Killer gourmet, p.21
Killer Gourmet, page 21
“Maybe not. But it’s a good way to shake up a suspect, so’s you can find out what they’re made of.”
“And what do you figure she’s made of?”
“Let’s just say, if I had pissed her off and then wound up hanging out with her in a dark alley, I wouldn’t turn my back to her.”
“Amen.”
“But then, I’d say the same about you.”
“Why, thank you, darlin’.” She reached down and took his hand. “You silken-tongued, sweet-talkin’ laddie.”
Savannah’s and Dirk’s mood was considerably less cordial when she dropped him off, fifteen minutes later, at the police station house.
In fact, the atmosphere between them was more than a bit chilly. It was plumb Nordic.
As he started to climb out of the Mustang, he turned back to her, and with an angry, guarded look on his face he said, “I can’t believe this, Van. Not only are you not going to let me go with you, but you won’t even tell me where you’re headed?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, fighting the urge to either yell at him or burst into tears and hug him. She wanted badly to do both. “It’s no big deal. I just—”
“The hell it’s not. It’s gotta be a big deal or you wouldn’t keep it from me. Since when do you and me have secrets?”
She reached over, grabbed his hand, and squeezed it. He didn’t squeeze back.
“Sweetie, please. This is something I need to do on my own. And I need you to understand. Okay?”
“No. It’s not okay. How am I supposed to understand something when I don’t even know what it is? Maybe you should just trust me, give me a chance to understand.”
She glanced at her watch. “Dirk, I need to get going. Get them to loan you a radio car to take over to Yale’s office. See what you can wring out of him. I’ll touch base with you later.”
“When?”
“Later.” She gulped. “I love you, darlin’. You know that, right?”
His eyes searched hers, and she could see his anger turning to sadness.
The lump in her throat tightened. She felt like she was swallowing a chunk of rough cement.
She could handle his anger any day, but the thought that she was causing him pain was almost more than she could stand.
She began to question her decision to do this alone. But another glance at her watch told her that this wasn’t the time to change plans. As Granny Reid often said, “Don’t go changin’ horses midstream.”
Once again, she squeezed his hand.
This time, he raised hers to his lips and pressed a kiss into her palm. “I love you, too, Van. Be safe, sweetheart.”
“I will.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He got out of the car, closed the door, and walked up to the station house entrance.
Savannah pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.
In her rearview mirror she could see him, still standing there beside the door, watching her . . . until she turned the corner three blocks away.
Several years ago, when Savannah had first met Dr. Anna Dalano, she had thought it unusual for a physician to have five piercings on each ear.
Oh, Dr. Anna’s choice and earrings were tasteful enough—diamond studs, descending in size from the earlobe upward. But it was still a bit unorthodox. As was her inch-long, spiked blond hair with its blue tips.
So was calling your family physician “Dr. Anna.”
But on a day like today, when Savannah was feeling as nervous as a cow with a buck-toothed calf, the informality was welcomed. She much preferred having Dr. Anna, with her ten earrings, sitting across from her wearing a pretty blue sweater set and a necklace with a skull and crossbones pendant, than the traditional, grim-faced fellow in a white smock.
“It’s been a while since we’ve seen you,” the doctor said, flashing her an open, friendly smile. She glanced down at Savannah’s chart, which was lying open on her desk. “I guess that means you’ve been feeling pretty good.”
“Yes, I have.” Savannah hesitated, then plunged ahead. “Until lately.”
“And what’s been going on lately?”
“I’ve been really tired and cranky all the time, wanting to kill Dirk.” The doctor smirked, so she added, “More than usual, that is.”
Dr. Anna picked up the pen and began to scribble notes on the chart. “Anything else?”
“I’ve had some headaches. I haven’t been sleeping well. And I’ve had these weak, shaky spells where I feel dizzy. Yesterday, it was bad enough that I fell down.”
Dr. Anna looked up from her writing and gave Savannah a quick once-over. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“Just my pride. I was at the beach. Dirk and about a million little kids were watching.”
“Any nausea?”
“A little bit. You know, from the dizziness.”
The doctor scribbled for, what seemed to Savannah, an eternity. Finally, she set her pen aside and gave Savannah a long, searching look that told Savannah nothing.
Like most physicians, Dr. Anna had a great poker face.
Finally, she cleared her throat and said. “Savannah . . . when was your last menses?”
Savannah sat in Dr. Dalano’s waiting room, pretending to read an article in Cosmo about the ten most romantic places to have sex in the great outdoors without getting arrested. But she had a feeling that it was that very activity that had led her to the doctor’s office.
How many times had Granny told her when she was a teenager, “It only takes once, Savannah girl. A few minutes—ten seconds, if the knucklehead’s particularly bad at it—and your life changes forever.”
It had only been once, about a month and a half ago, under the wisteria-draped arbor in her backyard when the light of the full moon and her husband’s irresistible charms had seduced her. Throwing caution to the wind—along with a pair of her sexiest lacy panties—she had taken a chance on Mother Nature.
