And the Killer Is . . .

by G. A. McKevett

  “We’ve heard tales,” Savannah said, accepting the tall, frosty glass that John was handing her. “I understand some not-so-nice things happened here, too?”

  Mary nodded solemnly. “It’s true. I won’t deny it. Let’s just say, the police became very well acquainted with Miss Lucinda and her guests.”

  Dirk took a long drink from his glass and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Something tells me she might have crossed quite a few cops’ palms with silver on a regular basis back then.”

  “Silver, gold, Rolex watches,” Mary replied with a grin. “Not to mention, regular invitations to the best parties. But those were usually reserved for high-level law enforcement officials. State prosecutors, county judges, important people like that.”

  Tammy gently refused when offered the glass full of sugar and said, “Tell us, Mary, of all these people who came and went in this house over the years, did Ms. Faraday have any disagreements with any of them, arguments, hurt feelings, stuff like that?”

  “Of course she did,” Mary admitted. “Ms. Faraday was a spirited, opinionated, feisty woman who said exactly what she thought at all times. That’s not always the best way to make and keep friends.”

  “Did she have any friends, serious friends?” Savannah asked.

  Suddenly, Mary looked sad, as if remembering something unpleasant. After refilling Dirk’s glass, she cleared some clothing off an old chair and sat down on it, groaning slightly as she did. Apparently, her arthritis was acting up.

  “Miss Lucinda did have a friend, a best friend, for a long time. Delores Dinapoli.”

  “I guess she’s dead now,” Dirk said with his usual tactful, delicate manner.

  “No, Miss Delores is still around. She’s over twenty years younger than Ms. Faraday. They got along well for a long time. I’d even say they loved each other like a mother and daughter. Better than some mothers and daughters.”

  Considering how sad Mary looked to be discussing this topic, Savannah thought it might be important.

  She probed a bit deeper. “May I ask what happened between them? Did their friendship end at some point?”

  “It did. With a bang, so to speak.”

  Now she had everyone’s attention.

  “What happened?” Tammy asked.

  “The same sort of thing that happens in too many friendships. Betrayal. Of the worst kind.”

  “Who betrayed whom?” Ryan asked.

  “I’m ashamed to say it, but my lady was the one who destroyed that relationship, as she ruined others. She was a flawed person in many ways, but the best I ever knew.”

  “You’re a loyal person, I can tell,” Savannah said softly, taking a step closer to Mary. “I know it must be uncomfortable to say unflattering things about your former employer and friend. But right now, we need to know all we can about her and her relationships.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good, because unfortunately, when a murder occurs, luxuries like privacy go out the window. Sometimes, having one seemingly small secret revealed can solve a case.”

  Mary looked up at Savannah and nodded thoughtfully. “I’m sure it does happen that way sometimes.”

  “Then, if you can bring yourself to do it, would you tell us what happened between Delores and Ms. Faraday?”

  Savannah could tell that Mary was struggling with her conscience, but in the end, practicality appeared to win the battle.

  “Miss Delores was married to Dino Dinapoli, a very wealthy man, a good-looking man. He was an extremely sexy man, if you want me to be honest.”

  “We do,” Dirk assured her. “That’s exactly what we want. Go on.”

  “That was how Ms. Faraday liked her men—good-looking, sexy, and wealthy.”

  “Lemme guess,” Waycross said, “Ms. Faraday took a serious likin’ to Miss Delores’s husband.”

  “She did,” Mary admitted, “and she made sure he felt the same.”

  Savannah did a bit of quick math in her head. “Was Dino closer to Lucinda’s age than Delores’s?”

  Mary shook her head. “No. He and Miss Delores were about the same age, which, yes, means that he was around twenty years younger than Ms. Faraday.”

  “Wow,” Tammy said. “That Ms. Faraday must’ve really had a way with men, to be able to seduce somebody twenty years her junior.”

