At the moment, all she wanted in life was to get her kid out of there and return to a peaceful evening at her humble home with her kitties, her comfy chair, and maybe a game of Spider-Man Chutes and Ladders with Brody.
When she entered the living room, she was relieved to see that no one turned her way or even noticed her. Their backs to her, they were focusing their attention on the far side of the room, where Carolyn Erling was making a toast, her birthday “boy” standing next to her.
Carolyn looked anything but celebratory as she held a glass of champagne high and said, “I know we’re all wishing him a very happy and exciting new year of life—”
“Hopefully, better than his last one,” a male voice piped up from somewhere in the back of the crowd.
“Wouldn’t take much,” muttered a woman with long silver hair near Savannah.
Stephen Erling shot hateful glances toward the general regions where the speakers were standing, but it was clear he couldn’t specifically identify his hecklers.
For the first time, it occurred to Savannah that maybe this crowd wasn’t necessarily a gathering of the doctor’s fans. After all, if his neighbor hated him and, having been in his company only a few minutes, Savannah loathed him, it might not be a stretch to think some individuals in that room might harbor resentments toward their host, even as they gobbled down his gourmet hors d’oeuvres and tossed back flute after flute of his champagne.
When Carolyn finished her speech, they all drank to his health. Or at least went through the motions of appearing to.
Savannah noticed that everyone else in the room, including Carolyn, was drinking from a standard, caterer-fare champagne flute. However, Stephen’s was an intricately cut glass with a delicate tint of green.
Normally, Savannah would have liked the beautifully crafted piece of crystal. Antique, no doubt. But considering who was holding it, she decided to dislike it, along with its owner.
Both Carolyn and Stephen downed the contents of their glasses, like people who had just been rescued from the Sahara would guzzle cold spring water.
Carolyn gave her husband the slightest peck on the cheek and walked away without a word to him. She turned and hurried down a hallway, toward what Savannah now knew was the kitchen.
The woman looked exhausted, a mere shell of the vibrant, fun-loving, compassionate veterinarian, whom Savannah and Brody enjoyed chatting with in her clinic. This Carolyn moved like one who was deeply tired of life itself, trapped and resigned to her captivity.
Savannah’s heart ached just to see her.
It occurred to Savannah that Carolyn Erling was exhibiting the same signs as many of the abused women Savannah had met while on the police force. The defeatist energy they radiated, the lost look in their eyes . . . it wasn’t something Savannah could easily forget.
I’ll have to take Diamante in for that ear cleaning soon, Savannah thought. Maybe Dr. Carolyn and I can have a little girl-to-girl chat.
But for right now, all she wanted was to get to the llama enclosure and Brody before he became concerned over her absence and before Dr. Stephen Erling looked her way. Or Brody’s, heaven forbid.
She managed to slip out the door and hurry across the patio without incident. She turned right, as the red-haired woman had suggested, and followed a path that wound past a lush vegetable garden, some chicken coops, a rabbit hutch, and a pen with two adorable baby goats inside.
That was when she saw the red barn.
While the structure was cute in a fairy-tale sort of way, it wasn’t much of a barn. Compared to the full-sized ones in rural Georgia where Savannah had been raised, this wasn’t any larger than an oversized toolshed. But the pen was big enough for any animal to kick up its heels and run around.
An additional feature was the nearby apple tree, whose branches didn’t reach quite near enough for a hungry critter inside the pen to nab a juicy bit of fruit.
Savannah wasn’t at all surprised to see Brody standing next to the fence, picking apples from the tree and feeding them to a tall llama with a fluffy white fleece and long, floppy ears.
Both the child and the llama seemed perfectly at peace as Brody fed and chattered away to his woolly friend.
Savannah realized she hadn’t needed to worry about him at all. As long as he had an animal buddy within reach, Mr. Brody Greyson was fine.
But when he spotted her, his face brightened, and he motioned for her to join them. “There you are! Come on over,” he called to her.
