A Decadent Way to Die (17 page)

Chapter 15

W
hile Dirk and Tammy properly packaged, labeled, and stowed the spade and cocaine evidence in the Buick’s trunk, Savannah decided to take a stroll to the main house and see if she could find Emma.

She hadn’t spoken to her since last night’s tragic activities, and Savannah wanted to find out how Helene was doing.

As Savannah approached the front of the mansion, she saw Emma standing behind her BMW, putting an overnight bag into the trunk.

When she opened the driver’s door and started to get inside, Savannah called out to her. “Hey, Emma. Got a minute?”

Emma tossed her handbag onto the passenger’s seat, then closed the car door and walked over to Savannah. “Sure,” she said. “How’s it going?”

“Okay. Can we sit a spell?”

Emma motioned to a couple of comfortable chairs in the shade of a large, leafy oak tree. They strolled over to the chairs and sat down.

“I saw you throw your bag in the back of your car,” Savannah said. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I figured I’d go back home.”

“Oh, really? So soon?”

“Well, the main reason for me coming over here was to keep an eye on Oma, but your friends, Ryan and John, are doing a good job of that.”

“I’m sure they are, but …”

Emma shrugged and looked a little sheepish. “Kyd called me, and he really wants me to come home. He misses me. He’s not good at being on his own.”

When Savannah didn’t reply, Emma added, “He’s just so crazy about me, adores me, you know. Can’t stand it when we’re apart even for a second. It’s really true, true love. Soul-mate stuff.”

Sounds more like having a giant, parasitic, bloodsucking tick on your butt,
Savannah thought. But she decided to keep her opinions to herself. Something told her that Emma wouldn’t appreciate her observations about soul mates who couldn’t allow you a moment to yourself.

“Kyd hated going to his gig without me last night,” Emma continued, as Savannah tried to picture what a giant tick with spiked hair and a Poison Nails logo on its back would look like. “Sometimes, I go along to offer support and also to keep an eye on him. You know how those groupies are … always after the musicians … throwing their panties at them … stuff like that.”

Savannah shrugged. “Can’t say that I understand that. Don’t see the point in hurling your bloomers at a guy unless you’re in them.”

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Emma asked. She crossed one leg over the other and toyed with the lace of her sneaker.

“Waldo.”

“Oh, must we?” She sighed and slouched in her chair, like a five-year-old protesting the fact that she had to eat a beet and liver sandwich.

“You don’t like him much, do you?” Savannah commented.

“No. I really don’t.”

“Would you tell me why?”

“Because he’s a spoiled little brat who takes everyone and everything around him for granted and always has.”

Savannah nodded. “That’s upfront and honest. Thank you.”

“Waldo was pretty much raised here, too, you know. Just like I was. Oma took better care of him than Ada did. He had all this given to him.” She waved an arm, encompassing the gracious mansion, the lush, sweeping grounds. “Even back when Ada was married, she and her husband would drop Waldo off here for months at a time, when they were globe hopping, or even when they just didn’t want a kid around.”

Savannah thought it over for a couple of moments, then said, “That might lead a kid to feel pretty rotten about himself, fancy digs or no.”

“Oma made up for it. She showered him with love and attention. Anything he didn’t get from his mother, he more than got from my grandmother. She gave him everything he ever wanted. Still does.”

Seeing Emma’s bright green eyes flash and her pretty face contort with anger, it occurred to Savannah that Emma and Waldo had a bit of pseudo–sibling rivalry going on. And it appeared to be a pretty intense battle … at least on Emma’s side of the chess board.

“How does Waldo support himself?” she asked.

“Stealing money from Oma’s purse every time her back’s turned. Begging from his mother. Oh, and dealing dope.”

Savannah thought of the bindles of cocaine in the shed. “A lot of it?”

“Enough to support his habit. He keeps getting arrested. Oma spends a fortune on attorneys to keep him out of jail. He’s off to rehab for a while … again, at my grandmother’s expense … and then the cycle repeats itself.”

“Why doesn’t Ada pay for all the legal bills and rehab, since he’s her kid?”

“Ada doesn’t have any money. She spends it all on plastic surgery and toys to keep her boys happy.”

“Boys? She has more than Vern?”

“Please. She has more boyfriends than shoes. Apparently, when you’re Ada, it takes a lot of stud service to keep your mind off the fact you’re not as young as you used to be.”

“Has anybody told her about Vern yet?”

“Not that I know of. I didn’t call her. I don’t think my grandmother did.”

Savannah was pretty sure Dirk hadn’t. The last she’d heard, Dirk had the gal at the station trying to track down Vern’s next of kin. And it was proving to be a challenge, considering that he gave out false addresses and changed aliases more often than he did his socks.

She made a mental note to talk to Ada and see how broken up she was, or wasn’t, about losing this great, or mediocre, love of her life.

“We can’t find Waldo,” Savannah told her. “We looked in his house, around the property, in his shed. Couldn’t find him anywhere.”

“He leaves without saying anything to anybody. That’s nothing new. He goes into Hollywood, cruises around until he scores.”

“Drugs … sex …?”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“Any particular places he goes?”

“There’s a bar on Sunset in West Hollywood called Rattlesnake Tom’s. He hangs out there a lot.”

“And you say he doesn’t have any sort of job?”

“Not unless you call getting high and playing video games a career.”

“Does he ever do any work around the estate here? Digging, for instance?”

“Digging? You mean, like with a shovel?”

“Exactly.”

