“Seriously?” she asked, sure she had heard wrong.
“Yeah,” he replied, moderately grumpy. “Most of the time I make more money than you. I don’t mind pickin’ it up this go around.”
She thought her heart would burst with tenderness. He really could be a sweetie when he wanted to be.
“You don’t have to,” she said. “Ethan gave me a big retainer. But I appreciate the thought. A lot. Thank you.”
“Sheez. Dodged that bullet,” she heard him whisper.
“Yeah. You get credit for offering, but don’t have to actually shell out any real cash.”
“I know! Best of both worlds.”
They rode on in silence awhile, leaving the picturesque residential area where they lived, passing the hospital and the junior college area.
“How hard was it to enroll him in school?” Dirk asked. “Did they give you a hard time about it?”
“Yes. They did. I had them call CPS, and by the time the gal there was done with them, they seemed pleased to have him.”
“Was he okay when you left him? Was he happy to be there?”
“He’s a kid whose mother’s been letting him play hooky and hang out on the beaches for most of the school term. What do you think?”
“Did he say he misses the ol’ gal?”
“No. He didn’t mention her one single time.”
“Good.”
“I take it as a positive sign. Beats him crying his eyes out over her. Is she asking about him?”
“Not that I heard.”
“Good.”
Savannah turned off Sunset Avenue and headed toward the less touristy, more industrial part of town. There were hardly any palm trees in that area and no ocean views to speak of. Instead of quaint Spanish-style architecture, the buildings were enormous square boxes made of cement and steel with flat roofs, few windows, and loading docks.
Savannah hated that area. She considered it soulless. But mostly she resented the fact that countless acres of orange and lemon groves had been destroyed in order to build these monstrosities.
Not once since the orchards had been ravaged had she driven into this area and not recalled the dismembered trees bulldozed into giant piles and burning, the black smoke staining the turquoise sky.
“You know how much I hate coming down here,” she said, beginning her well-worn complaint.
The one Dirk had heard far too many times.
“Yes, I know. I know,” he said. “You’re still pissy about them cutting down the trees.”
“Not pissy. You are minimizing my feelings there, boy. I’m bereaved. Bereft and bereaved.”
“And bemoaning the fact ad nauseam,” he mumbled, turning away to look out his window.
“What?”
“Sorry to hear that you’re in pain, darlin’. Again.” He sighed. “Next time, I’ll drive, and you can wear a blindfold. Then you won’t have to belabor the point that you’re beset with bereavement.”
She turned and shot him a withering look. “Keep that up and you might be smacked upside the head.”
He grinned at her and winked. Obviously terrified by the threat. “What’re we gonna have for dinner tonight?”
“Whatever the kid wants, I reckon,” she said.
“How come he gets to choose?”
“’Cause you’ll eat anything.”
“True.”
* * *
When Savannah pulled the Mustang into the morgue’s parking lot, she steeled herself for the ordeal ahead.
It wasn’t the prospect of seeing a dead body. She had certainly seen more than her share of those. So many, in fact, that if she didn’t know them personally, it didn’t bother her that much anymore.
Except for the smell.
That she couldn’t handle. No amount of pungent mentholated ointment spread generously inside a surgical mask could cover the stench of decomposition. It was an odor that went through the nostrils, straight to the stomach, and caused many people who smelled it to need to purge. Instantly.
Savannah was sure that the sink near Dr. Liu’s autopsy table had been used for that purpose more often than for washing hands and disinfecting instruments.
It was the main reason that, fascinated as Savannah was by the miraculous design of the human body and as intrigued as she might be by the amount of forensic evidence it might provide during an autopsy, she wouldn’t have done Dr. Liu’s job for a million dollars.
Per autopsy.
Even worse, there was the gruesome task of dealing with Officer Kenny Bates, who manned the front desk.
