Wicked Craving (17 page)

“These are all hundred dollar bills,” John said, taking out one handful of the notes and thumbing through them.

“There are hundreds of thousands of dollars here,” Ryan replied. “I can't believe he came by this money honestly.”

“Either he's a big-time crook or an extremely nervous investor.” Savannah put the lid back on the box and replaced it in the bottom of the chest.

“If he stole this money from somebody, you know they've been looking for him,” John said.

“And he's recently been on national television, promoting his weight loss program.” Ryan placed his box in the chest next to Savannah's. “He had to know that would put him at risk…maybe Maria, too. Especially if she was part of the rip-off.”

“Some people just can't resist the allure of so-called stardom,” Savannah said. “They'll sell their momma for the chance at immortality—appearing on a hemorrhoid cream commercial.”

A buzzing sound made them all jump. John nearly dropped the box he was holding.

“It's my phone,” she said. She grabbed it off her belt and looked at the tiny screen that was glowing green in the dark. “It's Dirk.”

Holding the phone to her ear, she said, “Hi. Is he on his way?” She nodded to Ryan and John. “When did he leave? Okay, we're outta here.” She listened, then snickered. “Oh, yeah. We found some good stuff.”

John and Ryan started making ghostly “o-o-o-o” sounds and laughing.

“The boys are just being goofy,” she said. “Meet us back at my house, and we'll fill you in on all the gruesome details.”

A
s Savannah, Ryan, and John hurried around the side of the Wellman house, she stubbed her toe on something in the dark. She suppressed the urge to scream.

Burglars didn't scream while in the act of burgling.

She was pretty sure that was some sort of rule.

“You okay?” Ryan asked, taking her hand.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “It was just my foot. I've got another one.”

When they reached the front yard, they paused and listened before walking into the open, better-lit area.

The last thing they wanted was to run into some neighbor out for a nightly stroll with his dog—a curious neighbor who might wonder why they were sneaking around Wellman's yard, wearing dark clothes, with guilty looks on their faces.

When they thought the coast was clear, they walked briskly across the front yard, heading for the road. Savannah's Mustang was parked about half a block down and on the opposite side.

But when they reached the sidewalk, Savannah looked up and saw a figure standing in the shadows of some tall oleander bushes, directly across the street.

He, too, was wearing dark clothes, and he appeared to be watching the front of Wellman's house.

“Hey,” she whispered to the guys. “Over there.”

“Yeah, I see him,” Ryan said. “Just keep walking. We haven't done anything wrong…”

“Except break into somebody's house,” Savannah replied.

“Other than that.”

“And if we get caught,” John added, “I'm sure Judge Dalano will understand when we're on trial before her bench.”

Abruptly, the man in the bushes turned around and began to hurry down the sidewalk away from them. He got into a red, mid-sized sedan that was parked near the Mustang and sped away.

Ryan pulled his digital recorder out of his pocket, pressed a button, and recited the license plate number into it.

“I wonder who that chap was,” John said as they got into the Mustang.

“And what he was doing.” Savannah started the car.

“Whatever it was,” Ryan said from the back seat, “he was up to no good.”

Savannah laughed. “Like us?”

“Naw, probably not as bad as us.”

 

When Savannah, Ryan, and John returned to her house, Dirk was waiting in his Buick in the driveway. And when Savannah ushered them all inside the house, she cautioned them to keep their voices low.

“If you wake Gran, we'll all have a bunch of explaining to do,” she told them.

The note she had left for Gran, saying that she had gone out on a short errand and would be back soon, was still lying in the middle of the coffee table. Savannah breathed a sigh of relief as she snatched it up and tossed it into a wastebasket.

“Good,” she said. “Granny hasn't gotten up. I was afraid she'd come downstairs for something to eat and realize I was gone and then get all worried. But what she doesn't know won't cause me a heap of grief.”

