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Authors: G. A. McKevett

Tags: #Mystery

Killer Calories (7 page)

BOOK: Killer Calories
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CHAPTER EIGHT
“
I
'm scared, Savannah.” Tammy sat on the edge of her bed, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, and from the look on her face, Savannah knew she wasn't kidding. “I mean, this is just too spooky. Kat dies like that, and then somebody's watching you from the bushes and now this.” She waved her hand, indicating the tornado-struck room. “What are we going to do?”
“I'm calling Dirk,” Savannah said, retrieving her cell phone from the heap.
“Oh, good. You're going to ask him to come out here?”
Savannah laughed. “You
must
be scared, if you want me to bring ‘dumb old Dirk' to the rescue.”
Tammy made a face. “You know what I mean ... any cop would do.”
“We can't call the cops, kiddo. The last thing we want is to draw attention to ourselves. Lou Hanks was all over me today because he thought I was here investigating for Kat's life-insurance company.”
“Oh, that's what he wanted with you. I was wondering. So, he had a policy on Kat?”
“Seems so.”
“Hmmm.”
“My feelings exactly.”
Savannah punched in some numbers and waited until Dirk finally answered. “Sorry,” she said, “did I interrupt
I Love Lucy?”
She couldn't help teasing the rough, tough cop about his favorite television show.
“No,” he barked. “I was on the john. What do you want?”
“I'm here at Royal Palms getting—”
“Slim and trim?”
“No. Stalked and vandalized. I need you to run a few checks for me: Louis Hanks, the owner of this fine establishment, Dr. Freeman Ross, the spa's physician, Josef Orlet, the resident masseur ... and, what the hell, Dion Zeller, too. Might as well be thorough.”
“Is that enough? Isn't there anything else you'd like me to do for you?”
She heard the sarcasm in his voice, but decided to ignore it. After all, she had stood on street corners in four-inch heels for him. This wouldn't kill him.
“Yes, that's all. Unless you can smuggle me in some Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia.” She intercepted a horrified look of indignation from Tammy. “Never mind. I'll just suffer ... in the name of purification.”
The instant, radiant smile on Tammy's face was her payment for exercising discipline, she decided as she hung up the phone. Virtue was its own reward.
Besides, there was always the box of truffles in the lining of her suitcase.
 
“I feel raped and violated.”
At first, Savannah wasn't sure she had heard the words correctly. She had just begun to drift off into an uneasy sleep when Tammy spoke to her from the other bed.
“What?”
“I do. I feel raped and violated. Just to think that someone was here in our room while we were gone. And they threw our clothes all around and dumped them on the floor and ... and
touched
them.”
Savannah opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it and closed it. In her line of work, she had seen rape and violation, the real thing. At least she and Tammy had been fortunate enough not to have been inside those clothes when they were thrown around and dumped on the floor.
But she didn't want to diminish Tammy's sense of outrage; the act
had
been one of violation, and she was entitled to her anger.
“Do you know what I mean?” Tammy continued. “I feel as if I should wash all my clothes before I even touch them, like they've been contaminated or something.”
“Yes, I know what you mean. We'll find out who did it.”
“Really? Do you really think so?”
“Yeah ... well ... maybe.”
“Do you think it was the same person who killed Kat?”
Savannah rolled onto her side. In the darkness, she could just make out Tammy's silhouette. “In the first place, we still don't know for sure if someone murdered Kat. And whether or not he's the one who tore up our room ... there's no way to know that either right now.”
“But having someone search our stuff that way makes it seem like maybe she
was
murdered. Don't you think?”
“Maybe.”
Savannah heard Tammy snort with frustration as she flounced about on the bed.
“Well, I don't like not knowing,” she said.
Savannah laughed. “Me either, that's why we're investigating. That, and because it's why we get paid the big bucks.”
“We get paid big bucks?”
“Right now, with my personal economy ... any bucks at all are big ones.”
“I hear you. Well, I was trying to earn mine today. I was asking questions, here and there, doing a little detecting on my own.”
Uh, oh,
Savannah thought.
This could spell trouble.
“Oh, really? You have to be careful, you know. If we ask too many questions or talk to the wrong people, we could tip our hand before we're ready.”
“Savannah! I know that! Geez ... I'm not a bimbo. I was just ‘gossiping' with people, like I would anyway, even if I wasn't detecting.”
“Oh, okay. So, what's on the grapevine?”
“Some of the workers think she might have been murdered, too. They're pretty nervous. A couple of them won't go into the mud baths alone.”
“That sounds sensible.”
“And I talked to Karen quite a while. She's the nutritionist that you met the first day, when you came to see Kat's body. She said Kat was sick before she died. Like, maybe really sick.”
“Yeah? Why did she think that?”
“She said she overheard Kat talking to Dr. Ross, just a few days before she died. They were arguing about something. Seems Dr. Ross wanted her to go to a specialist to get checked out for some kind of surgery. But she wouldn't do it. Said she'd rather die first.”
Savannah sat up in bed. “Tammy! Why didn't you tell me this earlier? That's important.”
“It is? Oh, cool.”
Suddenly energized, Savannah bounded out of bed and began to throw on jeans and a dark sweatshirt.
“What are you doing?” Tammy asked.
“Getting dressed.”
“It's after midnight.”
“I know. That's the best time to do a B&E.”
“What's that? Are you sneaking out for junk food after promising me you wouldn't.”
“No, ding-a-ling, B&E stands for Breaking and Entering. It's a crime.”
“You mean, like burglary?”
“Not exactly. I'm not going to steal anything ... at least, I'm not planning on it.” She tossed Tammy some clothes. “Shake a leg, kiddo. You're coming with me.”
“But I've never broken any laws before.”
“Then it's high time, Miss Pollyanna, that you lost your virginity.” She snickered. “Trust me, it's fun. Unless, of course, we get caught.”
 
