“And did you?” Savannah asked Juanita.
“Yes.” The maid seemed ashamed as she admitted it. “The driver, and Jack, and myself, we went inside, but Dona stayed there with Kim until the police came—and then the ambulance.”
Quietly, Savannah studied the strange young man sitting across the table from her. At first, she had heartily disliked him. She had chalked him up as a self-centered pretty boy who used his looks to get what he wanted in life. Most of it from women, who should know better than to give it to him.
And yet, the person he was now, telling her about what he had witnessed, she could feel an affinity for him.
At least, she could if he hadn’t lied to her. She didn’t like being lied to. It was about her least favorite thing in the world. And she knew, without a doubt, that he had lied to her about Kim. He had cared about her. More than he had originally let on. And she intended to find out why he had felt the need to downplay that.
“Tell me one more thing, if you will, Jack,” she said. “And it’s very important, so I want you to take your time and think about it. Okay?”
He nodded. “Go ahead.”
“When you first heard that popping sound, where exactly did it come from? Your first impression. Your best guess.”
He thought for a moment, then turned and decisively pointed to a particular clump of bushes on the hill above them. It was the same area where the CSI team had found the Porter-Marceau hiking boot print in the dirt.
“Okay, thank you,” she said. “I’m sure that wasn’t easy for you, recalling such an awful memory. But you helped.”
“I did?” He looked pleased.
“You did.”
“Good.” Every trace of a smile dropped from his face and the expression that replaced it frightened Savannah—shaking her to her shoes. And she was seldom shaken by such things. Then he added, “That’s good, because whoever did that to Kim, he should have the same damned thing done to him. He should have a hole blown in him and die on the ground like a dog—the way she did.”
“Well, I can understand you having that point of view,” Savannah told him. “But for right now, let’s just see if we can catch him and hope he gets at least twenty-to-life.”
Chapter 13
Later that evening, when the Papalardo estate was retiring for the night, Savannah showed Tammy the pink bedroom with its silk-covered walls, canopy bed, and ornate, feminine accessories. As Savannah had predicted, she was enthralled.
“Oh, this is exactly the kind of bedroom I always wanted when I was a kid!” Tammy exclaimed as she walked into the room and looked around. She set down the suitcase that she had stashed earlier behind the sofa in the library, and twirled around and around in the center of the room. “I feel like a princess,” she said, “a fairy, ballerina princess!”
“Well, stop that,” Savannah told her, laughing. “You’re making me dizzy here with all that spinning around. So you like it. I figured you would. That’s why I decided to let you sleep in here at night for as long as we have this gig.”
Tammy’s mouth fell open, and she abruptly halted in midpirouette. “No! You can’t! I mean, that would be just too sweet!”
“That’s me, too sweet. It’s all yours. Enjoy.”
“But…but where are you going to sleep?”
Savannah walked over to the bed, peeled back the moiré comforter and grabbed one of the pillows that was covered with a lace-trimmed and embroidered pillowcase. “I’m going to sleep downstairs,” she said, “on the couch in the library.”
“No, you can’t! You’re the boss. You’re older. You should sleep up here and let me take the sofa.”
“What does age have to do with anything?”
“You get stiff faster if you have to sit or sleep on anything weird. Remember that long layover in Denver we had that time when we flew to Chicago? We had to sit in those hard airport chairs for five hours. You couldn’t walk straight for a week.”
“Four days, but who was counting?” Savannah walked over to a chaise in the corner and lifted a thick, plush throw from its back. “I’m set,” she said. “Believe me, I’ve slept with a lot worse than an Egyptian-cotton–covered, down pillow and a chenille throw thick enough to make into a fur coat.”
But Tammy still wasn’t happy. “Stay here and sleep with me,” she said. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”
“Why would I mind sleeping with a girlfriend? I was one of nine kids, raised in a tiny shotgun house in Georgia. Do you think we each got our own bed? It’s not that.”