“And what is it exactly that I'm not supposed to know?” asked a voice behind Savannah.

She turned to see Gran coming down the stairs, wearing her flannel nightgown and a pink, chenille robe. On her feet were the fluffy, pink slippers that Savannah had given her for Mother's Day.

“Uh-oh, Van,” Dirk said, snickering. “You're busted.”

Suddenly, Savannah felt like a five-year-old, holding a handful of one of her brothers' or sisters' birthday cake…an hour before the party.

“Gran!” she said, far too cheerfully. “You came downstairs just in the nick of time. Come sit a spell and listen while Ryan and I fill Dirk in on all we've been up to tonight.”

“Yes,” Granny said, giving Savannah a deeply suspicious look. “That's a fine idea. Let's all-l-l hear what you've been up to.”

 

It took Savannah, John, and Ryan over an hour to fill Dirk and Gran in on all the details of their house search.

Gran was scandalized over the Ouija board, dagger, and crystal skull.

“That sounds like black magic junk to me,” she said. “I'll betcha that those people were into devil worship, virgin sacrifices, and the whole shebang!”

“I doubt they sacrificed virgins,” Savannah said, teasing her. “Remember, this probably took place in Las Vegas…sin city.”

“True.” Gran nodded her head and added with all seriousness, “I'd expect there's a serious shortage of chaste maidens in that town.”

“I'm sure all those strange objects were props,” Ryan tried to reassure Gran. “Stuff to lend authenticity to their sham exorcisms. I have a feeling that when we dig deeper into Wellman's activities, we'll find out that he made all that money by swindling people. Not unlike what he does now.”

John agreed. “He probably offered to rid their houses of unhappy spirits for a price. A big price. That's how the scam's been run for centuries.”

Savannah got up to refresh everyone's coffee cups and the plate of brownies. When she poured a top-off into Dirk's mug, she said, “Right now, I'm more concerned about that guy we saw when we were leaving Wellman's. I'm telling you, he was hinky. I could feel it coming off of him in waves.”

“She's right about that,” John said. “He saw us and scurried away like a wharf rat.”

“Well, you should be findin' out shortly.” Gran shook her head as Savannah tried to refill her cup. “No, thank you, darlin'. My eyeballs are swimmin' in my head as it is.”

Dirk got out his cell phone and stared at it. “Yeah, that gal at the station desk should have gotten back to me by now. What's it been—?”

“Five minutes,” Savannah supplied.

“—Since I called her and gave her that plate number to run.”

“It takes so long to type all those numbers and letters into the computer. And then she's got to press ‘Enter' and all that. It might take six minutes.” Savannah resisted the urge to splash hot coffee on his lap.

“I think I'll give her a call,” he said, toying with the phone. “Tell her I need it today and not when she gets around to it next week.”

“Yeah, why don't you do that?” Savannah said. “That way we won't hear from her until Christmas…next year.”

His phone began to ring. He smiled and said, “See. It pays to be impatient. She picked up on my ‘hurry up' vibes.”

“And called you anyway.”

He answered the phone and listened as the woman on the other end gave him the information. “Hm-m-m…a rental,” he said. “I guess that's not too surprising.” He paused as she told him more. “Really? You did? Hey, good job. So, what's the name?”

Everyone in the room sat, silent, hanging on his every word. Savannah hovered over him with the coffeepot, her pulse rate increasing by the moment.

He smiled, looking quite satisfied. “Good job…uh…Cheryl…oh…um, Deirdre. Sorry, sorta sounds alike, you know. Bye.”

“It's a rental,” he said, snapping the phone closed. “And she managed to get hold of somebody at the national office who looked up the dude who rented it.”

“And?” Savannah said, nudging his leg with her foot.

“A guy from Las Vegas. Gus Avantis.”

“The former brother-in-law! Wow! That's heavy!” Savannah nearly dropped the pot. Instead, she set it down on a plate on the coffee table, then sank into her favorite chair, her mind racing.

