Savannah Reid 12 - Fat Free and Fatal (8 page)

Dona seemed to bristle a bit less, hearing Savannah’s words of empathy. She even chuckled a little. “Where are you from? With an accent like that, I’d say Alabama or Georgia.”

“McGill, Georgia. Population four thousand, seven hundred and eight-two. And four thousand, seven hundred of them are related to me.”

“But apparently you escaped.”

“They follow me here. Right now I have one sister and her newlywed husband at my house. They met in Vegas a few days ago, got married lickety-split, and are now honeymooning at my place.”

Dona grinned. “No wonder you want to hang out with me night and day.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Dona began to rummage through some papers on her desk. “Do you really think I need your protection, Ms. Reid? Or is your friend, Detective Coulter, overreacting?”

Savannah considered her answer carefully, then said, “Dirk doesn’t usually overreact to anything. In fact, he tends to err on the side of apathy and indifference. Doesn’t really give a hoot about much but cold beer and heavyweight boxing. If he says he thinks you need me, you probably do.”

“So, he thinks the killer intended to kill me, not Kim. Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I’m telling you that it’s too early to tell. But if someone is after you, I intend to make it as hard for him to get to you as possible.”

“Does that mean you’re going to be escorting me everywhere? Are you going to sit on the edge of the tub when I take my bath in a few minutes?”

“No, just right outside your bathroom door.”

Dona looked appalled.

“Just kidding,” Savannah was quick to add. “As long as you’re inside the house and the alarm system is on, I’m not going to worry about you too much.”
Just don’t stand for long periods of time in front of big windows,
she added silently, but decided to keep it to herself. No point in scaring the daylights out of the woman.

Dona grabbed a note card and began to write on it. “Then you’re in luck. I’m in for the rest of the day, so you can spend the afternoon by the pool if you want.”

“Actually,” Savannah said, her mental wheels turning, “if you’re going to be home, I may just leave my assistant, Tammy, here with you, and I may go do some fieldwork with Detective Coulter.”

“Fieldwork?”

“Check out what leads we have. Kim’s house, friends, family, and neighbors. Your former agent and old boyfriend. That sort of thing.”

“Whatever you think best.” Suddenly, Dona’s already white skin blanched even paler. A sheen of sweat appeared across her upper lip, and her hand was shaking as she laid down her pen. She stood abruptly and hurried toward a door on the far side of the room. “Excuse me,” she said. “I just…”

She jerked the door open, hurried into what appeared to be a small powder room and slammed the door closed behind her.

A moment later, Savannah could hear the sound of violent retching.

She wasn’t sure what to do. Something told her that Dona Papalardo would
not
welcome any sort of intrusion at a moment like this, even in the form of sympathetic assistance.

But when she heard the woman crying, she couldn’t resist at least an offer of help. She walked to the door of the bathroom and said softly, “Dona, are you okay? Can I do anything for you?”

“No, go away,” was the curt reply.

Then another round of sickness, and more crying.

Savannah laid her palm on the door, wishing she could help, wondering what was wrong. Could the woman on the other side be pregnant? Food poisoning maybe? It seemed to have come on very quickly. Only a few moments ago, she had seemed tired and sad, but healthy.

“If you need anything, let me know,” she said softly. “I have eight younger brothers and sisters. Barfing is nothing to me. Can I get you a glass of water or—”

“You can get the hell away from me and leave me alone,” was the sobbing reply.

“Okay. I understand.”

Savannah walked away. If she couldn’t offer Dona Papalardo help in her time of misery, she could at least give her the one thing she seemed to crave most.

Her privacy.

A
s she left the library and passed through the foyer, Savannah found Dirk studying the security system’s control panel. “Good,” he said. “She’s got it turned on now. I warned her last night that she needs to keep it on all the time. But by this morning she’d forgot.”

“I engaged it,” she said. “How did you get in?”

“I was in the backyard. The maid let me in.”

“Well, as soon as Tammy gets here, she’s going to reset the code. Right now it’s Dona’s birthday.”

