“You don’t want to know,” she said.
“Are you kidding me? You’re standing here crying with blood on your clothes, and you’re telling me I don’t want to know.” He hugged her to his chest and kissed the top of her hair. “Van, you are the most important person in the world to me. I have to know.”
All of a sudden, her legs felt very shaky beneath her. She put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself.
It felt foreign, but good, to have someone to lean on, even for a moment.
“It’s Tammy,” she said. “That guy …”
Instantly, Dirk’s face clouded. He gripped her shoulders so tightly that it hurt. “How bad?” he said.
“A split lip, some bruises and swelling on her face.”
“Is she at the hospital?”
“She wouldn’t go. I sent her to a motel out of town.”
“Will she press charges?”
“No.”
He turned away from her and walked over to a garbage bin. He kicked it so hard that the side caved in. The sound reverberated like an explosion across the parking lot.
He stood there for a while, spewing obscenities, then strode back to her. “I don’t care if she’s willing to press charges or not,” he said. “You’ve got her blood on your shirt, and that’s enough for me. I’ll—”
“It’s not hers. It’s his.”
He stared at her a moment, then nodded as the truth dawned on him. “Oh, okay.”
“I think Lady Justice has already visited Chad Avery today, so to speak.”
“Gotcha.” He reached down and pulled her jacket lapels open, studying the front of her shirt. “That looks like medium velocity spatter. Do we need to get a shovel, take a long drive, and find a quite, secluded, wooded area?”
“No. The dirt bag’s still sucking air.”
Dirk gave her a dark, humor-free smile. “I’ll bet he’s hurtin’.”
“Oh, he’s in a world o’ pain.”
Savannah felt a bit guilty, taking any time to herself with two homicide cases open, a couple of unsolved attempted murders, not to mention three assaults—if she counted Tiago’s, Tammy’s, and the one she’d given Chad.
So much for peace on earth and loving your fellow man, she thought as she turned the water on in the tub and poured in a generous amount of rose-scented bath gel.
As the bath filled, she called Tammy.
“Hi, Savannah,” said the tentative voice on the other end. Tammy sounded like she had been crying.
“Hi, darlin’. How’s it going over there?”
“Okay, I guess. I’ve just been sitting here on the bed, thinking about things.”
“Unless you’ve got a bottle of whiskey and a lot of good country music to listen to, that’s probably not a good idea … the thinking, that is.”
Savannah heard her sniff, then blow her nose. “I need to figure out what I did wrong, how I let things get so out of hand. How did I ever get involved with a guy like that?”
“Tammy, there are women a whole lot smarter and stronger than you and I will ever be—and men, too, for that matter—who’ve found themselves in that situation. Abusers are hard to spot and even harder to get rid of.”
“He’s stopped calling me.”
“Oh?” Savannah pulled the shades down in the bathroom.
“Yeah. I got a couple of texts from him right after he left, but then they stopped. All of a sudden.”
Savannah lit a votive candle and stared into the flame. “Really? Huh. Imagine that. Maybe he broke one of his texting thumbs.”
“Did you break one of his thumbs?”
“Nope.”
“Would you tell me if you did?”
“Nope. But I can honestly say, the last time I saw him, I’m pretty sure his thumbs were where they’re supposed to be.”
“How long do I need to stay here in this place?”
Tammy sounded a bit better than she had at the beginning of the conversation. Stronger. No longer crying. And for that, Savannah was grateful.
“I’m pretty sure he’s done bothering you,” Savannah said, “but you’re already checked in there. Why don’t you stay the night and then come over here tomorrow morning bright and early? You can help me decide what we’re going to do next on the case.”
“I love you, Savannah.”
Again, Savannah heard sniffling, but it sounded like “good” crying … the kind of tears that healed.
“I love you, too, puddin’. I’m in for the evening now. So, you call me if you have a mind to. About anything.”
“I will. Good night.”
“Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
“Hey, don’t joke about that. In a flea-bag motel like this one, it could happen!”
