Wicked Craving (15 page)

“O
ther than your front room and your backyard, this here park is my favorite place in California,” Gran told Savannah as they sat together in folding lawn chairs in the shade of an enormous oak tree and watched the town's citizens enjoying the downtown park.

An hour earlier, they had tossed the lawn chairs into the Mustang's trunk, grabbed a couple of cold sodas from the refrigerator and a big zip-shut bag full of Savannah's home-baked, chocolate chip and pecan cookies, and taken off for the park.

Now they sat, enjoying each other, their snacks, and the park's ambiance. All around them, children and dogs chased Frisbees and balls, wieners and hamburgers cooked on the barbecue pits, kids dug in sandboxes, and lovers lazed around on the grass, exchanging hugs and kisses.

All was well in San Carmelita. At least on this square block.

Across the street sat the old mission in all of its ancient glory. One of a chain of twenty-one missions that had been built along the Pacific coast by the Franciscan friars, the San Carmelita Mission had stood in gentle, quiet dignity for over two hundred years. Her strong, thick, adobe walls had withstood earthquakes, fires, and even a tidal wave, though they hadn't protected the church treasures from pirates in her early years.

She had been lovingly restored after each catastrophe—man-made and natural—and her gleaming white walls, dark beams, red-tile roof, and lofty bell tower drew tourists by the thousands every year. Everyone wanted a picture of themselves with their arm around the statue of the founder, Padre Serra.

It also didn't hurt that the mission was only a few blocks from some of the most beautiful beaches in Southern California.

“I just feel close to the Lord when I'm sitting here under this tree, lookin' at that church,” Gran told Savannah. “What a work of faith a building like that is. The people who accomplished that, all those years ago, must have been truly devoted to God.”

Savannah thought of all the Native Americans who had been forced into slavery and died under harsh conditions building that structure. But she decided not to say anything. Why ruin it for Gran?

“I'm tickled that I'm getting to spend some quality time with you,” Savannah said. “I feel like either you or I have been on the run since you got here. Me investigating this case with Dirk and you gattin' around with either Tammy or Ryan and John.”

“Don't you worry about me,” Gran said. “I've been having myself a good time. Riding that merry-go-round was the most fun I've had in ages. That's about the prettiest thing I've ever seen in my life—'cept you on the day you was born.”

Savannah leaned over and took Gran's hand in hers. “Ah,” she said, “don't make me cry. I'm PMSing, and it wouldn't take much for me to tear up.”

“Well, it's true, Savannah girl. You made me a grandma. That's a mighty special moment in any woman's life.”

Savannah did a bit of mental math. “Oh, mercy,” she said. “I just realized something. When I was born, you were younger than I am now! That's a scary thought.”

Gran laughed. “Not to me. It was the most natural thing in the world. I was ready for it.”

“You didn't mind becoming a grandma?”

Gran squeezed her hand. “I thought I might mind a little bit, before you were born. But once you were here, I looked into that beautiful little face of yours, you wrapped those tiny sweet fingers around my pinky, and I knew—I sure as shootin' didn't mind becoming
your
grandma.”

Savannah thought about the dining table there at Gran's house, where she had eaten most of her meals as a child. It was actually a dining table sandwiched between two card tables, one on each end.

She thought of all the piles of laundry, mountains of it, that had been done every single day. Except Sunday. Sunday was sacred and everyone rested on the Sabbath.

At least, as much as a family with nine children could rest.

Much of that laundry wasn't permanent press fabric, which mean that either Gran or Savannah spent many hours standing at the ironing board, steaming and pressing clothes on steamy, oppressive Georgia summer days.

And it had to be done because no Reid kid went to school dirty or wrinkled. Gran wouldn't abide it.

The washing machine and the clothesline were always filled with dresses, jeans, shirts, blouses, and underwear galore that had seen better days. Some of the clothes had seen better years, as they were handed down from one kid to the next and to the next.

