Killer Honeymoon

by GA McKevett

  “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.” Dirk was still decidedly grumpy about the topic.

  “Would this have anything to do with the bruises on your faces?” La Cross asked.

  Savannah sniffed. “It was a contributing factor.”

  La Cross lowered her binoculars and gave them a teasing look. “Good. I thought maybe you’d had a newlyweds’ quarrel.”

  “Hey, don’t even talk like that!” Dirk snapped. “Real men don’t hit women. Real men hit men who hit women.”

  “Sometimes real women do, too,” Granny added with a snicker.

  “Amen,” Savannah replied.

  “You know, I like you two better than I did at first,” the chief said.

  “That, too, was an easy improvement. No place to go but up,” said Savannah.

  La Cross waved an arm, indicating all of Ryan and John’s expensive equipment. “This is a nice setup your friends have here. Wish I had something like this.” She sighed. “Hell, I’d be happy just to have that gadget that triggered the gate to open.”

  “Shhh,” Dirk said. “I’m getting something here.”

  He pressed a button on the recorder. A blue graph danced on a computer monitor in front of him as Hank Jordan’s voice came in loud and clear.

  “Hey, I gotta see you,” Hank said. “Right now. We got a problem.”

  “You can’t come here to my home, you idiot!” was the equally clear response from William Northrop. “How did you get through the gate?”

  “It was open.”

  “Well, get the hell out of here now before somebody sees you!”

  “No, seriously, we’ve gotta talk!” Hank insisted. “This guy I know at the motel, he figured out what I did for you, and now he wants in on it, too.”

  There was a long pause; then Northrop said, “Get in here.”

  Hank disappeared into the house and the big door closed with a finality that would have bothered Savannah if it had been anyone other than a heartless murderer inside. She figured she should conjure up some concern for Hank Jordan’s well-being, but she couldn’t.

  If a battle ensued, she wasn’t sure which party, if anyone, she would be rooting for.

  “You told somebody about it?” Northrop was asking Hank. “You had to go and shoot your mouth off to some other moron?”

  “Hey, watch who you’re calling names here. I didn’t tell anybody. He got into my stuff, and he saw the backpack full of money you gave me. Now he’s saying if I don’t give him half, he’s going to the cops.”

  “So give him half.”

  “I don’t wanna give him half! That ain’t enough for doing a murder. Especially of a woman. It wasn’t easy killing a woman as good-lookin’ as your old lady.”

  Everyone in the van held their collective breaths for the next response.

  Come on, Savannah thought. Come on, Billy boy. Don’t stop now! Dig that grave of yours a full eight feet deep.

  “Listen to me, you stupid ass,” Northrop said. “You’ve gotten all the money out of me that you’re ever going to get. Don’t forget, if my wife’s murder comes back on me, you’ll go down for it, too.”

  “But I—”

  “You nothing. You deal with this idiot friend of yours any way you have to, but don’t you ever come back to me again. If you do, I swear, I won’t even bother to hire somebody to kill you. I’ll do it myself! You hear me?”

  “Oh, darlin’, we hear you,” Savannah said, bouncing up and down on her seat. “We all hear you! And I can’t wait till the jury hears you, too!”

  “That’s enough. Let’s go get him,” Chief La Cross said as she opened the van door and jumped out. Dirk hopped out with her.

  “You go ahead, Chief,” Savannah said. “You’ve got enough good backup there without me.”

  La Cross didn’t have to be told twice. In a heartbeat, she was running toward the house. Dirk, Ryan, John, and Patrolmen Franklin and Rhodes swept en masse up the sidewalk to the front door with her.

  “That’s not like you, sweet pea,” Granny said, “holding back when it’s time to grab the bad guy.”

  Savannah smiled, watching La Cross charge through the front door, gun drawn, followed by the rest of her team.

  “The chief there’s the one who got her heart broken,” she said. “He bedded her and betrayed her, and that kills an important part of a woman’s soul. She needs this a lot more than I do.”

  “I love you, Savannah girl.”