Since she had Dirk with her, she doubted that Kenny would turn the full force of his “charm” in her direction. Not long ago, Dirk had assured Kenny that, if he didn’t leave Savannah alone and refrain from making lewd suggestions in her company, Dirk would rearrange his digestive system so thoroughly that he would have to sit on his plate to eat his lunch.
Considering that Dirk was a head taller, ten years younger, leaner and far meaner than Bates, good old Kenny had taken the threat to heart and behaved himself thereafter. As long as Dirk was present.
But as luck would have it, just as they were approaching the building together, Dirk received a call on his cell phone from the police chief.
“I wanna take this call first, before I go inside,” he told her. “Are you gonna wait for me?”
Savannah smirked and shifted the plastic container filled with macadamia chocolate chip cookies under her arm. “Naw. I think I’ll go ahead. I’ll get Dr. Jen softened up for you. One bite of my cookies and she’ll be putty in your hands.”
“Yeah, right. In your hands, maybe. But mine? Never. Watch out for Bates.”
“He’d better watch out for me.”
She left Dirk to deal with the chief, glad that was no longer part of her job description, and walked through the front door of the county morgue.
As expected, Officer Kenneth Bates was wasting the taxpayers’ money, making himself utterly useless at the front desk, watching some sort of television program on his computer screen while shoveling an enormous ice-cream sundae into his face.
His was a face that had been acquainted with far too much ice cream in its day, not to mention pizza, chips, dips, and doughnuts. Since he was not in the habit of changing and laundering his uniforms regularly, anyone with even minor detecting skills or a morbid curiosity could determine what he had eaten in the past week, simply by looking at his shirt front.
That, along with his askew, threadbare toupee, rendered Officer Bates totally resistible to most human beings. Especially females with a modicum of discernment and taste.
The bright smile that crossed his face the instant he saw her walk through the door might have been heartwarming, had it not been for the chocolate sauce running down his chin.
The thought of being held in such high esteem by one of her fellow humans might have proven at least a bit flattering in most circumstances. Over the years, Savannah had enjoyed more than her share of male attention. Although the fashion industry might have considered her to be overweight, men seemed to be attracted to, even fascinated by, her generously proportioned curves.
Then there was Kenny.
Kenny wasn’t just attracted or fascinated by her.
Kenny was head over heels in lust with her. Deeply, hopelessly obsessed.
Even with a husband the size of Dirk threatening him, and in spite of the fact that Savannah had once beaten him soundly with his own rolled-up porn magazine, Kenny’s ardor had not cooled one bit.
He wanted her, and he wasn’t going to stop until he got her—or died in the process.
Savannah was hoping for the latter, as the former was unthinkable.
“Savannah!” He nearly dropped the tub of ice cream he was holding as he rushed to the reception counter. “I haven’t seen you for so long!”
“Uh, yes,” she said, reaching for the clipboard with its sign-in sheet and pen. “My luck was bound to run out, sooner or later.”
“I was worried about you,” he said, moving quickly into her personal space by leaning much too far over the counter. “I asked everybody about you, if something bad had happened to you, like a car wreck or something.”
“Nothing quite as trauma-inducing as walking in here just now and laying eyes on you, Bates,” she said in a silky smooth, semi-sexy tone meant to confuse him.
Confusing Kenny Bates was so easy it was hardly even worth the effort. But then, a gal had to take her entertainment where she could find it.
“I told a bunch of people, if they saw you, to give you my love,” he said. “To tell you I was worried sick about you. Did they? Did anybody tell you I said that?”
“No. They didn’t mention it.” She picked up the pen, glanced at her watch, and jotted down her arrival time in the appropriate space. “They wouldn’t dare.”
He appeared puzzled, so she clarified. “A few years back, a patrolman told me that you’d asked after me. He made the mistake of repeating, in sordid, grotesque detail, what you said you’d like to do to me on a date.”
“Oh yeah?” Ken brightened considerably. “What’d you tell him?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothin’ at all?”
He looked so disappointed. It was all she could do not to guffaw.