Dirk shook his head. “People think they’re being so subtle. Their birthdays and their pets’ names…real sneaky.” He glanced over her shoulder toward the library. “She in there?”

“In the bathroom.”

He snickered. “I guess even movie stars have to do it sometimes.”

“She’s sick,” she whispered. “Upchucking.”

“Oh, that’s nasty. Did you upset her, talking about the killing?”

“Not really. She seemed okay, maybe just a little tired. Then all of a sudden, she’s heading for the bathroom.”

“Hm-m-m. Well, delayed reaction maybe. It happens even to us cops, let alone the people who know the victims.”

Savannah saw a flash of hot pink through the etched glass beside the door, a car pulling into the driveway in front of the house.

“Tammy’s VW bug,” she said. “The queen of sleuths has arrived.”

“Good. Then you’ll have help here if you need it. I’m outta here.”

“Out of here? Where are you going?”

“To check out Kim Dylan’s house. I got the keys from Dr. Liu this morning.” He took a key ring with a large, rhinestone-studded
K
on it from his pocket and dangled the keys in front of her face. “Wanna come?”

Her mouth practically watered. “Of course I want to come. You’re cruel. You know I have to stay here and ‘guard.’”

“Let Nancy Drew guard her. She’d be thrilled to death.”

Through the glass, Savannah could see Tammy approaching, miniskirted, as requested, an overnight bag in hand and a water bottle in the other. Her face shone with the light of a thousand suns…or a contented heart, doing what it loved best in the world.

Dirk was right. She
would
be thrilled.

“Well,” Savannah said. “Dona did say she’d be in all day.” She bit her bottom lip, thinking, considering the possibility. “How far away is Kim’s house from here?”

“Four minutes. Five, tops.”

More lip biting, more soul-searching…“Will you wait for me in your car? I’ll just show her around and—”

“Sure. Just make it snappy. I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

She punched him in the arm. “Don’t get smart with me, boy. You’ll wait and you’ll like it.”

He gave her a grin and flicked the end of her nose with his finger. “Take your time,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I’ll just be sitting there, feeling sorry for myself…chewing on that friggin’ cinnamon stick.”

“I’m very proud of you, you know,” Savannah told him as she rolled down the Buick’s passenger window and allowed the fresh air and California sunshine to fill her senses. “I can’t even imagine how hard it must be to stop smoking.”

“No, you can’t imagine it,” he grumbled. “You don’t have a clue. It’s miserable. I feel like I’m about to explode at the seams.”

“Sorta like I’d be if I swore off chocolate for twenty-four hours?”

“Maybe…if you swore off chocolate, ice cream,
and
bubble baths.

“Life wouldn’t be worth living.”

“Exactly.”

“Sorry, buddy. But you know it’s the right thing.”

“Yeah, it’s a matter of life and death.”

Savannah gave him a quick sideways glance. She was shocked by his candor. Heaven knows, she had lectured him for years about the potentially lethal effects of tar and nicotine, but she’d never dreamed that her words had been heeded. She smothered a smile and turned to look out the window to her right.

She was a good person! She
did
deserve her space here on earth! She genuinely
helped
people! She made a difference in the world!

“Yep,” he continued. “I’ve gotta hang in there this time and really quit. Otherwise I’d have to kill myself for throwing my Harley lighter away like that.”

Okay
, she thought as her bubble popped,
so much for the power of a woman’s nagging
. Granny Reid had always told her girls: There’s no point in nagging men. In the end they always do exactly what they want to do anyway…being the freewilled creatures that God created them to be.

More than once she had said, “You nag a good guy, he just keeps doing whatever he’s doing, only he’s cranky while he’s doing it. And if you nag a bad guy, he’ll do whatever it is twice as much…and be cranky doing it.”

But Savannah couldn’t help herself. Gran had forgotten to mention that women simply couldn’t stop themselves. Nagging was in the genes, along with chocolate cravings and an illogical obsession with shoes.