  “Oh,” Mary said, “she had a way with men, all right. She had her way with them. I never saw her go after a man she wanted and not get him. She just had a way of pulling them in, like a fish on a line. She’d bait them with that whole glamorous silver-screen star facade, slather them with all that buttery flattery, and the next thing you knew, they were her next tasty dish. Of course, once she had eaten what she wanted, she threw the leftovers into the garbage, wiped her mouth, and pretended nothing had happened.”

  “Unless a wife found out,” Dirk said. “Then the meal might end badly.”

  “It did. Frequently. Ms. Faraday wasn’t nearly as discreet as she thought she was. Pretty much everyone around her knew exactly what was going on at any given time. I’m sorry to say she ruined quite a few marriages.”

  “Are any of those wounded parties still alive, other than Delores, that is?” Savannah wanted to know.

  “No. Just Miss Delores.”

  Mary paused to take a sip of her own lemonade, and Savannah noticed that her hands were trembling. She used both to hold the glass, and even then, she nearly spilled it.

  “A few years back,” Mary continued, “I remember Miss Lucinda telling me, ‘All of my enemies are dead now.’ I thought how strange it would be to say that. Even to think that.”

  It would be strange, Savannah thought. To have lived so long that almost everyone you knew, all of your contemporaries, at least, had passed on.

  She imagined it must be a lonely feeling. Though, apparently, a relief, if most of the people you knew had been enemies rather than friends.

  “I don’t doubt she said that,” Dirk added. “But I wouldn’t have to be a detective to tell you, I saw her body, and Lucinda Faraday was wrong. She still had at least one enemy left, for sure.”

  Chapter 21

  The next morning, when Savannah returned from dropping Brody off at school, she pulled together a small breakfast of cinnamon rolls, miscellaneous fruit, freshly squeezed orange juice, and percolator brewed coffee.

  Just as the cinnamon rolls were coming out of the oven, the members of the Moonlight Magnolia Detective Agency—plus Ethan Malloy and his three-year-old son, Freddy—began to arrive.

  Since the weather was crisp and cool, and because she thought Freddy and Vanna Rose might enjoy playing on the grass in the backyard, Savannah ushered everyone out the back door and over to the picnic table beneath the wisteria arbor.

  Granny and Tammy helped her put the goodies on the table, while Waycross and Ethan introduced the children to each other and the joys of rolling about on Savannah’s lush lawn.

  “You’re still using only natural fertilizers on your grass, right?” Tammy asked, checking out the nearly perfect and weed-free green expanse.

  Savannah couldn’t help herself. Tammy brought out the worst in her. She gave her a wicked smile and said, “I’ve used only organic fertilizers since that long conversation we had last spring. Except for the dandelions, of course,” she added. “A good squirt of arsenic is the only thing that gets rid of those stubborn, nasty things.”

  Tammy gasped and nearly dropped the cinnamon rolls. “Arsenic? You’re kidding, right? But you shouldn’t be, because nobody should joke about arsenic. Do you know what that stuff does to the human body?”

  “As a matter of fact, she does,” Granny said, rescuing the rolls and conveying them safely to the table. “My granddaughter knows more about poisons and ugly stuff that kills people than ’most anybody I’ve ever known. ’Cept me, of course. Being part of a private detective agency, I have to keep up on that sorta thing.”

  “Of course,” Tammy said, simmering down almost immediately.

&
nbsp; That was something else that Granny knew more about than Savannah did, and Savannah was the first to admit it. Granny could calm a mad hornet who’d just been stepped on and turn him into a honeybee in three seconds flat.

  It was a gift that Savannah wished she had inherited, knew she had not, and had surrendered any hope of developing herself.

  She looked over at her brother and Ethan and saw, to her delight, that the two men were rolling around on the grass with the kids. Even the Colonel had joined in the fun. She noticed that the hound was being far gentler with little Vanna than he had been with Brody. Like most good dogs, he sensed that she was smaller and more delicate, a puppy to be coddled and not wrestled.

  He was nudging her with his soft nose, his long velvety ears brushing her pink cheeks, causing her to squeal with delight.

  Ethan reached out and grabbed his three-year-old son, who was trying to climb on top of the dog’s back. “Watch it there, Freddy boy,” Ethan said. “That’s a hound dog, not one of your granddaddy’s packhorses. You might hurt him.”

