Cereal Killer

by G. A. McKevett

  Pressing her fingers to Tesla’s jugular, Savannah could detect a faint, erratic pulse.

  “Tesla!” she shouted, gently jostling her. “Tesla, wake up, honey.”

  The closed eyes didn’t open. They didn’t even flutter.

  Savannah looked at the wound on the side of her head that was so horribly similar to the one on Kameeka Wills. Dried blood had matted her beautiful hair to the side of her face, and her left arm was bent at an awful angle, obviously badly broken. Her jeans were torn at the knees, and her right leg had bled profusely in the shin area.

  “But she’s alive,” Savannah whispered. “Thank you, God.”

  She stood and looked up at Charlotte Murray, who was standing on the edge, watching, trying to see around the rocks and vegetation.

  “Get your ass down here, Nurse Murray!” she yelled up to her. “Right now! And don’t give me no lip. You’ve got a patient to take care of.”

  Under her breath she added, “The most important patient of your career, gal.”

  Then she fished in her jacket pocket for her cell phone. She dialed and a few seconds later she heard Dirk’s gruff, “Yeah?”

  The sound of his voice had never been more welcome, and she nearly burst into tears. “I’m in the mountains behind Oak Grove on old Camino Road,” she said. “Charlotte Murray is with me. She led me to Tesla.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “She’s still alive, but barely. Get the paramedics up here, a chopper if you can.”

  “How do I find you?”

  “I’m about ten miles east of Oak Grove. The pony’s parked on the side of the road. Shake a leg, buddy. I don’t think our girl’s got long here.”

  Click.

  Once again, Dirk hadn’t bothered to say good-bye, kiss my tushie, or toodle-ooo.

  But this time, Savannah really, really didn’t care.

  Chapter

  24

  “She’s not completely out of the woods yet,” the Odoctor at Community General Hospital told Dirk when they cornered him in the emergency room waiting area. “And she’s not going to be for a while. But we’re getting her rehydrated and she’s stable. Considering that she was out there, injured and exposed to the elements, for three days, she’s doing remarkably well.”

  “Do you think she’ll make it?” Savannah asked.

  The doctor pushed his glasses up onto his head and rubbed his hand across his eyes. “I’m pretty sure she will,” he said wearily. “We’re going to have some problems with that arm. It’s got a compound fracture, and even if the surgeons can save it, I don’t know if she’ll regain any substantial use of the limb.”

  “Is she awake?” Dirk asked.

  “She’s in and out, but that’s to be expected, considering her physical condition and the head injury.”

  “How bad is that?” Dirk asked.

  “The CAT scan looked pretty good. I think she’ll have a full recovery, mentally at least.” The doctor turned to Savannah. “She says she was able to pull herself out of the van and down to the creek for water. If she hadn’t been able to drink, if the weather hadn’t been mild these past few days, and if you hadn’t found her when you did, she never would have made it.”

  “Nurse Murray helped,” Savannah said. “She treated her at the scene as best she could and then assisted the paramedics on the way here.”

  The doctor nodded. “Murray’s good,” he said, then added, “Why was she out there in the mountains with you? I thought she was on duty today.”

  Savannah glanced at Dirk. “A long story,” she said. “I’ll call later to check on Montoya,” Dirk told the doctor. “Take good care of her and let me know when she’s well enough to talk to me. I have some important stuff to ask her.”

  “I’ll bet you do.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I’ll just bet you do.”

  Savannah and Dirk were leaving the hospital when she got a call on her cell phone. Looking at the Caller ID, she said, “Oh, dad-gum, it’s Tammy. I forgot all about her. She doesn’t even know we found Tesla.”

  She punched the TALK button. “Hello, sugar. Guess what.”

  “What?” Tammy said.

  “We found Tesla Montoya. She’s in bad shape but alive. We got her to the hospital in time, and she’s stable.”

  “That’s great! Good work! I’ve been working here myself.”

  Savannah had to think hard to even remember what the kid was doing. “Yes,” she said, stalling while she thought, “and how’s it going?”

  “Ve-e-ery interesting,” she replied with her not-so-good Bugs Bunny impression.