Ryan and the others were impressed, too. “Wellman told you that his sister's life had been threatened by her ex, right?” he asked.

Dirk nodded. “He certainly wouldn't be the first ex-husband to kill his old lady.”

“Three years later, though?” John asked. “That seems like a long time to hold a grudge.”

Gran shook her head. “I've seen the way some men are when a woman leaves them. They hate her and everybody associated with her for the rest of their lives. They feel like they lost some big, all-fired important game, and they can't stand to lose—especially to a woman. They never get over it.”

“Who'd want a woman who doesn't want you?” Dirk said.

“Oh, you'd be surprised.” Gran sniffed. “I reckon it's not so much that they want her, but that they can't stand the thought that some other fella might have her. They figure she's theirs, like their shotgun, their pickup, their hound dog.”

Ryan leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, fingers laced. He had a concerned look on his face. “You know, if this Avantis killed Maria—and we have to at least entertain the possibility that he did—Wellman could be in danger right now. Why would Avantis be hanging around outside Wellman's house, acting suspicious, if he meant him no harm?”

“Good point,” Dirk said. “I could call him and warn him. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to hear from me for the third time today…since we had such a pleasant talk earlier.”

“You did?” Granny asked.

“No, I'm being facetious. He hardly answered my questions at all, and when I started asking him about what he did in Vegas before he moved here, he clammed up and used the ‘L' word.”

“What's the ‘L' word?” Gran wanted to know. “Is that some sort of foul language?”

“In a police department, it's the worst,” Savannah told her. “‘L' is for ‘lawyer.' He invoked his right to have an attorney present while being questioned.”

“A cop would rather be called anything in the book than hear that,” Dirk added.

“I think you'd better call him,” Savannah said. “Who cares if he wants to hear from you? You're not asking him out on a date. You're warning him that his former brother-in-law is watching him…probably with evil intentions.”

Dirk took his notebook from his pocket, found the number, and punched it into his phone. He waited a long time, then said, “Yeah, Wellman, it's Coulter. Give me a call back as soon as you get this. Don't worry about the time. It's important.”

When he hung up, Savannah said, “Do you think he has his phone turned off or he's just avoiding you?”

“Wouldn't you avoid me if you were him?”

“Heck, I avoid you, and I'm me.”

“I'm calling him at his house number, too. If that Gus dude is hiding in the bushes there on his property, he needs to know it.”

“And maybe go spend the night at a hotel,” Savannah said. “I'm sure Karen Burns would be happy to join him at the Island View Hotel. Their special suite might be available.”

 

An hour after her company had all left, as soon as she and Gran were in bed, Savannah's phone rang with Dirk's ringtone. She picked it up from her nightstand.

“Just can't get enough of me, huh?” she said into the receiver as she pulled the quilt up around her chin and tucked Cleopatra into the crook of her elbow.

Diamante was keeping her feet warm.

“Guess where I am?” Dirk said on the other end.

“Sitting in front of Wellman's house.”

“How did you know?”

“I know you.”

“I rang the doorbell, and he didn't answer. I can't tell if his car's in the garage or not. I don't see any lights on.”

“You did all you could, Dirk. It's midnight. Go home and go to bed.”

“Naw, that's okay. I think I'll just sit here for a while…just in case Wellman comes home or Avantis shows up.”

Savannah smiled, thinking that she could forgive a guy some social blunders and the occasional crankiness, considering. He might be impatient while waiting for someone to run a plate number. But, on the other hand, he would stand guard outside the house of a guy he detested, late at night, when he was exhausted.

“You're a good guy, Detective Dirko,” she said.

“Well, don't let it get out. If people start thinking of me as a nice guy, they'll try to run over me.”

“Don't worry, buddy. It'll never happen. Not while I'm around to set 'em straight.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

“Nighty-night, darlin'.”