“But this bed is big,” Tammy protested. “It’s at least a queen, and I don’t take up a lot of room.”
Savannah raised one eyebrow. “Okay, I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear that last bit there.”
“I didn’t mean that you would—”
“I know you didn’t mean a thing. You’re a sweetheart. But to be honest, I think it would be better if at least one of us was on the ground floor, at least for tonight. Security reasons, you know.”
“Oh, okay. Well, I don’t mind being down there myself.”
“Sh-h-h. Enjoy this small perk while you’ve got it. Lord knows, perks have been few and far between for you while in my employ.”
“I never complained.”
“Because you’re kind.”
“Because I love what we do.”
Savannah gave her friend and assistant a warm smile. “You’re the best, Tams. The best. Enjoy your room and sleep tight. You know where I am if you need me.”
“Same here.”
Savannah leaned over and gave Tammy a peck on the cheek. Then she headed for the door. “And watch out that you don’t break anything, especially that lamp over there. It belonged to some old movie star who used to date Howard Hughes or something like that. If you break it, we’ll have to steal that silver brush-and-mirror set just to pay for it.”
Tammy blew Savannah a kiss as she walked out of the room and closed the door firmly behind her. She could hear Tammy lock it from the inside.
Good girl. All that nagging…or training…had paid off, after all. Now if she could only paper-train Dirk, all would be right with her world.
She turned and was starting down the hall, toward the staircase, when she saw Mary Jo Livermore coming up the stairs. Unsteady on her feet, the redhead was clinging tightly to the banister rail. At first glance, Savannah thought she might be injured in some way, but a closer look told her that Mary Jo was “in her cups.” In fact, she looked like she had partaken of several cups of something highly intoxicating. Recently.
When Mary Jo reached the top of the stairs, she saw Savannah and appeared to realize that her clumsy ascension had been watched.
“Oh, you again,” she mumbled as she staggered down the hall toward Savannah. “I forgot you were staying here. We’re roommates, huh? Or hall mates, ’cause you’re right across the hall from me and…”
Savannah had little use for sloppy drunks. Her own mother had suffered from a severe drinking problem since Savannah could remember. And she wasn’t the only one who had suffered from it. All nine of her children had, too. Terribly.
The police chief of her tiny hometown had found Savannah and her young siblings playing among the broken glass and assorted garbage behind the town’s main tavern at midnight while their mother drank inside. And as a result, the children—all nine of them—had been removed from her custody and given to Savannah’s grandmother.
Granny Reid had done a wonderful job of raising the brood, and Savannah had never regretted, even for a moment, the way things had turned out.
But she still couldn’t abide sloppy drunks.
“I won’t be sleeping across the hall from you after all,” she told Mary Jo as the woman bumped clumsily against her as she passed. “My assistant, Tammy is in that room, and I’ll be in the library downstairs if you need me.”
“I don’t need you,” she said as she fumbled with the door, trying to get it open. “I don’t need anybody or anything. I just n
eed my own place away from here. Away from her!”
“Away from whom?” Savannah asked, though not really expecting a coherent answer.
“You know who,” she mumbled. “Her. Queen God-Almighty Dona. We are just humble servants, groveling at her feet. She who must be obeyed, that’s what we should call her…”
Her voice trailed away as she stumbled her way into her bedroom and managed to get the door shut behind her.
“Boy,” Savannah mumbled as she made her way down the stairs, her pillow under one arm, her throw tossed over her shoulder, “she gives these people jobs, a roof over their heads and all they’ve got to say are rotten things about her behind her back.”
Then she remembered how Dona had yelled at her earlier when she had allowed Mark into the house, the fiery light that blazed from those famous, beautiful eyes.
“Yep, the sad part is: all that they’re saying, nasty though it may be, appears to be the pure D truth. Now ain’t that just a cryin’ shame?”
