A Decadent Way to Die (22 page)

Far too good for the likes of that Chad creep,
she told herself.
May he run into a grizzly bear with a big hunk of bacon fat in his back pocket.

Savannah also realized that any mother, big sister, or adopted big sister would think the same thing.

Of course, in Tammy’s case, it was true.

“I know why you’re including me so much in this case,” Tammy said with a bit of sadness in her voice. “You’re trying to build me up, make me feel better about myself.”

“You shouldn’t have one blamed reason to feel anything
but
good about yourself, Tammy Hart. Don’t underestimate yourself … or the contributions you’ve made to this case. Nobody waiting for you at the foot of that hill today wanted to climb it … or could have the way you did.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.”

They walked on down the path until they saw the front of the mansion through the trees and Tammy’s Volkswagen Beetle sitting in the driveway in front of it.

“How did it go last night?” Savannah couldn’t help asking.

“Okay. Nice actually. He brought me some pretty roses and a box of candy. Apologized like crazy for doubting me yesterday … for thinking I was with another guy.”

Savannah felt her pulse quicken. If this kept up, she’d have to be on blood-pressure medication or tranquilizers before the end of the week.

“Um …” she said, knowing she was wading into quicksand. “If you broke up with him, it really wasn’t any of his damned business who you were with or where you were yesterday, right?”

Tammy shrugged. “I guess we’re sort of back together again. He asked me for another chance, and I said okay.” She glanced at Savannah and quickly added, “I told him not to ever put me down like he did before in front of you or anybody else. He promised he wouldn’t.”

“It’d be nice,” Savannah said, “if he was just a decent man, who wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you in front of your friends in the first place. A respectful man treats you respectfully without you having to demand it from him.”

Tammy stopped in the middle of the path, her arms crossed over her chest. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Not everybody’s as okay about being single as you are, Savannah. I get really lonely sometimes. And when he’s good, Chad’s really good, you know? Yeah, we have our fights, like every couple does. But most of the time, he really makes me feel special.”

“You’re special
all
of the time, Tammy.
All
, not most. And that’s how he should treat you.”

“You really need to stay out of this, Savannah,” she told her. “It’s my business, my relationship. Not yours.”

“I understand that. And believe me, I’m not saying half of what I want to. My tongue’s bloody from biting it.”

Tammy’s face turned red with anger, more than Savannah had ever seen before. She hardly recognized her friend at all. And it shocked and deeply saddened her.

“Well, we don’t want you to have a bloody tongue, Savannah. Say whatever you’re dying to say. Say it once, and get it out of your system.”

“He has a record, Tammy. He’s had three restraining orders against him, from three different girlfriends. He assaulted two of them. This guy’s a batterer!”

Tammy stood there, eyes locked with hers, hardly blinking. She said nothing, just lifted her chin a notch.

“Oh, my God,” Savannah said. “You already knew!”

“Of course, I knew,” Tammy replied coldly. “I run background checks for a living. I’m a detective, remember? You taught me well.”

“But … then … how could you …?” Savannah was totally flummoxed. “I don’t understand why you …”

“I talked to him about it on our second date. He explained it all to me.”

“How the hell do you explain away three ROs and two assaults?”

Tammy sighed. “If you must know, he was living with the first one—had been for a couple of years—and he came home and found her in bed with his best friend. And, okay, he lost it. He hit them both, her and him, once each, and then he walked out and left her. A crime of passion, Savannah. It could happen to anybody. You joke all the time about smacking people with skillets.”

“Yes, but I don’t actually
do
it. I’m quite protective of my cast iron cookware. Besides … threatening people with strange forms of violence is just a quaint, Southern custom.”

The two women stared at each other for a long, terribly uncomfortable time. Finally, Savannah said, “How about the other one? Two assaults.”

“That was his last girlfriend,” Tammy replied. “She used to hit him all the time. One night, he just pushed her off him, and she called the cops. That’s all there was to it.”

“And if you believe that one, I’ve got some marshmallows to sell you. He can go roast them in hell, telling you some cock-a-mammy story like that one.”

Tammy’s eyes went even colder, her face harder than before. “Okay, Savannah. You’ve said your piece. Now, I’m going to ask you for the last time to stay out of my personal business.”