“I suppose you ran a check on Kim Dylan,” she said, hoping he hadn’t so that she could feel at least a little superior for a minute or two.

“Of course, I did. Nothing. Clean as a whistle. Not even the proverbial parking ticket. I never trust anybody
that
clean.”

“Or anybody who has a couple of offenses.”

He nodded. “True. You just gotta know that a couple of convictions is just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Or a rap sheet a mile long.”

“Of course not. They’re scummers.”

Savannah sat, quietly waiting for a ray of self-awareness to shine into the top of his ever-more-balding head.

Nope. Nada. Self-awareness, self-enlightenment, or self-improvement weren’t high on Dirk’s list of priorities.

He pulled the Buick off the main road and headed down a dirt road through a grove of orange trees.

“Oh, no,” she said, “not another nature call. Didn’t you go back there before we left?”

“Get off my back, woman. The gal lives down here. Or lived, as the case might be.”

“In an orange grove?”

“In a ranch house, they say, at the end down here somewhere.”

“Who says?”

“The new chickie-poo at the station desk. She drops a lot of calls and forgets to give you your messages but she’s nice.”

Translation: Looks good in a sweater,
Savannah added mentally. After all these years, she knew how to speak Dirk-ese.

“And you trust her directions?”

“Yeah, she looked it up on the computer and printed it out for me. The house oughta be about…right there.” He pointed to a clearing down the road and to the right, where a small white cottage sat, surrounded by a picket fence and neatly kept patch of green lawn.

On one side of the yard, a stone wall was partially constructed from a pile of natural stone nearby. A stack of pipes that looked like some sort of irrigation system lay on the other side of the yard.

“Looks like she was in the middle of sprucing the place up a bit,” Savannah said as Dirk parked the car in the shade provided by some avocado trees.

They got out of the car and walked toward the house, raising dust with every step as they walked down the dirt road. The midday sun was hot and warmed the orange trees, enhancing their sweet fragrance. Bees buzzed in nearby bottlebrush bushes, and in the distance a dog barked furiously at some intruder, real or imagined.

“I wonder what it would be like to live out here on a ranch like this,” Dirk said, a sentimental tone in his voice. “Sometimes I think I’d like to buy a piece of land like this and move my trailer out on it. No neighbors to have to mess with.”

“No free coffee-ground–stained tabloids. But you could enjoy the occasional drop-in visit from a coyote or mountain lion.”

He shuddered. Dirk wasn’t big on four-legged critters period, let alone wild ones. “Well,” he said, “it was just a thought.”

When they reached the front door of the cottage, he pulled out the key chain with its gaudy
K
and sorted automobile keys from house keys. After two tries, he found the right one and the door opened.

He ushered Savannah inside, and they both entered warily.

While Savannah had never really considered herself a nosy person, she did find the insides of other people’s houses interesting. Especially if no one was home. It never failed to amaze her how much you could tell about a person just looking around at their belongings: the never-ending combinations of furnishings and ways to decorate, the items they chose to display prominently, whether the house was clean and tidy or filthy and disorganized. It all said so much about the people who lived within those walls.

But when she looked around Kim Dylan’s house, what she saw confused, more than informed, her.

“She was a girlie girl,” she said, more to herself than Dirk, as she observed the colorful floral pattern on the living room sofa and love seat, the ruffled tablecloth on a round lamp table, the lacy curtains hanging in the window, gathered back on either side with bouquets of silk roses.

“Hm-m-m,” Dirk said, “I see what you mean. But what about that?” He pointed to a large plasma TV that dominated the far wall. “That sucker’s gotta be fifty-eight inches and it’s high definition. Something like that would set you back between five and six grand!”

Savannah had to admit the monstrosity did stand out—obviously a “boy toy” in a room that was otherwise relatively “sissified.”

“It’s new, too,” she said, as she walked over to a stack of packing materials that had been stashed behind the sofa. Styrofoam, clear plastic wrap, bubble pack, and a stack of manuals and other printed materials announced the fact that the TV was a recent acquisition.

