Wicked Craving

by G. A. McKevett

  Savannah thought it over for half a second. “That’s stupid,” she said. “They’re hearing disc jockeys and talk show hosts.”

  Ryan laughed. “That’s what you and I believe, but there are folks who think otherwise.”

  Again, John remained conspicuously silent.

  They gave him another look.

  “I’m not going to say a word,” he told them. “Look at where we’re standing…in a dark attic, staring into a chest full of strange, esoteric objects. I’m not interested in getting on the bad side of any spirits, if that’s quite all right with you two.”

  “Good point,” Savannah agreed. “You know, Granny’s a great believer in ‘haunts,’ as she calls them. She won’t go near a place if anybody even suggested there might be a ghost in there.”

  “I’d rather discuss the subject of ghosts and ‘haunts’ later, by the light of the noonday sun,” John told her.

  Ryan lifted a large, cobalt blue bottle with a cork stopper and read the label. “Purification water.” He thought for a while, then said, “You guys, this stuff in this chest…it’s séance equipment, ghost-hunting tools.”

  “You think our lad, Wellman, was a ghost hunter?” John asked.

  “More like Bobby Martini was.” Savannah’s brain whirred, and she could feel some of the bits and pieces coming together. “He’s a scam artist now, selling people something they desperately need, something fake that costs an arm and a leg. I’ll bet you that he was one in Vegas, too, again…selling people a fake service, claiming to connect them to their dead loved ones.”

  “Or maybe he really was connecting,” John said. “You have to remain open-minded about these things.”

  Savannah sniffed. “Believe me, I’ve spent time with Wellman. There may be deep-minded spiritualists with esoteric knowledge of the great Beyond. But he ain’t one of them. He’s a bull-shitter who’s out to fleece anybody he can.”

  She waved an arm around, indicating the general contents of the attic. “And it looks to me like he had to leave town in a hurry.”

  “And move to a new area and change his identity,” Ryan added.

  “Who was he running from?” Savannah mused. “The law? Bad guys?”

  “When people run,” John said, “it’s frequently from both.”

  Savannah was about to close the lid on Wellman’s former activities when she noticed several simple shoe boxes in the bottom of the chest, below some night goggles and a voice recorder.

  She reached down and dug one of them out. “So, what’s in here?” she said. “Running shoes, like it says on the box, or Dorothy’s magic ruby slippers?”

  But when she raised the lid, it wasn’t red she saw, but green. Lots and lots of green.

  “Wow!” she said. “Would you look at this, boys?”

  “We’re looking! We’re looking!” But Ryan was already reaching for the second box.

  John pulled out a third.

  When all the boxes were open, and the contents revealed, neither Savannah nor the guys could even speak for a few moments.

  Finally, Savannah said, “I guess paying off a blackmailer here or there wouldn’t present much of a problem to good ol’ Dr. Wellman.”

  “These are all hundred dollar bills,” John said, taking out one handful of the notes and thumbing through them.

  “There are hundreds of thousands of dollars here,” Ryan replied. “I can’t believe he came by this money honestly.”

  “Either he’s a big-time crook or an extremely nervous investor.” Savannah put the lid back on the box and replaced it in the bottom of the chest.

  “If he stole this money from somebody, you know they’ve been looking for him,” John said.

  “And he’s recently been on national television, promoting his weight loss program.” Ryan placed his box in the chest next to Savannah’s. “He had to know that would put him at risk…maybe Maria, too. Especially if she was part of the rip-off.”

  “Some people just can’t resist the allure of so-called stardom,” Savannah said. “They’ll sell their momma for the chance at immortality—appearing on a hemorrhoid cream commercial.”

  A buzzing sound made them all jump. John nearly dropped the box he was holding.

  “It’s my phone,” she said. She grabbed it off her belt and looked at the tiny screen that was glowing green in the dark. “It’s Dirk.”

  Holding the phone to her ear, she said, “Hi. Is he on his way?” She nodded to Ryan and John. “When did he leave? Okay, we’re outta here.” She listened, then snickered. “Oh, yeah. We found some good stuff.”

