A Decadent Way to Die

by G. A. McKevett

  “Thank you for coming with me,” Savannah told her.

  “Oh, come on. We both know you didn’t need me. You’re just babysitting me to keep me away from Chad.”

  “Actually, you helped more than you realize. But speaking of Chad—”

  “We probably shouldn’t.”

  “I know. But if I didn’t do what I shouldn’t, I wouldn’t do much o’ nothin’.”

  “Huh?”

  “There’s something I have to say to you, Tammy, and I know you don’t want to hear it. But you know how I am. I’m the oldest of nine younguns, and that makes me a mite bossy. You’re just going to have to sit still and listen while I say my piece.”

  Tammy folded her hands demurely in her lap and gave Savannah a long-suffering look. “Go ahead,” she said. “But hurry, because I’ve got company coming over at six o’clock, and something tells me you don’t want to run into him.”

  “Oh, no. Tell me he’s not coming here, after you told him it was over. Tell me you’re not going to let him into your house when he’s been texting you and calling you like a maniac all day long.”

  “Savannah, you don’t understand. At first, he was texting me because he thought I was out with another guy. But when I convinced him I was with you, he started apologizing like crazy, telling me how much he loves me and how he’ll do anything to get me back. He just wants to come by here for a while tonight and talk. What can be the harm in that?”

  “What’s the harm? Tammy, you know the warning signs. You’ve only been dating him a few weeks, and look how much control he has over you already. He criticizes you, monopolizes your time, tries to separate you from the people who love you. He’s demanding that you account to him for your whereabouts. Sugar, I am deeply concerned about your safety with this guy.”

  Tammy turned in her seat until she was facing Savannah. She reached over and took both of her hands in hers and gave them a companionable squeeze.

  “Savannah, I know you mean well. But you’re just going to have to trust me on this. I know Chad in a way you don’t. Behind closed doors he treats me very sweetly.”

  “And that’s how you deserve to be treated. All the time,” Savannah replied, while the sinking feeling washed over her that, no matter what she said, she wasn’t going to win this one.

  And even though she didn’t care whether or not she won the argument, she didn’t want her friend to lose … too badly … and too much.

  “I know what I’m doing, Savannah. I’m not going to let anybody take advantage of me.” She released Savannah’s hands and reached for her purse on the floorboard. “I have to go now. But thank you for your concern. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “You do that,” Savannah said as Tammy got out of the car. “You need me, you call. Any time. Day or night.”

  As Savannah watched her friend walk into her house and close the door, a feeling swept over her that she hadn’t experienced since she was a child.

  Years ago, while Savannah’s trucker father was on the road, her mother had brought a drunken boyfriend home from a local bar. The guy had gotten violent with her mom, and the ten-year-old Savannah had fought him, trying to defend her.

  She hadn’t saved her mother then. And she had a terrible sinking feeling that, once again, she wasn’t going to be able to save a woman she loved.

  “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you,” she whispered to Chad, wherever he was.

  But even as she muttered the words, she knew how empty the threat was.

  Savannah had been a cop, and cops knew better than anyone: If someone was determined to harm another, there wasn’t a damned thing you could do to stop it.

  She pulled out her cell phone and gave Dirk a call. “I’m back from La Rosita,” she told him. “Apparently, Tiago did have a fight with his brother, just like he said. Seems his sister-in-law made some disparaging remarks about Blanca, which led to the guys getting into it.”

  “Women.” He sniffed. “Always starting crap we guys have to finish.”

  “I choose to ignore that bit of sexist baloney and continue with my debriefing,” she said as she drove the Mustang halfway down the block and watched the front of Tammy’s house in her rearview mirror. “The bartender says he let Tiago sleep it off in the back of the bar. Claims he was there all night, although there’s no way to actually prove that, because Tiago was there alone.”

  “Could have run home, knocked off his old lady and her lover, then headed back to the bar to keep his alibi intact.”

  “May have, but I don’t think so. What are you up to?”

  “Dropped the shovel at the lab, the dope at the station … and I put out an APB on Waldo. I talked to the HPD, and if he drops by that bar on Sunset, they’ll nab him for me.”

  “Good.” She thought she saw a car slowing down in front of Tammy’s. She cautioned herself against the idea of driving backward and plowing her vehicle into it at full speed. One must be prudent about these things, she thought. Wait till he’s out of the car and then run him over. Less damage to the ’Stang’s fenders that way.

  “You sound preoccupied,” Dirk said. “Where are you? What are you doing?”

  “Watching the front of Tammy’s house. That dirt bag is supposed to show up any minute, and I might get a notion to clean his clock.”

  “Well, get an un-notion. I had to pay my car insurance this month, and I don’t have enough left in the bank to bail your cute butt out of jail.”

