“Miss Helene, it’s Savannah to see you,” he said to the lady of the house. She was sitting in a large, wing-backed chair, combing a doll’s hair, a wistful look on her face.
“Shall I get the two of you some refreshments before I go,” he asked, his pale blue eyes full of concern for both of them, as he looked from one to the other.
“Nothing for me, John. Thank you,” Savannah said.
Helene gave him a slight shake of the head, then went back to grooming the doll’s beautiful, long red locks.
Quietly, John slipped from the room.
Savannah sat on a chair near Helene’s and quietly waited to be acknowledged.
Eventually, Helene said, “This doll was fashioned after my granddaughter. Emma was such a beautiful child; I had to do a doll with her face and hair.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Savannah replied. “And your granddaughter is a lovely woman. I’m sure she gave you a lot of joy as a child.”
“She was very much like her mother. Both of them were sweet-natured. When my daughter died in that accident, I thought I would die, too. But, of course, I couldn’t. I had a grandchild to raise. In some ways, I think Emma saved my life.”
“I’m sure you were a blessing to each other.”
“My daughter’s husband was drinking that day, driving the car. He and my daughter were killed, and Emma was badly hurt.” Helene laid the small hairbrush aside and passed her hand over her eyes, as through trying to erase painful images. Images, no doubt, just as vivid all these years later.
“My daughter couldn’t say no to her husband. I warned her not to let him drive her and Emma when he’d been drinking, but … it happened anyway, in spite of my warnings.”
Savannah fought back her own tears, and her fear, and imaginations too dark to bear. “They don’t listen,” she said. “I wasn’t there, but I strongly suspect there’s nothing you could have said or done to change what happened to your daughter.”
“I wish I could believe you,” Helene said, stroking the doll’s cheek with her forefinger. “I’d sleep better, if I could.”
“I have a similar situation,” Savannah told her. “Someone very dear to my heart appears to be headed for a fall. But when I warn her, she gets angry with me. And after we argue, I have the sinking feeling that my words have only pushed her in his direction.”
“Like my Emma.” Helene held the doll close to her chest. “I know that boy she’s seeing now is going to break her heart. I know this sounds elitist, but you can take one look at her and tell she’s a quality person. And just as quickly, you can tell that he isn’t. Why can’t she see what’s so obvious to everyone else?”
“She’s in love, like my friend,” Savannah said. “And when you’re in love, especially when you’re young, you don’t always see a man for who he is, but who you want him to be.”
“Probably the same way men look at us.” Helene smiled.
“Yes, probably. Or else none of us would ever pair up. Thank goodness for love’s shortsightedness.”
“Have you ever ‘paired up,’ as you call it, Savannah?”
“No. I’ve never married. As I’ve been recently told, I don’t mind being single.”
Helene gave her a sly little grin that made her look at least twenty years younger. “I sensed a little something between you and that detective friend of yours. Am I mistaken?”
Savannah laughed. “No, you aren’t mistaken. There’s a little something there. We just haven’t figured out what yet.”
“Haven’t figured it out, or won’t admit it?”
“Maybe a bit of both. Or maybe we didn’t move on it back when we were still shortsighted and didn’t know each other so well.”
“Perhaps you should reconsider. Detective Coulter is a good man. My late husband was a good man. I can tell a good one when I see one.”
“Yes, Dirk is a good guy. I won’t argue with you about that.”
Helene’s sharp, green eyes studied hers for a long moment, then she said, “Don’t wait forever, Savannah. Life goes by very quickly. It seems like only last week when I was your age.”
“I’ll bet it does.”
“You mustn’t take time or happiness for granted. Grab them with both hands and hold on to them whenever you have the chance, and don’t let go.”
“I’ll remember that. Thank you.”
Helene stood, walked over to her, and handed her the doll and the hairbrush. “Here,” she said. “There are still a few knots at the nape of her neck. See what you can do … while you tell me what you came here say.”