  “I love you, too, Gran. You’re the best!”

  It didn’t take long for Savannah to locate Dr. June Glenn. The entire island was abuzz about the fund-raising gala she had organized, and the festivities had just begun on the oceanfront in the harbor.

  Known for its casual lifestyle, Santa Tesla Island wasn’t accustomed to having ladies in evening gowns and men in tuxedos stroll her pier. But tonight, the island’s elite were doing just that as they sipped champagne, chatted, nibbled hors d’oeuvres, and enjoyed one sultry jazz number after another, performed by a twelve-piece orchestra.

  Savannah felt woefully underdressed in her linen slacks and simple button-down shirt. But then, she wasn’t here to raise funds, nibble, or sip. She had good news to deliver . . . and a new husband waiting for her back at the lighthouse keeper’s cottage.

  It was a simple task, locating Dr. June Glenn. As Savannah had expected, the doctor was at the center of one of the largest conversation circles. Wearing a floor-length red gown that draped her slender form, her hair in an elegant updo, she was easily one of the loveliest women present. Interestingly, much of her beauty had to do with her grace and her passion as she presented her point of view to those standing around her.

  Something told Savannah she wasn’t lecturing them on the weather or sharing the latest fashion tips. Whatever the topic was, Savannah knew it was something important, and she was reluctant to interrupt the business at hand.

  But the moment Dr. Glenn spotted her, standing patiently on the sidelines, the doctor left her companions and hurried over to greet her.

  “Good evening, Savannah,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m so glad you could join us.”

  “Oh, I’m not joining,” Savannah told her. “I just stopped by to give you an update.”

  Glenn looked concerned. “Not more bad news, I hope.”

  “No. Very good news. I’m happy to tell you that a suspect has been arrested for killing Amelia Northrop.”

  “That’s wonderful! Who is it?”

  “Hank Jordan. It appears your instincts were right about him.”

  Dr. Glenn’s excitement turned to sadness. She shook her head. “People only hurt our cause when they use violent means like that.”

  “He didn’t do it out of concern for the environment. It was murder for hire.”

  The doctor’s eyes widened. “Really? Who paid him?” She thought for a moment. “Was it William Northrop?”

  “Yes. He’s in custody, too.”

  “Good.”

  Savannah smiled. “I guess that solves your problem, too, huh? Now you don’t have to worry about his big casino complex destroying your beautiful beaches.”

  Dr. Glenn turned and looked up at the sweeping hills, which were turning purple in the glow of the setting sun. The lights of the island’s homes and businesses were coming on as Santa Tesla’s golden daylight charm faded into sparkling nighttime splendor.

  “No,” she said. “It doesn’t solve my problem. I still have a community in desperate need. That’s what all this is about tonight.” She waved an arm, indicating the gala. “We have to find a way to bring tourists and businesses to the island. It doesn’t need to be a casino. It could be a family-oriented complex, one that doesn’t negatively impact the environment.” She sighed. “We’ll think of something.”

  Savannah’s eyes were warm as she said, “I’m absolutely sure you will. This island is lucky to have you, Dr. Glenn. Both the animals and the people.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, offering her han
d in farewell. “This island was very fortunate that you and your husband chose to honeymoon here when you did. Please come see us again, under more pleasant circumstances.”

  Savannah looked around, taking in the glimmering hills, the pier, the beach, and the harbor. “Don’t worry. We will.”

  Chapter 25

  When Savannah and Dirk strolled up the sidewalk toward her door, she looked up and saw the moonlight streaming through the bougainvillea arching across her porch. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  It was so good to be home.

  Once the case had been closed, the remaining days on the island were a pure delight. Ryan and John had even convinced Betty Sue to allow them a couple more nights at the lightkeeper’s cottage.

  But, sooner or later, all good things come to an end. Savannah was more than happy to be returning to her house, her kitties, and her mundane, routine life.

  “Vacations and honeymoons and trips are all nice, but I think the best part is coming home,” she said.

