.

  “Good, and don’t worry about Peggy. She was asleep by the time Darrin called, but she’ll totally understand. You don’t know it yet, but her bark is worse than her bite, and her bark--”

  “Isn’t really that bad,” I finished, quirking my mouth to the side. It was what we had always said about Peggy since we were kids.

  Aiden looked at me for a beat too long, a familiar smile tugging at the ends of his mouth.

  “Well, come help me, then. That is, if you feel like you’re up to it.” He motioned for me to join him.

  My heart skipped at least a couple of beats as I made my way behind the counter.

  “I didn’t know you were into the baking thing,” I said, grabbing an apron and eyeing his work. His kneading was a bit rudimentary, but it would get the job done.

  “I’m not,” he answered, which was something I already knew. Aiden was about as comfortable in the kitchen as a turkey the day after Halloween, but he was here now, doing this. That said a lot. “She needed help,” he said, shrugging. “Besides, I figured, how hard could it be?”

  “A little harder than this,” I said, sliding the dough toward me and demonstrating how to knead it correctly. “You don’t have to be so gentle with it.” I pushed down into the mass that would soon be golden-brown crust. “A little bit of pressure kind of forces it to take shape.”

  “It’s uncanny,” Aiden said, shaking his head and smiling at me.

  “What?” I asked, pressing the dough into a pie pan and glancing over at him.

  “How much you remind me of her,” he answered.

  “Your Rita?” I asked, but it wasn’t really a question. Of course, I reminded him of her. I was her. Aiden had known me better than almost anyone back then, back when I was me. It was the way he knew Peggy now. “So, when’s the wedding?” I asked, trying to change the subject.