“Either some guy is living here with her,” Savannah said, “or she’s trying to lure some guy into living here with her.”

Dirk chuckled. “You get a fifty-eight inch screen like that one, and
I’ll
move in with
you
!”

She shot him a look of pure horror. “Thanks for the warning,” she said. “I’ll cancel my order.”

They passed through the living room, the dining area, and the kitchen. All were relatively “lived-in” but neat. The dishes were done, counters bare. On one counter, an answering machine blinked with two messages.

Dirk pushed the button and the first one began to play. It was a male voice. “Hey,” he said, “you there? Pick up. We have to talk. Tonight! Call me back as soon as you get this. We may have some problems. Well…
you
may. Call me.”

The second call was female and sounded older. “Penny, are you there, honey? It’s Mom. I haven’t heard from you in a couple of days. Pick up if you’re there. Daddy’s been sick. I need to talk to you. Call me. Love you.”

“Penny? Who the heck is Penny?” Savannah said. “Are you sure the cutie at the front desk gave you the right address?”

“The key opened the door, didn’t it?”

“True. Maybe Penny is the not-so-girlie roommate.”

They walked into a short hall that led to a tiny bathroom and one bedroom.

Dirk poked his head into the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet and looked in the cupboard under the sink. “Guy living here,” he said. “Or at least staying over. Triple-blade razor, shaving cream, Road Racer deodorant, and condoms.”

Savannah was already checking out the bedroom. The bed was made with a comforter fringed with row upon row of eyelet ruffles. And a dozen decorator pillows were carefully arranged in an attractive manner. Some of the linens appeared to be hand-embroidered. On the floor beside the bed lay a pile of plastic bags, labels, and cardboard inserts. Apparently the bedclothes were new, too.

In the closet she found mostly women’s clothing, but several men’s shirts, jeans, and slacks hung next to the rest and a few pairs of men’s shoes jostled for space among the high heels, sandals, and sneakers. Savannah picked up one mud-encrusted men’s boot, and looked at the size. Ten. “Common enough,” she muttered, replacing it.

“Anything in there?” Dirk called from the bathroom.

“Men’s stuff in the closet.” She noted the size of the pants and shirts. “He’s a bit smaller than you. Better taste in clothes.”

“Gr-r-r-r-r.”

She left the closet and walked over to the dresser, which was covered with a long, lacy runner. In the center of the dresser was a modest jewelry chest filled with costume jewelry. But beside it was a small, black, velvet-flocked box. She opened it and saw a pair of diamond earrings winking back at her. Set in white gold, the princess-cut stones had to be at least half a karat each.

More new acquisitions
, she thought.
New,
expensive
toys at that. Somebody came into some money recently. Some real money.

At one end of the dresser, a clear, plastic shoe box caught her eye. She could see through it and tell that it was filled with papers.

Opening it, she found assorted bills and on top of the stack, a checkbook and bank statement.

Her investigator’s heart took an extra beat as she reached for the statement. She was happy to see that the envelope had already been opened. It saved her the trouble of having to break the law or wait for Dirk to come into the room and do it.

It was the most recent statement and a stack of canceled checks…more than Savannah wrote in an entire year.

She thumbed through them and saw they had been written to everything from nail salons to exclusive women’s boutiques, to jewelry shops, to a tire place…top-of-the-line steel-belted radials.

“Again,” she mumbled. “Somebody must have won the lotto recently. She was wading though this money like it was warm, shallow water.”

“What?” Dirk asked as he entered the bedroom.

“She was spending cash like her pocket had a hole in it.” Savannah’s eye ran down the “credits” column of the statement, seeing only the occasional, modest, deposits that must have been earned from her job at Dona Papalardo’s.

Then she found what she was looking for…a deposit for $44,000, made about six weeks before. “Hey, take a lookie at this,” she said, handing Dirk the statement. “How does a personal assistant come up with a little bonus like that?”