Savannah hung up the phone, took off her dirty clothes, and slipped her aching, exhausted body into the glistening suds.
She smiled as she settled in for a long soak.
The kiddo was going to be okay. Not right away, to be sure, but with enough love and support … eventually.
A couple of hours later, Savannah was in heaven … or, at least, the closest thing she had ever found to heaven on earth. She was sitting in her comfy, rose-print, chintz chair, her feet on the ottoman, a cat on each side, keeping her toes warm. She was wearing one of her favorite white, Victorian nightgowns and on the table beside her was a box of Godiva chocolates.
On her lap was a romance novel with her favorite male model on the cover, chest exposed, a maiden draped backward over his muscular arm, her bosom spilling from the front of her unlaced bodice.
So far, she had been staring at the first page for half an hour and hadn’t read a paragraph yet. But the night was still young. And she held high hopes that eventually her mind would stop spinning like a chipmunk on an exercise wheel, and she could actually concentrate on Raif the Pirate Rogue and Lady Cumber-ley.
She reached into the box and selected a French vanilla truffle. Ah, heaven, indeed.
But as she raised it to her lips, a “Shave and a Haircut” knock sounded on her door.
She froze. “Dirk,” she told the cats. “Dang it!”
She shoved the chocolate back into the box, replaced the lid, and slid the container into the magazine rack beside her chair.
Long ago, she had decided that Granny Reid wasn’t always right. One didn’t have to share absolutely everything with those around you. Some things were sacred, and one’s chocolate stash definitely fit that category.
Experience had taught her that Dirk could mow through a box of chocolates in five minutes flat. And to a connoisseur like herself, that was pure blasphemy … and to be avoided at all costs.
When she opened the door, he looked her up and down, taking in the nightgown.
“Should I have called first?” he said. “You’re ready for bed already?”
“No. I just needed to get out of out my … um … school clothes and get comfortable.”
He gave her a mischievous grin. “Wash them in bleach yet?”
“No bleach. But they’re definitely in the washing machine, even as we speak.”
She stepped aside and ushered him in.
“Want something to drink or eat?” she asked, feeling only slightly like a hypocrite, considering the hidden chocolate.
“No. I’m good.”
Since when did Dirk turn down food? Especially at her house.
“Everything okay?” she asked as she motioned him toward his usual spot on the end of the sofa, next to her chair.
“Yeah. I just thought I’d drop by and give you a few tidbits of juicy gossip.”
“You know what Granny always says: ‘If you don’t have anything good to say about anybody, come over here and sit by me.’”
Dirk sat down, lifted his feet to put them on her coffee table, then thought better of it, and lowered them.
Taking pity on him, she reached into her magazine rack, pulled out a newspaper, and tossed it onto the table. “There,” she said. “Go ahead
… this once.”
Gratefully, he propped his sneakers on the paper and slid down into a semi-reclining position. “The lab called. Turns out I lied to Waldo. There weren’t any prints at all on the boom box.”
“Wiped clean like everything else?”
Dirk nodded.
“Why am I not surprised?” Savannah said. “You better have some better gossip than that.”
“I do. I looked into our friend, Waldo, a bit more,” he said. “Found something interesting.”
“Besides the drug busts and assaults?”
“Yeah. I was looking over his sheet and found a familiar name.”
“What name?”
“Kyd Butler.”
“Kyd … as in Emma’s icky boyfriend, Kyd?”
“That’s the one. Last year, they were busted together at a club in the valley. Apparently, Kyd was Waldo’s coke connection. He-lene hired a good attorney for Waldo, he and Kyd pled guilty to a lesser charge, and they each served three months.”
Savannah thought of the disdain in Helene’s voice when she had spoken of her granddaughter’s boyfriend. “No wonder she doesn’t like him.”
“Who?”
“Helene. She can’t stand Kyd. The first time I met her, she was fixin’ to shoot me in her driveway because she thought I was him.”
