"I'll do my best, sweetums. Let's go inside. It's time to face the music."

Chapter 6.

Savannah and Dirk got out of his car and walked, hand in hand, up the sidewalk to the house. As Savannah was unlocking the front door, she could hear Marietta's voice inside, high and shrill, rattling on about some topic that Savannah knew had to be positively enthralling. Probably something about the new brand of hair spray she'd discovered on sale or maybe the edible, tiger-striped undies at the naughty-girlie shop she'd located somewhere on the bad side of town. If Granny wasn't around, she'd probably be jabbering about how she was going to use the hair spray to get the biggest hair possible, and how she would wear the new panties to a rendezvous with some guy she'd met yesterday during an Internet chat. Her most recent soul mate, no doubt.

Marietta was a woman with her priorities in order.

"They call this Pa.s.sion Aplenty," they heard her say as Savannah swung the door open and they stepped inside. "It's the latest color. I'm going to paint my toenails, too, and wear my open-toed platforms when I meet him tonight. What do you think?"

Savannah walked into the living room to see her sweet, long-suffering a.s.sistant, Tammy, huddled in the corner desk as Marietta leaned over her, shoving a bottle of nail polish under her nose.

"Uh, what do I think?" Tammy replied in her most transparently "patient" voice. "I think if you like that color, you should absolutely wear it. Individual expression is important."

"Yeah, I know what that means. Means you don't like it." Marietta walked away, her nose slightly elevated and obviously out of joint.

"But that isn't important," Tammy replied. "What matters is if you-"

"Don't go smoochin' my rear end after insultin' me like that." Marietta plopped her ample backside onto the sofa and threw one leg up onto the back of it, showing an indecent amount of thighs, crotch, and zebra-printed panties.

Savannah glanced at Dirk and saw him quickly avert his eyes.

He did a lot of averting in Marietta's presence.

When Marietta caught sight of them standing in the foyer, she reached up and patted her enormous bouffant updo, "just so," and donned a sappy, s.e.xy grin, which Savannah noticed she only wore in the presence of men she considered attractive. Savannah also noticed that in spite of her hair adjusting, she didn't bother to lower her leg or rearrange her skirt in a more modest position.

In fact, she wriggled around and settled into a pose that showed even more of her nether regions.

"Oh, look what the cat dragged in," Marietta drawled in a Southern accent that made Savannah sound plumb Yankee-fied. "Our honeymooners are back already. I predicted this marriage would have the life span of a gnat, but I thought you'd at least keep him happy a day or two, big sis."

Savannah gave her a dirty look and grabbed Dirk's hand. She led him past the sofa, and its sprawling, simpering occupant, toward Tammy's desk in the corner.

"Why don't you hightail it to the kitchen, Mari?" she suggested as they pa.s.sed. "See if you can find some lemons to suck on."

Tammy jumped up out of her chair and rushed to them. She grabbed Savannah in an almost desperate hug.

"What's the matter?" Tammy asked, searching Savannah's face, then Dirk's. "Something's got to be wrong or you two wouldn't-"

"Don't worry, kiddo," Dirk said. "We're all right. We just had to come back to"-he glanced over at Marietta-"to get some stuff and to talk to you about . . . some stuff."

Tammy stood there for an awkward moment, looking at them, then Marietta. Finally she nodded. "Oh. Right. Some stuff. Got it. I think."

"Hey, Dirk," Marietta said, fingering the lacy trim along the neckline of her extremely low-cut tee-shirt. "That leopard-print negligee I bought Savannah-did she wear it for you yet?"

Savannah bristled. "Watch yourself, Marietta Reid. I'm fixin' to jar your preserves over there."

Marietta didn't look particularly terrified. She waggled one eyebrow. "But I reckon she wouldn't do that nightgown justice." Then, in a voice that reminded Savannah of a Dial-To-Talk-Dirty phone actress, Marietta added, "Now if I'd been wearin' that nightie, what with the build on me, you'd have stood up and took notice, big-time. Least ways, parts of you would've!"

Slowly, with the blankest of expressions on her face, Savannah left Dirk and Tammy and walked over to her comfy chair. She picked up Diamante, who was lying there, stretched across a throw pillow.

"Excuse me, Di," she said softly as she placed the kitty on the floor and gave her two soft strokes on her glossy black fur. "Mommy's gotta borrow your pillow for a minute."

Savannah picked up the pillow and walked over to Marietta. She stood over her for a moment, staring down at her.

Marietta's smirk started to subside. "What?" she said. "You're not miffed about something I said, are ya? I was just makin' conversation."

"And I . . . ," Savannah said calmly, ". . . am just gonna do something I've been aching to do for most of the years I've known you."

Suddenly Savannah's entire demeanor changed. In an instant, she tore into her sister, beating her with the pillow-first on the head, then systematically up and down her body, with all the fury and violence of a demon-possessed serial killer. Had her weapon of choice been anything other than a throw pillow, the attack would have, undoubtedly, been fatal.

"Ow! Now, Savannah, that hurts! Ouch! Stop it! Sa-van-nah! You're messin' up my hair and . . . Owww!Now, girl, that hurts! You better . . . oh!"