  John and Ryan started making ghostly “o-o-o-o” sounds and laughing.

  “The boys are just being goofy,” she said. “Meet us back at my house, and we’ll fill you in on all the gruesome details.”

  Chapter 18

  As Savannah, Ryan, and John hurried around the side of the Wellman house, she stubbed her toe on something in the dark. She suppressed the urge to scream.

  Burglars didn’t scream while in the act of burgling.

  She was pretty sure that was some sort of rule.

  “You okay?” Ryan asked, taking her hand.

  “Yeah,” she whispered. “It was just my foot. I’ve got another one.”

  When they reached the front yard, they paused and listened before walking into the open, better-lit area.

  The last thing they wanted was to run into some neighbor out for a nightly stroll with his dog—a curious neighbor who might wonder why they were sneaking around Wellman’s yard, wearing dark clothes, with guilty looks on their faces.

  When they thought the coast was clear, they walked briskly across the front yard, heading for the road. Savannah’s Mustang was parked about half a block down and on the opposite side.

  But when they reached the sidewalk, Savannah looked up and saw a figure standing in the shadows of some tall oleander bushes, directly across the street.

  He, too, was wearing dark clothes, and he appeared to be watching the front of Wellman’s house.

  “Hey,” she whispered to the guys. “Over there.”

  “Yeah, I see him,” Ryan said. “Just keep walking. We haven’t done anything wrong…”

  “Except break into somebody’s house,” Savannah replied.

  “Other than that.”

  “And if we get caught,” John added, “I’m sure Judge Dalano will understand when we’re on trial before her bench.”

  Abruptly, the man in the bushes turned around and began to hurry down the sidewalk away from them. He got into a red, mid-sized sedan that was parked near the Mustang and sped away.

  Ryan pulled his digital recorder out of his pocket, pressed a button, and recited the license plate number into it.

  “I wonder who that chap was,” John said as they got into the Mustang.

  “And what he was doing.” Savannah started the car.

  “Whatever it was,” Ryan said from the back seat, “he was up to no good.”

  Savannah laughed. “Like us?”

  “Naw, probably not as bad as us.”

  When Savannah, Ryan, and John returned to her house, Dirk was waiting in his Buick in the driveway. And when Savannah ushered them all inside the house, she cautioned them to keep their voices low.

  “If you wake Gran, we’ll all have a bunch of explaining to do,” she told them.

  The note she had left for Gran, saying that she had gone out on a short errand and would be back soon, was still lying in the middle of the coffee table. Savannah breathed a sigh of relief as she snatched it up and tossed it into a wastebasket.

  “Good,” she said. “Granny hasn’t gotten up. I was afraid she’d come downstairs for something to eat and realize I was gone and then get all worried. But what she doesn’t know won’t cause me a heap of grief.”

  “And what is it exactly that I’m not supposed to know?” asked a voice behind Savannah.

  She turned to see Gran coming down the stairs, wearing her flannel nightgown and a pink, cheni
lle robe. On her feet were the fluffy, pink slippers that Savannah had given her for Mother’s Day.

  “Uh-oh, Van,” Dirk said, snickering. “You’re busted.”

  Suddenly, Savannah felt like a five-year-old, holding a handful of one of her brothers’ or sisters’ birthday cake…an hour before the party.

  “Gran!” she said, far too cheerfully. “You came downstairs just in the nick of time. Come sit a spell and listen while Ryan and I fill Dirk in on all we’ve been up to tonight.”

  “Yes,” Granny said, giving Savannah a deeply suspicious look. “That’s a fine idea. Let’s all-l-l hear what you’ve been up to.”

  It took Savannah, John, and Ryan over an hour to fill Dirk and Gran in on all the details of their house search.

  Gran was scandalized over the Ouija board, dagger, and crystal skull.

  “That sounds like black magic junk to me,” she said. “I’ll betcha that those people were into devil worship, virgin sacrifices, and the whole shebang!”