  Freddy threw a tantrum, kicking his legs and screaming as though he were in agony, rather than being cradled in his father’s arms.

  “I know, I know,” Ethan told him. “I’m a cruel father, not letting you ride every dog you get your hands on.”

  Ethan looked up and saw that Savannah was watching. He said, “I took him to my dad’s ranch for Christmas and made the mistake of going riding with him. He loved it.”

  “There aren’t a lot of horses to ride here ’bouts,” she said. “Tell me about it. That’s why I have to watch out for any dogs that cross his path.”

  Granny walked over to Ethan and Waycross, holding a plate that she had filled with strawberries, orange slices, banana slices, and grapes cut in half. She sat down on the grass beside the children and told their fathers, “You fellas get over there to the table and have some breakfast before you start discussin’ business. I’ll watch out for these young’uns. I’ll even keep that cowboy there off the hound dog.”

  “You don’t mind, Granny?” Waycross asked his grandmother. “Seems like you’ve been doin’ nothin’ but babysittin’ lately. We don’t wanna wear you out.”

  Granny laughed and offered a bit of strawberry to Vanna. “Don’t be silly. At my age, I’m plumb thrilled to death to be of some use to somebody.”

  She looked down at the children with a light of joy and purpose in her eyes. “Just a few years back, I was askin’ the Good Lord why He was keepin’ me here, walkin’ above grass instead of layin’ under it. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with my life. Then, one day your little Vanna Rose showed up, and now some others, too, and all of a sudden, I know exactly what I’m here for.”

  She pointed over to the table, where Savannah, Dirk, Ryan, John, and Tammy were sitting down and helping themselves to the refreshments. “Y’all got an important job to do, a holy mission, looking for justice. If I can help you in any way to get ’er done, I’m grateful for the chance.”

  Ethan stared at her for a long moment, then said, “I think I’m in love with you, Ms. Reid.”

  She blushed and tittered like an eighth-grade girl who’d been asked to her first prom. “Why, Mr. Malloy. You say things like that, you’ll turn my head.”

  “How’s about I adopt you? Is that a possibility?”

  She gave him a flirtatious grin that surprised everyone who saw it. “Oh, I reckon somethin’ could be arranged, sir. We’ll work on it.”

  Savannah chuckled and shook her head as she listened to the exchange. You can take the belle outta the South, she thought, but you can never take the South outta the belle.

  “Good thing,” she whispered, “’cause what a loss that would be.”

  * * *

  Before long, the last cinnamon roll had been sent to Pastry Heaven, the coffee and tea were mostly gone, and thanks to the children and Tammy, the fruit had disappeared.

  With the important tasks finished, it was time to get down to business.

  “Okay,” Dirk said, leaning back in his chair, his hands behind his head. “We all know what we didn’t find last night.”

  “The will,” Tammy replied. “I must say I felt bad for Mary. It’s so important to her. I really wish we had been able to locate it for her.”

  “We haven’t abandoned the task yet,” John added. “I, for one, would be glad to go back there today and look again.”

  Ryan nudged him. “Yeah, we know what you want to go back and look for. The possibility of finding more first editions, not to mention that amazing coin collection and the Ming vase you uncovered last night.”

  “That was brilliant!” John exclaimed. “I’ll remember that moment for the rest of my life. If it’s authentic, and we can find the will that leaves the mansion and its contents to Mary, she could be a wealthy woman just from that one vase alone.”

  “I so wish we’d found that document,” Tammy said. “Mary seems like a good person. She took care of Lucinda, and we all have a feeling that wasn’t an easy job, for all those years. It’s only fair that she would be the heir, not that worthless great-grandson who never even visited Lucinda.”

  “Unless he wanted her to bail him out or pay his attorneys,” Dirk added. “What a dirtbag. You guys are hoping to find the will. I’m hoping I can lock that guy away again. Maybe this time, he’ll stay behind bars, where he belongs.”

