A Few Drops of Bitters

by G. A. McKevett

  “Yes, I know,” Savannah said softly, as she edited the rest of her statement to omit certain adjectives like “dreamy” and “set-your-knickers-aquiver stunning.”

  If Dirk felt he had to compete with Ryan and John, he was bound to suffer some pangs of insecurity having a filthy rich and fabulously famous brother-in-law entering the family. Who wouldn’t?

  As Maria led Savannah and Dirk into the dining room, the rest of the family saw that they had arrived and jumped up from their chairs to greet them.

  “Everybody’s here already! I’m sorry. Are we late?” Savannah glanced at her watch and saw that it was seven o’clock sharp.

  “No. You’re right on time,” Alma said, standing on tiptoe to give her big sister a kiss on the cheek.

  “We were just early,” Ethan added as he hugged Savannah and gave Dirk a hearty handshake.

  “Yeah, we’re starvin’!” Brody piped up. “I’m hungry as a tick on a teddy bear.”

  Savannah ruffled his hair and said, “Tammy said she was going to take you over to Granny’s for the afternoon.”

  He gave her a half-sheepish grin. “Yeah. So?”

  “Don’t tell me that Gran starved you plumb to death, because I won’t believe it. Nobody goes hungry on Granny’s watch.”

  “That’s for sure,” Alma said. “Suffering a hunger pang just ain’t allowed in our family.”

  Ethan groaned. “I guess I’d better start looking for roles like ‘Overweight Gladiator’ or ‘Pudgy Secret Agent.’”

  “Reckon you’re a bit eager to get this big ol’ shindig under way.” Granny said, taking Ethan by the hand. She grabbed Alma with her other and led them back to the table.

  “I wish it was today,” Ethan said, glancing over at his bride-to-be and giving her a wink. “But not just to have it over with. All this planning and stuff is kinda fun, but I wish we were already married.”

  As the others gathered around the table and began to take their seats, Savannah glanced toward the kitchen and saw Ryan and John emerging, wearing food-soiled aprons and happy, satisfied faces.

  They hurried to the table and, once again, Savannah was enveloped in more welcoming hugs.

  How good to be so loved, she thought, as Ryan pulled out her chair for her and John made a slight adjustment to her cutlery. Surely, time spent with family in a beautiful place, enjoying delicious food, had to be one of life’s greatest gifts.

  She looked up at Ryan and stifled a chuckle. Normally, both he and John were GQ cover-ready, impeccably dressed and meticulously coiffed, from their every-hair-in-place heads to their professionally manicured fingertips.

  But tonight, they were cooking, which meant that John’s silver-fox mane was standing on end, his lush mustache uncombed, and a large smudge of flour adorned his left cheek.

  Ryan’s dark hair hung down into his eyes, stringy, wet strands, stuck to his sweaty forehead. He had red stains on his hands that she hoped were from something like beet juice and not blood.

  “I’m surprised you two are cooking tonight,” she told them. “Did Francia and Carlos call in sick?”

  “No, love,” John said with his posh, British accent. “They’re back there, making magic. Knowing this is for your family, they wouldn’t miss it for the world. Carlos is putting the finishing touches on your appetizers, and Francia is preparing the entrées. We’ve added a couple of new items to the menu, dishes that none of you have ever tried.”

  “To be honest,” Ryan said, “we hadn’t tried them either. But they look and smell good.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be plumb fit to eat,” Granny said. “Everything here is like heaven in your mouth.”

  “We want you to have plenty of choices,” Ryan said, “and we didn’t want Francia and Carlos to have all the fun. So here we are.” He held up his stained hand and pointed to his streaked apron. “Looking like a couple of short-order cooks in an all-night Brooklyn diner.”

  “The messier the apron, the better the food, I’ve always said,” Ethan told them.

  “Let’s hope your theory proves true.” Ryan glanced around the table, then turned to Maria. “Could you please refresh everyone’s beverage and then the fun will begin!”

  A cheer went up around the table, the loudest roar coming from Brody.

  A few minutes later, everyone had settled down and were focusing on the charcuterie tray with its exotic cheeses, cured meats, fresh berries, olives, and buttery crackers.

