A Decadent Way to Die: A Savannah Reid Mystery

by G. A. McKevett

  “Yes, but it’s across her neck.”

  “She was petite,” Savannah said. “The water probably only came up to her neck.”

  “But where did the electricity come from?” Dirk asked. “There wasn’t anything in the water. No hair dryers, radio, or other electrical appliances.”

  “It might have been removed from the scene … afterward,” Savannah suggested.

  “Or maybe there was some sort of problem with the spa itself,” Dr. Liu said. “I don’t know much about how they’re wired, or what could cause a terrible shock like that. Perhaps you could get an electrician to check it out for you.” She stepped away from the body, took off her surgery cap, shook her long hair free, and ran her fingers through it. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Either way, I’m exhausted and headed home for a shower and a nap.”

  “So, just to sum it up,” Dirk said, “on both of them, we’ve got electrocution as cause of death. And what would you say was the manner of death?”

  “Might’ve been accidental.” Dr. Liu looked as doubtful as she sounded.

  “But you reckon it was murder?” Savannah said.

  Dirk sighed. “Let’s face it … we all reckon it was murder.”

  Chapter 13

  As Savannah drove the Mustang out of Tammy’s beach neighborhood and toward the foothills and the Strauss estate, she glanced at her passenger and was happy she had invited her along.

  “I’m glad you called me,” Tammy said, as though reading her mind. “I’d finished your book work and thought I was going to have to spend the rest of the day at home with nothing fun to do.”

  “You mean you’d rather do some serious investigating than stick around the house and extract juice from carrots?”

  “Actually, I like juicing carrots, too, but I’d rather sleuth any time.”

  For the sixth time in less than five minutes, Tammy’s cell phone chimed. And, once again, Tammy flinched but didn’t answer it, just as she hadn’t answered it the past five times.

  Savannah had a good idea who it was, but she bit her tongue and said nothing.

  It wasn’t easy. Being a Georgia gal, she seldom had an unexpressed thought. Where she was from, it was considered bad for the digestion not to speak your mind.

  Tammy did glance at her phone. Then she shoved it deep into her purse.

  They rode on in silence for a while, passing neighborhoods where tiny bungalows had glowing white stucco walls and red Spanish-tile roofs. Like Savannah’s part of town, the yards in this area were lovingly tended and decorated with the occasional statuary—flowing fountains, majestic lions, fanciful fairies, and the beloved Lady of Guadalupe.

  But as they climbed the hills and the ocean views became even more spectacular, the price of the real estate rose, as well.

  The bungalows gave way to custom-built homes in every style imaginable, and yards that required full-time gardeners to maintain.

  Long ago, Savannah had aspired to being a lady of the manor who employed a full-time gardener. But for now, she would settle for a lawn mower that worked.

  As the highway led them into the valley where the Strauss estate was situated, Tammy’s phone went off again.

  This time, Savannah couldn’t restrain herself. “Is it him?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Tammy reluctantly admitted. “He keeps texting me. One minute he’s telling me how he loves me and will do anything to get me back. The next he’s demanding to know who the new guy is and threatening to hurt him when he finds out who he is.”

  “New guy?”

  Tammy shrugged. “Sure. There’s gotta be a new guy. God knows, I’d never leave a great guy like him unless there was somebody else, right?”

  “Of course.”

  Savannah felt her stomach do a flip-flop. “Tammy, I don’t want to interfere here, or speak outta turn. But I don’t like the sound of that one little bit. I have to tell you, I’m concerned about your safety, dealing with a man like that.”

  “It’s okay. I know how he is. I can handle him.”

  “A lot of women think that, and then—”

  “Savannah, I know you mean well, but I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  Tammy reached into her purse, took out her cell phone, and read the string of texts. Then she turned the phone off and shoved it back into her purse.

  Savannah fought down the mental flood of domestic violence scenes she had witnessed as a cop. The ones that had been minor—if you could call victims living in fear and pain, year after year “minor”—and the other ones that had ended in tragedy.