Savannah felt her own temper rising and fought to keep it down. “You got it,” she said as calmly as she could manage. “Just, please, think it over.”

But Tammy was already walking away. And Savannah could sense the distance between herself and her beloved, long-time, best buddy widening.

In fact, Savannah felt like her friend was already a hundred miles away.

“Hey, Van,” Dirk called out to her, as she made her way back to his Buick, which was parked on the path near the cliff. “Come here.”

He was alone now. Ryan and John had left with Helene.

With his trunk lid up, he was rummaging around inside. She could see a large brown evidence envelope, sealed, and neatly tucked away on the left side of the interior. The right side was far less than tidy, housing an inordinate amount of Dirk’s “manly man” junk—fishing poles, a tackle box, baseball bat, football, and a box filled with Elvis and Johnny Cash CDs.

“We got some news,” he said, slamming the trunk closed.

He looked excited. She wished she could be excited. But after that encounter with Tammy, she felt lower than a hog with his chin on an auction block.

“What’s up?” she asked, trying to sound like she gave a hoot.

“West Hollywood called. They picked up Waldo at that bar. They’re holding him for me. I’m gonna go drop this boom box over at the lab and then drive down and get him. Wanna come along?”

She thought it over for a minute. “No, thanks,” she said.

“Really? Since when don’t you want to have your finger in the middle of the pie?”

“Sticking my fingers in other people’s pies … that’s been getting me in trouble lately,” she said. “I think I’m going to go talk to Helene. I don’t want her to hear about Waldo from somebody else first. Then I’ve got some fences to mend.”

He reached over and tugged on one of her curls. “You sure? Are you okay?”

“No,” she said, giving him a tired smile. “I’m not okay. And right now, I’m not sure about much of nothin’.”

Chapter 20

J
ohn answered the door of the mansion when Savannah knocked and escorted her into the great room.

“Miss Helene, it’s Savannah to see you,” he said to the lady of the house. She was sitting in a large, wing-backed chair, combing a doll’s hair, a wistful look on her face.

“Shall I get the two of you some refreshments before I go,” he asked, his pale blue eyes full of concern for both of them, as he looked from one to the other.

“Nothing for me, John. Thank you,” Savannah said.

Helene gave him a slight shake of the head, then went back to grooming the doll’s beautiful, long red locks.

Quietly, John slipped from the room.

Savannah sat on a chair near Helene’s and quietly waited to be acknowledged.

Eventually, Helene said, “This doll was fashioned after my granddaughter. Emma was such a beautiful child; I had to do a doll with her face and hair.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Savannah replied. “And your granddaughter is a lovely woman. I’m sure she gave you a lot of joy as a child.”

“She was very much like her mother. Both of them were sweet-natured. When my daughter died in that accident, I thought I would die, too. But, of course, I couldn’t. I had a grandchild to raise. In some ways, I think Emma saved my life.”

“I’m sure you were a blessing to each other.”

“My daughter’s husband was drinking that day, driving the car. He and my daughter were killed, and Emma was badly hurt.” Helene laid the small hairbrush aside and passed her hand over her eyes, as through trying to erase painful images. Images, no doubt, just as vivid all these years later.

“My daughter couldn’t say no to her husband. I warned her not to let him drive her and Emma when he’d been drinking, but … it happened anyway, in spite of my warnings.”

Savannah fought back her own tears, and her fear, and imaginations too dark to bear. “They don’t listen,” she said. “I wasn’t there, but I strongly suspect there’s nothing you could have said or done to change what happened to your daughter.”

“I wish I could believe you,” Helene said, stroking the doll’s cheek with her forefinger. “I’d sleep better, if I could.”

“I have a similar situation,” Savannah told her. “Someone very dear to my heart appears to be headed for a fall. But when I warn her, she gets angry with me. And after we argue, I have the sinking feeling that my words have only pushed her in his direction.”

“Like my Emma.” Helene held the doll close to her chest. “I know that boy she’s seeing now is going to break her heart. I know this sounds elitist, but you can take one look at her and tell she’s a quality person. And just as quickly, you can tell that he isn’t. Why can’t she see what’s so obvious to everyone else?”

“She’s in love, like my friend,” Savannah said. “And when you’re in love, especially when you’re young, you don’t always see a man for who he is, but who you want him to be.”

“Probably the same way men look at us.” Helene smiled.

