Twice Baked Page 6

  I caught sight of the driver; a man with sandy hair wearing dark sunglasses and bopping along to whatever hard rock anthem now assaulted our eardrums.

  “Moron,” I muttered. Turning back to Dwight, I continued. “Look, I don’t have any excuses for those actions. I really don’t.” Well, that much was true. “I can’t imagine what I must have been thinking. All I can say is that losing your mother hurts a lot. It’s like someone taking everything you know-everything you’ve ever known- and telling you that none of it matters anymore. Suddenly, the entire world is speaking Chinese, and you have to try to find your way back to normal.” My eyes started to fill with tears. Not for Mrs. Hoover, though she deserved to have someone cry for her. I was thinking about my own mother, thinking about what that felt like. “Only, Chinese is what’s normal now. So everyone around you is speaking Chinese and there’s no way for you to keep up.”

  Dwight blinked back tears himself and I wondered who he was thinking about.

  “So what do you do?” he asked.

  “You fake it , ” I answered. “Until you learn Chinese. Or at least enough of it to get by.” I shook my head as I realized who he must have been thinking about. “I’m sorry too. I’ve heard a lot about your Rita since I’ve come to town. She sounded like a nice person.”

  “She wasn’t my Rita, but nice is one way to put it,” Dwight answered. “Another way would be amazing. She was one of my best friends.”

  I did my best to stifle a blush.

  “She was murdered too, right? Was it connected to Mrs. Hoo- to my mother’s, I mean?”

  “That depends on who you ask,” Dwight answered, seemingly forgiving my little snafu. “The official word on things is that it was an accident, that Rita saw the crime scene at Mrs. Hoover’s house, tried to run for help, and then got really flustered and fell.”

  “But you don’t believe that?” I asked.

  “You didn’t know Rita. She was tough. She was a sheriff’s daughter. She had seen a lot, even in a small town like Seconds Springs. And, more than that, she was capable.” A sad smile spread across Dwight’s face. “I used to call her for help. When I had a case that was too hard or complicated for me, I used to give her a ring. She always knew the answers.” He shook his head. “It’s funny, I bet if she was here, she could solve all of this for us.”

  “I bet she could,” I answered, turning from him and looking ahead intently. “I bet she could.”

  Chapter 9

  “Sweet potato? Are you sure?” I asked, looking down at the pie in Peggy’s hands. We stood at the front door of Patrick’s house, ringing the doorbell lightly. The funeral had been lovely.

  I didn’t know the man. His tenure in Second Springs had been bookmarked by my departure and return in an almost eerily accurate manner. But after hearing the lovely words spoken about him at the service, I felt like I had.

  He had been Aiden’s friend. They golfed together. Which was strange, because I had never seen Aiden so much as slow down as we passed the golf course, let alone grab a set of clubs and go to town. But things had changed since I had been gone, the least of which being Aiden’s choice of extracurricular activities.

  “You don’t think so?” Peggy asked, scrunching her nose and turning to me.

  My mouth quirked to the side. “I suppose it’s fine. I’d have just picked something with a little more oomph for a wake.”

  “I just figured it was homey. You know, comfortable.” She stared at me for a long moment.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” she said. “It’s just, the thing you do with your mouth reminds me of someone.”

  “Oh,” I said, quickly straightening it and cursing my instincts. “Sorry about that.”

  “No need to apologize.” She smiled. “Reminders aren’t always bad.”

  “I absolutely agree.” Aiden had left the church early with Angela to help set things up, and now it seemed he was on front door duty. He stood at the threshold, smiling at us.

  “Sweet potato?” He asked, clearly delighted.

  “Don’t worry. We have a second one back in the shop.” Peggy chirped.

  “That’s my girl.” He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

  Instinctively, I turned my head away.

  We walked into the house, a quaint little cottage that couldn’t have had more than two bedrooms. It was definitely a starter house, only Angela’s ‘start’ had come to a grinding and unexpected halt.