  “So, what’s up, doc?”

  “I was sitting in front of Tesla Montoya’s house...” Oh, yeah, Savannah thought. That’s where we sent her. “Okay, and...”

  “... and Kevin Connor came by.”

  Savannah stopped in the middle of the hallway and grabbed Dirk’s arm. “Connor dropped by Tesla’s place while you were watching it just now?”

  “About half an hour ago.”

  Dirk was instantly alert. “What was he doing there?”

  “What did he do?” Savannah asked her. “Did he go inside the house?”

  “Nope. He got out of his car, looked around, then hurried up to the front porch. He took the mail out of the mailbox next to the door, shuffled through it, and shoved it back in.”

  “He went through the mail,” Savannah relayed to Dirk.

  “And,” Tammy continued, “he stuck one piece of it, a small manila envelope, inside his shirt.”

  “I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts that it’s the tape,” Savannah told Dirk. “The one I told you about, the one Cait sent to Tesla. Connor’s got it.”

  “Do you want to know the rest?” Tammy said. Savannah could practically hear the self-satisfied chuckle in her voice.

  “Do bullfrogs croak when you goose ’em?”

  “What?”

  “Yes! I want to know the rest. Give it to me.”

  “I followed him when he left Tesla’s and guess where he is now.”

  “Where?”

  “Leah Freed’s house.”

  Savannah stared at Dirk for a moment, then said, “Oh, Lord. He’s at Leah’s house. Do you figure he’s gone there to kill her, too?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him,” Dirk replied. “What’s one more victim when you’re on a roll?”

  “We’d better get over there right away.” To Tammy, she said, “What’s the address?”

  “Heron Lane, number 138.”

  “Stay right where you are, darlin’, and we’ll be there in ten minutes. Call me if he leaves.”

  “Ten-four.”

  Savannah laughed when she hung up. “The squirt’s getting the lingo down,” she told Dirk. “And she’s getting pretty good at tailin’ the bad guys, too.”

  Savannah and Dirk spotted Tammy’s hot-pink Volkswagen Beetle parked a few houses down from the address she had given them.

  “If she’s gonna do a lot of this surveillance work for us,” Savannah said, “we’ll need to get her a blue Ford sedan... or something that doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb.”

  “Yeah, really,” he replied. “Cars shouldn’t be painted girlie colors.”

  “Girlie colors?”

  “You know—nail polish colors. Except for red. Red’s good, for cars or fingernails. Toenails, too, with those little strappy sandals you gals wear.”

  The slightly lecherous gleam in his eyes warned her not to pursue the topic any further.

  She looked into the Beetle as they drove by. It was empty.

  “Hey, where’s the kid?” she asked, suddenly alarmed. “I told her to stay put.”

  “Oh, man,” he said. “That’s just want we need now, for Miss Nancy Drew to get herself in trouble.”

  “No, wait a minute....” Savannah caught a glimpse of shining golden hair sticking above a star jasmine bush next to Leah Freed’s modest beach cottage. “There she is. What’s she doing?”

  “I believe she’s pee
ping in the window.”

  Savannah laughed. “One of these days I’ll have to mention to her that it’s a crime.”

  “Like you don’t do it.”

  “Not for fun... not like your buddy Tumblety.”

  “Eh, don’t bring up a sour subject. I’m still pissed that I can’t bust that creep for these murders.”

  “Well, now you can arrest Connor.” She pointed to the silver Maserati parked across the street. “That should make it up to you.”

  “Barely.”

  He parked the Buick a little farther down the block, and they got out.

  Avoiding the front of the house, they sneaked around to the side of the building, where Tammy was hiding in the bushes.

  “Ps-s-st. Hey, Sherlock,” Savannah said.

  Tammy whirled around, her eyes wide with excitement. She looked enormously relieved to see them. She beckoned vigorously.

  “Take a look,” she whispered, when they ducked behind the jasmine with her. “They’re... you know... doing it.”

  “Doing it?” Savannah thought she must have heard wrong. “Leah and Kevin are doing it?”

  “Big time. Look!”