  She cast a sideways look at the beautiful young woman sitting beside her, one of the smartest and sweetest women she’d ever had the pleasure to know and call “friend.”

  “Okay, sugar,” she told her. “If you don’t want to talk about it, we won’t. But I’m here for you if you ever do want to talk, if you need me.”

  Tammy turned her head to the right, and all Savannah could see was the back of her head.

  A moment later, Savannah heard her sniff. “I know, Savannah,” she said softly. “I know you’re there for me. But some things, a woman has to do herself.”

  Savannah reached over, put her hand on her friend’s knee, and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “That’s true, darlin’. But she doesn’t have to do it alone.”

  By the time Savannah and Tammy had made their way to the Strauss property and walked through the woods to the secluded spa area, Dirk was already there. And so was the electrician, along with Ryan, John, and the less-than-thrilled lady of the house, Helene.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t trample my petunias when I saw you do it with my own eyes,” she was saying as she shook her finger in the face of the giant workman. He looked like a five-year-old boy getting yelled at by his great-grandmother … a boy who was six and a half feet tall and weighed at least three hundred pounds.

  John walked over to Helene and placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “I’d be happy to replace those petunias for you, He-lene.”

  “Of course, we can,” Ryan assured her. “We have a friend who’s a landscaper. He can drop some by this afternoon. We’ll have them in the ground before sundown.”

  “I’ll pay for them,” the electrician said. “I didn’t even notice your flowers there, ma’am. I was having a hard time getting to that junction box, and I’ve got these big feet….”

  He pointed down to his enormous boots that were covered with dirt.

  “And look at the mud you’ve tramped all over my stones here!” she said. “Who’s going to clean that up?”

  Dirk had his exasperated look firmly in place, but Savannah could tell he was fighting to hide his annoyance. “Mrs. Strauss,” he said. “I’ll hose off the mud, but honestly, we have more important things to worry about here than just your flowers and—”

  “Do not call me Mrs. Strauss!” she shouted at him. “Can’t you see I’m very upset here? One of my employees has been killed. Maybe even murdered!”

  Her voice broke, and it seemed all the strength went out of her. She reached for John’s arm, then leaned on him for support.

  For the first time, Helene Strauss looked frail to Savannah. She seemed unsteady on her feet as he walked her over to one of the chaise lounges and sat her down.

  Savannah hurried over to her. “Helene, are you okay?” she asked as she dropped to one knee beside the chaise.

  Helene seemed to notice Savannah’s presence for the first time. She looked up at her with enormous sadness in her green eyes.

  “Savannah,” she said, “how did this terrible thing happen? Right here on my property? Poor Blanca!”

  “We don’t know yet, Helene. But that’s why we’re here. We’re going to find out.”

  Tammy hurried up to Helene, reached into her purse, and fished out a bottle of water. “Here,” she said, unscrewing the top and handing it to her. “I always carry an extra.”

  “Who are you?” Helene said. “And what are you doing
on my property? Everyone’s just coming and going on my property these days without my permission. I won’t stand for it!”

  “This is my assistant, Tammy Hart,” Savannah told her. “She’s also a friend of Ryan’s and John’s.”

  That seemed to mollify Helene, who actually gave Tammy a wan smile as she accepted the water bottle from her hand.

  “Thank you, honey,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m just not myself today.”

  John pulled a chair close to Helene’s and sat down. Taking her hand between his, he patted it and told Savannah, “Go do what you need to over there with Dirk. Ryan and I will take care of our dear lady here.”

  Savannah nodded, gave Helene what she hoped was a comforting smile, and walked over to Dirk and the electrician. Tammy followed close behind.

  “What did you find out?” she asked Dirk.

  “Don’t know yet,” he replied. “I was just starting to ask him when she got in our face about the friggin’ petunias and the mud.”

  Savannah looked over at Helene, who was calmer now, talking softly with Ryan and John. “It’s not about petunias,” she said.“Two attempts on her own life, and then her maid is killed. She has to be scared to death.”