  “I’ll put this in the fridge and catch up with you guys,” Peggy said, lifting the pie and heading off into the tiny kitchen.

  “You have a lot more in common with my Rita then you realize,” Aiden said, keeping pace with me through the crowd of mourners and well-wishers all jammed into this compact living room.

  My Rita.

  The words struck something in me and I felt a pang of hurt so real and intense that I felt like I needed to take a seat.

  “Is that right?” I asked, nonchalantly placing a hand against the wall to steady myself.

  “Yeah,” Aiden smiled. “She was always very uncomfortable with public displays of affection too.”

  “What?” I bit my lip. “No , I wasn’t. I mean I’m not.” I closed my eyes to gather myself. “I mean she might have been, but I’m not. I just- I wanted to give you guys some privacy. That’s all.”

  That was ridiculous. I had never been uncomfortable with that sort of thing. Just because I didn’t feel the need for us to slobber all over each other in the center of Main Street like some love struck teenagers didn’t mean I didn’t care about him.

  That was insane.

  Wasn’t it?

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I said, perhaps a bit too curtly.

  “I’m not,” he answered as quickly as the words left my mouth. “I loved that girl for over half of my life. The fact that she didn’t want to hold my hand in church didn’t change that.”

  And there it was, that pang of hurt again.

  I slumped against the wall.

  “Do you ever miss her?” I asked, and realized that I was actually afraid to hear the answer.

  “I always miss her, especially on days like today,” he said, leaning beside me. “We always miss her. Peggy and I talk about her all the time. She’s always with us.”

  “And if she was in front of you right now, what would you say to her?” I asked, looking up at him, half hurt half expectant.

  He smiled and looked past me. “That’s private,” he whispered.

  I had never wanted to tell him the truth more than in that moment. I just wanted to lay it all out there and let the chips fall where they may. Sure, I might end up in a strait jacket, like Charlie said. But at least I’d have gotten there honestly.

  And maybe I would have told him, maybe the words would come tumbling out of my mouth, if not for stupid Sheriff Dash.

  The sheriff strode up to us, a cup of coffee in his hand and a cocky look on his face.

  “Good to see you, Aiden.” He nodded.

  “You too Darrin,” he answered, before looking back at me. “I’d better go make sure Angela is getting along okay. Will you s end Peggy my way if she comes back? And Rita,” he looked at me. “Maybe don’t mention what we talked about. She’s not as strong as she likes to think she is, and I’m already a little worried this is going to drudge everything back up.”

  “Sure thing,” I blinked.

  I watched Aiden as he walked away. He wanted to take care of her. He loved her, really loved her.

  “Do I not get a hello?” Darrin asked, settling beside me.

  “How about you take a hike and I’ll give you a goodbye?” I said, folding my arms over my chest.

  “Don’t be like that,” he said, taking a swig of coffee. “Besides, I’m the one who should be upset.”

  “How do you figure that?” I balked. “Seeing as how you threatened to have me arrested.”

  “Because you hacked into my systems. Or, more aptly, you att
empted to.” A sly smile appeared on his face.

  “Please,” I huffed. “That system has all the security of a bird’s nest. If I wanted to get in there, you couldn’t stop me.”

  “Is that so?” He chuckled, taking another sip. “Then, for the sake of my own curiosity, please tell me what’s stopping you.”

  “The fact that you have absolutely nothing,” I answered.

  “Did Officer Dwight tell you that as well?”

  “He didn’t need to,” I answered. “If you had any idea who was to blame for this murder, you wouldn’t be looking at me so hard.”

  “You misunderstand me, Ms. Redoux. I never thought of you as a suspect.” He leaned forward, peering at me with searing blue eyes. “You’re not a killer. I can see that as clearly as the roses on your dress.”

  I sighed. Seriously, the only thing in that ridiculous suitcase Charlie gave me was floral print.