  Dirk sniffed. “I don’t wanna look. I’ll barf.”

  “Well, I wanna look! Move over,” Savannah said.

  She peeped through the window, and even though the pardy drawn curtain concealed much of the scene, she could see enough outflung, bare limbs and piston action to know that Leah wasn’t getting murdered. Quite the contrary, in fact.

  “I don’t believe it!” she said. “I could’ve sworn those two hated each other! ”

  “And you know what else?” Tammy said, practically dancing in her shorts.

  “What else?” Savannah asked her.

  “Before they started, you know... that... they opened the envelope, the one he took out of Tesla’s mailbox. Inside was a cassette tape. They listened to it, and they were laughing.”

  Savannah’s eyes narrowed and her face hardened. “Oh, they did, did they?” She turned to Dirk. “Let’s bust these bastards.”

  “How do you wanna do it?” he asked her, his eyes as cold as hers. “One in the front, one in the back, or both of us through the front?”

  Savannah stepped back and surveyed the exterior of the cottage, trying to guess at the interior layout. “If we break in the back door, we can probably nail him before he can get out of the bedroom and out the front door.”

  “I’ll go to the front, just in case he runs out that way,” Tammy offered.

  “He might be armed, Tammy,” Savannah said.

  “Hell, Van,” Dirk said, glancing in the bedroom window. “I can bust a door down faster than that. If he bolts out the front, he’ll be lucky to be dressed.”

  “That’s true. Let’s go.”

  Savannah had to give Dirk credit for one thing: He was excellent at breaking in doors. He had it down and they were inside in four seconds.

  In another two, they were standing at Leah Freed’s bedroom door, looking at the startled, horrified, and quite naked couple on the bed.

  “Now there’s a sight that’ll haunt my dreams,” Savannah said as Dirk rushed forward, grabbed Kevin, and shoved him face forward onto the bed.

  “You’re under arrest, Connor,” Dirk told him. “As I’m sure you know, you have the right to remain silent. And we both know you’ve already got yourself a fancy-dandy attorney who ain’t gonna get you off, ’cause I’ve got you good, buddy. Real good.”

  Savannah walked into the room and picked up a silk robe that was lying on the floor. Tossing it in Leah’s direction, she said, “I want you to know, in spite of this new development, you’re still gonna pay me every penny you owe me.”

  “What is this?” Leah exclaimed as she climbed into the robe. “What’s going on here?”

  “Like you don’t know,” Savannah said. “Like you didn’t help him set this whole thing up.”

  “What thing?”

  Savannah gave Leah a long, hard look, then shook her head. “Boy, a model decides to leave you and you take it really personally, huh?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  When Dirk had Kevin cuffed, he pulled him to his feet, where he stood in all of his naked glory.

  Savannah averted her eyes, but not before noticing that Kevin Connor had at least one quality that women might have found desirable.

  “So, Kevin,” she said. “Exactly how many of your girlfriends did you involve in these murders of yours?”

  His face, already crestfallen, fell a few more notches. He didn’t reply.

  But Leah did. “What do you mean?” she said, bristling. “What do you mean by ‘his girlfriends’?”

  “That’s right, Leah. Plural,” Savannah answered. “He’s been playing hokeypokey with a little nurse at the hospital. She even helped him dump Tesla off a cliff, and she hid his bloody jeans after he killed Kameeka. She says they were ‘in lo-o-ove.’ ” She gave Leah a tight smile and cocked her head sideways. “Tell me, Leah... are you two in loo-ove, too?”

  Leah jumped off the bed and landed in front of Kevin. “Is that true?” she shouted in his face. “Have you been screwing somebody else? Have you?”

  Kevin didn’t say a word.

  “I think he’s exercising his right to be silent,” Savannah said.

  Leah’s face went from red to purple, her eyes practically bugging out of her head. “Answer me, Kevin.” She slapped him hard across the cheek.

  Dirk made a movement toward her, as though to stop her, but Savannah shook her head, and he hesitated.

  “If you have been,” Leah was saying, “I’ll find out and then I’m going to tell them everything. I swear, Kevin, I will!”