U
sually, Tammy radiated sunshine and light. She was one of the most upbeat and positive spirits Savannah had ever had the privilege to know.

But today there were thunderclouds above her head.

Savannah could practically see the torrential rain and lightning strikes over the desk in the corner of her living room.

It wasn't a good day in the Reid household.

“I'm in the doghouse with Tammy,” Savannah whispered to Gran in the kitchen as they stirred up a pitcher of sweet tea.

“Yep. She's in a big ol' huff in there.”

“She's not talking to me. And when Tammy's not talking, that's a really bad sign.”

“She spoke to me all nice and polite when she first came in. But then she sat down at that computer and started peckin' away, and she ain't bobbed up for air since.”

“She's mad that we didn't take her along when we broke into Wellman's last night.”

“Well, can't blame her for that. I'm pretty miffed that you didn't take me, too.”

Gran lifted her chin a notch and strolled out of the kitchen, glass of tea in hand, a certain tightness in her walk that signaled a sure case of Twisted Knickers Syndrome.

Savannah sighed and whispered, “Oh, Lord, just take me now. I'm weary, and I wanna go home.”

She looked down at the two beautiful black cats at her feet. She had just fed them two kitty treats each, and they were still licking their whiskers. “You girls still love Mommy, right?” she said.

Cleo stuck her tail in the air and walked away, followed by her sister.

“That's it. Eat my treats and then leave me to go sit on your perch and watch birds. I'm just a food supply and something warm to sleep next to at night. You might as well be men.”

She looked in the refrigerator and found Tammy's bottle of organic green tea. She emptied it into one of her best crystal tumblers and added a lemon slice, ice cubes, and a sprig of fresh mint.

“What a major kiss-up I am. I'm pathetic,” she muttered as she carried her own sugared tea and the “healthy crap,” as she called it behind Tammy's back, into the living room.

She set it on the desk in front of Tammy, next to the computer keyboard. “There you go, sweet cheeks,” she said. “And before you ask—yes, the ice cubes were made from filtered water.”

Tammy grumbled some unintelligible, half-syllable acknowledgment, but kept on typing…extremely vigorously.

Savannah winced, thinking that if she didn't make up with the kid soon, she'd have to buy another keyboard. This one was taking a beating.

“Whatcha working on there?” she asked, looking over Tammy's shoulder.

“Stuff.”

“O-o-okay.”

She walked away and would have sat down in her favorite chair, but Gran was sitting in it, her
True Informer
in front of her face.

Savannah strongly suspected Gran had chosen that chair out of pure spite. Granny actually preferred the rocker.

Savannah took a seat on the end of the sofa, nearest Gran, slipped off her loafers, and propped her feet on the coffee table.

She took a long drink from her tea, then said, “So, what's it going to take to get you girls to speak to me again?”

Silence reigned supreme in the room…except for Tammy's abuse of the keyboard and Gran's rustling of
Informer
pages.

“Come on now,” she said to Gran. “I mean, really. We had to climb through the utility room window to get in. I've got a bruise on my hind end where I came down on the washer knob. You're over eighty years old. Did you really have a hankerin' to climb through a utility-room window?”

Without lowering her paper, Gran said, “If you can do it, I can do it. I'll have you know I'm a mighty spry eighty. I still put in a full garden every spring.”

“I know you do. Everybody in the county knows what a fine garden you have every year and—”

“And I always put in twenty-four beefsteak tomato plants. How long's it been, missy, since
you
tied up twenty-four beefsteak tomato plants?”

“Well, not since I left home back in—”

“You're darned tootin' you haven't. It's a chore. And if I can do that, I could go along on a measly little adventure with you…if I was invited that is, and not just left a stupid note, saying I wasn't welcome 'cause I was an old lady.”

Savannah squirmed. “That's not exactly what I wrote, but…”

Tammy stopped typing and whirled around in her chair. “And what's your excuse for not inviting
me
? You can't say I'm not physically able when you know I complete the Santa Barbara Marathon every year and can bench press my weight for three reps.”