  “What you are is dishonest. Coming here to town on the night of the murder, setting up shop at the victim’s workplace, spending yesterday morning talking to the new widow.”

  How did he know that?

  “You know something about what’s going on here. I’m not sure what it is yet, or even if it’s worth investigating. But I promise you that I’m going to find out, or I’m not the best-”

  “Best detective in Washington D.C.?” I shook my head. “I’ve heard it before but, since we’re asking each other questions, I have one for you. What kind of turn does someone’s life have to take for them to go from a self-proclaimed top tier detective in a metropolitan city to the sheriff of one of sleepiest small towns in rural Georgia?”

  “A pretty drastic one,” he conceded, nodding. “But that’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say that I’ll find out what you’re hiding, or I’m not the best sheriff this sleepy Georgia town has ever seen.”

  “You, Darrin.” I leaned forward, extenuating the lameness of his name. “Couldn’t tie the former sheriff’s shoes.”

  He grinned, looking away from me. “Your strange loyalties aside, if you’re such a big fan of my predecessor, I suggest that you tell him yourself.” He pointed to the left.

  Looking over, the air stopped dead in my lungs.

  Dad stood in the hallway, talking to Mr. Deluca- the barber- and giving the older man a pat on the back. He looked strange at first; older, thinner, more worn. He had lost some hair and even more weight, and the wrinkles that danced around his eyes were even more pronounced.

  His eyes flickered in my direction and I turned away. Which, of course, was ridiculous. Because, even if he did see me, it wasn’t like he was going to recognize me.

  And that’s when I realized what was really going on. I wasn’t avoiding my dad because I couldn’t deal with seeing him. I was ‘seeing’ him right now, and I was doing just fine. I couldn’t deal with him seeing me. I couldn’t deal with the idea of him looking into my eyes and not seeing his daughter.

  Peggy, Dwight, even Aiden; I could handle all of them not recognizing me. But Dad, I just couldn’t do it.

  So I didn’t.

  “Excuse me,” I said, brushing by Sheriff Dash and heading off in the other direction.

  “Rita,” I heard Sheriff Dash say from over my shoulder. “Rita, is everything alright?”

  I didn’t answer. I just kept walking.

  I moved through the crowd; easier than it should have been, considering that I could just pretend I didn’t know any of the people here.

  I pushed out the backdoor, closing it behind me and sighing as I took a deep breath of fresh air.

  Is this what it had come down to, running away from my father so I didn’t get my feelings hurt?

  This wasn’t who I was. Dwight had said it himself. I was fierce. I was competent. And now look at me, hiding outside a funeral with absolutely no idea what to do next. How was I supposed to solve this murder like this? How was I supposed to finish unfinished business?

  I half expected to see Charlie appear out of nowhere, wearing some face I didn’t recognize. It certainly seemed like the right time for him to show up.

  Instead, I saw Angela standing in front of a white car, arguing with a burly dark haired man.

  She didn’t see me, at least not yet. She was throwing her hands, obviously shouting. For his part, the man was shouting back. She shook her head decisively and shut him up.

  The man stomped the ground, got into the white car, slammed the door and sped off, leaving skid marks the new delivery guy would almost certainly approve of.

  She turned to walk back inside and I ducked back into the house before she could see me.

  But as soon as I closed the door behind me, I saw the back of my father’s head.

  For all the intensity of my internal monologue, it was still too soon.

  I slid away, careful not to meet Dad’s eyes, and made my way into the first place I could find that was empty.

  I realized, as I closed the door of the empty room, that I had inadvertently made my way into Patrick and Angela’s bedroom.

  I should have left. What widow would want people shuffling around in her bedroom during her husband’s wake?

  But walking back out there would either mean dealing with my father or facing the smug horrors of Sheriff Darrin Dash, and either one of those things was above my paygrade at the moment.

  Besides, there could be clues as to what happened to Patrick here, clues the police might have missed.

