"Mmmurder...murder. Like murder, murder?" Ned stuttered awkwardly.
Charlotte Charles allowed a smile to creep upon her face, realizing that some things never change.
"I'm pretty sure there's only one kind of murder, but I'm innocent I swear...I just need you to help me prove that to the authorities." She said.
"The authorities...are they after you? Are you ok? You still haven't told me what happened." The Pie-maker rambled on, while checking the windows, locking the door and finally stopping to take a breath and look at Chuck.
"Your hair's different." He said and smiled. He was referring to the shorter length which now just met her shoulders.
"Yeah I thought it was time for a change." she said, combing her fingers through her new style.
"I like it...Well, if we're gonna solve this case, there's someone else we need." He said.
Ten minutes and several long seconds later, in walked an agitated Emerson Cod.
"It is the middle of the damn night, what is so important that you are interrupting my sleep? Couldn't this wait until morning?" Emerson said.
He turned around and revealed a look of surprise upon hearing a familiar voice.
"No, it couldn't. I'm being charged with murder. I ran out of France before officials could convict me, but I need to prove my innocence before they find me." Chuck said rapidly.
Emerson paused, only for a moment to take in all that was occurring. Chuck was back, she had been in France, she is being accused of murder, and she is now on the run. He contemplated what he should say next, but all he managed was...
"Can you ever just take a normal vacation? Always gotta go getting murdered or murdering someone else. Take a damn hint and stay put." Emerson said sarcastically, with a hint of anger.
"Hey! I told you I didn't do it! You don't believe me?" Chuck asked defensively, crossing her arms.
"MMMMM...I'll believe what the facts tell me." Emerson mumbled.
"The facts aren't totally looking to be in my favor." She said guiltily.
The private investigator and the girl named Chuck took a seat in the nearest booth while the Pie-maker and Olive Snook finished cleaning the kitchen silently.
"And what exactly are the facts?" He asked, as he adjusted his position in the booth.
"Well the facts..."
Well, the facts were these. One Charlotte Charles, on her European adventure, met a handsome young frenchman by the name of Bastien. He offered to show her around Paris in between his numerous attempts to romance her. Wine-ing and dining her at the finest restaurants, Bastien had decided that Chuck was the most wonderful woman he'd ever met. Chuck, who was less than impressed with her new beau, decided to end their five week fling. His rude manner and slight temper caused Chuck to only miss her Pie-maker. This man was in every way his opposite, but not in a good way. On what would be her final night in Paris, the two decided to visit the Eiffel Tower. Bastien, planning to propose, was blissfully unaware that Chuck was preparing her speech that was destined to break his heart. The two of them alone on the tower, Bastien began to kneel down on one knee. As Chuck started to understand what was happening, she quickly blurted the word 'No' and ran all the way down to the street. As she looked out to the hustling crowd walking the streets, she was unaware of where to go. As she said 'what now'...
"As I said 'what now', I heard a large crash and looked next to me. It was Bastien, dead on the ground, with a knife in his back. There were no witnesses on the tower with us that night, but people saw me running from the tower looking frazzled and jumped to conclusions." She said.
"Mhmmmm." Emerson said, sleepily processing the story.
"And you're sure you didn't kill him?" he said.
"Yes! Now can you be serious for a minute. I need you to prove it wasn't me, someone else got on that tower and killed Bastien. I don't know who did it, why they did it, or how. That's where you come in." She said with a smile.
"You got any suspects?" He asked.
"No." she replied with a slight cringe.
"Great. So you got no leads, no suspects, and no way of finding out who did it." He said angrily.
"I only knew the guy for a few weeks, and besides we don't need any of that when we put you and Ned together on a case. We'll just ask Bastien who killed him and hopefully he can at least provide us with some suspects." she said.
"Great. You got access to the body?" He inquired.
"Yes of course." She replied.
"Good, where is it?" he asked
"Saint Paul de Vence." she said
"And where in hell is that?"
"The South of France."
"And how is Pie boy gonna do his thing with the dead guy being a million miles away!" he shouted.
Chuck smiled guiltily and pulled out two plane tickets.
"Uh-uh" Emerson said, shaking his head dramatically.
"Please?" She begged
"No." He replied without hesitation.
"Emerson, please you're my only hope." She pleaded.
"Fine." He said.
Just then the Pie-maker walked over to the booth, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"What's going on?" The Pie-maker asked.
"We're going to France." Emerson said unamused.
"What?" Ned asked, stunned.
"You heard me. Go get packed." Emerson replied.
He picked up the tickets.
"Our flight leaves in four hours." Emerson said, getting up from the booth and walking towards the door.
The Pie-maker, still stunned by the turn of events looked at Chuck and asked...
"Are you coming?"
"No. It's too dangerous to try and go back to France. I think staying here and keeping a low profile would be much safer. I'll stay, make pies, and watch Digby while you go off on a wild Parisian adventure and clear my name." She smiled at him.
"Thank you, for helping me." She said.
"Of course, it's the least I could do after...everything." Ned said shyly.
"Well I'm gonna go. I got a hotel room not far from here and I'll be back in the morning to open this place up." She said, standing up and making her way to the door.
"Thanks again" She said, and the door closed behind her.
The Pie-maker turned back and saw Olive, sitting on a stool in the kitchen. Her eyes were closed. One hand rested on her hip, and the other was gently placed on her stomach, moving in circular motions. He noted in the back of his mind that he'd never seen her quite as beautiful. He walked into the kitchen quietly, as not to startle her. She looked at him and gave a weak, insincere smile.
"Olive I..."
"I know, you have to go. I'm an excellent eavesdropper." She said.
"I'm sorry." He said, looking at the ground, then back into her eyes.
"I know." She said quietly.
"We'll talk when I get back?" he asked.
She didn't verbally reply, just a simple nod as she collected her things and made her way out of the Pie-hole. Towards the place she called home. The Pie-maker huffed and locked the doors on his way out. He had only a few hours before he was expected to get on a plane bound for France, and solve a murder to help the former love of his life. He stalled for a moment to ponder whether the word 'former' was appropriate. He knew it wasn't.