Bitter Brew (A Savannah Reid Mystery)

by McKevett, G. A.

  Little Vanna was nowhere in sight.

  Savannah sat in her own comfy chair next to her and propped her feet on the ottoman.

  Granny peered over the top of her wire-rimmed glasses, surveying Savannah’s attire.

  Although Savannah had remembered to button her blouse all the way up before entering the house, the tight fit of her jeans and the strappy high-heeled sandals were enough to spark Granny’s highly combustible suspicion.

  Her bright red toenail polish didn’t help.

  Granny sniffed the air suspiciously. “Stale beer and French pastries,” she observed. “Now that’s an unlikely combination.”

  “I swear to Moses,” Savannah said, “you’ve been hanging out with that bloodhound of yours too long. You’ve got a nose as keen as his. By the way, who’s tending to Colonel Beauregard while you’re over here?”

  “A nice lady who moved in two trailers down from mine there at the park. She loves that hound dog to bits, and since she started giving him day-old biscuits dipped in bacon grease, he’s taken a likin’ to her, too. Her name’s Bess.” She sighed, then added, “She reminds me of Sister Elsie.”

  Savannah noticed the brief look of sadness that crossed Granny’s face, and her heart ached for her grandmother. Daily chats with Elsie had been one of the treasures that Gran had reluctantly surrendered when moving from Georgia to California.

  Elsie and Gran had been close friends most of their lives, and Savannah was sure it hadn’t been easy for Granny to leave her behind.

  Sunday afternoon phone calls, even hour-long ones, couldn’t take the place of a piece of Elsie’s famous coconut cake, washed down with Granny’s chicory-flavored coffee, shared during a face-to-face gossip session while sitting on the front porch swing.

  “I know you miss your Elsie,” Savannah said. “I’m sorry.”

  “I do, but don’t go changin’ the subject. We were discussin’ your Jezebel attire.”

  Savannah laughed. “That’s true. Go ahead and grill me till I’m well charred. Give me your best interrogation.”

  “Colonel Beauregard is a fine-tuned, smellin’ machine. No doubt about it. He’s taught me a few things about sniffin’ out dicey situations over the years. So, I couldn’t help noticin’ the way you smell tonight. Then there’s your sprayed-on breeches, and them heels that’re so danged high no woman should wear ’em unless she was fixin’ to spend most of her evenin’ on her back with her heels pointed toward the ceilin’.”

  Savannah giggled. Sometimes, her saintly grandmother came up with some rather worldly observations. Gran might have chosen to live a chaste life, but it wasn’t because she was ignorant of the world and its goings-on.

  “Let’s just say you and your nose have nothing to worry about, Gran. I’m not a maiden of ill repute, and I wasn’t up to no good,” Savannah assured her, coaxing Diamante and Cleopatra onto her lap.

  “You just wanted to look like you might be?”

  “Exactly. I went someplace looking for information, and let’s just say, some fellas are a mite more informative if they’re intrigued by your, um, bright red toenail polish.”

  Granny grinned and cleared her throat. “Did you find out somethin’ that was worth you compromisin’ your virtue for?”

  “Looking like I might compromise. Not actually delivering the goods.”

  “Okay.”

  “Yes. I did uncover something that made walking in these stupid shoes and getting blisters on my pinky toes well worth the trouble.”

  “Did your husband know you were out prancin’ around with scarlet toenails?”

  “No. But I’m going to tell him all about it the first chance I get. The prancing, that is. Not the scarlet polish. I wear that all the time. He’s quite partial to it.”

  “Does this have somethin’ to do with the secret that you can’t share, ’cause it ain’t yours, and you done promised not to?”

  “It does.”

  “All right then. I won’t pry.”

  Savannah snickered. “A bit late for that, Gran. I feel like a can of Spam with an especially stubborn, vacuum-packed lid.”

  Gran laughed, too. “All right. Point taken. I know you well enough to rest easy that you wouldn’t resort to out-and-out debauchery to finagle some information out of a hapless barfly. With female wiles the likes of yours, t’wouldn’t be necessary.”