Savannah began to gently brush the auburn tresses as Helene walked over to the display case and took out another doll with blond hair and a blue velvet dress.
“I came to give you some bad news,” Savannah said.
“I assumed that by the sour puss you were wearing when you walked in here. What is it?”
“Your grandnephew is in police custody. And he’s going to be arrested. I wanted to tell you before you heard it from someone else.”
“And what’s the charge this time?” Helene asked, looking a bit tired, but not at all surprised.
“Cocaine possession.”
“Is that all?” Helene asked.
“At the moment.”
“Thank goodness. I was afraid you were going to say ‘murder.’”
Long ago, Savannah had learned that when her spirits needed uplifting, performing one of Granny Reid’s rituals usually gave her a boost … or a least, some degree of peace.
One of Gran’s mood rescues was a bubble bath by candlelight, while nibbling a bit of chocolate. Countless times during her childhood, Savannah had heard her grandmother say to the nine grandchildren hovering around her, demanding a hundred things at once, “I’m gonna go take myself a soak. So, unless you can’t get the fire out or the bleeding stopped on your own, heaven help anybody who comes knockin’ on that door!”
Savannah had added the chocolate to the ceremony. After the first time, nibbling a chocolate truffle and sipping a bit of cognac, she had decided that if anybody thought it was unsanitary or dé-classé to have food in the bathroom, they could just get over it.
But bubble baths weren’t always practical. And they didn’t help when the stone that was weighing down a body’s spirit was a fight with a loved one.
That called for the basket ritual. A basket, laden with yummy goodies, delivered with a humble heart, went a long way toward restoring the peace after a conflict.
And since it had been a big fight, the situation called for the extra-large basket.
Savannah talked to Diamante and Cleopatra as she ladled some homemade soup—vegetables only, of course—into a mason jar, screwed the lid on tight, and placed it into the basket.
“Of course I used organic vegetables,” she said to Cleo. “Even the peanut butter cookies are one hundred percent natural ingredients.
“Yeah, they taste like crap,” she told Di, “but that’s the way she likes ‘em. Go figure. Girl doesn’t know what’s good … in men or cookies.”
And then, to the ever-present grandmother in her head, she added, “I know, I know, Granny. Have a humble heart. You don’t deliver a peace offering basket with an uppity, I-know-better-than-you attitude.”
Maybe Tammy’s right, Savannah told herself as she carefully placed the cookies into a decorative tin. Maybe he’s a good guy, and I’m overreacting to what I saw. Ex-cop, big sister … I’m being overly protective and alarmist. Yeah, that’s it.
She placed a loaf of her best onion-wheat bread into the basket and covered it all with a red- and white-checkered napkin.
Glancing down at the cats, who sat, looking up at her with big, innocent, animal eyes, she said, “I hear ya. I don’t believe it either, but it’s her life. All we can do is be there for her if she needs us, right, girls?”
She picked up the basket off the counter, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door. “Yes, Gran,” she whispered to the voice in her head … the one with the sweet, soft, Souther
n accent, “we do what we can.”
As Savannah was driving down Tammy’s lane, she practiced her speech and tried not to gag on the words. “If you say he’s a nice guy, I’m sure he is,” just seemed to stick in her craw.
Savannah was a good cook, she was an excellent shot at the target range, but saying something that was contrary to what she was thinking … that she wasn’t so good at.
Lying to herself and others wasn’t a new skill she wanted to develop this late in life. Being false took a toll on a person. She had seen too many people who had spent their life energy that way. And she had determined, long ago, not to be one of them.
“Be true to yourself,” she whispered as she neared Tammy’s house. “Don’t lie to her, but don’t give her any unsolicited advice either. This is hers, not yours.”
However, when she saw the red SUV with its metallic flames sitting next to Tammy’s pink VW Bug, her best intentions flew out the window.
“Damn,” she whispered. “Who’d have thought he’d be here in the middle of the day?”