Emma sniffed. “You’ve got to be kidding. Waldo never used any kind of tool or did an hour’s work in his life.”

“When did you last see him?”

“I saw him yesterday afternoon, as soon as I got here. I was pulling into the garage and nearly ran over him.”

“What was he doing?”

“He said he was looking for his boom box … the one he likes to listen to when he’s outside. He accused me of taking it, sweetheart that he is. Like I’d want the ratty old thing.”

“His boom box?” Savannah’s mood lifted considerably. All of a sudden, the flower gardens around them seemed more colorful, the birds’ songs sounded sweeter, the sun shone brighter. “And did he find it?”

“Don’t know. I didn’t hang around to find out. That was the last time I saw him, and if I don’t run into him again soon, that’s fine with me. I avoid Waldo as much as possible. Everyone does.”

Except Dirk,
Savannah thought.
If Dirk’s anxious to get his hands on him now, just wait till he hears about this!

After Savannah sent Emma on her way, she gave Dirk a call. “You guys still messing with that shovel and dope?” she asked him.

“Just finishing up,” he replied. “The stuff from the shed tested positive for cocaine. What are you up to?”

“I had a conversation with Emma. She told me Waldo hangs out at Rattlesnake Tom’s, a bar on Sunset in West Hollywood.”

“I know the place,” he said. “A real spit-on-the-floor dive. I’ll call Hollywood, and see if they can send somebody over there to pick him up for me.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure the HPD has nothing better to do than to run that little errand for you. And if they nab him, see if they’ll drag him back to San Carmelita for you, too.”

“Brothers in blue, banding together in the never-ending search for law and order.”

“Uh-huh. Be sure and use that phrase when you talk to them, too. I’m sure it’ll go a long way.” She walked up to the door and rang the bell. “I’m going to see if I can talk to Helene before I leave. Make sure she’s okay.”

“Gotcha. Me and the kid, we’ll meet you back at the cars.”

“Bye.”

The door opened, and Ryan was standing there, looking immaculate, as always, in a pale blue shirt and navy slacks.

“Hi,” he said, holding the door open for her. “How’s it going out there?”

“We found the spade,” she said, keeping her voice low. “It was in Waldo’s shed.”

“Grandnephew Waldo?”

“Yeah. And a stash of cocaine big enough to get a herd of elephants buzzed.”

He glanced over his shoulder toward the back of the house. “That’s not good. Helene’s going to hate hearing that. She has nothing but good to say about him.”

“She’s too kind,” Savannah told him. “Really, from everything I’ve heard and observed myself, she’s way too kind where he’s concerned. Where is she now?”

“In the kitchen, baking a German chocolate cake. John’s watching and getting tips.”

“Waiting to lick the spoon and the bowl is more like it.”

“That, too.”

“I want to talk to her, say ‘bye’ before I leave.”

“I think she’d like that. She’s got some pretty nice things to say about you, too.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

Ryan led Savannah through the house to the kitchen, where they found John standing at the stove, stirring something vigorously in a heavy saucepan. Sweat was beading on his forehead.

Helene sat on a stool at the island, watching him with a critical eye.

“Don’t let it burn!” she was telling him. “If it sticks at all on the bottom, it’ll scorch and be ruined!”

“Looks like she’s working you to the bone there, good buddy,” Savannah said as she walked over to the stove and peeked into the pan.

One smell of the heavenly, caramel-colored aroma told her that John was doing the down and dirty part of cooking the buttery base for the coconut and pecan frosting. As she recalled, the boiling mixture had to be stirred vigorously and continuously for twelve minutes.

It was a long twelve minutes with the sticky, hot liquid spattering all over your hand. And that was why she only made German chocolate cake on holidays.

“If I’d known you were that good at stirring that stuff,” she told John, “I’d have given you the job last Christmas.”

“Sorry, love,” he said, “but I only do this for Helene.”

Savannah sat down on the stool next to Helene’s. “Do you have this effect on all men?” she asked her.

“All.” Helene’s green eyes twinkled. “I crook my little finger, and they come running.”

“It’s not your little finger that caught my attention,” John said, stirring, stirring, and stirring, “it was your clenched fist that got me moving.”

Ryan laughed. “More like the promise of a prize-winning recipe.”

“How are you doing?” Savannah asked, putting her hand on Helene’s forearm.

“Better. Cooking always makes me feel better. Especially if someone else is doing it for me.” A sadness passed over her face. “Though when I think of poor Blanca, even the baking doesn’t …”

“I understand,” Savannah said. “It’s a terrible thing.”

Helene shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment. “Tiago will be heartsick when he hears.”

“He’s already been notified,” Savannah said. “He arrived home earlier, and we told him.”

“Is he okay?” Helene asked.

“As okay as could be expected under the circumstances.”

Helene’s face hardened. “If it weren’t for Blanca, I must admit, I’d almost be glad to hear that Vern’s gone. I guess that sounds coldhearted.”

“From what we knew about Victor, I mean, Vern,” Ryan said, “I don’t blame you very much for feeling that way. It’s a shame, anyone losing their life that way, but he caused a lot of misery in this world. I don’t think too many people are going to miss him.”

“Does Ada know?” Helene asked Savannah.

“I haven’t heard. We haven’t told her yet. I suppose we should,” Savannah said, thinking it wasn’t a job she wanted, but she’d probably get stuck doing it.

Someday, Dirk was going to have to find some really remarkable way of paying her back for doing all his dirty work.

“Ada might miss him,” Helene said. “She saw something in him. God knows what.”