  “I think the best part for me is coming to your house and thinking of it as my house now,” Dirk told her, slipping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close against his side. “I keep feeling like I’m just dropping you off and heading back to my trailer.”

  “Nope, I reckon if you want, we could have a sleepover. I’ll blow up the air mattress, and you can sleep on the living-room floor.”

  “Wow! What an offer!”

  She unlocked the front door and prepared herself for what she knew was coming.

  She knew.

  Dirk didn’t.

  As they walked into the dark foyer, they heard a slight rustling near the staircase.

  “Hey, the kitties are still up,” Dirk said.

  But no sooner had he spoken than the lights came on and Tammy and Waycross jumped out from under the stairwell, shouting, “Surprise! Surprise!”

  Savannah wasn’t sure how Dirk was going to take this. He wasn’t so big on surprises—let alone surprise homecomings when they were both exhausted.

  But when Tammy had suggested it on the phone that afternoon, she had sounded so excited, Savannah hadn’t had the heart to deny her.

  After all, she and Waycross had worked so hard.

  “Gee,” Dirk said with obviously feigned enthusiasm, “what’s all this?”

  “Just us welcoming you two home,” Tammy said. “Especially you, Dirko.”

  He looked very confused and moderately pleased. “Why me? I don’t get it.”

  “You will,” Waycross told him. “Savannah’s got something to show you.”

  Dirk turned to her. Now he was totally confused. “You do?”

  She grinned and nodded. “I do. Well, actually, the three of us do. Come upstairs.”

  He allowed her to lead him up the steps as Tammy and Waycross tagged along behind.

  “Where are Granny and Marietta?” he asked as they headed down her hallway.

  “Marietta went home today,” Waycross told him.

  “And Granny’s at my house in my guest room,” Tammy said. “Probably sound asleep by now.”

  Savannah stopped outside the door of her second bedroom. “Waycross, I think you are the one most responsible for this, so why don’t you fill him in.”

  His big freckled face shining with happiness, Waycross reached for the doorknob. “Well,” he began, “my big sister here knew that it was gonna be hard for you—a real man’s man that you are—to live here in a woman’s house. Her being kinda a girlie-girl decorator, and all that. So she told me how she wanted this done, and I did my best. Me and Tammy, who was like my assistant.”

  Waycross reached over, put his arm around Tammy’s shoulders, and pulled her next to him. “Now the three of us would like to present you with”—he threw the door open with a flourish—“your man cave!”

  Savannah was as surprised as Dirk when she looked inside and saw that her feminine, ruffles-satin-and-lace guest room had disappeared. In its place was an almost exact replica of Dirk’s trailer’s living room.

  There was the bus seat sofa—though Savannah was thankful to see that Waycross hadn’t transported the rusted TV trays, which served as end tables. On new shelves, which lined one wall, were Dirk’s Harley mementos. All two hundred–plus of them, including Harley mugs and shot glasses, figurines, ashtrays, bobble dolls, and Christmas ornaments.

  On the opposite wall hung his framed Harley tee-shirts, collector plates, and old tin signs.

  The third wall also had shelves, and they were lined with Dirk’s VHS tapes—an entire library of Bonanza episodes, as well as Sean Connery and Clint Eastwood movies.

  Instead of the walls being a rosy pink, they were now pale blue. The lacy curtains had been replaced with simple white shades. And on the floor lay a blue rug with the Los Angeles Dodgers logo in the center.

  “Holy cow!” Dirk said as he stepped into pure Coulter paradise. “How did you . . . ? When did you . . . ?” He turned to Waycross and Tammy. “You guys did this for me? Really?”

  “Savannah paid for it,” Waycross said. “She told us what to do.”

  “But they painted the room and moved everything over here,” Savannah added.

  “And Waycross built all those shelves,” Tammy said. “He’s really good with power tools! You should see him! He’s amazing!”

  Tammy gazed up at him with so much adoration that Savannah felt like bursting into tears. Especially when she saw Waycross look down at Tammy with the same affection in his eyes.