Donning her most solemn “Would-I-lie-to-you?” face, she told him, “Let’s just say that by the time I finished with your little messenger, he was blind, deaf, lame, and unrecognizable to his loved ones.”
“Oh. I guess that’s not good.”
“I reckon not. People talk, Bates. That sort of thing happens. . . word gets around. That might be why no one’s willing to play Cupid for you anymore.”
She glanced down at the sign-in sheet, paused to contemplate the possibilities, then scribbled the signature, “Et Durt AnDi.”
For a moment, she thought she was finished with Kenny Bates. But no, Ken’s deviant desires knew no bounds. He never seemed to know when he was ahead.
“That stuff the patrolman told you I wanted to do to you,” he said, a hopeful gleam in his eye. “Didn’t any of it sound fun? Like maybe you lickin’ peanut butter offa my—Ow-w!”
She had shoved the clipboard at him just hard enough to knock the tub of half-melted hot fudge sundae all over the front of his already filthy uniform.
“You did that on purpose!” he shouted, looking down at the ruination of his snack, which was running down his legs into an unappetizing puddle on the floor.
Behind her, Savannah heard the front door open and close. She assumed and hoped that Dirk had entered just in time to witness the calamity.
He had.
“Nope,” her husband assured her tormentor. “She didn’t do it on purpose. If she had, your teeth would be down there on the floor next to the maraschino cherry.”
Dirk walked up to Savannah, slipped his arm through hers, and gave her an admiring look. “Anything else you’d like me to do to him?” he asked her. “Just say the word.”
Savannah thought it over, then shrugged and said, “No. I think I got it covered. But I appreciate the thought. You’ve always been my favorite backup.”
They left Kenny Bates, standing in the melting mess of his destroyed dessert, bemoaning his loss . . . bereaved and bereft.
Chapter 10
Savannah and Dirk opened one of the two swinging doors at the end of the hall a crack and peeked inside the autopsy suite. As expected, they saw Dr. Liu exactly where they thought she would be, standing over the stainless-steel table that bore the remains of a star of the Golden Age of Hollywood.
But Lucinda Faraday didn’t look like a glamorous star.
She barely even looked human.
It always hurt Savannah’s heart to see someone’s body on an autopsy table. It certainly wasn’t the way anyone would want to be seen on their final day on earth, robbed of their dignity, their identity, their clothing, unique grooming and jewelry—all that had defined them in life.
But at least Dr. Liu had the sensitivity and decency to keep the private areas of her “patients” covered whenever possible. As a result, Lucinda Faraday had a snowy white cloth draped across her, concealing her body from neck to knees.
Savannah knew that, by now, Dr. Liu would have completed her examination. Therefore, the cloth also hid the large Y-shaped incision that had been made from shoulder to shoulder, and all the way down the chest and abdomen.
Normally, a person as old as Ms. Faraday, or anyone who had been sick and died from natural causes, would not have received a complete autopsy. But seemingly healthy people who might have left the world at the hands of another, or their own, were required to be examined as thoroughly as modern science allowed.
If there was a story of murder to be told, the Great State of California wanted to know every detail of their passing.
Morbid though the autopsy process might appear, Savannah had seen profound truths brought to light from one simple fact, uncovered during such an examination.
Savannah believed that most victims, if they had been alive and able to speak on their own behalf, would want the details of their murder known and their killer brought to account.
Even precious things like dignity and privacy seemed insignificant when compared to the need for justice.
“Let me go in first,” Savannah whispered to Dirk, as they stood by the doors. “I’ll butter her up for you with the cookies.”
“Of course,” Dirk grumbled. “How would I do my job without my wife and her famous cookies?”
Savannah elbowed him in the ribs and grinned. “Not nearly as well. That’s how. You can repay me later.”
“Repay you? I thought you were on Ethan Malloy’s payroll now. You’re not helping me. You’re working for a client. I don’t owe you squat.”