She parked across the street and sat there, debating about whether to knock on the door and hand Tammy the basket, leave it on her porch, or come back later.
Before she could decide, the front door of the house opened, and Savannah saw Tammy and Chad step outside.
As the two of them walked to his car, Savannah watched their body language and didn’t like what she saw. He had his hand on Tammy’s shoulder and seemed to be practically pushing her along. Once, she said something to him and stepped away from him. In a heartbeat, he had her by the arm and was holding it tightly while he answered her with what appeared to be some sort of long speech.
Finally, he put his hands on her waist and pulled her toward him. He kissed her roughly, which under other circumstances might have seemed passionate, but Tammy didn’t seem that into it. Savannah noticed that she didn’t even return his embrace, but let her arms hang limply at her sides until he was finished.
As he got into the car, pulled out of the driveway, and headed down the street, Savannah was both surprised and relieved that neither of them seemed to notice her sitting there. The last thing she wanted right now was a three-way, knock-down-drag-out. And she didn’t want to waste a perfectly nice basket full of food, hurling it at a knucklehead on her friend’s lawn.
Once he was down the road and out of sight, Savannah grabbed her peace offering and bailed out of the Mustang.
“Tammy!” she called out as she hurried across the street. “Tams! Hold on!”
Tammy had just stepped up onto the porch when she caught sight of Savannah. But instead of “holding on” as she had been requested to do, she grabbed at the knob and pushed on the door, trying to get inside as quickly as she could.
“Hey, where’s the fire?” Savannah asked as she rushed up to her. “I just wanted to drop off a little something for you, to show you that there’s no hard feelings, and I—”
“No, Savannah! Go away! Please,” she said as she fumbled with the door. “This isn’t a good time.”
“Then I won’t stay,” Savannah replied. “I’ll just give you this and go.”
She held out the basket with the most humble-hearted look that she could muster.
Granny would have been proud. She was sure of it.
Tammy hesitated, her back turned to Savannah. Then, after what seemed like forever, she reached around to take the basket, her long hair covering the side of her face.
But when she grasped the handle of the basket, her hair slipped back over her shoulder, and Savannah caught a glimpse behind the hair.
“Oh, my God! Tammy!”
Savannah grabbed the basket and set it on the porch at their feet.
Her hands on Tammy’s shoulders, she spun her around until she was fully facing her.
“What the hell happened to you?” Savannah asked her … as if she didn’t already know.
Tammy’s lower lip was split, her cheek badly bruised, and her left eye was swollen. And to make the horror even worse, she had blue and red lines discoloring both sides of her neck.
Savannah grabbed her, opened the door, and rushed her inside. “Oh, sweetie,” she said as sorrow and rage swept over her in waves. “I’m going to kill him. How dare he! Oh, honey. I’m so sorry!”
She pulled back Tammy’s hair and examined her face, every bump and bruise. “Where else are you hurt?” she asked, glancing over her body. There was a bit of blood on the front of her tee-shirt … probably from the split on her lip, Savannah guessed.
“I’m okay,” Tammy said, bursting into tears. “Don’t worry about it, Savannah. I’m all right.”
“You aren’t all right, and I am worried. You’re damned right I am, and you should be, too. That jackass beat you!”
“It’s my fault. I didn’t tell him I was going to the Strauss place this morning. And I was climbing the cliff when he texted me,” Tammy sank down onto the sofa and tried to smooth her hair in a pathetic gesture that went straight to Savannah’s heart.
“And later,” she continued, softly crying, “I was driving home and I didn’t answer him when he called me. He was just so worried about me, that when he saw me, he exploded and—”
“Bullshit! Do not tell me this was your fault, Tammy! I won’t listen to that kind of crap! He assaulted you, just like he did his other two girlfriends, and he’s going to pay for it!”
Savannah fished her cell phone out of her purse and started to call Dirk.