“This is fun,” Tammy whispered as they crept from shadow to shadow, cutting a circuitous path between the dark, silent buildings. “It's sorta like playing Nancy Drew.”
“That's why I became a cop.” Savannah pulled Tammy between a couple of cars, where they crouched and waited for a night watchman to pass by.
“Because you got to do this sort of thing all the time?” Tammy asked when he disappeared around the corner of one of the bathhouses.
“No, because I
thought
I was going to get to do this sort of thing. Mostly, I tossed a lot of drunks out of bars, broke up domestic disputes, and hauled runaway kids back to homes where they didn't want to be. Exciting stuff like that.”
“But now that you're a private detective ... ?”
“Now I can break the laws I once swore to uphold. Far more liberating, to be sure.”
She grabbed Tammy by the forearm and pulled her toward the building that was their destination. Set away from the others, the small cottage was where she had received her medical examination the day before from Dr. Freeman Ross.
“The clinic?” Tammy asked, as they ducked behind some fragrant star jasmine at the side of the building.
“That's right.”
“But if we're going to break into somebody's place, shouldn't it be Kat's?”
“I already tried earlier today. She was still living with Lou, and he's got the place locked up tighter than a Sunday-Go-To-Meetin' girdle. Is there a back door to this place?”
“No, just the one in front.”
“Shoot. Okay, we'll have to do it out in the open and hope nobody walks by.”
“Do what?”
“Pick the lock.”
“You know how to do that?” Tammy sounded simultaneously scandalized and impressed.
“I most certainly do. And one of these days, I'll teach you how, too.”
“Cool.”
Savannah paused and gave her a scornful look. “Cool? Is that your favorite adjective these days?”
“It's better than the one your generation uses. You guys say, ‘Neat.' Now
that's
lame.”
“What do you mean my generation? We're the same generation.”
“No way. You're old enough to be my mother.”
“No way. How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
Savannah did the math. Forty-something minus twenty-four. “Not unless I got a really early start. Now, are you going to help me break into this clinic or not?”
“Sure ... Mom. Lead the way.”
With a foot to Tammy's diminutive rear, Savannah gave her a shove, pushing her out from behind the jasmine and onto the walkway leading to the cottage.
A study in nonchalance, they strolled to the front door of the clinic, paused, and glanced around. The only movement on the grounds was the drifting wisps of sea fog that had made their way from the beach to the top of the hill.
They listened intently, but all they heard were some crickets, a few frogs, and a coyote yipping in the distance.
“Keep your eyes open,” Savannah said, before she took her lockpick from her pocket and slipped it into the keyhole.
She jiggled it around, feeling for just the right combinations of pressure and release before she heard the pleasant sound of tumblers falling into place.
“Open sesame,” she muttered, and gave the door a push.
A second later, she and Tammy were inside the small office, where she had sat, shivering in her blue paper gown thirty-six hours before. It looked different in the dark.
She promptly smacked her shin on the doctor's stool and sent it skidding across the room.
“Oww ... shit. Tammy, where's that flashlight?”
“Flashlight? What flashlight? I thought you brought it.”
“No, I brought the lockpick and my finely honed expertise. You were supposed to bring the flashlight. Remember? I handed you the one by my bed ... the one I keep in case of earthquakes.”
“Oh, yeah ... you did say something about the earthquake; that rings a bell.”
Savannah sighed. “I don't call you a ding-a-ling for nothing.”
“Sorry, I was just all nervous about the idea of breaking into someplace that I—”
“Don't worry about it. But we can't turn the light on or we'll get busted. And we have to find something to read by....” She fumbled around in the dark for a moment, trying to remember where the doctor had laid his instruments after examining her. “Pay dirt! Instant flashlight!”
“What is that?” Tammy squinted as Savannah shone the narrow beam of light into her face.
“The gadget the doc uses to look into your ears. Here, you hold it.”
“Yuck. It probably has ear wax on it.”
“I sincerely doubt that, but take it anyway.” She shoved it into her hand. “Some partner in crime you're turning out to be. First you forget the equipment and then you turn squeamish on me.”
“Hey, I didn't barf during that autopsy.”
“True. I guess you get points for that.”
Hurrying over to the file cabinet, she dragged Tammy along. “Oh, goody. More locks,” she said as she tried to open the drawer labeled U-V-W-X-Y-Z.
Although this lock was stiff and not as cooperative as the door, she finally got it open. Tammy held the light as she located the file in question.
“Valentina, Katherina,” she said as she pulled it out.
Sitting on the floor, she spread the papers across the carpet, and Tammy directed the pinpoint beam.
“Don't you feel a little guilty doing this?” Tammy asked.
“Doing what?” Savannah took the light from Tammy and quickly scanned the forms, one by one.
“Reading Kat's private medical file, when she's ... you know ... dead.”
“That's just the point, Tammy. She's dead. Taking that into consideration, I sincerely doubt she gives a damn.”
Tammy's silence was Savannah's cue that, perhaps, she had been a wee bit insensitive.
“Sorry,” she said. “But I guess what I'm trying to say is: I figure the end justifies the means. If Kat was murdered, she deserves justice. And if I have to violate her privacy to get it for her, so be it. How's that?”
“Much better.”
“Good. Hey ... I think we've got something here.”
The medical terms were only so much gibberish, but even without an M.D. after her name, Savannah could understand enough to know just how sick Kat Valentina had really been before her death. And Dr. Ross's handwritten notes had left no doubts about his feelings on the subject.
“You were right.” She slowly closed the folder and returned it to the cabinet. “Kat
was
sick.”
BOOK: Killer Calories
7.93Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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