Dirk gave her a searching look. “I guess some women don’t take it well when their female family members get mixed up with the wrong guys.”
She cleared her throat. “I hear it can be worrisome.”
“But before I found out all that stuff about Waldo,” Dirk said. “I checked on another friend of ours.”
“Oh?” Savannah cut him a sideways look.
“Yeah. I thought I should have a little talk with Tammy’s former beau … Chad What’s-His-Face.”
Savannah scooped Cleopatra up from the ottoman and put her in her lap. “And how did your, um, talk go?”
“Didn’t actually get to speak to him. Had a hell of a time finding him.”
“He wasn’t at home?”
“No. So, I went down to the warehouse where he works as a night watchman. And they told me he’d called in sick.”
“Fancy that.”
“Actually, he’d called in from the emergency room of Community General. Seems he took a tumble off his bike.”
“Poor baby.”
“Broke his nose and did severe damage to his groin. Sorta like Helene did to Vern. Kinda like Jesse Murphy the other day.”
“A lot of that going around these days. Maybe it’s a virus.”
“Yeah, I think I’m gonna start wearing an athletic cup.” He cleared his throat. “Seems Chad’s right testicle was a mess.”
“Only the right one? Damn.”
Dirk laughed and shook his head. “Remind me never to piss you off, girl.”
“We were talking about Chad, and I was really enjoying it. Get back on topic.”
“When I left the warehouse and went to the hospital, they said he was in surgery, getting things put back where they belonged.”
Savannah sniffed. “I feel plum awful about that. Let’s take up a collection and send him a fruit basket.”
“So, I never got to talk to him. But after hearing what a day he’d had, I figured it might be sorta redundant.”
They sat in companionable silence for a while as she stroked Cleopatra’s silky black ears.
“Are you ever going to tell Tammy about Chad’s … uh … bicycle accident?” he asked her.
“No. She’d probably be overwhelmed with remorse that he’d suffered on her account. Sometimes, Tammy’s just way too sweet for her own good. She’s got too big a heart.”
“Unlike you and me.”
“Yeah. Us old, nasty farts don’t suffer from that particular affliction.”
Chapter 23
When Savannah woke the next morning, she felt like a new woman.
It was amazing what a good night’s sleep could do to recharge a gal’s batteries … or so she thought until Tammy arrived.
Savannah was pouring her usual cup of coffee, adding the standard, obscene amount of creamer, when she saw her young friend standing there, looking through the glass in the upper half of the door.
The forlorn expression on her face, combined with the heavy makeup that Tammy never wore, twanged Savannah’s heart strings.
She hurried to the door, opened it, and pulled her inside.
“How are you today, sugar?” she asked, giving her a hug and a big-sister once-over exam at the same time.
“Okay,” Tammy said, managing a feeble smile. “Considering.”
Savannah tried not to look too much at her swollen eye, her cut lip, or the bruised cheek that showed through the makeup. She also decided not to mention the turtleneck sweater … the first high-necked top she had ever seen Tammy wear in all the years she had known her.
Savannah hurried to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of organic apple juice. “Did you get any sleep at all? Or did you lie awake all night worrying about bedbugs?”
“I had a few nightmares,” she admitted. “Not about bedbugs.”
Savannah handed her the glass of juice. “I’ll bet you did. I’m so sorry, sweetie.”
Tammy shrugged. “Unfamiliar bed.”
“Right.”
Savannah watched as she sipped the juice. “I’ve got some gra-nola cereal, if you want breakfast,” she told her. “Or I’d be happy to make you an egg-white omelet.”
“No, thank you. The juice is enough. I’m not really hungry.”
Savannah took a drink of her own coffee and thought how flavorless it seemed all of a sudden.
She looked at her friend, sensed her wounded spirit, and thought it might be nice to go dislodge old Chad’s other testicle.
“You haven’t heard from him, have you?” she couldn’t help asking.
“No. Not a word.”