  “Hear, hear,” John exclaimed. Lifting his teacup, he said, “A toast to better days for Mary and far worse ones for our friend, Geoffrey Faraday.”

  Everyone toasted with whatever beverage they had in hand. But a moment later the enthusiasm, the levity died down, and reality set in.

  “Okay,” Dirk said, “it’s not like we came up empty handed last night. Waycross kept us from getting totally skunked with his find of the evening.”

  Savannah lifted her coffee cup again and said, “To Waycross and the discovery of the night. The diary!”

  “To Waycross!” everyone exclaimed. “To the diary!”

  Everybody at the table went wild with applause and cheers, except for Dirk, who simply smiled and nodded. He was somewhat phobic when it came to overt expressions of approval. Unless, of course, he was watching a boxing match and his favorite fighter knocked his opponent to the mat.

  In that case, all hell broke loose, and the otherwise reserved Dirk could be heard baying more lustily than the Colonel in the act of treeing a giant raccoon.

  Savannah looked across the table at her ginger-haired brother, who was blushing almost as red as his curls. She wasn’t sure if he was wallowing in the joy of his team’s recognition or if he was embarrassed half to death. She decided it was probably a bit of both.

  “Actually, Sis,” he said, “it was you who found it, not me.”

  Savannah shook her head. “You pointed to the box that was under my feet and told me you had a hunch it was in there. I opened it, and there it was. But believe me, I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t suggested it.”

  Ducking his head, he said, “Aw, shucks. Quit it.”

  John reached over and gave the young man a shove that nearly knocked him off his chair. “Learn to take a compliment when it’s given to you, lad,” the older man told him. “Not that many sincere ones come a man’s way in a lifetime. Embrace them whenever possible.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Waycross lifted his head, straightened his back, and said, “It was my pleasure to help out. I’m just glad we’ve got it. I remembered Miss Mary sayin’ that whiskey was one of Miss Lucinda’s favorite things in the whole wide world. With the diary bein’ so personal and all, I just figured the two might go together.”

  “You figured right, little brother,” Savannah said. She felt the urge to glance around her backyard, just to make sure no one was eavesdropping. But, as always, her property was private, thanks to the high fence she had installed and the thick shrubs she’d planted. Privacy, and the resulting ability to walk outside on one’s own property in your underdrawers at any time, day or nig
ht, was important to Savannah.

  But the topic she was about to broach wasn’t one they wanted to share with the public at large—or anyone outside the Moonlight Magnolia team. Except in this case their client, Ethan Malloy.

  She lowered her voice and said to Tammy and Waycross, “Did you guys get a chance to read it last night? Did you find anything good?”

  Tammy also gave a conspiratorial glance around herself before whispering, “We read it and found good stuff!”

  Waycross turned to Dirk and quickly added, “We did exactly what you said though. We wore those stupid, hot, sweaty as all git-out surgical gloves the whole time.”

  “I didn’t even let him eat potato chips over it while we were reading,” Tammy added proudly. “Didn’t want to get any crumbs between the pages.”

  Dirk groaned under his breath and mumbled, “Good. I can just imagine what cranky Eileen there at the lab would say when she found those. She’d be all over me, griping about ‘chain of custody’ and all that junk.”

  Savannah raised one eyebrow. “All that junk? It’s kind of important, keeping evidence from getting contaminated.”

  “Yeah, yeah. But how many times have you seen Eileen chowing down on some of those cookies you take there to bribe her and get on her good side, while she’s checking out the interior of a suspect’s vehicle, or looking at some bloody gunk under the microscope?”

  Savannah nodded. “True.” She turned back to Tammy and Waycross. “We’ve established that you didn’t get potato chip crumbs inside the diary or your fingerprints on the cover. That’s important. But what did you actually find inside?”

  Tammy and Waycross looked at each other, and Savannah could have sworn they both blushed. She also thought how charming it was that there were two people left in the world who actually blushed anymore, and that they happened to be married to each other. What a sweet couple. She glanced over at the baby on the lawn, who was lying beside the big sleeping hound, her head on his neck.