  Tammy said, “And from what you’ve told me about Helene, I’d bet that the last thing she wants is for anybody to realize she’s afraid.”

  “Well, she sure scared me,” the electrician said. “It’s been a long time since anybody’s yelled at me … let alone a little old woman like that.”

  “I wouldn’t say that too loud,” Dirk told him. “I hear she’s handy with firearms.”

  “So, what did you find while you were tiptoeing through her prize petunias with those big clod-hoppers of yours?” Savannah asked him.

  “I didn’t find anything at all,” he told them. “There’s nothing wrong with the spa’s electrical system. Everything’s working fine—the heater, the blower, the lights, the GFCI breaker—all in good shape.”

  “What about that over there?” Dirk pointed to an electrical outlet box next to the towel valet. “Mrs…. I mean, Helene … said that’s where they plug in a heater on cold nights and a boom box sometimes when they’re having a party out here.”

  The big guy nodded. “I checked that, too. It’s on a different circuit than the spa. It runs to a breaker box in that shed back there in the trees.” He cast a tentative look over at Helene, who was still talking to Ryan and John. “I was going to warn her that she needs to have somebody put a GFCI breaker on that circuit. The sprinkler system’s on that line, too, and wherever you’ve got water, you need a GFCI for safety, just in case there’s a—”

  “Sprinkler system?” Savannah’s brain started to whir. “You say that plug there and the sprinkler system are on the same circuit … a different one than the spa?”

  He nodded.

  She looked over at Dirk. He was all ears, too.

  “Why does that matter?” Tammy asked.

  “It might not matter at all, but …” Savannah turned back to the workman. “If somebody plugged some sort of electrical appliance into that outlet over there, and then tossed it into the spa, what would happen?”

  “There’d probably be some fireworks, and the circuit breaker in the box in that shed would trip.”

  “And what would happen to the automatic timer on the sprinkler system?” she asked.

  “It could blow it out completely, but it would probably just reset.”

  “To twelve o’clock?”

  “Yeah. Like your digital clock does when there’s a power outage in your house?”

  “Right.”

  Tammy looked from Savannah to the electrician to Dirk. “Why does that matter? Somebody tell me!”

  “It matters,” Savannah said, “because, according to Emma, who grew up here, the automatic sprinklers are normally set to go off at 3:00 a.m. But last night, they started watering a little after midnight.”

  “So,” Dirk said, “if somebody caused that circuit to trip about, say, nine last night, the sprinkler timer would have reset to twelve midnight and start counting from there.”

  “And when it got to 3:00 a.m.,” Savannah added, “it would have started the sprinklers. Only, it was really only midnight, because nobody reset the timer to the correct time after the outage.”

  Tammy looked over at the outlet, then turned back to the electrician. “Is there current to that plug right now?” she asked.

  He nodded as he gave her a quick, typically male, once over and smiled, apparently liking what he saw. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “It’s live.”

  “Then, if what Dirk suggested really happened, somebody must have reset the circuit breaker in that shed. And if they did, that person was probably the murderer.”

  “And their fingerprints might be on the panel box or the breaker switch,” Savannah added.

  Dirk was already punching numbers on his phone. “Coulter here,” he said into the phone. “Send Michelle over to the Strauss place with her kit. Right away.”

  Savannah felt a surge of claustrophobia sweep through her as she stood in the tiny, cluttered shed with Michelle, the fingerprint expert of the county’s CSI team, Dirk, Tammy, and the electrician—whose name they had discovered was Corey.

  In the corner, shoved up against a shelf that held spa chemicals, she could feel a leaf blower poking her in the ribs … or was it a leaf skimmer?

  “Do you all have to be in here?” Michelle asked over her shoulder as she swirled her thick brush across the outside of the panel box. “I’m running out of air.”