“Yes, probably. Or else none of us would ever pair up. Thank goodness for love’s shortsightedness.”

“Have you ever ‘paired up,’ as you call it, Savannah?”

“No. I’ve never married. As I’ve been recently told, I don’t mind being single.”

Helene gave her a sly little grin that made her look at least twenty years younger. “I sensed a little something between you and that detective friend of yours. Am I mistaken?”

Savannah laughed. “No, you aren’t mistaken. There’s a little something there. We just haven’t figured out what yet.”

“Haven’t figured it out, or won’t admit it?”

“Maybe a bit of both. Or maybe we didn’t move on it back when we were still shortsighted and didn’t know each other so well.”

“Perhaps you should reconsider. Detective Coulter is a good man. My late husband was a good man. I can tell a good one when I see one.”

“Yes, Dirk is a good guy. I won’t argue with you about that.”

Helene’s sharp, green eyes studied hers for a long moment, then she said, “Don’t wait forever, Savannah. Life goes by very quickly. It seems like only last week when I was your age.”

“I’ll bet it does.”

“You mustn’t take time or happiness for granted. Grab them with both hands and hold on to them whenever you have the chance, and don’t let go.”

“I’ll remember that. Thank you.”

Helene stood, walked over to her, and handed her the doll and the hairbrush. “Here,” she said. “There are still a few knots at the nape of her neck. See what you can do … while you tell me what you came here say.”

Savannah began to gently brush the auburn tresses as Helene walked over to the display case and took out another doll with blond hair and a blue velvet dress.

“I came to give you some bad news,” Savannah said.

“I assumed that by the sour puss you were wearing when you walked in here. What is it?”

“Your grandnephew is in police custody. And he’s going to be arrested. I wanted to tell you before you heard it from someone else.”

“And what’s the charge this time?” Helene asked, looking a bit tired, but not at all surprised.

“Cocaine possession.”

“Is that all?” Helene asked.

“At the moment.”

“Thank goodness. I was afraid you were going to say ‘murder.’”

Long ago, Savannah had learned that when her spirits needed uplifting, performing one of Granny Reid’s rituals usually gave her a boost … or a least, some degree of peace.

One of Gran’s mood rescues was a bubble bath by candlelight, while nibbling a bit of chocolate. Countless times during her childhood, Savannah had heard her grandmother say to the nine grandchildren hovering around her, demanding a hundred things at once, “I’m gonna go take myself a soak. So, unless you can’t get the fire out or the bleeding stopped on your own, heaven help anybody who comes knockin’ on that door!”

Savannah had added the chocolate to the ceremony. After the first time, nibbling a chocolate truffle and sipping a bit of cognac, she had decided that if anybody thought it was unsanitary or dé-classé to have food in the bathroom, they could just get over it.

But bubble baths weren’t always practical. And they didn’t help when the stone that was weighing down a body’s spirit was a fight with a loved one.

That called for the basket ritual. A basket, laden with yummy goodies, delivered with a humble heart, went a long way toward restoring the peace after a conflict.

And since it had been a big fight, the situation called for the extra-large basket.

Savannah talked to Diamante and Cleopatra as she ladled some homemade soup—vegetables only, of course—into a mason jar, screwed the lid on tight, and placed it into the basket.

“Of course I used organic vegetables,” she said to Cleo. “Even the peanut butter cookies are one hundred percent natural ingredients.

“Yeah, they taste like crap,” she told Di, “but that’s the way she likes ‘em. Go figure. Girl doesn’t know what’s good … in men or cookies.”

And then, to the ever-present grandmother in her head, she added, “I know, I know, Granny. Have a humble heart. You don’t deliver a peace offering basket with an uppity, I-know-better-than-you attitude.”

Maybe Tammy’s right
, Savannah told herself as she carefully placed the cookies into a decorative tin.
Maybe he’s a good guy, and I’m overreacting to what I saw. Ex-cop, big sister … I’m being overly protective and alarmist. Yeah, that’s it.

She placed a loaf of her best onion-wheat bread into the basket and covered it all with a red- and white-checkered napkin.

Glancing down at the cats, who sat, looking up at her with big, innocent, animal eyes, she said, “I hear ya. I don’t believe it either, but it’s her life. All we can do is be there for her if she needs us, right, girls?”

