Wicked Craving (21 page)

“I did not.”

“You did. That's why you threw such a hissy fit the other day when Karen pitched it into the garbage.”

Gertrude didn't reply, just glared at her through her red rims.

“And not only that,” Savannah continued, “but you were perfectly willing to let your daughter, your
pregnant
daughter, be arrested for something you did.”

“She did it! It was all her. She put that stuff inside that bear and sewed it back up! It was her!”

“No, she didn't. But I'm going to enjoy telling the jury what a peach of a mother you are, accusing her to me like that.”

Dirk came charging through the front door, a confused and worried look on his face.

“What are you doing?” he asked Savannah. “I don't have a cage in the Buick. I had to handcuff her to the door handle so that I could follow you in here to see what…What's going on?”

“The jewels are inside this bear,” Savannah told him. “And Gertrude here put them there. She also killed Wellman. When the lab gets around to dusting that bag, it'll be her prints they find on it, not Karen's. And if that's not enough, you'll find her DNA inside those gloves. I'm sure her hands were sweating something fierce when she was killing Wellman. Beating somebody to death is mighty hard work.”

Dirk was flabbergasted, Gertrude morose.

“I didn't steal that stuff off her dead body,” she said in a strangely flat, monotone voice. “They were laying on her dressing table in her bedroom. She'd already taken them off.”

Neither Dirk nor Savannah spoke. They just held their breath and listened.

“I found them after…after we had our fight there in the yard and she fell. I went through the house because I wanted to see what he lived like. How we were going to be living after…once she was dead and he married Karen. And that's when I saw them laying there. She was dead anyway. I wouldn't rob a dead body.”

“Well, at least you've got your standards,” Savannah muttered.

“But you'd beat a man to death with a crowbar,” Dirk added. “Set him up to bend over and look at his tire, and then smash him in the head…over and over.”

“He lied to my daughter.” Gertrude gave a casual shrug. “He said he was married and he wasn't. He said he loved her and he didn't. He said he'd set her and me and all of us up somewhere and pay all our bills. I was really looking forward to that.”

“I'll bet you were,” Savannah said.

“A nice big house for all these kids. Somebody to help me take care of them. It was going to be great. But then he backed out. Told her all he'd do is pay for the abortion. He let us down. Disappointed us. He shouldn't have done that.”

Dirk nodded. “Apparently not.”

Savannah looked around the room at the wide-eyed little ones and wondered what was going to become of them.

She remembered every moment of that day, so many years ago, when she and her siblings had been removed from her mother's care and placed with Granny Reid.

That had been the beginning of Savannah's childhood. Before that, she had never been allowed to be a child.

Her heart ached for Gertrude Burns's grandchildren.

Not everyone was blessed to have a Granny Reid.

T
he sun was setting as Dirk drove Savannah homeward. Again, they had taken their favorite route along the foothills and were enjoying the sweet, citrus smells of the orange and lemon groves enhanced by the evening dew.

“I wonder how that Karen gal is going to function now, on her own, without her mother to take care of her,” Dirk said.

“She's getting to learn some long-overdue life lessons,” Savannah agreed. “No doubt about that. It's a shame. 'Cause when a body puts off the learning, the lessons get a lot tougher. And her pregnant—that makes it way harder. Life's not going to be easy for either of those women for a long time.”

“Do you think Karen knew her mother had done it?” Dirk asked.

“She might have suspected. I don't know for sure. I really don't think Karen was in on it. I could tell she really was in love with Wellman. I don't see the appeal, personally, but there's no accounting for taste.”

“Or a lack of it.”

They drove along in silence for a while, both enjoying the break from all the stressful activities of the past few days.

If there was anything better than having a case to work on, it was having one wrapped up.

“I think this is a first for me,” Dirk said. “Instead of the wrath of a woman scorned it was a prospective mother-in-law scorned.”

Savannah nodded. “I think Dr. Bonnie Saperstein was right about how some women think a man is going to change their lives forever, make them whole and happy. Then when that fantasy gets snatched away, they'll do anything to get it back.”

“She's a nasty, rotten old broad. That's for sure. You gotta wonder if she was always that way. Like was she just born mean?”

Savannah gazed into the darkening orchards around her, breathed in the fragrant air that was streaming through the car window. “No,” she said. “I can't believe that. But I do look at those little kids, growing up in a house where that sort of crap goes on…how do they really have a chance to learn anything different?”

Her cell phone buzzed, and she looked to see who it was. “Brian Mahoney?” she said. “Why the heck would that tally-whacker be calling me?”

She didn't sound particularly friendly when she answered, “Yes?”

“Sa…Sa…Savannah?” The woman on the other end was crying so hard that she could hardly speak.

“Lydia?”

“Yes. It's me. You said I could call you if…”

“Of course. What's going on? Where are you?”

“I'm down at the gate, the one that leads into Spirit Hills.”

“And what's happening?”