“No!” Tammy leapt to her feet. “Don’t call the cops. He said if I did … I mean … Don’t call anybody, Savannah.” She started to sob. “I’m so ashamed. I don’t want anybody to know about this.”
“Tammy, you know how this works. You have to have him arrested! Next time he’ll hurt you even worse. This won’t end until you end it!”
“And you know how it works, too, Savannah. They’ll pick him up, and he’ll be out on bail in a heartbeat. Only then he’ll be a lot madder at me. If he did this”—she pointed to her face—“be-cause I didn’t take his phone call and tell him where I was, what do you think he’ll do if I have him arrested?”
“You’ll get a restraining order against him and—”
“And what good would that do? It’s a piece of paper, Savannah. Do you really think a piece of paper is going to stop him?”
“So, what are you going to do, Tammy? Are you going to live in fear and let this guy use you for a punching bag any time he gets a notion to?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Savannah. I don’t know.” She sank back down onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands, sobbing. “I don’t know what to do.”
“The first thing is we’ve got to get you to a hospital and have you checked over and—”
“No! I’m not going to any hospital. They’ll just ask me a lot of questions I don’t want to answer. I’m not going.”
“Please. You could have internal injuries. You need to see a doctor.”
“I’m okay. Really. No hospital!”
Savannah battled her own emotions as she tried to switch into a more logical, professional mindset … and couldn’t.
Finally, she bent down and kissed the top of Tammy’s golden hair. “Don’t cry, darlin’,” she said. “I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. But I think you should go pack yourself an overnight bag, a couple changes of outfits. Then get that basket full of goodies that’s out there on your porch, and drive to Twin Oaks. Check into the Oak Dale Motel there under a fake name and pay cash for your room. Put some ice on that lip and eye. For now, don’t come back here and don’t go to my house, and when that sonofabitch calls you the next time, do not answer your phone!”
“Okay.”
Savannah fished some bills out of her purse and handed them to her. “This should cover the motel.”
“I don’t want to take money from you, Savannah. This is humiliating enough already.”
“You have nothing in the world to be ashamed of. Le
t me help you, Tammy. It’ll make me feel better. Okay?”
Reluctantly, Tammy took the money. “And while I’m at the motel watching a TV with a lousy picture, what are you going to be doing?”
“I’ve got some business to attend to.”
Tammy stood and hugged Savannah, tightly and for a long time. When she finally released her, she looked up at Savannah with nothing but pure pain and fear in her beautiful face.
“You’re not going to get yourself hurt or make this worse for me, are you?” she said.
“No, darlin’. I promise, I’ll be okay, and I’m not going to make it worse.”
But as Savannah walked her friend out to her car and tucked her inside with her basket full of homemade goodies, she couldn’t quiet that voice in her head. It wasn’t Granny’s sweet, gentle voice. It was the voice of a cop, the police woman Savannah had been for so many years. The voice of experience. A lot of really bad experiences.
And that voice was telling her that, no matter what promises she made to her friend, this situation was going to get a lot worse before it got better.
Chapter 21
As Savannah sat in her Mustang and watched Tammy’s VW Beetle drive away, a strange feeling that she’d never experienced before washed through her. It was an icy, numbing sensation that was oddly calming.
For the moment, the image of her friend’s battered face had been carefully, methodically filed away, somewhere in the recesses of her mind. The time would come to take that memory out and deal with it.
But this wasn’t the time.
Tammy was going out of town, to a place he couldn’t get his hands on her, so she was safe for the time being.
Savannah pulled out her cell phone and made a call to the police station house. She asked to speak to Iris, the desk clerk who did most of Dirk’s background checks.
“Hi, Iris. It’s Savannah,” she said.
“Hey, girl,” Iris replied. “If you’re looking for Dirk, he’s gone to West Hollywood to pick up a prisoner.”
“I know. I wanted to talk to you. I have a favor to ask you.”
“Sure. What’s that?”
A Decadent Way to Die: A Savannah Reid Mystery Page 19