  Apparently, Dirk’s little telephone pep talk had done some good, after all.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Dirk told them, suddenly plagued by some fuzz or something in his eyes. “Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me before. I mean, it’s just . . . geez, guys . . . it’s too much!”

  Waycross reached over and wrapped his other arm around Dirk’s shoulders and gave him a hearty, sideways hug. “Well, heck, man. You’re my brother now.”

  Suddenly, without any warning, it was a group hug—just one great big knot of sniffling, laughing happiness.

  Savannah half-expected Dirk to try to wriggle out of it. Group hugs weren’t really his favorite things. Especially a Reid family hug.

  Everyone knew people had been seriously injured during those.

  However, he submitted with more grace than she had ever thought him capable of.

  “This is cool,” he said with typical Dirk articulation. “So cool. It’s like I really do have a family now.”

  Tammy was the first to pull out of the bunch. She reached over and took his hand. “That’s true. Since we’re feeling all this family love stuff, I have something to give you, too. It’s a belated wedding gift, but we have to go downstairs to get it.”

  Dirk looked around at his new room. “I hate to leave my man cave, but okay. Let’s go.”

  They tromped back down the stairs.

  Once in the living room, Tammy led them over to her computer. She sat down in the desk chair and pulled up another chair next to her.

  “Have a seat,” she told Dirk. “There’s something I want to show you.”

  Savannah stood with Waycross behind them. She was rabidly curious what this present might be. Tammy hadn’t mentioned any additional surprises to her. But then, the sunshine girl was always coming up with unique gifts for the ones she loved.

  Savannah was so grateful to be counted among that number.

  Tammy turned in her chair to face Dirk. To Savannah’s shock, she took both of his hands in hers and looked into his eyes. “I want to thank you, Dirk,” she began, “for what you said to Waycross. The things you shared with him the other day—it’s made a big difference in our relationship.”

  She beamed over her shoulder at Waycross for a moment. His face flushed almost as red as his hair.

  Tammy turned back to Dirk, who was nearly as flustered as Waycross. He mumbled, “You’re welcome.”

  Then she continued. “I hope that you don’t mind, but he shared a little of wha
t you told him about you being adopted.”

  Oh, wow, Savannah thought. There must have been a lot more to that conversation than she had heard.

  “He also told me what that awful man who adopted you said about your mother.”

  Dirk didn’t reply. He just nodded and looked down.

  Tammy squeezed his hands. “I couldn’t bear to think of you living your whole life and not knowing, so . . . I hope you’ll forgive me if this is something you wouldn’t have wanted me to do, but . . .”

  She reached over and flipped on the computer. “. . . but I did some research about your mother. If you don’t want to know, I won’t tell you, because—”

  Dirk sat bolt upright in his chair. “Yes!” he said. “Yes! I want to know. Whatever you found! Everything!”

  Tammy did some typing and a Web site came up. “First of all, your mother wasn’t a . . . well . . . what that guy said. She was a really sweet girl named Dora. She was just sixteen when she got pregnant by her high-school boyfriend. She was being raised by her elderly aunt and uncle, and they insisted she give her baby—you—up for adoption.”

  “Are you sure? How do you know all that?” Dirk asked.

  “I kinda hacked into some files I wasn’t supposed to. Once I had her name, I found some blogs where she’d posted messages. Dirk, she’s been searching for you for years.”

  “Really? She has?” This time, Dirk didn’t pretend it was fuzz in his eyes. Tears spilled down his cheeks, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away.

  Savannah stepped up behind him, put her hands on his shoulders, and kissed the top of his head.

  “Yes, she has,” Tammy said. “So has your father.”

  “My father?”

  “Yes, her high-school boyfriend. As soon as they graduated, they ran off together and got married. They live in Seattle and have three other grown kids. Two sons and a daughter,” Tammy told him.

  “Oh, honey,” Savannah said, starting to cry herself. “That means you have brothers and a sister of your own!”

  “They’re quality people, Dirk. They really are,” Tammy told him. “And they want you. They’ve always wanted you. Would you like to see their pictures?”