  They dug in, oooing and ahhing about how nicely the smoked provolone complemented the rosemary and juniper prosciutto.

  “I had fun at Granny’s today,” Brody announced as he spread a bit of jalapeno jelly on a cracker and popped it into his mouth.

  “Hey, watch it there, kiddo,” Savannah told him. “That jelly’s hot. It’ll burn your whiskers off!”

  She handed him her napkin, anticipating his need to clear his mouth. But to her surprise, he toughed it out, chewed briefly, and gulped it down.

  “I can handle it,” he said, belying the tears that had sprung to his eyes. Grabbing a glass of water, he downed half of it before stopping.

  “Here,” Dirk said, handing him a cracker. “When you’ve got a fire in your mouth, something like this works better than water.”

  “I’m glad you had a good time with Gran,” Savannah told him. “Sorry we couldn’t pick you up the way we usually do.”

  “No problem. I like it when different folks pick me up in front of the other kids.”

  “Why is that?” Alma asked him.

  “Because then they know I’ve got a lot of people who like me.”

  Savannah saw something that looked like a flash of sadness cross his face for a moment, then it was gone, and he was nudging the tray closer to Granny, so she could reach some of the jelly he’d just sampled.

  “There ya go, Gran,” he said. “You like hot stuff.”

  “No, thank you. You’ve still got steam shootin’ outta your ears, and I try to learn from the mistakes of others.”

  Brody grabbed a couple of olives and said, “I guess you two had something pretty important to do, since you couldn’t pick me up.”

  Savannah glanced at Dirk, who was studying a slice of salami with more intensity than even gourmet cured meat deserved. “Um, yeah,” he said. “She helped me out with a case I’m working on.”

  “Dr. Carolyn’s case?” Brody asked with an interest so keen that, watching the glow in his eyes, Savannah was taken aback.

  But then she recalled how fascinated she had been by all things relating to law enforcement and criminality, even at his young age.

  “Yes, it’s Dr. Carolyn’s case,” she told him, deciding to be as open and honest with him as possible, considering his youth, that it was murder, and the fact that he knew the victim personally.

  “Somebody bumped him off, right?”

  Everyone at the table turned to look at the boy who asked the question as though he was inquiring about tomorrow’s weather, then popped an olive into his mouth.

  Savannah drew a deep breath and said, “Dr. Liu examined the body today and ruled it a homicide.”

  Brody turned to Granny and nodded knowingly. “Them two’s the same thing,” he told her. “Gettin’ bumped off or havin’ somebody homicide ya—either way, you’re a goner.”

  She stared at him for a while, then nodded slowly and said, “Yes, I reckon you’d be toes up for good, whichever way.”

  Savannah looked over at the blushing bride-to-be and her fiancé. “What’s going on with you two? Did you meet with the florist yet?”

  Alma and Ethan turned to each other, whispered something between them, and Ethan said, “If it’s all the same to you, we’d rather talk about the case than flowers.”

  Alma nodded vigorously. “It’s way more interesting.”

  Savannah glanced around the table, pausing on Brody, wondering how to handle this novel situation. Normally, when members of the Moonlight Magnolia team got together, all they did was discuss whatever case
was pending. Had they been honest, they would have admitted that those discussions were more fascinating and satisfying than any food a chef could prepare. Even amazing cooks like Savannah, Ryan, and John.

  But Brody.

  This new addition complicated things—a youngster who, unlike tiny Vanna Rose, was old enough to understand most of what they were saying and its significance.

  Not only did they need to guard his innocence, but since he knew the parties involved, he might spill the beans and mention something they’d said to someone who shouldn’t hear it.

  Savannah decided the answer to the problem lay in what she would call “Grown-Up Code.” She might need to start carrying a thesaurus in her purse, but that was a small price to pay for being able to discuss adult topics at the dinner table.

  “While experiencing a lengthy, meaningful discourse with the M.E.,” she began, “we discovered that the MOD was determined to be homicide and the COD was cardiac arrest precipitated by ingestion of a highly toxic substance,” she said, quite proud of herself.