As she approached, the llama noticed her and instantly laid its ears back and stared at her with a hostile look that was unsettlingly similar to Dr. Stephen Erling’s.
“You better stay back,” Brody warned her. “He looks at people like that right before he spits on ’em. You should see it! So-o-o nasty! It’s kinda like poop mixed with slobbers flyin’ atcha!”
“Lovely.” Savannah took several quick paces back. “I think I’d like to avoid that if possible. It would be sorta like the cherry on the rotten day sundae.”
“You’re having a rotten day?” he asked, instantly quite concerned.
“Yes, sweetie. I’m afraid I am. Kinda.”
“How come? I’m havin’ fun.”
“Then that’s the best part of my day. But I do have a bit of a headache.”
“Wanna apple? They don’t taste all that bad. Just a little sour.” Brody held out a small apple, pocked with worm holes, to her. It was balanced on his palm, as he had been feeding the llama seconds before. She could still see the animal’s saliva glistening on his skin.
“No, thank you, darlin’. I reckon I’ll pass.”
“Oh. Okay.” He turned and gave it to the llama. “I’ll getcha another one if you change your mind.”
“I’ll let you know if I get a hankering for one.”
She stood for a moment, allowing herself the momentary pleasure of looking out across the ocean, where the sun had dipped below the horizon, its rose-gold rays fading into night.
Strands of fairy lights, hanging from the house’s various decks and balconies and strung across the yard had come on, turning the estate into a land of fantasy.
Too bad there’s so much unhappiness here, she thought.
“You all right?” Brody asked.
She saw that he was watching her closely, a worried look on his handsome little face.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Don’t you worry about me. It’s my job to worry about you, not the other way around.”
He thought it over for a moment. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Sure it is. I’m the grown-up, and you’re the kid. Kids should be allowed to just be kids, if at all possible, and not have to worry. There’s plenty of time to fret about bills and jobs and the State of the Union and all that junk once you’re an adult.”
He gave her a big grin, made all the cuter for its missing front teeth. “I’m all for that!” he assured her. “But I’m ready to worry about somethin’ if you need me to. Just say so.”
“If I get more than I can handle, you’ll be the first to know.”
She couldn’t help grabbing him and giving him a big hug. As she clasped him close to her chest, she leaned down and kissed the top of his head, breathing in the smells captured in his hair. Fresh sea air, apples, the animal he had been feeding, hay, and little boy sweat. A precious combination.
He seemed to enjoy the embrace for a few seconds, then he abruptly pulled away, as he frequently did.
When he had first done it, Savannah had taken it personally. But she quickly decided that, after all he had been through at the hands of an abusive woman, he might need a bit more personal space than she was giving him.
After that, she had always allowed him to be the one to end any physical contact.
Though in the evenings, when the three of them were sharing family activities, she did notice that he appeared to feel more comfortable cuddling up to Dirk on the sofa and staying in that position for the length of a television show or even a movie.
Again, she figured it was because his abuser had been female, and Savannah was resolved to allow him the control he needed over who touched him and for how long. But it did make her a bit sad to feel him pull away before she was finished enjoying the embrace.
He looked up at her with loving concern. “Is your headache real bad?” he asked. “Do you need to go home now? If you do, it’s okay.”
“Thank you for that kind offer,” she replied. “But with our ride gone, it’s a long walk home.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.”
“Did Dirk say where the captain was sending him? What sort of case?”
“He said it was downtown. Somebody got their car broke into on Main Street.”
“Doesn’t sound all that critical. The captain could have put someone else on it. Did Dirk tell him he was at a birthday party?”
“Dirk told him. I heard him. Sounded like maybe the captain already knew that.”
Savannah growled under her breath. “Yes, I’ll just bet he did.”
Dirk’s and the captain’s relationship was stormy, to say the least. Savannah recalled far too many times, even on their first anniversary, when Dirk’s boss had used his position to make life unpleasant for his senior-most detective.