“Good.” Savannah forced a smile. “So, are you ready to hit the road with me? I’m going to go talk to Emma Strauss about some new stuff that Dirk found out about her boyfriend and—”
“No. Thanks, Savannah, but I can’t. I have an appointment in an hour. Something I really need to do. I’m sorry. I hate letting you down.”
Savannah set her mug aside and took Tammy’s empty glass from her. “That’s fine. Really, it’s okay. If you have something you’ve got to do, then by all means, you attend to that. I understand. More juice?”
“No. I’ve got to get going.”
“Okay.”
Savannah set the glass in the sink, then stood there as an awkward, tense silence built between them.
Finally, Tammy said, “I’m going to a counselor, a psychologist who specializes in … this stuff.” She pointed to her bruised face. “I know what you said, Savannah, about how this wasn’t my fault. I thought about it all night, and you’re right … I didn’t deserve what happened to me. I didn’t cause it.”
Savannah nodded. “That’s absolutely correct, Tammy. You’re a victim of a crime, just like a man who’s mugged walking down a street or a woman who’s raped or a store owner who’s robbed.”
“I realize that. Really, I do.” Tammy choked back tears as she reached for Savannah’s hand and held it tightly. “But I want to talk to someone, a professional. I want to do everything I can to make sure this never happens to me again.”
Savannah pulled her into her arms and held her, like she had her younger brothers and sisters when they had been hurt in a thousand different ways.
“I think that’s a great idea, darlin,’” she told her. “It’s very brave and smart, and I’m proud of you for making that decision.”
No sooner had Savannah let go of her than they heard a cell phone ringing. They both cringed when they realized it was coming from Tammy’s purse.
She opened her bag, took out the phone, and looked at the caller ID. “It’s Dirk,” she said. “Never thought I’d be so happy to hear from him.”
She answered with a cheery, “
Hi, Dirko.” She listened for a moment, then said, “I’m okay, thanks. I’m at Savannah’s.”
Savannah poured herself another cup of coffee, pretending not to listen as Tammy said, “Oh, that’s so sweet of you. A really nice offer. Can I let you know later? Okay … yeah … you, too.”
She hung up. “Dirk just told me that if I want to stay over at his trailer and sleep on the couch, I can … for as long as I want to.”
“An old bear like him, who growls when anybody even gets near his cave door? Wow, that is a nice offer.”
“He told me that the door key is under that old Hudson hubcap he’s got nailed to the porch. Like I didn’t know that’s where he keeps it.”
Savannah laughed. “Like everybody who knows Dirk doesn’t know that’s where he keeps it.”
“He also told me that he loves me.”
Savannah was taken aback. “Really? I mean, I know he does, but … he actually said it?”
“Well, his exact words were: ‘Stay out of trouble and keep your nose clean, fluff head.’ But I know that’s what he meant.”
Savannah was hoping she could catch Emma at home alone without Kyd around. Not that she didn’t enjoy his scintillating conversation. Not that she didn’t welcome the chance to glean fashion tips and philosophical insights from this prince among men.
But she could swear her ears were still bleeding from listening to his so-called music the last time she’d been there. She wanted to give them a little time to heal before the next exposure.
And she was hoping to talk to Emma about him behind his back.
So, when Emma invited her into the little beach cottage, and she asked, “Is Kyd around?” and Emma said, “No,” it was all she could do not to break into joyful song right there in the living room.
“Is there something new on the case?” Emma said, motioning for her to take a seat.
“You mean, something besides the fact that we’re no longer just trying to find out about your grandmother’s ‘accidents,’ but also trying to solve two murders?”
“Yes, something like that.”
Savannah studied the redhead sitting on the chair across from her. She thought how many different versions of Emma she had seen since she had met her. There was the impeccably dressed, conservative woman who had hired her. The seemingly carefree beach bum in men’s boxers and a tank top, explaining the fine points of death metal rock to her. And this woman, who looked as though she hadn’t showered for days or slept for several nights.
A Decadent Way to Die: A Savannah Reid Mystery Page 21