“Hm. That’s a shame.” She gave him a naughty grin. “The payment I had in mind involved whipped cream.”
He perked up considerably. “On apple pie?”
“Nope. On something you like even more than apple pie.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. You missed out, big boy.”
The grin he gave her suggested that he was less than bitterly disappointed. He knew her too well. Well enough to know that Hard to Get wasn’t a game that she played with skill. Unfortunately, she was as fond of whipped cream as he was.
Looking through the crack between the doors, Savannah could see that the medical examiner was removing her gloves and the protective clothing she wore while performing the more gruesome duties that her job required.
The exotic beauty looked more like a model than a coroner. Tall and thin with a lovely face and figure, Dr. Liu didn’t bother to hide her attractiveness. No, she celebrated it, wearing short skirts and stilettos that showed off her legs to perfection. Her long, glossy black hair was tied in a ponytail, out of her way, with a colorful silk scarf.
Savannah had seen how men, even her own man, watched Dr. Liu move across a room. While Dirk wasn’t ill-mannered enough to ogle females in public, Savannah couldn’t blame him for looking when it came to Dr. Liu. Even other women stared at Dr. Liu.
Like that moment, as they both watched her peel off her lab coat, revealing a cold shoulder blouse and snug, short pencil skirt.
Next, she pulled the scarf from her hair, letting it flow over her shoulders. Savannah heard Dirk catch his breath when she turned away from them and bent over to remove the paper protectors that covered her high-high heels.
“Okay, enough of this,” Savannah whispered to Dirk. “Wish me luck,” she added, pushing the door open.
“You don’t need luck. You got cookies,” he replied.
“True.”
When Savannah walked inside, Dr. Liu turned, saw her, and smiled warmly. “Good morning, girlfriend. Nice to see you. Especially since you come bearing gifts,” she added when she saw the container.
“We figured it might be about time for your midmorning break. Thought you might need an infusion of chocolate to keep you bright ey
ed and bushy tailed.”
The doctor’s eyes sparkled for half a second at the mention of chocolate, then she scowled. “We?”
Savannah nodded, and Dirk stepped inside the suite.
“I couldn’t let her come see my favorite M.E. without me tagging along,” he said in his worst, least convincing kiss-up voice that Savannah never heard him use.
Or at least, not since the last time he had visited the cantankerous doctor whose findings were almost always critical to his cases.
Dirk had no problem dismissing most people who irritated him with a curt zinger. Unfortunately for him, Dr. Jennifer Liu seemed impervious to his zings, considering him little more than a nuisance to be dealt with as quickly and infrequently as possible.
Worse still, she didn’t mind if he knew it.
As the doctor tossed her used, bloody gloves into a biohazard waste receptacle with a bit more vigor than the task required, she said, “No, of course you’d come along. Getting a bit of one-on-one time with a good friend and not having to share my cookies with a brazen glutton, that was clearly too much for me to hope for. Huh, Coulter?”
Dirk sighed and shook his head. “Sometimes I think you don’t like me, Dr. Jen, and I just don’t understand it. I’m always nice to you, but every time we meet up, you go outta your way to hurt my feelings.” Savannah watched as Dirk painted a “deeply wounded” expression across his face. Of course, she knew it was fake. She had actually seen Dirk hurt a few times, but he was a tough guy, and it took a lot more than a sarcastic M.E. to get beneath his thick hide.
Unfortunately, Dr. Liu knew that, too.
“You most certainly are not always nice to me, Detective,” she snapped back. “You pretend to be pleasant when you’re trying to get something out of me. When you want me to put your examinations in front of other cases, when you want me to rush lab results, when you want me to tell you, ‘Who done it?’ in thirty seconds when I arrive at a scene.”
“Yeah, well, that’d be nice once in a while,” he said, dropping the Nice Guy facade. “But I ain’t gonna hold my breath till it happens.”
And the Killer Is . . . Page 9