  And yes, it made me feel like a world class tool, but I was already in the room. And wouldn’t Angela want me to do all I could to bring her husband’s killer to justice.

  I turned the lock and then started searching the room. First I checked the closet, coming up empty. Then the counters on either side of the bed. Then under the bed. Then I checked the counters and dressers for false bottoms.

  With the exception of a huge value sized bottle of acetaminophen and a smaller bottle of over the counter metoclopramide, all of it came up empty.

  I sat on the foot of the bed, and felt a crease. Feeling around, I realized that their king size bed actually consisted of two smaller mattresses pushed together.

  Scooting down, I lifted the blanket and sheets, and felt between the mattresses, hoping to find something.

  Again, I came up empty.

  I was beginning to think that there was nothing in this room, when I remembered something I saw on an old Murder, She Wrote.

  Jessica Fletcher was on a book tour and, because she was absolutely the most perfect creature in all of creation, solved the murder of her agent’s niece without so much as crinkling her brow.

  The turning point in the case came when she found the murder weapon stuffed into an air vent.

  Moving over to the vent on the wall, I pulled open the vent. I didn’t find the murder weapon. The police already had that, in any regard.

  What I found was better.

  A cell phone lay in the air shaft.

  I snatched it up, placing the vent back and standing.

  It was a flip phone, definitely one of those burners you see at gas stations and pharmacies. But what was it doing hidden away?

  I went to flip it open when I heard a scream.

  Darting toward the door, I flipped the lock and ran toward the source of the noise.

  Angela was flanked with people, Sheriff Dash chief among them.

  Thankfully, Dad didn’t seem to be among them.

  The sheriff led her toward the couch as she mumbled something over and over again.

  “I just wanted some air,” she said.

  “What happened?” I asked, making my way to Peggy.

  “She went into the garage, where she was storing the extra plates. Someone was waiting for her there.”

  “What?” I gasped.

  “A man in a black mask jumped her. Thank goodness people were here and heard her scream or else he’d have bashed her head in with that thing.”

  I didn’t need to ask what ‘that thing’ was. It sat there in Sh
eriff Dash’s hand.

  He made eye contact with me as I saw it; a large silver wrench with a blood stain on it.

  Chapter 10

  I paced around the hospital waiting room nervously. Angela had been back there for almost forty - five minutes now, and there hadn’t even been a peep from the doctor.

  “You should have seen her,” I said, glancing over at Aiden. “You’d have had her out here thirty minutes ago.”

  And he would have. Aiden had always been a quick study. He could look at a patient and just know what was wrong with them, like some sort of medical detective. It was one of my favorite things about him.

  “What makes you say that?” He asked, his hand in Peggy’s.

  “I don’t know,” I blustered. “You just look quick is all.”

  “Thanks, I guess,” he answered, looking back at the double doors that led to the patient rooms.

  The closest hospital to Second Springs was fifteen miles away, all the way in Clear Lake. But we did have a clinic, and Dr. Thompkins. He had been a Second Springs stalwart for forty - seven - years. He delivered me. Well, the first time anyway. He also delivered Aiden, Peggy, and ninety percent of the people in town.

  Oh, and he was eighty - seven years old, which probably accounted for the slowness.

  “She’ll be fine, Rita,” Peggy said, looking up at me. “She said the wrench didn’t even touch her. She’s probably more scared than anything else.”

  “And she should be,” I said, shaking my head. “Can you imagine? Somebody was just lurking there in her garage, waiting to get her alone. She could have died.”

  “It’s horrible,” Peggy said. “But she didn’t die. We were there. What’s more, the police were there. And now they know someone is after her too.” Peggy shook her head. “They’ll take care of it.”

  I blustered. “I’m glad someone has faith in this town’s police department.”

  “Peggy’s always been a smart one, Ms. Redoux. It’s something you should look into.”

  I turned, sighing even more than I already was.

  Sheriff Dash strode toward us. He had his phone in hand and a golden star pressed against his chest.