  Kevin’s face flushed as dark as hers as he glared down at her. “Oh, yeah?” he said, his voice low, his tone ominous. “Well, if you do, I’ll tell them how you knew all about it long before I did it, and you didn’t do a damned thing to stop it. That would make you an accessory.”

  Kevin turned to Dirk. “It would, wouldn’t it?” he said. “Wouldn’t that make her an accessory?”

  “No way!” Leah shouted. “I didn’t know about Kameeka or Tesla until afterward. I thought it was just going to be Caitlin. I...”

  Suddenly, both Leah and Kevin seemed to realize what they had just said. Their faces went from purple to white.

  What a colorful couple,Savannah thought. And chatty, too.

  Dirk looked across the room at Savannah, and they both started to laugh. “Don’t you love it?” he asked her.

  “It’s what I live for, darlin’,” she replied. “It’s what I live for.”

  * * *

  Dirk and Tammy sat on Savannah’s sofa, watching the eleven o’clock news. Next to them, Savannah was relaxing in her easy chair, one cat on her lap, the other keeping her feet warm on the footstool. The bowls of popcorn in their laps were nearly empty, but their cups were overflowing with satisfaction and more than a little plain old conceit.

  “Did that sister of yours find her way home?” Dirk asked, kicking off his shoes and propping his feet on her coffee table.

  She didn’t object. At least he was taking off his sneakers first these days. There was hope for him after all. “Yes, Mari called half an hour ago. She made it home in one piece. Lover Boy Lester didn’t pick her up at the airport like he said he would. Seems his wife wouldn’t let him out of the house.”

  “Doesn’t sound good,” Tammy said.

  “Never does where Marietta’s men are concerned.” She glanced at the TV screen and saw a familiar face. “Hey, hey,” she said. “Here we go.”

  “Kevin Connor”—the Los Angeles news anchor was saying—“... arrested today for the murder of his wife, the plus-sized supermodel, Caitlin Connor, and her friend, another model, Kameeka Wills. Although he will be represented by famed defense attorney, Marvin Klein, the district attorney says he has an excellent case against Mr. Connor, which includes both forensic evidence and witness accounts. He ha
s also been charged with the attempted murder of a third model, Tesla Montoya, who remains in the hospital in stable condition after being rescued from a mountain road above Oak Grove. It is alleged that Connor dumped her there after a brutal attack.”

  “Ah... Kevin’s not looking too happy there,” Tammy said as they showed the standard “perp walk” footage.

  “At least he’s got his pants on,” Dirk said. “I hate havin’ to arrest naked guys. Girls, I don’t mind, but buck-naked guys give me the heebie-jeebies.”

  “Hey, listen,” Tammy said, pointing to the TV.

  “A second suspect, famed talent agent Leah Freed, is also under arrest,” the female anchor continued. “Authorities believe she and Kevin Connor were romantically involved and that she was a co-conspirator in the Connor murder.

  “Caitlin Connor was originally believed to have died accidentally from an extreme diet and exercise program. She was attempting to lose a large amount of weight in a brief time to fulfill a contractual agreement between herself and Wentworth Cereal. We now go to Dr. Jensen at the worldfamous Malibu Weightloss Center for a story on the dangers of crash dieting....”

  Savannah’s living room was silent as the TV physician issued his warnings, including a brief editorial on society’s pressure on women to remain unnaturally slender, no matter what the cost to their health.

  “Gee, you’ve gotta be pretty happy with that, Van,” Dirk said, when the story was over.

  “It’s a start,” Savannah said. “Not exactly a Cape Canaveral blast-off start, but a step in the right direction.” She reached over to her end table and picked up a copy of Real Woman. It was the latest issue. On the cover was a picture of Caitlin Connor, her red hair spilling over her shoulders, her skin glowing with health, her eyes alight with the joy of living.

  “Caitlin had thousands of fans who loved and admired her,” she said. “If even a few of them learn from her example, maybe she won’t have died for nothing.” She laid the magazine aside. “But either way... we did right by her, didn’t we?”

  “We did, Van,” Dirk said. “We sure did.”