  Savannah chuckled as she watched the petite blond tech elbow Dirk and then Corey out of her way. She had seen Michelle at work many times and knew she was a woman after her own heart.

  Michelle didn’t suffer fools. She didn’t even suffer smart folks, if they got in her way.

  Tammy’s phone jingled for the third time since they had gathered in the shed. She glanced down at the caller ID and shot Savannah an uneasy look.

  “I’ll go out,” she offered.

  Savannah couldn’t help wondering if Mr. Peckerhead Numb Nuts had anything to do with it.

  “I’ll go, too,” Corey said, following Tammy out the door like a hound in search of a T-bone steak.

  “There’s nothing on the front of this box,” Michelle announced. “The lid is completely clean.”

  “Not even a partial?” Dirk asked, leaning over her shoulder and looking for himself.

  “Nothing at all. As in, wiped clean.”

  Dirk gave Savannah a look. “That could be telling,” he said.

  She glanced around the shed. “Yeah, as in … nothing else in this place has been cleaned in fifty years.”

  “I do well to dust my coffee table,” Michelle said. “I doubt this thing was wiped down out of fastidiousness.”

  She opened the lid to the panel box and began to brush her fine dust onto the line of switches inside, all of which were in the “on” position.

  “Something tells me those are going to be just as clean as the lid,” Dirk said.

  He and Savannah leaned over Michelle’s shoulders, watching closely, until she said, “You two bring whole new meaning to the phrase, ‘breathing down my neck.’ Dirk, you’re making me hungry. You smell like apple pie.”

  “That’s from his cinnamon sticks,” Savannah told her. “He smokes those instead of cigarettes now.”

  “You can smoke cinnamon sticks?”

  Dirk shrugged. “Sorta.” He pointed to the circuit breakers and seemed eager to change the subject. “See anything?”

  “Absolutely.” Michelle leaned back, surveying her handiwork. “I see nothing. And that tells you something.”

  “An old box like that should have smudges all over it,” Savannah said. “The only reason it would be clean is if someone deliberately cleaned it.”

  “And why would they clean it,” Michelle added, “unless they’d touched it?”

  Savannah looked at the shelf beside her that had half a doze
n rags stuffed here and there. It certainly wouldn’t have been difficult to find something to wipe away the evidence. “And why would they reset the switch on the sneak like that, unless they wanted to hide the fact that it had been thrown in the first place?”

  Michelle leaned down and placed her brush back into her kit. “And your killer’s pretty familiar with the property here,” she said. “Not everybody would know that the circuit panel is out here in this little storage shed.”

  “You’ve got someone who knows the property,” Dirk said, “knows a little about electricity, and knows enough to try to make an electrocution murder look like some sort of accidental drowning.”

  “Which makes them halfway smart.” Savannah shook her head. “Dadgummit. I hate it when a bad guy’s got smarts. Even a little. It makes him a lot harder to catch.”

  Dirk shrugged. “Oh, well. They can’t all be like the Murphy brothers.”

  When Savannah, Dirk, and Michelle left the shed and returned to the spa area, they found that Ryan, John, Helene, and Corey had gone. Tammy sat on one of the chaises, talking on her cell phone.

  Savannah couldn’t help but notice that when Tammy saw them coming, she looked uncomfortable and brought her conversation to a quick close.

  Shoving the phone into her purse, she jumped up from the chaise and hurried to meet them.

  “Find anything?” she asked, a little too brightly.

  “No, nothing at all,” Savannah told her. “Where’s the rest of the gang?”

  “Helene was feeling a little tired. Ryan and John took her back to the house, so she could lie down for a while.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that. And I don’t like the way she looked or the way she was acting earlier.”

  “This sort of thing would upset anyone,” Tammy said, “and she’s been through a lot lately, with the motor scooter accident and the sleeping pill overdose, and now two people dying on her property. That’s a lot for anybody to go through.”

  Having walked Michelle back to her car and sent her on her way, Dirk joined them.

  “What I want,” he said, “is to get my hands on my number one suspect.”