  She grinned in spite of herself. “And here I thought I was the only one noticing things like that. You think my butt is cute? Since when?”

  “Since I first laid eyes on it.”

  “You never told me that.”

  “There’s a lot of stuff I haven’t told you.”

  The deep, sexy tone of his voice went through her like a fine cognac, warming as it flowed from her head to her toes.

  “You’re just talking dirty to me to keep me from worrying about Tammy.”

  She heard him chuckle. “Is it working?”

  “No, but I surely appreciate the effort.”

  “You’re going to have to leave that girl to her own devices, Van. This is her situation to handle. Not yours.”

  “I know.” She sighed and looked at her watch. Five thirty-five. Was she really going to sit here and wait a half an hour, just to watch the creep get out of his car and walk into Tammy’s house?

  “You have to be sensible, babe,” Dirk was saying. “You’ve gotta let it go for now.”

  “I think I’ll pay Ada a visit,” Savannah replied. “Find out if anybody’s informed her of Vern’s passing. And if they have, see how she’s taking it. That’ll keep my mind occupied for a while.”

  “Let me know what you find out.”

  “Will do. Thanks for the advice. And the butt compliment.”

  “I’d follow you anywhere, sweet cheeks.”

  She blew him a raspberry. And hung up.

  Savannah had visited the high-rise apartment complex on the beach several times, but never socially. Other than Ryan and John, she had no connections to San Carmelita’s upper echelons. She was far more likely to be invited to a cops’ barbecue than a cocktail party on the eighth floor of this luxury building.

  But that was okay with her.

  She found all the stainless steel and smoked glass in the lobby a tad cold and off-putting. A bit like a contemporary art museum, she thought, only without the art.

  But she had to admit the views were amazing as she walked down the lushly carpeted hallway toward Ada Fischer’s apartment. From the window at the end she could see an ocean vista with the picturesque little town nestled in a gently curved beach.

  With the sun setting on the water, staining the sea a rich coral and amber, the palm trees silhouetted against the turquoise sky, it was a soul-inspiring sight.

  She wondered if the occupants here, seeing it every day, took such beauty for granted. She knew she never would.

  When she knocked on Ada’s door, there was no answer
for a long time … long enough for Savannah to think she might not be home. She knocked again, and then was getting ready to leave, when the door opened.

  Ada stood there in a negligee that was straight from vintage Hollywood, film noir. The fine satin wrap rippled from her shoulders to her toes in ivory elegance, the wide sash and low vee neckline accentuating her surgery-perfected figure.

  Savannah thought of her own Minnie Mouse pajamas at home and felt terribly insecure. Until Ada breathed on her and nearly knocked her unconscious with whiskey fumes mixed with something resembling pepperoni.

  There went the whole glamour image.

  “Good evening, Ada,” Savannah said.

  “I wasn’t expecting you. Why didn’t you call first? I don’t have time to talk to you.”

  “I’m sorry, but you should make time. It’s very important.”

  Ada cast one quick, telltale glance over her shoulder, and Savannah knew: Ada had company.

  And that made Savannah all the more determined to weasel her way inside.

  “Really, Ada, this can’t wait. It won’t take long.” Savannah all but pushed her way inside, much to Ada’s annoyance.

  “Are all you private investigators this rude?” she asked as Savannah stepped into her living room.

  “Only the good ones.” Savannah glanced around, noting the half-empty wineglass on the coffee table, where several candles flickered. The stereo was playing a pleasant version of the old jazz standard “Take Five” that she’d never heard before. “Nice music,” she said.

  Ada walked over to the stereo and clicked it off. “You said this wouldn’t take long …?”

  So, Ada wants it short and sweet. Okay, Savannah thought, thatcan be arranged. “Ada, when was the last time you saw Vern or heard from him?” Savannah asked.

  “Yesterday afternoon. Why?”

  “Did he come home last night?”

  “I don’t know. He doesn’t live with me. He’s got his own place over on the east end.”

  Hmm, Savannah thought. If Vern was a kept man, he wasn’t kept in very high fashion. The east end of town was definitely the wrong side of the tracks. Not that there were any actual tracks in San Carmelita, but the delineation was just as clear. Most folks didn’t venture into that area without a concealed weapon and a leash with a big pit bull on the end of it.

  “And the last time you saw him was yesterday afternoon?”

  “No, that’s the last time I talked to him. He called me to tell me he wasn’t feeling up to going out to dinner. Said he was going to order a pizza and stay in.”

  Savannah thought of all the decadent goodies, laid out on platters beside the spa. Pizza? More like a buffet at the Ritz.

  “Why are you here? Why are you asking me all this?”

  “Maybe you should sit down,” Savannah said.

  “I don’t want to sit down. I want you to leave so that I can relax and enjoy my evening.”