“He hurt me again. Pretty bad. I couldn't take it. I grabbed his cell phone and snuck out the back way and ran.”

“Good for you, girl!”

“Can you help me?”

“Damn tootin'! You hang tight and we'll be there in five minutes. And if you see Brian, you hide…behind a bush somewhere if you need to.”

 

It didn't take them five minutes. Dirk really stepped on the gas, and they were there in four.

When they saw the gatehouse, the first thing Savannah noticed was that the guard looked scared to death. He was a small, older man in a neatly pressed khaki uniform. He was backed into a corner inside the booth, blocked from any means of escape by the impressive bulk of Brian Mahoney.

Mahoney was screaming at him.

“Where is she? Where is my wife? Don't tell me you didn't see her. She couldn't have gotten out any other way than through there! You tell me where she is or I swear I'll break your scrawny neck!”

He was wearing a dirty, ripped T-shirt and torn jeans. But what distressed Savannah about his attire was the fact that his shirt was spattered with drops of blood.

And she saw no trace of any injury on him.

Somehow, that wasn't particularly surprising. Brian Mahoney struck her as a guy who caused other people's blood to spill more than vice versa.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Dirk yelled as he and Savannah scrambled out of the Buick. “Back off there, Mahoney!”

When Mahoney turned around and saw them, his rage level soared. “You? I'm sick of you two! Get outta here. I've got problems!”

“And you're going to have even more if you don't back away from that guard,” Savannah told him. “You can't go threatening people like that.”

“Yeah? Well, you come on over here yourself, you bitch, and we'll see if it's a threat or a promise.”

“Oh, now you've gone and done it,” Savannah said, shaking her head. “You just stepped in a fresh cow pie with both feet.”

A smoldering Dirk hurried up to Mahoney, a pair of cuffs already in his hand. “Turn around,” Dirk told him, “and put your hands behind your back.”

“What?” Mahoney gave him a challenging little smirk. “You're going to arrest me? You and who else?”

Savannah felt a shot of apprehension sizzle through her. The guy was big, really big, and all muscles and temper.

She glanced around the nearby shrubs, trying to see any sign of Lydia. At first she didn't see anyone. But then she noticed an oleander bush moving slightly. Through the tangle of dark green leaves and bright pink blossoms she could see something that looked like human skin.

But before she could help Lydia, she had to assist Dirk with Mahoney. Resisters who were over six foot three often presented a problem.

“You better turn around and put your hands on that wall right now, buddy,” Dirk was saying.

“Or what?” Mahoney tossed back.

“You'll be finding out what any minute now. Step away from that guard, and lift your hands. Do it now!”

Savannah walked over to Dirk, and the two of them advanced on Mahoney. To her dismay, he raised his clenched fists from his sides and positioned them in a fighter's stance. And worse, the sick little grin on his face made it obvious that he was enjoying this encounter, rather than being frightened or intimidated as they certainly would have preferred.

Brian Mahoney was a pro at this sort of thing. And Savannah was determined that neither her nor Dirk's blood would be mingling with the drops already on his shirt.

Dirk raised his own fists, cuffs tight in one of them.

She knew he wouldn't draw his weapon unless he absolutely had to. Dirk always preferred wrestling to shooting.

“Look,” Dirk was telling him. “All I'm asking you to do is come out of that guard house, turn around, and put your hands behind you. Then I'll cuff you, for your protection and mine, and we'll have a little chat about whatever's goin' on. If everything's hunky-dory, then I'll uncuff you and we'll all be on our merry way. Sound like a plan?”

Mahoney didn't drop his fists or his nasty little grin. “Naw, I don't think so,” he said.

“Okay, your choice,” Dirk said as he pulled a billy club from the back of his belt and strode toward him.

Savannah rushed forward with him. But when she got almost within grabbing distance of Mahoney, she looked quickly to the left, pointed at the corner of the guardhouse, and said, “Oh, hey, look! It's Lydia!”

As she'd predicted, Mahoney's head whipped around to see what she was pointing to, and a second later, Dirk had one of his arms, and she had the other. They turned him around and slammed him, face first, into the brick wall of the guardhouse.

She grabbed his right hand, while Dirk nabbed the left. And before Brian Mahoney could spit a plug of tobacco, he was cuffed.

“Where is she?” he yelled, seemingly more anxious to see his wife than he was worried about being in the hands of the law.

“You got him?” Savannah asked.

“Yeah,” Dirk replied. He pushed Mahoney onto the ground, where he sat down hard on the asphalt. “I'm gonna call a unit with a cage to transport him, though. I don't want him in the back of my Buick.”

“Why not?” Savannah said. “He'd fit in with all the other moldy garbage back there.”

She leaned closer to Dirk and lowered her voice. “Turn him around so that he's facing the other way.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“Okay.”

Dirk did as she said. And the moment Brian's head was turned, she hurried over to the oleander bush.