As she passed through the dark, silent foyer, she paused for a moment in front of the statue of Diana. The lights had been turned off in the house, but a shaft of particularly brilliant moonlight shone through the etched transom and onto the goddess’s face. The silver light gave the statue an unearthly beauty and made her all the more lifelike.
“So, you’re the great hunter goddess, guardian of the woodlands, the animals and trees,” Savannah whispered to her. “You carry that bow and arrow like you aim to use it on somebody.”
As Savannah expected, Diana said nothing, but continued to stare through the window at the full moon. The artist had done a good job of capturing both a feminine softness in her features and a ferocity in her expression that radiated the epitome of female strength.
“Well, I reckon you wouldn’t shoot anybody who didn’t deserve it,” she added, remembering the story of how Diana had shot some fellow who had secretly watched her as she bathed. “And being a goddess, I reckon you’d know who had it coming and who didn’t.”
Leaving Diana to her moon bathing, Savannah crossed the foyer and passed through the arched doorway into the library.
Although the room was quite dark, she could see well enough to find her way to the sofa. She kicked her shoes off and stretched out on it, tucking the pillow under head and covering herself with the soft chenille throw.
Certainly, it wasn’t as comfortable as her bed at home, but it was a lot nicer than lying across the backseat of Dirk’s Buick Skylark. And a lot classier, too.
There were no Styrofoam hamburger boxes, empty soda bottles or taco wrappers on the floor.
Her gun holster wasn’t particularly comfortable sleepwear, but she wasn’t prepared to take it off just yet. What it lacked in physical comfort it made up for in mental consolation.
However, she could do without her cell phone biting into her right side. She was just slipping it off her waistband when it began to buzz.
She answered it. “Hello.”
“You busy?” Dirk asked with a curt, unpleasant tone. He sounded tired and cranky. Even more tired and cranky than usual.
“No…for the first time all day,” she snapped back.
“Sorry,” he said with more humility than he hardly ever demonstrated.
Heck, she thought, he didn’t sound that remorseful when he put that long scratch on my coffee table with his Harley boots.
“You okay, buddy?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He thought about it a few seconds. “No.”
“What’s the matter?”
“This ‘no smoking’ crap sucks.”
Ah, that’s my Dirk, she thought. Articulate, succinct.
“Sorry, sugar,” she said, “But you know it’s good for you. You’ll feel better, run faster, cough and hack less…live longer.”
“Not if I drive my car off a cliff and into the ocean.”
She grinned. Dirk was never happier than when he was miserable. “Are you behind the wheel right now?”
“Yeah.”
“Any cliffs in sight?”
“No.”
“Then you’re probably okay for the moment.” She glanced down at her watch. “It’s after eleven. Why aren’t you at home in bed? Aren’t you about ready to turn into a pumpkin?”
“I can’t sleep. I can’t stand being awake, because I feel like I’m jumping out of my skin. But I can’t sleep either and get away from the feeling. I’m telling you, this is friggin’ awful.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I really am. But you’re doing so well! I’m very, very proud of you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Enough with the pep talks, Pollyanna. I think I’m going to have just one. A half of one, just to take the edge off.”
“You light up, boy, and I swear, I’ll rip your right arm off and beat you to death with it.”
He chuckled. “Now that’s the Savannah I know and love.”
“Seriously,” she said, “why are you out driving around at this time of night?”
“I told you, I can’t sleep.”
“And there weren’t any reruns of Bonanza on TV?”
“Nope. No Gunsmoke either.”
“Poor baby. So, you just went out, got in the car and took a drive?”
He hesitated, then said, “Well, I went out to get a pack, but drove past the Seven-Eleven and didn’t stop.”
“Good. Really, Dirk. That’s good. Where are you now?”
“At the end of the driveway.”
“Which driveway?”
“Dona Papalardo’s.”
She tossed off the chenille throw and walked over to a window that looked out on the front of the property. And sure enough, there at the end of the driveway was Dirk’s pale blue jalopy.