  Savannah looked into the woman’s cold eyes, her hard face, and decided she’d been nice long enough. “Ada, there was an incident last night at your Aunt Helene’s estate.”

  “What sort of incident?”

  “Vern was sitting in her spa. And it seems, somehow, an electrical surge passed through the water. And he received a fatal shock.”

  Ada just stood there, staring at her, hardly blinking. Other than the fact that she appeared to pale a bit beneath her tan, she had no reaction at all.

  “Your aunt’s bodyguards found them—Vern and his companion—and pulled them from the tub. They did everything they could to resuscitate them, but they were already gone. I’m really sorry.”

  Ada turned away from Savannah and walked over to the coffee table. She took a cigarette from a pack and lit it. Savannah could see her fingers trembling, but aside from that, she seemed cool and collected.

  “Do you have any idea who did it? Who electrocuted them? Or how they did it?”

  “No. We don’t. But we’re working on it.”

  Ada drew long and hard on her cigarette, then released the smoke through her nose. “That’s a shame,” she said with about as much distress as a woman who’s discovered that her two-week-old bouquet of long-stemmed roses is beginning to wilt.

  “He and I were pretty much over anyway,” she continued. “But still, it’s too bad.”

  “Can you think of any enemies he might have had,” Savannah asked. “People who would have wanted to do him harm?”

  Ada waved a hand, spreading a cloud of cigarette smoke. “Oh, please. Who didn’t want to do him harm? Vern was a jerk … didn’t have a moral bone in his body … or a spine either, for that matter. He had more enemies than he had pairs of Italian shoes.”

  Savannah couldn’t help asking, “So, why were you with him? Why keep him around?”

  Ada shrugged, and just for a moment, Savannah saw a glint that might have been the beginnings of a tear in her right eye. “Vern had a way about him,” she said. “He could make you feel like you were nineteen again, and at the beginning of love … not at the end.”

  She reached for the glass of wine on the coffee table and downed the last half in one draught. “You wouldn’t think a girl could buy a feeling like that … but you can. Believe me. The going rate is a Rolex and a Ferrari.”

  Savannah got into her car and sat there, looking up at the high-rise complex, counting the floors, figuring out which one was Ada’s. She didn’t really think she’d be so fortunate as to see Ada walk out on the balcony, arm-in-arm with her other squeeze—whoever was sharing the candlelight and alcohol with her.

  Savannah’s sixth sense had told her there was someone in the bedroom, bathroom, or maybe the broom closet, while she’d been talking to Ada. And Savannah couldn’t help but wonder why Ada had felt the need to hide another lover. She didn’t appear to be shy about having the world know about her affairs. Why get secretive all of a sudden?

  But although Savannah was curious and tempted to just wait in front of the building to see if anyone she might recognize came sauntering out, she was exhausted and in need of some companionship herself.

  She didn’t need a man to make her feel nineteen years old, or surrounded by the sweet springtime of love, or to make her forget those crow’s-feet that had appeared out of the blue last week.

  But she could use a friend.

  She punched in some numbers on her phone.

  Dirk’s deep voice answered with a, “Hey, good-lookin’. What’s up?”

  “I’m pooped. Completely done for,” she said. “Or, as Granny says, ‘my hind end’s draggin’ my tracks out.’”

  “Same here. Staying up all night and working all day, it’ll do it to ya every time.”

  “Whatcha doing for dinner?” she asked.

  “Is that an invitation to your house for a Savannah blue plate special?”

  “No, it most certainly is not. The last thing in the world right now that I want to do is cook.”

  “So, meet me at my trailer, and I’ll order us a pizza with everything on it.”

  She knew she was tired, because she very nearly burst into tears at the simple offer. “Oh, thank you, sugar,” she said.

  “You don’t have to sound so grateful. It’s just pizza.”

  “That’s what you think,” she said, after she hung up. “The pizza’s the least of what I want. With the way this day’s gone, what I really need is a friend’s shirt to snivel all over.”

  Chapter 18

  On the way from Ada’s apartment building to Dirk’s trailer park in the outer foothills of town, Savannah couldn’t resist making just one quick drive by Tammy’s house. And once she had, she wished she hadn’t.

  The sweet little house with its blooming flowers and perfectly manicured yard and bright pink Volkswagen Beetle in the driveway looked so very Tammy. The big red SUV with the flames painted down the side … not so very Tammy-ish.

  Savannah hated the SUV on sight, reminding herself of how many serial killers had been pulled over during routine traffi
c stops, only to have dead bodies discovered in the backs of their vehicles.

  She knew how ridiculous it was to despise an inanimate object, like an automobile, because of a strong distaste for its owner.

  Nearly as ridiculous as thinking someone was a serial killer just because he drove an SUV.

  “Duh, Savannah,” she told herself. “Get a grip. You’re losing it here.”