  “I doubt they sacrificed virgins,” Savannah said, teasing her. “Remember, this probably took place in Las Vegas…sin city.”

  “True.” Gran nodded her head and added with all seriousness, “I’d expect there’s a serious shortage of chaste maidens in that town.”

  “I’m sure all those strange objects were props,” Ryan tried to reassure Gran. “Stuff to lend authenticity to their sham exorcisms. I have a feeling that when we dig deeper into Wellman’s activities, we’ll find out that he made all that money by swindling people. Not unlike what he does now.”

  John agreed. “He probably offered to rid their houses of unhappy spirits for a price. A big price. That’s how the scam’s been run for centuries.”

  Savannah got up to refresh everyone’s coffee cups and the plate of brownies. When she poured a top-off into Dirk’s mug, she said, “Right now, I’m more concerned about that guy we saw when we were leaving Wellman’s. I’m telling you, he was hinky. I could feel it coming off of him in waves.”

  “She’s right about that,” John said. “He saw us and scurried away like a wharf rat.”

  “Well, you should be findin’ out shortly.” Gran shook her head as Savannah tried to refill her cup. “No, thank you, darlin’. My eyeballs are swimmin’ in my head as it is.”

  Dirk got out his cell phone and stared at it. “Yeah, that gal at the station desk should have gotten back to me by now. What’s it been—?”

  “Five minutes,” Savannah supplied.

  “—Since I called her and gave her that plate number to run.”

  “It takes so long to type all those numbers and letters into the computer. And then she’s got to press ‘Enter’ and all that. It might take six minutes.” Savannah resisted the urge to splash hot coffee on his lap.

  “I think I’ll give her a call,” he said, toying with the phone. “Tell her I need it today and not when she gets around to it next week.”

  “Yeah, why don’t you do that?” Savannah said. “That way we won’t hear from her until Christmas…next year.”

  His phone began to ring. He smiled and said, “See. It pays to be impatient. She picked up on my ‘hurry up’ vibes.”

  “And called you anyway.”

  He answered the phone and listened as the woman on the other end gave him the information. “Hm-m-m…a rental,” he said. “I guess that’s not too surprising.” He paused as she told him more. “Really? You did? Hey, good job. So, what’s the name?”

  Everyone in the room sat, silent, hanging on his every word. Savannah hovered over him with the coffeepot, her pulse rate increasing by the moment.

  He smiled, looking quite satisfied. “Good job…uh…Cheryl…oh…um, Deirdre. Sorry, sorta sounds alike, you know. Bye.”

  “It’s a rental,” he said, snapping the phone closed. “And she managed to get hold of somebody at the national office who looked up the dude who rented it.”

  “And?” Savannah said, nudging his leg with her foot.

  “A guy from Las Vegas. Gus Avantis.”

  “The former brother-in-law! Wow! That’s heavy!” Savannah nearly dropped the pot. Instead, she set it down on a plate on the coffee table, then sank into her favorite chair, her mind racing.

  Ryan and the others were impressed, too. “Wellman told you that his sister’s life had been threatened by her ex, right?” he asked.

  Dirk nodded. “He certainly wouldn’t be the first ex-husband to kill his old lady.”

  “Three years later, though?” John asked. “That seems like a long time to hold a grudge.”

  Gran shook her head. “I’ve seen the way some men are when a woman leaves them. They hate her and everybody associated with her for the rest of their lives. They feel like they lost some big, all-fired important game, and they can’t stand to lose—especially to a woman. They never get over it.”

  “Who’d want a woman who doesn’t want you?” Dirk said.

  “Oh, you’d be surprised.” Gran sniffed. “I reckon it’s not so much that they want her, but that they can’t stand the thought that some other fella might have her. They figure she’s theirs, like their shotgun, their pickup, their hound dog.”

  Ryan leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, fingers laced. He had a concerned look on his face. “You know, if this Avantis killed Maria—and we have to at least entertain the possibility that he did—Wellman could be in danger right now. Why would Avantis be hanging around outside Wellman’s house, acting suspicious, if he meant him no harm?”