She picked up the basket off the counter, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door. “Yes, Gran,” she whispered to the voice in her head … the one with the sweet, soft, Southern accent, “we do what we can.”

As Savannah was driving down Tammy’s lane, she practiced her speech and tried not to gag on the words. “If you say he’s a nice guy, I’m sure he is,” just seemed to stick in her craw.

Savannah was a good cook, she was an excellent shot at the target range, but saying something that was contrary to what she was thinking … that she wasn’t so good at.

Lying to herself and others wasn’t a new skill she wanted to develop this late in life. Being false took a toll on a person. She had seen too many people who had spent their life energy that way. And she had determined, long ago, not to be one of them.

“Be true to yourself,” she whispered as she neared Tammy’s house. “Don’t lie to her, but don’t give her any unsolicited advice either. This is hers, not yours.”

However, when she saw the red SUV with its metallic flames sitting next to Tammy’s pink VW Bug, her best intentions flew out the window.

“Damn,” she whispered. “Who’d have thought he’d be here in the middle of the day?”

She parked across the street and sat there, debating about whether to knock on the door and hand Tammy the basket, leave it on her porch, or come back later.

Before she could decide, the front door of the house opened, and Savannah saw Tammy and Chad step outside.

As the two of them walked to his car, Savannah watched their body language and didn’t like what she saw. He had his hand on Tammy’s shoulder and seemed to be practically pushing her along. Once, she said something to him and stepped away from him. In a heartbeat, he had her by the arm and was holding it tightly while he answered her with what appeared to be some sort of long speech.

Finally, he put his hands on her waist and pulled her toward him. He kissed her roughly, which under other circumstances might have seemed passionate, but Tammy didn’t seem that into it. Savannah noticed that she didn’t even return his embrace, but let her arms hang limply at her sides until he was finished.

As he got into the car, pulled out of the driveway, and headed down the street, Savannah was both surprised and relieved that neither of them seemed to notice her sitting there. The last thing she wanted right now was a three-way, knock-down-drag-out. And she didn’t want to waste a perfectly nice basket full of food, hurling it at a knucklehead on her friend’s lawn.

Once he was down the road and out of sight, Savannah grabbed her peace offering and bailed out of the Mustang.

“Tammy!” she called out as she hurried across the street. “Tams! Hold on!”

Tammy had just stepped up onto the porch when she caught sight of Savannah. But instead of “holding on” as she had been requested to do, she grabbed at the knob and pushed on the door, trying to get inside as quickly as she could.

“Hey, where’s the fire?” Savannah asked as she rushed up to her. “I just wanted to drop off a little something for you, to show you that there’s no hard feelings, and I—”

“No, Savannah! Go away! Please,” she said as she fumbled with the door. “This isn’t a good time.”

“Then I won’t stay,” Savannah replied. “I’ll just give you this and go.”

She held out the basket with the most humble-hearted look that she could muster.

Granny would have been proud. She was sure of it.

Tammy hesitated, her back turned to Savannah. Then, after what seemed like forever, she reached around to take the basket, her long hair covering the side of her face.

But when she grasped the handle of the basket, her hair slipped back over her shoulder, and Savannah caught a glimpse behind the hair.

“Oh, my God! Tammy!”

Savannah grabbed the basket and set it on the porch at their feet.

Her hands on Tammy’s shoulders, she spun her around until she was fully facing her.

“What the hell happened to you?” Savannah asked her … as if she didn’t already know.

Tammy’s lower lip was split, her cheek badly bruised, and her left eye was swollen. And to make the horror even worse, she had blue and red lines discoloring both sides of her neck.

Savannah grabbed her, opened the door, and rushed her inside. “Oh, sweetie,” she said as sorrow and rage swept over her in waves. “I’m going to kill him. How dare he! Oh, honey. I’m so sorry!”

She pulled back Tammy’s hair and examined her face, every bump and bruise. “Where else are you hurt?” she asked, glancing over her body. There was a bit of blood on the front of her tee-shirt … probably from the split on her lip, Savannah guessed.

“I’m okay,” Tammy said, bursting into tears. “Don’t worry about it, Savannah. I’m all right.”

“You aren’t all right, and I
am
worried. You’re damned right I am, and you should be, too. That jackass beat you!”