A Decadent Way to Die

by G. A. McKevett

  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 dozen 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.”

  “The husband?” Tammy asked.

  “Ain’t it always?” Savannah shook her head. “Any woman dies, you look at her significant other. A married woman dies with her lover, you just about know it’s gonna be the husband.”

  “And he would know the property better than anybody other than maybe Helene herself,” Dirk added. “So, he’d know where the breaker box was.”

  Savannah nodded. “And being a handyman, he’d probably know a little about electricity.”

  “Not to mention,” Dirk said, “that nobody’s seen him since before his wife met her nasty end.”

  Savannah nodded. “Oh, yeah. We’ve just gotta lay hands on Mr. Tiago … have a little talk with him.”

  “Hey, did you hear that?” Tammy asked.

  “Hear what?” Then Savannah heard it, too. Through the trees … the puttering of a vehicle’s out-of-tune engine coming toward them, then passing and heading on, the sound dying away.

  “That’s going toward the gardener’s cottage,” Savannah said.

  But Dirk was already on his way.

  Savannah and Tammy scrambled down the forest path after him.

  As they hurried through the woods and passed the chicken coop, they startled the birds, who squawked and flapped their wings.

  “Damn chickens,” Dirk said. But he kept running, Savannah and Tammy right behind him.

  A few moments later, they entered the backyard of the gardener’s cottage. Savannah felt a rush of excitement when she saw an old, rusty pickup beside the house … and Tiago getting out of it.

  As they approached, he turned, and looked surprised to see them. But not as surprised as Savannah was to see him … especially, his face.

  “Holy cow,” she said to Dirk. “Looks like our number one suspect got his clock cleaned by somebody who knew how to do it!”

  With his two black and swollen eyes, the bumps and bruises on his forehead, and his fat lip, the gardener was the most unhappy-looking guy Savannah had laid eyes on in a long time.

  And if, perchance, he didn’t kill his wayward wife and doesn’t know she’s dead, Savannah thought as they caught up with him at the front door of his house, he’s about to become even more so.

  Chapter 14

  If there was one thing Savannah knew about Dirk, it was that he hated notifications.

  And she couldn’t blame him. One of the worst aspects of being a law enforcement officer was having to inform people of the passing of their loved ones—almost always under tragic circumstances.

  If the relative was female, Dirk could hardly bring himself to do it at all. Savannah had performed the hated task for him many times over the years. Not that it bothered her any less than it did him. But she knew she was better at it.

  When it was a male who was the recipient of the bad news, Dirk could handle it better.

  So, she left this one to him. And he waded right in.

  “Tiago, my man,” he said, when they intercepted him on the front porch of his cottage. “We gotta talk.”

  Tiago looked like the last thing in the world he wanted to do
was converse with anyone. He shook his head and held up one hand. “I can’t talk right now. I’m sick. I need to sleep.”

  “Yeah, looks like you were on the bad end of a bad tussle,” Dirk said. “You wanna tell us about that?”

  “Not really. I want to take a shower and go to bed.”

  He put his hand on the doorknob, but Dirk reached out and put his hand on his shoulder. “Tiago, mi amigo, have a seat over there.”

  Dirk pointed to a wicker rocking chair on the porch and gently pushed him toward it.

  He resisted at first, but Dirk gave him a look that strongly suggested he should comply.

  “Okay,” he said. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing against the law.”

  “I didn’t say you did,” Dirk told him.

  “I just had a little fight with my brother. And I got the worst of it, so it’s no one’s business but my family’s.”

  “What was the fight about?” Savannah couldn’t resist asking as Tiago sank into the rocking chair.

  He gave her a wary look. “Nothing important. We just drank too much, and we fought, and it’s over now.”

  “When and where did this fight take place?”

  “Last night, about nine o’clock, at El Lobo Loco.”

  “Is that a bar?”

  “Yes. A bar in La Rosita. Why are you asking me this? It was just a fight between brothers.”

  “What’s your brother’s name?” she asked.

  “Sergio … Sergio Medina.”

  “Does he live in La Rosita?”

  Tiago nodded. “Why are you asking me all these questions?”

  “Because,” Dirk said, “we’re gonna have to talk to him, to make sure you were where you say you were.”

  “Why?” Tiago looked at Dirk through swollen eyes, then at Savannah, and back at Dirk. “Something’s wrong,” he said. “Why are you here? Why are you talking to me?”

  Dirk drew a deep breath. “We got some bad news for you, buddy.”

  “What bad news? Is Miss Helene okay? She’s not …?”

  “No. She’s fine.” Dirk put his hand on the man’s forearm. “It’s Blanca.”

  Tiago leaped to his feet and headed for the front door. “Where is she? What’s wrong with her?”

  He threw the door to the cottage open and stepped inside. “Blanca!” he yelled. “Blanca! Donde estas?”

  Savannah hurried after him and intercepted him in the living room. “Tiago,” she said, grabbing him by the arm. “She isn’t here.”