Tammy gasped and clapped both of her hands over her mouth, staring bug-eyed at the brutality occurring only a few feet from her.

Dirk whispered, "Holy s.h.i.t"; then he grinned.

As she pounded away with all her might, Savannah was lost in the fog of battle. But in her peripheral vision, she registered a familiar figure walking down the stairs, crossing the foyer, and casually strolling into the living room.

It was her blessed grandmother-Granny Reid-in the flesh.

For a second, Savannah froze in midswing.

Marietta saw Granny and shouted, "Gran! Savannah's whoopin' me somethin' fierce! Make 'er stop!"

Barely glancing their way, Granny glided through the living room in her brightly colored caftan and purple-and-redsequined house slippers.

"If Savannah's thumpin' on you, Marietta," she said in her soft, calm voice, "then you had it comin'. Take it like a big girl and turn from the error of your ways."

"Error of my ways?" Marietta whimpered, her arms up to protect her badly damaged bouffant. "Why do you always figure it's my ways and not Savannah's?"

"Let's just say I know the both of you," Gran replied as she left the living room and entered the kitchen. "If your sister's finally resorted to cleanin' your clock, I reckon you ain't gettin' nary a lick amiss."

Tammy leaned over and whispered to Dirk, "What does that mean?"

"Don't know," he replied. "I can translate most of Savannah's Southernisms, but Granny's . . ."

Savannah was still standing there, holding the upraised pillow over Marietta's head.

Marietta looked up at her sister and the pillow. She put on her most patient, yet condescending, look. "Now, Savannah," she said, "if you've had quite enough of this childish behavior, I would like to-"

Wham! Another blow, and then another, and another.

But Savannah had lost some of her steam.

Finally she stopped, walked back to her comfy chair, and laid the pillow back on the seat cushion. Then she reached down and picked up Diamante, who was still right where she'd left her.

"There you go, sweet pea," she said as she gently, lovingly laid the cat on the pillow. "You go back to sleep now. Mommy done knocked the stuffin' outta Aunt 'Jezebel' Marietta, and she won't be bothering Mommy or Uncle Dirk any more."

Meanwhile, Aunt "Jezebel" Marietta was hauling herself off the sofa with great difficulty, while trying to straighten her now-sadly-askew hairdo.

"I have never," she was muttering to herself, "in all my born days, been subjected to such a display of adolescent-"

Marietta stomped across the room, wobbling slightly on her five-inch, chrome-and-acrylic platform stilettos.

As Savannah watched her, she thought that any woman wearing shoes like that should be flat on her back, not walking . . . and certainly not stomping. But she decided not to mention it.

It wasn't good battle strategy to start World War IV with a tired arm.

Marietta paused at the foot of the staircase to deliver one more verbal volley before retreating. "You know, Miss Grouchy Pants, I didn't traipse all the way from Georgia to California to attend your nuptials, only to have the tar beat outta me. You are the worst bride I have ever had the misfortune of-"

She ducked as a book sailed past her head, nearly taking off her right ear.

As Savannah watched Marietta scurry on up the stairs, she murmured, "Well, won't you just look at that. Given enough motivation, she can make pretty good time on those hooker heels."

She turned back to Tammy and Dirk, who were smiling like a couple of yahoos with a twelve-pack of beer watching a wrestling match on TV.

"Way to go, Savannah," Tammy whispered. "I've been wanting to do that for a week."

"Yeah, baby," Dirk added. "I think that's the first time I ever had a woman fight another one over me. It was kinda awesome."

"Come along, you two," Savannah said. "Let's raid the refrigerator and see if we can find us something with a lot of empty calories in it. We've got a new case to investigate, and after all that exertion, I need myself an energy boost!"

Instead of sitting in her usual, favorite chair, with its rose-printed chintz and none-the-worse-for-wear pillow, Savannah plopped herself in the middle of the sofa to eat her pecan pie and ice cream. It wasn't a conscious decision. More of an instinctive one. It wasn't until she was settled and halfway through her pie that she realized what she had done and wondered about it.

For many years, Savannah had sat in her chair, and Dirk had sprawled across the sofa. They had talked, laughed, and cursed whatever people or circ.u.mstances might be annoying them at the time. They had watched television, petted cats, and munched a wide variety of edibles. When they were extremely tired, they had sat there doing absolutely nothing . . . together. She on her chair, and Dirk on the sofa.

But tonight, when they, Tammy, and Granny had returned from the kitchen to the living room and chosen their spots, Dirk had situated himself in his usual place on the end of the sofa. And Savannah had parked her backside in the middle next to him.

Granny was in Savannah's comfy chair, concentrating on her pecan pie.

As usual, Tammy was sitting yoga-style on the floor, sipping mineral water with frozen grapes and strawberries floating in it.

Briefly Savannah wondered if she would do this, year after year. Had marriage changed her life so much that she would forever give up her favorite chair? How much else would she find herself surrendering, before all was said and done?

She suspected it was just a temporary state of affairs, born of newlywed ardor. She knew herself and Dirk pretty well. They were creatures of habit and comfort. Eventually they'd probably revert to their old routines.

