Hearing another particularly loud and unpleasant blast of noise from the shed, Savannah glanced over at the studded microphone and thought of the unpleasant men she had encountered in the past twenty-four hours.
“By the way,” she said, “I had the misfortune of literally bumping into Vern yesterday at your grandmother’s offices. What can you tell me about him?”
Emma’s big green eyes went cold at the mention of his name. She crossed her arms over the front of her tank top. “Vern is a slimy rat, pure vermin, who should have been exterminated long ago.”
“That was pretty much my take on him, too.”
“He should have been arrested for what he tried to do to my grandmother.”
“What she told me was true, then? He tried to seduce her?”
“Seduce her? Rape her is more like it. He snuck into her house at night and tried to climb into bed with her while she was sleeping.”
Emma smiled a nasty little smirk and nodded. “She hurt him really bad. It’s a wonder she didn’t shoot him. He’s lucky to have escaped with his life.”
Savannah chuckled. “I like your grandmother. I’m sure mine would have reacted the same way. We come from feisty stock, you and I.”
Emma laughed. “It’s true. We do.”
“And does Ada know about all this?”
“She does. Oma told her right away, but she refused to believe it. Called my grandmother a liar.”
“I’m sure that went over well with Helene.”
“I think Ada believed her more than she let on. Right after it happened, Ada took away Vern’s new Ferrari and his president’s Rolex. I’m sure there was some sort of connection.”
“Poor Vern.”
“Yeah. Life was hardly worth living for him without his new Ferrari and Rolex. He had to go back to his old Rolex and last year’s Ferrari.”
“Not to mention his flat, bruised equipment.”
At that moment, the back door opened and a guy with spiked black hair, heavy eye makeup, and at least half a dozen studs protruding from his face walked in. He carried a guitar decorated with a skull and crossbones. His bare chest bore the tattoo of a giant grim reaper.
Just the sort of guy you wanted to bring home to Mom.
Or maybe not, Savannah decided.
Instantly, she could see that Kyd was as appealing as his music. And she could also understand why matriarch Helene wasn’t enamored with him.
“Hi,” he said when he saw her. “Who are you?”
“Savannah,” Emma said, “this is my boyfriend, Kyd. Baby, this is Savannah Reid, the lady I told you about. The one I hired to help Oma.”
“Oh, yeah. The private investigator.” He walked to Savannah and held out his hand. “That’s pretty cool, what you do. You find lost people and catch cheating husbands and cool stuff like that, right?”
“We pretty much leave the cheating husbands to their wives to catch, but we’ve found some lost people, yes.”
He pulled a large speaker monitor off a chair and onto the floor and took a seat.
Savannah noticed he had skulls and crossbones on his flannel pajama bottoms, too. Definitely a case of fashion stagnation and death fixation, she told herself.
As though reading her thoughts, he said, “You ever find dead people or catch murderers, cool stuff like that?”
She thought if he used the word “cool” one more time, she might smack him with his dick-shaped microphone.
“I’ve found a few dead people in my time,” she said in her most patient, long-suffering voice—the one she reserved for fools who deeply annoyed her. “It wasn’t cool at all. I’ve also brought some killers to justice. Now, that was cool. Extremely cool, in fact.”
He gave her a long, appraising look. “I guess you’d have to be pretty smart to do that.”
She shrugged. “Everybody’s smart in one way or another, about one thing or the other. I guess I’m smart in that way.”
“Kyd’s an amazing musician,” Emma piped up. “People don’t realize how hard it is to play death metal. It’s like jazz in a way … harder than you might think if you aren’t into it.”
“You like death metal?” Kyd asked Savannah with a sarcastic little grin, as though defying her to say she didn’t.
“Not really,” she said. “I guess the lyrics turn me off.”
He dropped the grin. “They aren’t meant to be taken literally. Everybody knows that. Everybody who’s knowledgeable about the art form, that is.”
“No,” she said. “Of course not. No one in their right mind would take subjects like rape, torture, murder, and dismemberment seriously.”
Kyd stood and ran his fingers through his spiked hair, reencouraging it to stand on end. He adjusted his sagging pajama bottoms that were about to fall off. “I gotta go practice some more,” he told Savannah. “We got a gig tonight at Hell’s Inferno in the valley. If you’ve got nothing else to do, no killers to catch, drop by, and I’ll buy you a drink.” He extended his hand for a parting shake.
“I think my social calendar’s full,” she said, shaking his hand and feeling the hair gel slickness on his palm, “but thank you for the invitation. Maybe some other time.”
Sometime when I can bring ear plugs, a blindfold, and gloves, she silently added. She also made a mental note to squirt some hand sanitizer on her palms when she got back into her car to leave.