  Brody scowled at her, as one by one, the adults at the table gave Savannah a slight, knowing nod.

  “Toxin in question is pentobarbital,” Tammy added. “I was researching it all afternoon. Surprisingly, considering its potential to, um, cause a cessation of respiration and cardiac failure, it’s a fairly common pharmaceutical.”

  Ethan tapped his forehead with his finger, concentrating, then said, “I remember that drug now. Sometimes they use it for”—he looked over at Brody—“to, well, deliberately cause that cessation and failure you were just mentioning.”

  “Right!” Alma piped up. “When they’re administering the ultimate chastisement to a . . . detainee of the penal system.”

  Everyone snuck a look at Brody, who appeared uninterested as he decided which cheese to pair with which salami on the cracker of his choice. This time he was avoiding the jalapeno jelly.

  Savannah turned to Tammy. “You say it’s fairly common. Could you make a list for us of all the places that stock it?”

  “They also use it to put pets to sleep,” Brody casually mentioned as he continued to build his cheese and cracker sandwich.

  The adults sat motionless at the table, their mouths slightly open, staring at the child.

  So much for Grown- Up Code, Savannah told herself, when she finally recovered her ability to think.

  She saw the twinkle in Granny’s eyes as they exchanged glances across the table, and Savannah knew exactly what her grandmother was thinking.

  “You were just like him.” Savannah could hear the words as clearly as if they had been spoken. “You put me through my paces back in the day, and what goes around comes around.”

  “Yes, Brody,” Savannah said. “I do believe it’s used for that purpose, too.”

  “It is. I know. I saw it before myself.”

  “You saw an animal put to sleep?”

  Brody nodded. “Don’t tell Dr. Carolyn though. She thought I was still cleanin’ cages. But I heard her saying some words, bad ones, loud. So, I came back inside to see if something was wrong, if she needed my help.”

  “What was going on?” Savannah said.

  “She was having a hard time gettin’ Loki to go to sleep. Well, die. You know that’s what they really mean.”

  “Yes. I know.”

  Dirk leaned toward the boy, his expression serious, his voice low as he said, “What do you mean, son, having a hard time with the dog?”

  “He wouldn’t go down. She’d done give him a big ol’ honkin’ dose of that pento-stuff, ’cause he was a big dog, a Great Dane, who weighed a lot. How much they weigh is a big deal at a time like that. You don’t give a chihuahua a monster shot like you would a Great Dane.”

  “I reckon that’s true,” Granny said, reaching over and placing her hand on Brody’s shoulder. “What exactly did you hear her say?”

  “Well, some of it was cussin’ and you probably don’t want me to say that part.”

  “Tell us what you can, darlin’,” Savannah told him. “Apparently, you’re a lot better with words than we thought.”

  “Okay.” He finished swallowing his enormous bite, drew a deep breath, and said, “She was saying stuff like, ‘That was twice as much as he should need! Something’s wrong here!’ She got all upset; I thought she was gonna cry. She said, ‘This poor dog’s had a rough life. He’s suffered so damn much. You’d think the least we could do is give him a gentle passin’.’”

  “Carolyn mentioned something to me about losing a Great Dane named Loki, how upsetting it was.”

  “Naw, she didn’t lose him. He was there the whole time. We knew where he was. But he sure didn’t wanna go down, and she sure weren’t happy about it neither.”

  Before anyone could comment on Brody’s eyewitness account, the appetizer course arrived and was laid out before them. Thai minced turkey lettuce cups and pan seared scallops with peach salsa caught the ladies’ attention, while the men nabbed the bacon jam with onions, served on Parmesan crisps, and the shaved beef on crostini with a spicy horseradish sauce. Everyone grabbed the tiny, wild mushroom soufflés, which disappeared almost instantly.

  The rest of the meal unfolded splendidly. The BLT salad with avocado and feta and the heirloom tomato with balsamic vinaigrette were the winners of the salad category. Wild-caught salmon with a tropical salsa, marinated flank steak, and Cuban style roasted pork were the entrées of choice.

  Although the official wedding dessert would be the cake, Ryan and John wanted their special guests to have a final treat.

