Eats to Die For! Read Online Free PDF

impossible, I had failed. So I decided I was going to go get a piece of hamburger or die trying. I made a quick left turn at the next street, went around the block, and headed back toward the same Burger Heaven. Pulling in to the lot, I parked and got out of the car, and then noticed a woman walking to the back of the restaurant. Even though she was no longer wearing the awkward tomato costume, I recognized her; the green stem hat was the tipoff. I watched her as she trotted through the parking lot and stopped by a large brown dumpster, where she lit up a cigarette.
    As unthreateningly as I could, I strolled her way. When I got close enough, I said, “Hi, there.”
    She reacted as though she’d been burnt.
    â€œShit!” she cried, stubbing out the cigarette. “What do you want?”
    â€œI want to talk to you, just for a second.”
    â€œYou won’t tell them I was smoking, will you?” she asked, sounding like a six-year-old who had just gotten caught standing over a broken vase. “I’m supposed to have quit, but it’s so damn hard.”
    â€œI don’t even know who they are,” I said. “I just want to ask you a few questions about your life as a tomato.”
    â€œAnd suppose I don’t want to answer any questions?”
    â€œThen I guess I’ll find them and tell them you were smoking.”
    A look of panic crossed her otherwise beautiful face. “No! I mean…shit, mister, what is it you want to know, and why?”
    â€œWell, why, because I’m a private investigator.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “For who?”
    â€œFor Luisa Sandoval.”
    â€œI don’t know any Luisa Sandoval. I told you that already.” Even Oedipus at the end of the play could have seen she was lying.
    â€œSo you have been here playing a tomato since nine this morning.”
    â€œI never said that.”
    â€œYou told me you’ve been here since nine.”
    â€œI have, but I wasn’t playing a tomato.” She started to pull out another cigarette and then glanced at me and thought better of it. “Shit, I hate this! I want a damn cigarette! Look, whoever you are, I’m the director of the little pageant we’ve got going out on the sidewalk. I’m a dancer, so I was brought in to tell the people how to move. You know, what kind of body language an onion would have, that sort of thing.”
    â€œWow, Burger Heaven really takes this seriously.”
    â€œOh, yeah!” she said. “We did have a girl playing the tomato, but she left, so I had to take over. Her name wasn’t Luisa Whatever, though, it was Maria. Maria Ramirez, I think.”
    And a more stereotypically artificial Mexican name you will never hope to find, mi amigo , Ricardo Montalban said in my head. But I had already beat him to that one. As pseudonyms went, Maria Ramirez was as convincing as Jane Doe.
    â€œWhat’s your interest in all this?” the woman asked.
    â€œI really am a private investigator,” I said, “and the name’s Dave Beauchamp. I’m looking for her is all.”
    â€œWell, she left. They had to get rid of her.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œShe wasn’t very good, for one thing.”
    â€œThat all?”
    â€œLook, I don’t have to talk to you, you know.” Apparently she had decided by now that I was not going to tell “them” about her smoking.
    â€œI’m done, I guess, though I would like to know your name.”
    After a few seconds deliberation, she said, “Regina.”
    â€œThanks, Regina. And your cigarette habit is safe with me. But simply out of curiosity, how do you get a gig directing people dressed as hamburger ingredients on the street?”
    â€œThinking of changing jobs?”
    Something you might want to think about , I heard. Shut up, Mitch.
    â€œI’m just curious,” I said.
    â€œWell, I guess you just find yourself in the wrong place at the