He seemed to enjoy assigning Dirk mundane tasks that were below his pay grade and expertise. Then Dirk made the mistake of grumbling about it, which was the captain’s big payoff, assuring it would happen again. Soon.
“We looked all over for you,” Brody chattered on. “Finally, Dirk said he had to go and asked me if I’d be okay just hanging out with Fantasia.”
“Fantasia?”
Brody nodded toward the llama.
Savannah glanced over at the silly looking, lop-eared critter and noticed that it had lush, long eyelashes. But it was still giving her the stink eye, so she decided that, lashes and pretty name aside, they weren’t likely to ever become best buddies.
“So, you’ve been here by yourself all that time, poor boy,” Savannah told him.
“Except for the guy who was sneakin’ around back here. The guy with the dog.”
“Sneaking?” Savannah was instantly all ears. “What guy? What dog? What was he doing? Tell me exactly what you mean by ‘sneaking.’ ”
Chapter 8
Savannah could tell by the slightly concerned and anxious look on Brody’s face that she had overreacted to his simple statement.
She chided herself and recalled it wasn’t the first time.
Occupational hazard, she thought. Once a detective . . .
“It just sounds interesting,” she told him with her most casual voice. “That somebody was ‘sneakin’ around the property. Usually, a sneaky Pete is up to something he shouldn’t be.”
“Yeah, but this guy’s name ain’t Pete. It’s Dylan. He’s the kid who lives next door. He was walkin’ around, all quiet like, here by the barn when I came out. We talked for a minute.”
“Would this be the kid who owns the really mean-looking dog?”
“Yeah. But Webster’s not mean. He just looks it, ’cause he’s big and nature done stuck him with that ugly mug. He sure ain’t winnin’ no beauty contests anytime soon.”
Brody paused to screw his face up into a frown with lots of wrinkles. It was a pretty fair impression of the dog Savanah had seen on the front side of the property.
“His name’s Webster, huh?” she asked, trying to square the name with the face.
“Yeah. It’s a fancy name for an ugly dog, but he can’t help what his face looks like.”
“True. We’ve all gotta work with what we’ve been given.”
“He ain’t overly smart neither.”
“You could give him two nickels for a dime, and he’d think he was rich?”
Brody giggled and nodded. “Worse than that, he keeps comin’ over here to see the llama and the other animals Dr. Carolyn’s brought home with ’er. He even dug under the fence to get in here.”
“A determined sort of fellow.”
“He sure is, and Dr. Stephen don’t want him on his property, ’cause he peed on his new Lamborghini’s tires.”
“Ah-h-h.” Savannah thought back on the account the bald man had given her in the driveway. “There was more to that story than just the dog getting too close to the car.”
“Lots more,” Brody said, looking around before he continued to make sure they were alone.
“How do you know so much about this?”
“I was here! Helpin’ Dr. Carolyn. We’d just finished raking the poop outta the llama pen, and she’d made me a big root beer float when it happened. I saw it for myself. The whole thing.”
“A firsthand eyewitness. Do tell. . . .”
“Well, Dr. Stephen was looking out the front room window, and he saw Webster takin’ a leak on his car wheel. So he came runnin’ out, whippin’ off his belt while he ran. He got outside and started whalin’ on Webster with the belt with all his might, and Webster just hunkered down and took it.”
“Oh, the poor dog,” Savannah said, thinking other thoughts that she wouldn’t share with a child, as they were of a far more violent nature.
She couldn’t help wishing she’d been there, too. Somehow, she was sure she could have wrestled that belt away from Erling.
“Yeah, it was sad,” Brody said. “I know what it feels like to get hit by a belt, so I hollered at Dr. Stephen to quit it. A bunch of times. But he didn’t stop. I think he was too mad to hear me.”
“Probably was. People don’t hear much when they’re angry.”
“But Dylan heard his dog cryin’, so he came tearin’ over here and lit into Dr. Stephen, tryin’ to get the belt away from him.”