Savannah held up one hand. “I know, I know, Tams. You're a paragon of physical fitness.”

“Then why didn't you invite me to come along? I sit here every day and do the boring stuff and never complain, while you and Dirk get to do all the cool, dangerous, scary stuff.”

“Dirk wasn't along.”

“You know what I mean. It's always you and some of the guys, and not me, doing the fun stuff.” Her lip protruded like a petulant toddler's. “And this time was especially bad, because you found some really neat stuff.”

“Devil black magic stuff,” Gran interjected from behind her newspaper.

“Yeah…in
an old chest
in an
attic
. It doesn't get any better than that, and I missed it!”

“How's about I take both of you to Disneyland next week?” Savannah pleaded.

“You think that can make up for a chest full of spooky stuff in an attic?” Tammy tossed her head, blonde hair flying. “Not on your life.”

Gran dropped her paper. “Disneyland? Hey, I'd call it even!”

Savannah's phone began to ring. She reached over and grabbed it off the end table. “It's Dirk,” she said. “And not a moment too soon. Hello.”

“Hi.”

She could tell from that one word that something was wrong. Badly wrong. “What's up?”

“You know that strip club on Mission Street, next to Saul's Pawn Shop?”

“Naughty Nonnina's?”

“Yeah. You gotta get over here.”

“What's up?”

“I have to go. See ya.”

Click
. He hung up, leaving her looking at the phone and wondering.

“What's going on?” Tammy wanted to know.

Even a pissy Tammy was a nosy Tammy.

“Dirk wants me to get over to Naughty Nonnina's right away. Something's definitely up.”

“Naughty Nonnina's? Isn't that a strip club?”

“Hm-m-ph. Fan dancers,” Gran said, her nose once again buried in her paper.

Savannah hurried into the kitchen and tossed her tea into the sink. When she returned to the living room, Tammy was on her feet and was wearing such a sweet, hopeful look on her pretty face that Savannah couldn't resist.

“Would you two ladies like to come along with me?” she asked.

“Yes!” Tammy's response was instantaneous.

Gran waited a couple of seconds. “No, I'm okay with the Disneyland bribe. You two younguns run along and have a good time. I'll stay here and finish reading my
Informer
.”

She folded the paper just so and settled in for a nice, long read.

As Savannah and Tammy grabbed their purses and headed for the door, Savannah heard her say, “I just found out that one of my favorite actors is gay. I wonder if he knows Ryan and John?”

 

On the way to Naughty Nonnina's, Tammy was happier, but still uncharacteristically quiet for her. As Savannah drove, she kept stealing sideways looks at her, and she could tell that something was still wrong with her young friend.

“Would you feel better if you yelled at me some more about last night?” Savannah asked her.

“No, I already made my point,” was her low-key reply. “I don't have anything more to add…except that when you exclude me that way, I don't feel like you respect me. You know, as a fellow investigator.”

Savannah reached over and put her hand on her knee. “Oh, sugar, don't say that. I have enormous respect for you. You're an amazing woman!”

“Do you really think of me as a woman?”

“Of course I do. But maybe, unfortunately for you, I think of you as a little sister. And that has more to do with me than you. I just step into that big-sister role out of habit. It's a bad habit, I know. I don't blame you one bit for being aggravated with me.”

Tammy put her hand over Savannah's and gave it a squeeze. “Don't apologize. I love it that you think of me as your sister. I wouldn't have it any other way.”

“Good, 'cause I don't think I can change that part of who I am. Granny drilled it into me to ‘look out for the younguns,' and I don't think I'll ever get that out of my head.”

“That's okay…since you're taking me along with you today.”

“So, we're friends again.”

“No. We're sisters. That's better.” She squeezed Savannah's hand. “Some sisters biology gives you; other ones, your heart chooses.”