  The dessert cart they wheeled out carried temptations galore, including: triple-berry ricotta cake, pear-walnut upside-down cake, and Savannah’s personal favorite, the dark chocolate bread pudding.

  “You were right,” Dirk mumbled to Savannah as he gnawed on a leftover mahogany chicken drumette. “This is better than staying home and watching the game.”

  “Even if the Dodgers beat the Giants?”

  “Whaddya mean if? It’s in the bag.”

  “Yeah. Right. The only bag I’m counting on is the doggy bag we get to take home with us tonight. We’ll be eating high on the hog for the rest of the week.”

  Dirk laughed. So did Tammy, who had overheard her comment.

  But Savannah wasn’t laughing. For all the joy of the evening, the pleasure of her family’s company, and the delicious food, she couldn’t stop thinking about the Great Dane named Loki.

  The one who, for some reason that she could only speculate about, had simply refused to “go down.”

  Chapter 24

  Later, when dinner was finished, Ryan and John removed their aprons, changed their shirts, combed their hair, and joined the Reid clan in the waiting area for coffee, a hot chocolate for Brody, and fresh-squeezed orange juices for Vanna Rose and Freddy.

  Tammy and Waycross were playing with the children, Alma and Ethan were snuggling on a love seat near the fireplace, and Dirk was playing with his phone, pretending not to be checking the baseball game scores. So, Ryan and John joined Savannah and Granny, who were sitting on a leather sofa, perusing a picture album that had been on one of the shelves.

  The photobook contained snapshots of Morocco and a younger Ryan and John by at least ten years. They were shopping in the main square of Marrakesh, having a drink at night by the pool of the lavish hotel, La Maison Arabe, with all its Moorish splendor.

  Looking up at her friends, who were walking toward her, it occurred to Savannah that the two had aged most graciously.

  She had a theory that the kindness they showed to their fellow human beings made a circle, returned to them, and kept them youthful.

  As she patted her tummy, she said, “Lads, you outdid yourselves tonight. Absolutely splendid! I’m so full, I swear I’ll never eat again.”

  Ryan slipped into a chair next to her and said, “You feed us all the time. Wonderful dishes. It felt nice to return the favor for a change.”

  John sat on the ottoman next to Ryan’s
chair and glanced around the room at their now fully sated guests, who seemed to be savoring the last moments of the evening and each other’s company before going their separate ways.

  “That’s one of the finer aspects of owning an eatery,” Ryan said. “It’s such an easy and pleasant place to entertain your best mates.”

  Ryan looked down at John, and a look was exchanged between them.

  It was subtle, but Savannah saw it and wondered what they had on their minds.

  She didn’t have long to wonder.

  Ryan glanced around and, seeing that everyone else in the room was occupied, he leaned closer to Savannah and Granny and said, “When we were changing clothes, cleaning up to come out here and visit with you, we remembered something.”

  “Oh?” Instantly, Savannah felt a tingling in her body that had nothing to do with the sugar high from the dark chocolate bread pudding. “What sort of thing did you guys recall?”

  “We met your victim, Dr. Stephen Erling, at a party last year,” Ryan said. “It was a fundraiser, hosted by Dr. Harold Weinberg, the Chief of Staff at Community General Hospital.”

  “You’ve met Dr. Weinberg, love,” John told Savannah. “He’s the tall, stately fellow who made sure you were well-tended when you went in that time for a cracked head.”

  Subconsciously, Savannah put her hand to the back of her hair and recalled the pain that particular encounter with a perpetrator had caused her. She also remembered spending a long time in the ER, being totally neglected, until John and Ryan had intervened on her behalf by calling their close friend, the chief of staff.

  “Of course I remember him. I never got treated like royalty before in a hospital, until that night. Not something a gal forgets.”

  Impatient with the walks down Yesteryear Road, Granny set the photo album aside, leaned closer to John, and said, “What’d y’all think of him, that Dr. Stephen fella, when you met ’im at the party?”

  “Let’s just say I wasn’t impressed with the lad,” John replied. “Mostly because he seemed so very impressed with himself.”