Receiving a new outfit was usually reserved for a Christmas present or a birthday gift.

She thought of what it must have cost in money, time, and energy to buy and prepare enough food to cover that table three times a day and fill the bellies of nine perpetually famished children. “I don't know how you did it,” she said. “Raising all of us like that.”

“
We
did it.
You
and me and Pa…till he took sick.”

Savannah was tempted to argue with her, but then she remembered a heck of a lot of potato mashing and dish washing. Not to mention all that time spent gardening and selling any extra vegetables and fruits to other folks in town. Anything to make an extra dollar was part of the job description when you were the firstborn in a big family.

“Well, that's what happens when you're the oldest,” Savannah said.
And your mother's too busy hefting drinks in the local bar to mess with a stove or an ironing board,
she added to herself. “I'm sorry Shirley put you in that position,” she said. “Leaving you to raise her brood.”

“Don't you ever apologize to me for that,” Gran said in her best pseudostern voice. “I'm sorry Shirley didn't do right by you kids, but as for me? She did me a favor. I wouldn't have missed it for the world.”

“Not even when Marietta had boyfriends climbing through the bedroom window at all times of the night?”

“I could've done without that.”

“Or when Macon let the air out of the pastor's tires when he came calling that Sunday afternoon?”

“Please, don't remind me. I prefer to remember those days through a rosy pink haze.”

“Called denial?”

“It works for me. Don't mess with it.”

Savannah laughed, then squinted her eyes, looking across the expanse of green grass at a figure walking toward them. “I declare,” she said, “I do believe that's Dirk, coming our way.”

“I reckon it is. What do you suppose he's doing here?”

“I can tell by his face that something's wrong,” Savannah said. “And knowing him, he's just gotta complain to somebody about it or he'll have a conniption.”

“He hunted you down and came over here just so's he'd have somebody to gripe to?”

“Yeap. That's Dirk for you.”

“Why didn't he just call you up on the phone?”

“It's not as much fun as bellyaching in person.”

Dirk hurried up to them, and he certainly did look disgruntled about something.

Some kid threw a Frisbee that struck him squarely on the chest, and he didn't even pause for a moment to yell at them. So Savannah knew it had to be bad.

“Man, I am so bummed,” he announced when he reached them. Turning to Gran, he gave her a brief smile and a nod. “Hi, Granny. Good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too, sugar.” Gran gave him a closer look. “Boy, you feeling okay? Your color's a bit offish there. Kinda orange.”

“So I've heard.” His frown firmly back in place, he turned back to Savannah. “This just stinks. Wait'll you hear this.”

“Sitting here with bated breath,” she mumbled as she took a chocolate chip cookie from the bag and handed it to Gran.

She offered him one, and his face lit up as he reached for it. Then he reconsidered and sadly shook his head. “No, thanks,” he said.

“Yeah, right. How could I forget? You're dieting.” Savannah sighed. “Okay. Suit yourself. That's all the more for us.”

She re-zipped the bag. “How did you track us down anyway?”

“I called your house, and Tammy ratted you out.”

“Good ol' Tammy. I'll have to thank her for that. So, what's up? Did you lose your reading glasses again? Got a stain on your leather jacket? Forgot to buy toilet paper when you went to the grocery store last night?”

He shook his head and plopped down on the grass beside their chairs. “That judge, Dalano? She wouldn't give me a search warrant for Wellman's house.”

Savannah shrugged. “That's not so surprising. Judge Dalano hates you.”

“She does?”

“Sure. Haven't you noticed?”

He looked crestfallen. “How do you know that? How can you tell?”

Savannah munched on the cookie. “Every time you testify in front of her bench, she glares at you.”

“She does?”

“
Glares
. Major nasty looks the whole time you're on the stand. And haven't you ever noticed that she always rules against any motions the prosecutor makes when you're up there?”

“I did notice she's a bit of a hard ass. Oops, sorry, Gran.”