“That's for sure.”

“And now that we've made up, I've got something good to tell you,” Tammy said with a sly grin.

“What's that?”

“I found some stuff on the Web about Wellman, back when he was Bobby Martini.”

“Oh, yeah? What's that?”

“He was under investigation for fraud there in Las Vegas…him and his sister, and her husband, Gustav Avantis.”

“Really? Wow. You read that on the Internet?”

“Yes. They had a pretty successful business going there with that ghost-busting thing. Bobby—they called him ‘Little Bobby'—and Gus were supposedly the techno experts, picking up ghost voices on their equipment, measuring spirit ‘frequencies' and all that. And Maria claimed to be a medium, channeling those who had passed on.”

Savannah turned onto Mission Street, heading toward the east end of town and Nonnina's. “But there's nothing criminal about ghost busting and saying you're a medium…whether you really are or not.”

“The criminal part was—they started telling people that the ghosts would harm them if they didn't pay big bucks to have them ‘cleansed' from their houses.”

“Oh, that
is
ugly.”

“Yeah, they'd tell these people that evil spirits had taken over their houses. And for the right price, they could set up these machines and send out frequencies that the ghosts wouldn't like, and Maria would talk to them, and they'd leave.”

Savannah thought of the shoe boxes stuffed with cash. “And apparently, quite a few people believed them and forked over the big bucks.”

“How can people be that foolish, to believe something like that?”

“Folks are taught all sorts of things growing up,” Savannah said. “And believing something foolish doesn't make you a bad person. Taking advantage of people who are a bit too trusting—that's something else.”

“Will Dirk be able to go after him for it?”

“I doubt it. Dirk already checked to see if Wellman had any outstanding warrants, even as Bobby Martini, but he didn't. Just because he and the others were being investigated doesn't mean any charges were ever brought.”

“That's probably why they closed up shop and left…to avoid getting prosecuted, I mean.”

“Could be,” Savannah said, “But I find it interesting that Gus didn't come with them. Maybe Wellman was telling the truth when he said that Gina left Gus because he was a bad guy.”

Tammy thought that over for a while as they rode along. And Savannah watched her, thinking how pretty she was with the sunlight shining on her glossy blonde hair, her face screwed up in a certain childlike concentration.

No. No matter how much she tried, Savannah knew she would never think of Tammy as anything other than a beloved little sister, someone to watch over and protect.

“So, schnookums,” she said, “what do you think about this whole rigmarole?”

“I think,” Tammy replied, “that if I was under investigation in Las Vegas for cheating a bunch of people out of a lot of money, and if I was leaving my husband anyway, and he wasn't a nice guy—that might be a good time to change my name and move to another state.”

“And I,” Savannah said, “think you're right.”

Savannah pointed up ahead. “That's Naughty Nonnina's up there.”

“The pink building with the silhouette of the woman with oversized hooters painted on the front?”

“That would be the one.”

“Are the owners Italian?”

That one stumped Savannah. “Uh…I can't really say. Why?”

“I was just wondering, because ‘Nonnina' is Italian for ‘little grandmother.'”

Savannah gave her a startled sideways look. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I'm sure.”

“Naughty little grandma? Yuck.”

“Really.”

As they drove closer, Savannah looked for Dirk's Buick and didn't see it. But she did see blue and red flashes of light coming from the space in between the strip joint and building next to it.

“You know,” she told Tammy, “I was hoping that maybe Dirk had found Gus Avantis and figured out some reason to arrest him.”

“That looks like a lot of activity back there in the alley for a simple arrest,” Tammy said, “unless he really resisted.”

Savannah pulled the Mustang over to the curb in front of Nonnina's. She glanced in her mirror before opening the door to get out, and she caught sight of a large white van headed their way.

As it passed them, she saw the coroner's seal on the side.

“Uh-oh,” she said. “Dr. Liu and her team are here. This can't be good.”