As Kyd picked up his guitar, then retreated through the back door, stopping at the refrigerator for a breakfast beer, Savannah glanced over at Emma. She saw the same lovesick, puppy-dog look on her face that Tammy had been wearing yesterday. And it made Savannah feel the need to swallow an entire bottle of antacid tablets right away.
“I think I’ll get going, too,” Savannah said, rising and stepping over an amplifier and guitar case. “Please speak to your grandmother about the bodyguards.”
“I will, for all the good it’ll do. And I’ll pack a bag and go out there. She’s always complaining that I don’t visit her enough since Kyd moved in.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Savannah told her. “You know, Emma … guys come and go, but you don’t get that many grandmothers per lifetime.”
Emma’s eyes softened. She nodded. “That’s true. I’ll go out there today and spend the evening and night with her. I’ll stay for as long as you think I should.”
“Actually,” Savannah said, “today and tonight will be fine. If I have anything to do with it, your grandmother’s going to be busy this evening.”
Chapter 10
When Savannah left her dinner guests in her backyard and rushed inside to answer the phone, she had a sense of foreboding. All wasn’t right in her world, and more specifically, with everyone she loved.
She could feel it.
Besides, she knew Tammy’s habits. And Tammy Hart was never late for anything.
She picked up the phone and didn’t recognize the caller ID: Laura Hendricks.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hi, Savannah.” It was an apologetic Tammy on the other end. “I’m so sorry I didn’t call you earlier.”
“I was wondering where you were.” Savannah glanced over at the raspberry-fudge cake on the counter with its birthday candles. “The chicken and pork chops are on the grill, but I’ve got a tofu burger for you.”
“Oh, no. I’m really sorry,” Tammy replied. “I should have called you sooner. I thought we’d make it over, but … well … Chad isn’t feeling well, and he wants me to stay here at his place with him tonight and keep him company.”
Savannah got that sick feeling in the pit of her stomach again. “Well, okay. We’re sure going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” Tammy sounded like she was about to cry. “Please tell Ryan ‘happy birthday’ for me.”
“He’s out in the backyard. Do you want me to get him on the phone so you can tell him yourself?”
“Um, sure, I—”
Savannah heard a male voice in the background, and she was pretty sure i
t was Chad.
“Wrap that up over there,” he was saying. “We’ve gotta get going. You’re going to make me late.”
“Sorry, Savannah. Gotta go,” Tammy said. “Bye.”
Click.
Savannah stared at the dead phone in her hand, and the uneasy feeling in her stomach spread through her body, making her knees weak.
“Oh, Tammy,” she whispered.
She heard a knock at the front door and went to answer it.
Dirk was standing there, a six-pack of beer in one hand and a large grocery bag stuffed with several types of chips in the other.
Chips and beer were Dirk’s standby contributions to any potluck affair. He wasn’t much for slaving over a hot stove all day.
“What’s the matter?” he asked the moment he saw her face.
“Oh, nothing,” she said, opening the door and motioning him inside.
He walked through the door and followed her to the kitchen. “I know you. And I know that look. Spill it.”
“It’s Tammy,” she said, opening one of the bags of chips. “She just called me, and she’s not coming.”
“To Ryan’s birthday party? Are you kidding? She’s nuts about Ryan!”
“Tell me about it.”
Savannah looked out her kitchen window at the breathtaking, classically tall, dark, and handsome hunk, who was sipping a glass of wine and watching the grill for her.
Dressed in cream-colored linen slacks and a matching silk shirt, Ryan Stone was the stuff female dreams were made of.
Unfortunately, male, too. Ryan had been with his partner, John Gibson, for years, but that wasn’t enough to squelch the romantic aspirations of all women who laid eyes on them.
Long ago, Savannah had accepted the futility of her fantasies. But being younger and more optimistic about life in general, Tammy clung to her hopes of someday changing Ryan’s orientation.
Dirk took a beer from the pack and stuck the others in the refrigerator. “Tammy’s pretty transparent about her Ryan crush,” he said. “It’s obvious she wants to marry him.”
“She wants to marry him and John, too.” Savannah dumped the chips into a large bowl. “She’s still a kid. Life hasn’t kicked all of the Pollyanna out of her yet.”
She thought of the guy she had overheard on the phone and his nasty, controlling tone of voice. “And I hope she never does get kicked that hard. I like my Tammy just the way she is—sweet, naïve, and eternally hopeful.”
“Me, too. I mean, she’s a total bimbo, but you can’t help but love ’er.” Dirk took a swig of his beer and glanced out the window. “Hey, speaking of John … look who he’s dancing with.”
Savannah smiled when she saw the suave British fox glide across her lawn with Helene Strauss in his arms. His gray dress shirt and charcoal slacks complemented his thick mane of silver hair and matching mustache. John Gibson was the epitome of delicious, old-fashioned debonair.