Savannah brushed some crumbs off her chest. “Only when you're on the stand.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Rest of the time—she's a marshmallow, a real sweetheart.”

“Well, I'll be damned. Sorry, Gran.”

Granny nodded, granting absolution.

“Why do you suppose that is?” Dirk asked.

“It probably goes back to that time when you were testifying in the
Hinze v. Johnson
case. You said something on the stand about how you thought women shouldn't be judges because they're moody.”

“Yeah? So?”

“She was the sitting judge on that case.”

He sighed and shook his head. “And you think she held that against me?”

Savannah nodded. “Call it a hunch.”

“Well, that just proves my point. She was probably moody that day.”

“And today, too?”

“Apparently, denying me a search warrant when it's obvious I've got cause for one.”

“What cause do you have?” Granny wanted to know.

“He's living under an assumed name. He lied about his relationship to the victim, pretending—even legally, on paper—that she was his wife. That's some sort of fraud right there. And then his wife…or rather his sister…gets murdered on his property, and he's got somebody giving him a fake alibi for the night of the killing. Now, ain't that enough for me to get a search warrant, if the judge was being reasonable?”

“And wasn't out to get you 'cause she hates you,” Savannah added.

Granny thought it over, then nodded. “Yes, I'd say she put the kibosh on that 'un outta pure dee spite.”

“I know I would have,” Savannah said.

“You would have turned down the warrant because of what I said?”

“Darned tootin'. Call me ‘moody' in my own courtroom, I'd have slapped you with a contempt of court charge…and then I'd have just plain slapped you. I'd show you ‘moody.'”

Dirk grunted, but then he gave Savannah a little grin. To Granny he said, “How did a nice, sweet lady like you raise a nasty, mouthy broad like this one?”

“I used to be just like her,” Gran said proudly. “'Cept I've mellowed a bit.”

Dirk chuckled, then looked around. “Have you ladies had dinner yet?”

“Nope,” Gran replied. “All she's fed me is these cookies. I'm growin' faint from hunger.”

“How's about I buy you two dinner?”

Savannah nearly choked on her cookie. Dirk offering to buy two meals in forty-eight hours? She couldn't believe it!

He nodded toward the other side of the park. “I saw a roach coach over there. And they're selling three hot dogs for a dollar. It'll be my treat.”

 

Half an hour later, they had downed their dogs, and Dirk had even bought a second round.

He and Savannah were still sitting at the picnic table, finishing theirs. But Gran had wandered over to the sandbox, where she was digging in the sand with some children.

“You'd think she'd have had her fill of kids,” Savannah said, watching her grandmother with love shining in her eyes. “But look at her…over eighty years old, but still playing with children.”

“She's beautiful,” Dirk said simply.

Then he gave Savannah a warm, affectionate look that she couldn't quite understand.

As she finished the last bite of her hot dog and licked the ketchup off her thumb, she said to him, “If you think I'm sleeping with you tonight just because you bought me dinner, you're in for a disappointment.”

He shrugged. “I've been disappointed before. I can stand it.”

“I'm sure you have.” She glanced over toward Gran to make sure she was still out of earshot. “But I could still make it up to you….”

“Oh?” He leaned across the table toward her, a mischievous smile on his face. “I'm listening.”

“How badly do you want Wellman's place searched?”

He raised one eyebrow, then cleared his throat. “Um…it would be nice. There may not be anything there, but I'd sleep better if I knew that for sure.”

“But, of course, you being an officer of the law, one of San Carmelita's finest…it would be unthinkable for you to sully your reputation, dirty your hands with such an unlawful thing as breaking and entering.”

“And if I made a case against him and later it came out that I'd done something like that, the whole thing could get thrown out of court.”

“Especially if it was Judge Dalano.”

“And if she was moody that day.”

They sat in silence for a while, mulling it over.

Savannah wadded their hotdog wrappers into a ball and tossed it into a nearby garbage can.

“What do you figure our buddy, Wellman, is gonna be doing tonight?” she said.

“What time?”