The headlights blinked twice.
She laughed. “You wanna come in and keep me company?”
“I could. Or you could come out here and keep me company. I’ll let you pat me down, make sure I’m not carrying any cigs.”
“Be still my heart.” She stuck out her tongue and gave him a noisy raspberry. Then she said, “Hold onto your breeches. I’ll be right out.”
Minutes later, when Savannah climbed into Dirk’s passenger seat, she was nearly overcome with the strong smell of cinnamon.
“Good lord, boy, do you have a bakery in here? Smells like the cinnamon bun place at the mall, only stronger.”
He sniffed. “You’re just never satisfied. You complain about the smoke in my car, or the way the food wrappers in the back smell, and you didn’t like my pine tree freshener. You’re just a little too—”
“Hey, I wasn’t complaining.” She held up her hands. “The cinnamon is a definite improvement—especially over that pine tree. I’m good with the cinnamon. Really.”
Even in the semidarkness of the car, she could see the cinnamon stick dangling from the corner of his mouth. He looked ridiculous, of course, but he looked pretty dumb when he had smoke rolling out of his nostrils, too. So…
“Wanna go for a drive?” he asked.
“Yeah, but I should probably hang out here. Tammy thinks I’m downstairs, and she’d get spooked if she came down there and I was gone. I just wanted to come say ‘hi’ to you and see if you’re surviving your withdrawal symptoms.”
“I’m all right. I’ve been through worse than this. Way worse. Why, back when I was passing those—”
“No! I’m not listening to another kidney stone story rerun. You’re not putting me through that ever again. You’ve gotten enough mileage out of that kidney stone attack to last for the next twenty years.”
“It was horrible! You have no idea! My doctor said it was the worst pain any human being on earth has ever felt.”
She rolled her eyes. “Considering the Spanish Inquisition, that’s doubtful. Ever hear of ‘the rack’ or the iron maiden? Drawing and quartering?”
He bristled. “Have you ever passed something as big as that through something that small?”
“That small? Really?” She gave him a sideways look and
a smirk.
“Don’t be a smart aleck. You know what I mean.”
She laughed at him. “Yes, I do. And no, I haven’t. Every woman who’s ever given birth has, but I can’t say that I have.”
“This was worse than childbirth. My doctor told me so.”
“A male doctor?”
“Yeah, what’s your point?”
“Who, me?” Her eyes widened with mock innocence. “I have no point. Nope, not me.”
She reached over, put her hand on his forearm and squeezed. “I know it was awful for you, buddy, that stone attack. And I’m sure this is terrible, too. But you’re doing it, and I can’t tell you how strong and totally sexy I think you are for taking this stand and conquering this demon of yours.”
He turned toward her on the seat and stared at her, incredulous. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” She gave him her most serious, no-nonsense, level look. “You’re hot, Dirk. The epitome of a truly manly man.”
His chin lifted; his chest swelled visibly. “Wow! Cool! Thanks, Van.”
“Just tellin’ it like it is, good buddy. Just tellin’ it straight.”
He sat for a long time in silence, staring out the windshield at the moonlit surroundings. Finally he said, “Wanna go for a walk? Check out that hill where we think the shooter stood?”
“Sure. Let’s.”
He got out of the car first. She sat there for a moment, shaking her head, snickering. “Men,” she whispered. “Tell them a pile of hooey about themselves, they’ll believe it every time.”
She swung the Buick’s door open and stepped out. The fragrant dampness of the evening air surrounded her, and she breathed it in. No cinnamon, but sweet all the same. The full moon overhead lit the Papalardo mansion, coloring it with a silver patina that made it look like something from one of Dona’s beloved black-and-white movies.
Being a hopeless romantic herself, Savannah could understand the diva’s love affair with the silver screen. The glamour created by those old-time stars and those bigger-than-life sets had no equal in contemporary filmmaking.
Fat Free and Fatal Page 13