“I don’t blame Dylan. Of course he did.”
“But Dr. Stephen made the mistake of hitting Dylan, and that’s when the trouble started.”
“That’s when it started?”
“Yeah. Nobody was bleedin’ until that happened.”
Savannah recalled that Dylan’s father had said something about a trip to the hospital. She could only hope it was Dr. Stephen who had needed the ER’s attention.
“Who was it that sprung a leak?” she asked.
“Dr. Stephen. At least twelve leaks, I’d say. A hole in his hide for every one of Webster’s front teeth, top and bottom. Yep, ol’ Webster had a real good hold on Dr. Steven’s arm, trying to save Dylan. Then Dylan’s dad came over and the next thing you know, it was a knock-down, drag-out, right here in this rich folks’ neighborhood.”
Brody sighed and shook his head. “That sorta thing used to happen at my momma’s house ever’ Saturday night, but I bet the polite folks around here never seen the like o’ that before.”
“I reckon not.”
“Now a judge is deciding if Dylan has to have Webster put down, ’cause of him being a violent, dangerous dog and all. Which ain’t fair, ’cause he’s a nice guy. Even when he got beat on, he didn’t bite or fight back. It wasn’t ’til he saw Dylan get hit that he got riled up. He’s a dog! Protecting his owner, that’s the most important part of his job!”
“It certainly was, and he was definitely provoked. Most dogs, good ones anyway, would have done the same. Hopefully, the judge will understand and give him a stay of execution.”
She thought about it for a moment, then said, “Considering all that trouble, why would Dylan bring his dog back over here again today?”
“Dylan didn’t bring ’im. Webster come over by hisself.”
“It seems like Dylan and his parents would be really careful to keep him from getting off their property, considering what happened before.”
“Oh, you can’t keep Webster penned up to save your life. For such a dumb dog, he’s real smart about getting out of anything you put ’im in.”
“Is that what happened today?”
“I guess so. I didn’t see when he first showed up. Just when Dylan was taking him back. Dylan said Webster especially likes to come over and say hi to the llama. They
’re best friends. But Dylan was gettin’ him outta here fast-like.”
“That’s why he appeared to be sneaking?”
“Yeah. He made me promise I wouldn’t tell that I’d seen him here. But I don’t reckon he’d mind me tellin’ you. Just as long as Dr. Stephen don’t find out.”
Savannah made a motion of zipping her lips, locking them, and throwing the “key” over her shoulder.
She glanced down at her watch to see what time it was and how long Dirk had been gone. She could only estimate the time it might take him to investigate a car that had been burgled.
Depending on the circumstances, it could be a fairly simple case of someone reaching into an open car and taking a pack of cigarettes or some sunglasses off the dash, to a far more serious situation where a great deal of damage had been done to the vehicle. Possibly even the owner, if they came in contact with the perpetrator.
But whatever the case, she knew he would return as soon as possible. Especially since she had asked him to. He knew her well enough to know she hadn’t made that request simply out of boredom or impatience.
“I’m sorry you got stuck here with a headache,” Brody said, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. “I shouldn’t’ve asked you to come.”
Savannah recalled what Carolyn had said to her husband about Brody pretty much inviting himself. But she couldn’t find it in her heart to berate him for his little-boy bad manners.
Carolyn was a grown woman. If she’d truly been opposed to them coming or anticipated her husband might be, she could have refused the boy in a gentle way, and all would have been fine in the end.
Besides, it wasn’t like the child or his parents had made any sort of scene and ruined the party. If anyone had thrown a damper on it, that was the guest of honor himself.
She wondered if Brody was hungry. He was a kid with a hearty appetite, who needed to eat frequently and in shockingly generous amounts. The last thing she wanted was for him to suffer a hunger pang, a situation strictly forbidden in the Reid-Coulter household. But the thought of venturing inside the house for any reason, let alone to forage for food, made her feel like gagging.
A Few Drops of Bitters Page 5