But for tonight, she enjoyed having her shoulder and arm against his. The warm, solid feel of him. The pleasant emotion that it imparted-a sense of being loved, protected, and looked after by someone who truly cherished her.

Best of all, she no longer felt so alone in the big, wide world.

On the other side of her sat her six-foot-three skinny brother, with his carrottop hair and a thin mustache and tiny goatee to match. He had been out running errands for Granny and had arrived after the pie had been distributed. But since he was her favorite brother-her favorite male on the planet, next to Dirk- Savannah had made it up to him by constructing a formidable banana split.

All that remained in his dish was half of a split banana. None of the Reids were bashful when it came to cleaning their plates.

"That's some story you just told us," Granny said as she set her empty plate on the table beside the chair. "Why do you reckon that woman chief of police acted the way she did?"

"And her not thoroughly questioning you," Tammy added. "Even I know that isn't proper procedure, and I'm not a member of law enforcement."

Waycross nodded in agreement. "Then telling the news folks and everybody listenin' to the television set that lady up and drowned herself in some sorta riptide. What's all that hooey about?"

Dirk sc.r.a.ped the last bit of ice cream off his plate with his finger and held it out to Cleopatra, who was sauntering by the sofa. She gratefully licked it off, then climbed into his lap. "Well," he said, "the least incriminating reason I can think of is that she's trying to protect the island from any bad press. It's the beginning of the summer tourist season there. They depend on every cent they can get from the knuckleheads on the mainland who come over there to play and honeymoon, and stuff like that."

Savannah looked up from her pie. "You mean, knuckleheads like us?"

He nodded solemnly. "Exactly. Her lyin' her face off like that might be nothing more than them not wanting people to know they got themselves a killer there among 'em."

"It's a little bitty island," Gran supplied. "Knowing that you might be rubbin' elbows with a killer, that don't contribute to a carefree, fun-lovin' sorta vacation mood. If it was me, instead of goin' there, I'd just go to Disneyland."

Savannah laughed. "Granny, you always want to go to Disneyland."

"I got me a thing for the Mouse. It's a powerful thing, I'll admit. But my point is, there's a lot of nice things to do here in Southern California for fun besides go to an island where a killer with a gun's done run amuck. That had to occur to that police chief lady."

"Granny's right." Tammy nodded. "There's a lot of compet.i.tion for the tourist dollar. Especially in this less-than-robust economy."

Savannah gave Waycross a sideways glance and saw that he was watching Tammy, rapt adoration shining on his handsome, freckled, young face. He seemed captivated by her every word, every gesture.

Why shouldn't he be? Savannah thought. Tammy was simply the sweetest, smartest, most beautiful woman Savannah had ever known. How could a single young guy like Waycross not notice?

Tammy set her gla.s.s of water on the coffee table and stretched her long, tanned legs out in front of her. Running several miles a day-not to mention regular workouts at the local gym and daily tai chi exercises for as long as Savannah had known her-had left her in perfect physical condition. Tammy's glossy golden hair fell like a shimmering curtain around her shoulders and nearly to her waist. When she walked down a street, men, and even some women, turned to stare at her.

But one of the loveliest things about Tammy was that she didn't know how beautiful she was. To her, life was good; most people were good. She took her own radiant sunlight with her, wherever she went.

Savannah wasn't at all surprised that Waycross was head over heels in love.

Savannah wondered if Tammy knew. Once in a while, she caught Tammy sneaking a look in his direction. If he intercepted it, she would duck her head and glance away, her cheeks pinking a bit.

Yes, Savannah could see that the simple infatuation they had was growing into something more. And she couldn't be happier about it.

Even before Savannah and Dirk's wedding, Tammy had expressed an interest in Waycross, and vice versa. Savannah had hoped that spark would grow into a flame, a fire that would warm them both. Of the people she loved most, she counted them to be the best. They were a rare breed: kind, loving folk with pure hearts. They deserved to find love.

But at the moment, she had less pleasant topics to think about. Far less.

"Chief La Cross might have a darker motive, it's true," she said, pulling her attention back to the business at hand. "She put herself way out there on a limb today by giving that false statement. Once the coroner's office releases their report, she's gonna have enough egg on her face to make a Denver omelet."

"That's true," Dirk said. "Then everybody's gonna wonder why she lied and what she had to hide."

"And," Savannah added, "she doesn't seem to me like a woman who's stupid and didn't figure that out. I don't like her or trust her one bit, but she strikes me as being hard as nails, and twice as sharp."

Granny stood and picked up her plate and the other empty ones on the coffee table. "Then you better mind what she says. Somebody like that threatens you-especially somebody with a badge to back it up-you'd better watch yourself. She comes after you there on that little island, who are you gonna call? The law? She's it."

"That's true." Waycross jumped up and took the dishes from his grandmother. "We know all about that sorta thing in our neck o' the woods. We've got us a lot of little communities where there's only a cop or two per town enforcing the law. If they're crooked, the folks living in their jurisdictions have got themselves a serious problem."

"I ain't afraid of her," Dirk said, lifting his chin a notch. "She doesn't know who she's messing with, she takes me on."