  “Thank you. I take that as high praise, indeed.”

  Savannah looked around for the diaper bag and the other customary baby paraphernalia. “Is our fairy princess upstairs asleep?”

  “No. Her momma done come and got her.”

  “Really? Oh. I thought Tammy would be with Waycross, either at home or the hospital.”

  “No. The doctor at the hospital had her take him over to a special clinic. It’s a place that knows how to help people going through what he’s sufferin’ with right now.”

  “Hmm. I see.”

  Savannah wondered if Granny did.

  Gran continued. “Those folks at the clinic said she should leave him alone there with them for a week or two, or however long it takes to help him. Waycross insisted on it, too. She was sad about leavin’ him behind, and she wanted to have her baby back home with her. She figured it’d be good for the little one and for her to be together there at her house. Quality time, just the two of them, and all that.”

  “I understand,” Savannah said as she tried to read Granny’s expressions and tone of voice.

  Did she know?

  “I know all about it, darlin’,” Gran said, her voice soft and a bit tremulous. “Tammy told me everythin’.”

  “Okay.” Savannah held her breath, waiting, wondering what Gran’s reaction would be to one of her grandchildren having a drug addiction. After all, she was a woman who disapproved of even having a beer with pizza or one glass of red wine with a five-course, gourmet Italian dinner. “And . . . ?”

  Granny closed her Bible and laid it on the end table between them. “My heart pains somethin’ fierce for my grandson. He’s always been such a sweet, innocent soul. It just goes to show ya that them drugs is a trap that can snare a body, anybody, when they least expect it.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right, Gran,” Savannah said. “I’ve known a lot of people, folks way stronger and brighter than I am, who’ve been caught in that trap. Some battled their addictions for years and finally found ways to keep them from ruining their lives. Others never found their way out.”

  “We’re gonna pray, day and night, that our Waycross is one of the first kind,” Gran said with tears, but also a lot of determination, in her eyes. “We’ll shower him with all the love and encouragement we can, but in the end, it’s his battle to fight.”

  “He and I talked about it in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. I think he realizes that.”

  Granny shook her head sadly. “You know the strange part about it?”

  “What’s that, Gran?”

  “The very medicine that my grandson’s addicted to, the one that came near destroyin’ his life . . . it’s one that I take ever’ single day and have for a couple of years now.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s the God’s honest truth. Remember, right before I moved out here to California, the rheumatiz in my lower back hurt me so bad that I couldn’t hardly get around at all?”

  “Yes. I do recall that. You were even having trouble walking around the house.”

  “I was. Dr. Hynson put me on all sorts of pills, and they didn’t do me a lick o’ good. He even sent me to Atlanta to get some steroid shots there next to my spine. Nothin’ helped. Then the doc retired, and I got myself a new one. I told her how bad off I was, and she prescribed a new pill for me. It just did wonders for my pain. I take one a day, and I feel like I did when I was a girl. Gave me a new lease on life!”

  “After you took it for a while, it didn’t lose its effect on you, the way it did for Waycross?”

  “Maybe a bit, but not enough to matter. It still does me a world o
f good. I don’t know what I’d do without it.”

  “That is strange.”

  “These here bodies of ours are fearfully and wonderfully made, and ever’ one of us is different.”

  Savannah sat for a moment, digesting the irony. “I guess it’s true that one man’s medicine is another man’s poison.”

  “Yessiree. Goes for us womenfolk, too.”

  Savannah placed the kitties on the floor, yawned, and said, “I’m going upstairs to take a hot bath. After a day like this, I figure I deserve it.”

  “You’d probably like to smell like roses, instead of beer, when your man gets home.”

  Savannah grinned. Gran was way too smart. Many times, her powers of perception were downright inconvenient, to say the least.

  “Relaxing and smelling better were my primary motives, to be sure,” she confessed.

  “I hope you don’t mind me spending the night with you. I’m a bit tuckered out after watching the baby. Precious as she is, there’s a reason why the good Lord don’t give infants to women over eighty.”

  Or some menopausal women in their mid-forties, Savannah thought with a pang of melancholy.