  “Where is she?” he said, his black, swollen eyes wild. “Where is my wife?”

  “She’s gone. I’m so sorry, Tiago. She’s muerto. She’s dead.”

  “No!” He pushed her away and ran into the kitchen, then the bedroom and bathroom. “Blanca!”

  Savannah waited quietly for him to complete his futile search, her heart aching.

  She looked back at the doorway, where Dirk and Tammy stood, their expressions as dark as the emotions washing through her.

  Finally, Tiago returned to her, tears streaming down his face.

  “What happened to her?” he demanded to know. “What happened to my wife?”

  “She died in the spa,” Savannah told him, knowing she was about to make his hell even worse.

  He looked totally confused. “The spa? What? She fell into the spa?”

  “She was in the water. Taking a hot tub.”

  “She never does that.”

  “She did last night.”

  Dirk walked into the room and stood between her and Tiago. “This is gonna be hard for you to hear, man,” he said softly. “But you’re gonna find out sooner or later. Blanca wasn’t alone in the hot tub.”

  “Who? Who was with her? Helene?”

  “No. It was Vern,” Dirk said. “Vern Oldham.”

  Savannah could feel the wave of rage that swept through the young man. It seemed like a palpable force that filled the room.

  “Blanca was in the tub with Vern?” he asked, his voice shaking, his fists clenched. “My wife and Vern?”

  “Yes,” Dirk said.

  “And he killed her? He killed my Blanca?”

  “No,” Savannah said. “He died, too. They were found in the tub, and both of them had already passed. I’m really sorry, Tiago.”

  Suddenly, Tiago turned and ran across the room and out the front door, nearly knocking Tammy off her feet as he passed her.

  They hurried after him, but when they saw he wasn’t heading for his truck, but down the path into the woods, Savannah said, “Leave him alone. Give him a few minutes.”

  “But he’s our prime suspect,” Dirk protested. “I wanna know where he’s going.”

  “I know where he’s going.” She watched as Tiago disappeared among the trees. “He’s like everyone else who hears that someone they love has died suddenly, unexpectedly. He has to see the place where it happened. He has to be there and try to feel what she felt … no matter how much it hurts.”

  Half an hour later, Savannah found Tiago exactly where she thought he would be, sitting on the edge of the spa, staring into the tub.

  The CSI team had emptied it and strained the water, searching for evidence, but the look on Tiago’s face couldn’t have been any more somber than if he were seeing his wife there inside the enclosure.

  She approached him slowly, watching for any signs that he resented her intrusion. But when he finally noticed her, he gave her a faint half smile and a small nod.

  “Are you okay?” she said, sitting a few feet away from him on the side of the tub.

  “No.” He closed his eyes for a moment. She couldn’t imagine what he was seeing in his mind’s eye. “I’m not okay.”

  “It must be god-awful, what you’re feeling.”

  “It is.”

  “I’ve lost loved ones,” she said. “And I’ve been betrayed by people close to me. But not both at the same time. That’s a double blow.”

  He nodded, still staring into the empty tub.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked. “Anything at all?”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “We don’t really know, beyond what Dirk already told you. They were here in the tub, and both of them died. We’re pretty sure it was from some sort of an electric shock.”

  He thought that over for a moment. “How could that happen? Is something wrong with the spa?”

  “No. An electrician just checked it. It’s working fine.”

  Tears spilled from his swollen, black eyes and streamed down his cheeks. Savannah reached into her pocket and pulled out a tissue. She offered it to him, wondering how a man could be so unlucky as to have his wife murdered and get a nasty beating all in one day.

  The coincidence seemed unlikely.

  He appeared genuinely surprised and deeply upset to hear of his wife’s passing. But Savannah reminded herself that she had been fooled many times before.

  Contrary to popular opinion, it wasn’t easy, even for professionals, to always know who was lying and who was telling the truth.

  “Maybe you’re wrong,” he said. “Maybe they were here, but not together … in that way.”

  “Maybe,” she replied. “Anything’s possible. You probably knew her better than anyone, Tiago. What do you think happened?”

  He passed his hand over his face and shook his head. “My wife was beautiful. Any man would want her. And Vern wanted every woman. Some men are like that.”

  The rage and pain that flashed across his face made Savannah think that, if he could lay hands on a living Vern at that moment, Vern would be murdered a second time.

  “Blanca was smart,” he continued. “But she wasn’t smart in that way, like he was. She was like a child in her heart. She trusted everyone. A man like him can take advantage of someone like her.”

  Savannah nodded. “That’s true. There are wolves in this world … and lambs.”

  “I wish I could punish him, but I can’t punish him for hurting her, because he’s alrea
dy dead.”

  “We can catch the person who killed them. Will you help me do that, Tiago?”

  He considered her words carefully, then said, “Yes. Blanca was foolish to be with him. But she wasn’t a bad person. And she didn’t deserve to die. What can I do?”