She found a shivery Lydia, crouched there, her arms folded over her bare breasts. She was shaking violently and blood was pouring from both sides of her horribly swollen nose.

All she had on was a pair of black lace panties.

She was crying.

“Oh, sugar,” Savannah said, crouching beside her. “He messed you up good didn't he, darlin'?”

Lydia simply nodded and continued to cry.

Savannah took off her own linen jacket and started to put it on the woman, who was trembling so badly she could hardly slide her arm into the sleeve.

Glancing over Lydia's body, Savannah searched for other signs of injury. Most noticeable was her left ring finger. It was terribly swollen and dark blue. Savannah could tell just by its strange, grotesque angle that it was broken.

“He…he threw me out of the house,” Lydia was saying. “He beat me up and then he pushed me out the door, and I didn't have any clothes.”

“I'm sorry, sweetie,” Savannah told her. “But it's over now. Sergeant Coulter has him in custody now, and he's going to jail. You don't have to be afraid anymore.”

Lydia held up her hand. “He tore my wedding ring off my finger. It really hurts.”

Savannah was already dialing 911. “I'll bet it does. I'm getting you medical help right now. An ambulance will take you to the hospital, and the doctors will set that for you. You're going to be okay. The worst is over now.”

Lydia looked up at her with eyes that were filled with sadness, fear, and pain. But there was another little something there that hadn't been before.

It looked a lot like hope.

“It
is
over, isn't it?” Lydia said. “I can press charges against him, and you guys can send him to jail for hurting me.”

“Absolutely.”

“And then this whole nightmare could be finished.”

Savannah nodded and smiled.

But once she had given the 911 operator all the particulars and hung up, she got to thinking about all the other women—hundreds and hundreds of them—over the years who had been where Lydia was.

“You know, Lydia,” she said, her hand on the woman's shoulder. “This will be over if you make it so. You have to testify against that guy, tell the court what he did to you, what he's done to you all these years. You have to help the prosecution convict him of his crimes toward you. And then, once he's behind bars, you have to guard your own life. Really be on guard. Because if you don't, in a year or less, you'll find yourself with another guy just like Brian—different name, different face, but the same situation.”

Lydia cried softly. “I've been hit before. By my dad. By other boyfriends. By my ex-husband.”

“So, make sure that this is the last time.”

Lydia nodded. “I will.”

“You have to. You're the only one who can decide that it's over. Never again.” She leaned down and patted the woman on the head. “Promise me, Lydia. Promise yourself—right now.”

“I promise.”

Savannah took heart.

Lydia sounded like she meant it.

 

Savannah, Dirk, and Granny sat in Savannah's living room, relaxing amid the desolation of a major feast.

The empty glasses, dirty dishes, and serving plates that held only crumbs, all testified that some serious eating had recently been done.

The party was over, and Tammy, John, and Ryan had left, all groaning that they had major bellyaches and would never be hungry again for the rest of their lives. And that was the way Savannah liked her guests to leave. The more miserable they were, the better she, as a Southern hostess, had done her job.

“That must have done your heart good, knowing that woman's going to pay for what she did,” Gran said.

“Not as much as you might think,” Savannah admitted. “Usually there's a family who's eager for justice for their loved one. But while we were investigating this, we didn't come across anybody who really loved either Bobby or Gina Martini, or gave a hoot that their killer's been arrested. It's sort of a hollow victory.”

“Not for me,” Dirk said. “I was glad to lock up that sourpuss. Even if nobody liked those people, she didn't have the right to kill them. She's right where she belongs, and I'm happy about it, even if nobody else is.”

“I'll tell you what did give me a heap of satisfaction,” Savannah said. She drained the last sip from her iced tea, then set the glass on the coffee table. “And that was getting that phone call from Lydia Mahoney this afternoon.”

“Mahoney…” Gran said. “That name sounds familiar. Isn't she the one who's married to that no-good bum of a cowboy who was blackmailing the doctor?”

“Yes, the one with the tricked-out pickup and the gun rack,” Dirk said.

“Dirk's jealous,” Savannah said. “He wishes he had that truck.”

“I don't want nothin' that guy has.” Dirk sniffed. “Especially now. He's gone from living at a Southern-style mansion with big white columns to an eight-foot jail cell.”

“You arrested him?” Gran asked.

“Yes, and it was the high point of our day,” Savannah replied. “That worthless maggot thumped on his old lady one too many times. He broke her nose and then her finger, ripping her wedding ring off her. Threw her outside with hardly anything on. She high-tailed it outta there and gave me a call. Dirk slapped him in jail and, once she'd given her statement, I took her back home.”

Gran smiled and nodded. “That's a fine thing. I bet you that when that woman's head hits the pillow tonight, she'll get the best night's sleep she's had in ages.”

“And,” Dirk added, “she's pressing charges on him, so we can keep him locked up for a while, give her a chance to resettle somewhere far away from him.”