  “Plus, I hate to admit it, but”—Gran continued in a tone generally used by hard-core criminals when confessing heinous felonies—“I can’t see in the dark as good as I once did. These days, drivin’ around after sundown’s a bit harder for me than it used to be.”

  “Don’t give it a second thought,” Savannah assured her. “You’re welcome to stay here anytime. You know that. We love having you. And if there’s ever a time when you need to get from one place to the other, and it’s dark outside, you just holler. We’ll fight over who gets to take you.”

  Granny smiled. “What would I do without you, Savannah girl?”

  Recalling her husband’s recent reassurances and how much they meant to her, Savannah said, “Don’t you worry about it. I’m here for you, and I always will be.”

  “And I will be for you, too. Whether it’s on this side of heaven or over there, walkin’ them golden streets, I’ll do everything in my power to make your life better and safer and happier.”

  “I know you will, Gran, and that gives me more comfort than you could imagine.”

  Savannah leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of her grandmother’s glorious, silver hair. Then she headed up the stairs, intent on relaxing in her Victorian-style, clawfoot bathtub filled with rose-scented bubbles.

  With any luck, she could wash away the cares of the day . . . not to mention the smell of Kenny Bates’s doppelgänger.

  Two Kennys in this world, she told herself, a few minutes later, as she added a few drops of rose essential oil to the already fragrant, bubble-sparkly bath. Now, there’s a scary thought. Heaven help us.

  * * *

  As usual, Savannah’s biological clock kicked in around midnight, causing her eyelids to grow heavy as the weariness of the day overtook her.

  Sometime later, she woke with a start and realized she had fallen asleep in her bath. Though it hadn’t been for long, as the water was still pleasantly warm and there were still some bubbles afloat.

  She was also aware that she was no longer alone.

  Standing next to the tub was her husband, wearing nothing but his boxers and a grin.

  She looked around the room and saw that he had turned off the overhead light and lit several pink votive candles that were flickering on the windowsill and vanity.

  In his hand, he held a single red rose. She recognized it as one she had picked from her garden and placed in a bud vase beside their bed the day before.

  “Hi,” she said, returning his smile.

  “Hi yourself, gorgeous.” He reached down and slowly trailed the rose’s soft, fragrant petals over her cheek, then down her neck, and across her chest. “Would you like some company?”

  She pointed to the water. “In here?”

  “Sure. Why not? There’s room for two . . . if we, you know . . . double up.”

  She lifted one eyebrow and said with her best Mae West impersonation, “Climb on in, big boy. It’ll be a tight squeeze. But whatever you’ve got, I’ll try to find a place to put it.”

  Chapter 22

  As Savannah set a platter heaped with her famous mandarin orange pancakes, a dish of vanilla-flavored butter, and a jug of hot maple syrup on the table, then took a seat among the members of her Moonlight Magnolia agency, it occurred to her that she might have seen them this intrigued about a case. But it had been a long time.

  A call to each member, telling them that Dr. Jennifer Liu was in desperate need of their help, was all it took for them to come running the next morning. The M.E. had long been a favorite of the team, not only because of her expertise in solving crimes, but also because she had a sassy personality that they enjoyed and a mysterious air that piqued their curiosity.

  The moment Ryan and John had received their phone call, they had cancelled their plans for the morning, left the restaurant in their chef’s capable hands, and arrived at Savannah’s front door, a bottle of Jennifer’s favorite cognac in hand.

  Dirk was equally eager to assist. After their bath the night before, Savannah had fully briefed Dirk on the situation. Upon awaking the next morning, he had called the station house and informed them that he would be taking a personal day. In an act that surprised Savannah, considering his rocky relationship with the medical examiner, he had also assured Savannah that he would be happy to take even more days off, if necessary, to investigate Dr. Liu’s situation.

  Granny hadn’t been surprised to hear that her suspicions about Savannah’s troubled mystery friend were correct, and it was Dr. Liu who was in trouble. But, as always, she was excited and honored to be included in the summons to action.