  “Good point,” Dirk said. “I could call him and warn him. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to hear from me for the third time today…since we had such a pleasant talk earlier.”

  “You did?” Granny asked.

  “No, I’m being facetious. He hardly answered my questions at all, and when I started asking him about what he did in Vegas before he moved here, he clammed up and used the ‘L’ word.”

  “What’s the ‘L’ word?” Gran wanted to know. “Is that some sort of foul language?”

  “In a police department, it’s the worst,” Savannah told her. “‘L’ is for ‘lawyer.’ He invoked his right to have an attorney present while being questioned.”

  “A cop would rather be called anything in the book than hear that,” Dirk added.

  “I think you’d better call him,” Savannah said. “Who cares if he wants to hear from you? You’re not asking him out on a date. You’re warning him that his former brother-in-law is watching him…probably with evil intentions.”

  Dirk took his notebook from his pocket, found the number, and punched it into his phone. He waited a long time, then said, “Yeah, Wellman, it’s Coulter. Give me a call back as soon as you get this. Don’t worry about the time. It’s important.”

  When he hung up, Savannah said, “Do you think he has his phone turned off or he’s just avoiding you?”

  “Wouldn’t you avoid me if you were him?”

  “Heck, I avoid you, and I’m me.”

  “I’m calling him at his house number, too. If that Gus dude is hiding in the bushes there on his property, he needs to know it.”

  “And maybe go spend the night at a hotel,” Savannah said. “I’m sure Karen Burns would be happy to join him at the Island View Hotel. Their special suite might be available.”

  An hour after her company had all left, as soon as she and Gran were in bed, Savannah’s phone rang with Dirk’s ringtone. She picked it up from her nightstand.

  “Just can’t get enough of me, huh?” she said into the receiver as she pulled the quilt up around her chin and tucked Cleopatra into the crook of her elbow.

  Diamante was keeping her feet warm.

  “Guess where I am?” Dirk said on the other end.

  “Sitting in front of Wellman’s house.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I know you.”

  “I rang the doorbell, and he didn’t answer. I can’t tell if his car’s in the garage or not. I don’t see any lights on.”

  �
��You did all you could, Dirk. It’s midnight. Go home and go to bed.”

  “Naw, that’s okay. I think I’ll just sit here for a while…just in case Wellman comes home or Avantis shows up.”

  Savannah smiled, thinking that she could forgive a guy some social blunders and the occasional crankiness, considering. He might be impatient while waiting for someone to run a plate number. But, on the other hand, he would stand guard outside the house of a guy he detested, late at night, when he was exhausted.

  “You’re a good guy, Detective Dirko,” she said.

  “Well, don’t let it get out. If people start thinking of me as a nice guy, they’ll try to run over me.”

  “Don’t worry, buddy. It’ll never happen. Not while I’m around to set ’em straight.”

  “Good night, sweetheart.”

  “Nighty-night, darlin’.”

  Chapter 19

  Usually, Tammy radiated sunshine and light. She was one of the most upbeat and positive spirits Savannah had ever had the privilege to know.

  But today there were thunderclouds above her head.

  Savannah could practically see the torrential rain and lightning strikes over the desk in the corner of her living room.

  It wasn’t a good day in the Reid household.

  “I’m in the doghouse with Tammy,” Savannah whispered to Gran in the kitchen as they stirred up a pitcher of sweet tea.

  “Yep. She’s in a big ol’ huff in there.”

  “She’s not talking to me. And when Tammy’s not talking, that’s a really bad sign.”

  “She spoke to me all nice and polite when she first came in. But then she sat down at that computer and started peckin’ away, and she ain’t bobbed up for air since.”

  “She’s mad that we didn’t take her along when we broke into Wellman’s last night.”

  “Well, can’t blame her for that. I’m pretty miffed that you didn’t take me, too.”

  Gran lifted her chin a notch and strolled out of the kitchen, glass of tea in hand, a certain tightness in her walk that signaled a sure case of Twisted Knickers Syndrome.