And in her flowing, white party dress, Helene was his worthy complement.
“They make a nice couple … even if she is old enough to be his mother,” Savannah said. “I put some big-band music on the boom box. I figured it might lead to a bit of high stepping. And look at them … they’re really good!”
Dirk watched with her as John swirled and dipped his partner. Helene threw back her head and laughed heartily as she clung to him.
“Does she know this is a setup?” Dirk asked.
“Naw.” Savannah started toward the door, chips and a bowl of homemade salsa in hand. “I’m pretty good at this sort of thing. I’m sure she doesn’t have a clue.”
“Young lady, I’ll have you know, the last time I was invited to dinner and realized I was on a blind date,” Helene told Savannah,” Richard Nixon was still in office.”
Savannah flipped a couple of chicken breasts, then brushed them with more barbecue sauce. She smiled at Helene, who had stopped by the grill as John took her empty wineglass to the beverage table for a refill.
Helene’s tone was stern, but the twinkle in her green eyes told Savannah she was anything but angry about her present circumstances.
“It’s not exactly a date,” Savannah said. “I mean, Ryan’s here and—”
“Oh, I know.” She twisted a strand of her hair behind the rose bud that John had tucked behind her right ear. “I could tell they’re a couple right away, but that doesn’t mean this whole thing isn’t a stacked deck.”
“Well, not the whole thing. It is Ryan’s birthday.”
“And you decided to invite me, someone you just met yesterday, to a small, private party for one of your dearest friends?”
Savannah grinned at her. “Hey, what can I say? You and I bonded instantly … or at least, as soon as you put the gun down.”
Helene looked around her, at John pouring her a fresh glass of chardonnay, at Ryan who was chatting with Dirk.
“I can see why you wanted me to spend time with them,” she said. “They are charming, and they certainly inspire confidence.”
“Those two have provided protection for some of biggest celebrities in Hollywood. Their client roster is confidential, but you’d be impressed, I assure you.”
“And I’m equally sure they charge an arm and a leg for their elite services.”
“You can afford them. They’ll give you the family rate.”
Helene gave a sniff. “With a family like mine, the rate would be fifty percent more.”
Savannah laughed. “Mine, too. At the very least.”
Moving some of the chicken pieces and pork chops onto a rose-spangled platter that Granny Reid had given her years ago, Savannah dropped her smile and gave Helene a far more serious, searching look.
“I didn’t see you drive up tonight,” she said. “Did Waldo chauffeur you?”
“Yes, he did,” Helene replied, a bit defiantly. “Why do you ask?”
“I just wondered.”
“I know you did a background check on him. I’m not surprised. I suppose you have to, as part of your investigation. But I want you to know that I’m fully aware of my grandnephew’s run-ins with the law. And it makes no difference to me at all.”
“Then you know he’s been arrested numerous times for drug possession and even dealing?”
“He has an addiction. It’s an illness.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s been a source of heartbreak for us all.”
“I’m sure it has.”
Savannah looked into the woman’s eyes and saw her sadness. She wanted to drop the subject and spare her any more pain. But she had to know….
“Are you aware that he’s been arrested for breaking and entering, and in two instances, for assault?”
“Yes, I do. Both of those charges were also drug related. Again, he has an addiction. And it’s caused him to do things he wouldn’t ordinarily have done.”
“Of course.”
“But whatever Waldo’s done in the past, whatever crimes he’s committed, he would never, ever, harm me or anyone else in his family. I know him as well as I would my own son. It simply isn’t possible.”
“Okay.”
“So, I don’t want to hear any more about him. You can stop wasting your time. Move on. Investigate someone else.”
“Yes, ma’am. We are. We’re checking out everyone.”
“Good.”
Savannah was happy to see John approaching, full wineglass in hand.
He glanced at Helene, then Savannah. He seemed to sense he had arrived at a tense moment. “And how are my lovely ladies?” he asked with his delightfully polished, crisp, British accent.
“Hungry,” Savannah said, handing him the platter laden with steaming, fragrant meat. “Let’s eat!”
Several hours later, after Waldo had collected Helene from the party, Ryan and John were in Savannah’s foyer, saying good-bye to her and Dirk.
Savannah stood on tiptoe to give Ryan a kiss on the cheek. “I hope you had a nice birthday, sweetie,” she told him. “You don’
t look an hour older, let alone a year.”
“You keep me young, Savannah,” he told her, wrapping her in a hearty hug.
“I did notice a new gray hair on your temple during dinner,” John said, “but being a gentleman, I didn’t mention it.”
“I’ve got a long way to go to catch up with you,” Ryan returned, slapping him on the back.
A Decadent Way to Die Page 10