  Just as dedicated as Granny, though not as cheerful as usual, Tammy appeared with little Vanna Rose in tow. To Dirk’s delight, Tammy quickly handed the baby to him.

  Savannah was sorry to see the usually effervescent, California golden girl less than her vibrant self. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her walk lacked its customary bounce.

  The absence of Waycross was painfully evident to all.

  “Where’s your husband this morning, Tammy?” Ryan asked, when she joined them at the table.

  Savannah jumped in, hoping to rescue the awkward moment. “As it turns out, my brother is—”

  “Unable to join us,” Tammy interjected. “He has some personal issues to deal with today. He asked me to give you his apologies and to assure you that he’ll be back on the job just as soon as he can manage it.”

  Jennifer gave Savannah a worried look. “I thought his accident was a minor one,” she said. “Are there complications?”

  “His accident?” John asked. “Our lad had a car crash?”

  Tammy hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. But he wasn’t seriously hurt, and his ‘complications’ aren’t related to his wreck. He said for me to assure you that he’ll fill everyone in on the details, once he has things sorted out a bit better.”

  Ryan and John looked at Savannah and Dirk. Savannah did her best to give the appearance of an unconcerned sister. She knew her performance was less than convincing.

  Dirk busied himself with entertaining the baby, putting a napkin on top of her head, then pulling it off, reducing her to fits of giggles.

  John turned to Tammy and with his soft, soothing, British accent said, “That’s fine, love. Send your man our best wishes. Whatever it is, I’m sure everything will work out fine.”

  “Amen to that,” Granny said. “All will be well in the end.”

  Tammy gave her a somewhat doubtful look.

  Gran added, “If it ain’t all well . . . then it ain’t the end.”

  “Tammy,” Jennifer said, “if there’s anything that anyone here can do—including me—just ask. Tell him we’re here for him. And for you, too.”

  Tammy bit her lower lip and nodded. “I appreciate you saying that, Doctor, and I’m sure Waycross knows you’re all
here for him. But I’ll tell him anyway, and he’ll appreciate your concern.”

  Savannah picked up the coffeepot and passed it to her right. “Dig in, everybody,” she said. “Those pancakes won’t stay hot forever. Be generous with the syrup and butter, too. We’re going to need some fuel for the work we’ve got ahead of us.”

  * * *

  It took about fifteen minutes for Savannah and Jennifer to inform the team of what had happened to Brianne and Nels.

  Unfortunately, it took less time to explain what they had uncovered so far in their investigation.

  “I hate to say it,” Dirk announced, “but you haven’t got a heckuva lot so far.”

  “For a guy who hated to say it,” Savannah grumbled, “you sure didn’t seem to have any trouble speaking your mind there. Thanks for pointing out the obvious.”

  “I didn’t say it was your fault,” he added. “I doubt I could’ve done much better.”

  “I guarantee you couldn’t have,” Jennifer mumbled under her breath.

  Granny stepped in to make peace. “Some of these here cases are easier to solve than others. I reckon this ’un’s harder than most, or you two ladies woulda wrapped it up in no time.”

  “It is a tough one. That’s why Jennifer asked me to include the rest of you,” Savannah said. “We have to find our killer, or Jennifer’s sacrifice in coming forward will be for nothing.”

  Tammy spoke up. “Not to mention the fact that we need to get justice for Brianne’s fiancé and Nels’s widow. They may not know what happened to their loved ones yet, but once they find out, they’ll want the killer prosecuted even more than we do.”

  “There’s another reason this perpetrator has to be caught,” Ryan said. “Anyone who would kill two people so cold-bloodedly may have killed before and most likely will again. We have an opportunity to save lives here.”

  “Then what’s next? Let’s get on with it,” Dirk said.

  “Yeah. Let’s get ’er done.” Granny reached for another pancake. “Start divvyin’ up them chores.”

  Jennifer squared her shoulders and said, “As soon as I leave here, I have an appointment with my attorney. Depending on what she says, we’ll probably be heading to the district attorney’s office, where I’ll make my statement. After that, who knows? I’ll probably be behind bars.”