Caught in the throes of passion, she had forgotten that Mother Nature simply adored babies.
I could be pregnant, she thought. Pregnant. A baby. Pregnant with a baby.
And how do we feel about that, Savannah? asked that quieter, far more calm and collected voice deep inside.
We? We? Who’s we? Are you going to carry this baby with me? Are you going to be there in the delivery room, panting and pushing? Are you going to help with the 3:00 a.m. nursing?
Quiet, sane Savannah didn’t answer.
Yeah, that’s what I thought. If I’m pregnant, it’s me. Just me.
Well, and Dirk.
Savannah smiled, remembering how Dirk had been with the kids on the beach—laughing, throwing the ball for them, picking them up and twirling them around. She pictured him petting and caring for Diamante and Cleo, whispering sweet nothings into their fuzzy little ears. Any guy who was that good with animals would make a great father.
Dirk, a dad. The very thought warmed her heart and allayed most of her fears. If those tests that she was waiting for came back positive, she would not be alone in this. Not at all.
Sometimes life gave you a nice surprise, a gift you weren’t expecting. And this just might be the biggest one she’d ever received.
While she and Dirk hadn’t been officially “trying,” she was sure he would welcome the news. In fact, as she imagined the joy they would have, telling each member of their family and friends, she could already see the delight on their beloved faces and—
“Savannah.”
Granny would beam and shout, “Praise the Lord!” Waycross and Tammy were bound to cry. Ryan and John would—
“Savannah. Would you come with me, please?”
It was the nurse, standing in the door, beckoning her back to the office area once again.
This was it! Now it would be official. Her world was about to change forever, and for the good.
She jumped to her feet, filled with so much pure happiness she thought she might just float away. She rushed to the door and hurried through it, more than eager and willing to face the most important role she had ever played.
“Menopause?”
The word hung in the air between Savannah and her doctor like a giant, black storm cloud blotting out the sun.
And her dreams of ever becoming a mother.
Dr. Anna gave her a sweet, sad smile. “I’m so sorry, Savannah,” she said. “Didn’t you consider that as a possibility when you missed your last cycle?”
“No. I’ve always had irregular periods. I finally just stopped trying to chart them, years ago. I didn’t even realize that I’d missed one until you asked me . . . I . . . oh, no, I didn’t consider . . . I didn’t . . .”
The tears she had been fighting for weeks started to flow hot and heavy as she covered her face with her hands and began to sob hysterically.
Dr. Anna got up from her chair, walked around the desk, and knelt beside Savannah’s chair.
“There, there,” she said, patting her patient on the back. “I’m sorry this took you unaware like this. I thought you suspected you were in peri-menopause. The headaches, irritability, insomnia, even the dizziness—those can all be symptoms of menopause.”
“But, but aren’t . . . aren’t they . . . hiccup . . . for pregnancy, too?”
“Yes, the symptoms of pregnancy and menopause are quite similar for some women.”
“Well, I guess I’ll, I’ll never”—she accepted the tissue the doctor offered her—“never know about the, the pregnancy pa-aa-art.”
Her sobs commenced all over again, even worse than before.
Dr. Anna put an arm around her shoulder and rocked her gently. “I’m really, really sorry, Savannah. I didn’t know becoming a mother meant so much to you.”
“Me either.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I didn’t know either.” She stopped and blew her nose, filling the tissue. The doctor quickly gave her another. “Not until I told you I’d missed a period and you said let’s do a test and I said okay and you said go wait in the waiting room.”
“I see.”
Dr. Anna rose from her knees and pulled an extra chair close to Savannah’s. She sat down and said, “Out there in my waiting room . . . that was the first time you’ve ever really thought about motherhood?”
“No, of course not. I used to think about it when I was taking care of my little brothers and sisters. I had eight, you know.”
“Yes, I recall you telling me that. And back then, when you fantasized about becoming a mom, what did you imagine?”
Savannah laughed, but the sound was bitter and ragged. “I thought: I’m sure as hell not going to have nine kids!”
Dr. Anna laughed with her. “I can understand that. But did you have your heart set on it?”
Savannah thought about it and couldn’t come up with a ready, definitive answer. “I guess. I mean, doesn’t everybody?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. I didn’t fantasize about motherhood. I dreamed of being a doctor. That was all.”
“You actually decided not to ever have children.”
“I most certainly did. Motherhood is wonderful. The most important job in the world. But I believe that every little baby who comes into the world deserves to be really, really wanted. So if a woman doesn’t truly want a child, I don’t think she should have one. Of course, that’s just my opinion.”
She took a clean tissue and dabbed at the tears on Savannah’s cheeks. “Did you really, really want to have children, Savannah?”
For a long time, Savannah sat there, searching her mind and her heart for the answer. The true answer. Not the one she felt she was expected to speak.
She stopped crying and folded her hands in her lap, regaining control of her emotions.
Finally, she said, “I’d never really thought much about it. I figured I’d get married someday and motherhood being the natural progression and all—”
“For most people.”
“Yes, for most people. And I suppose I figured children were out there in my future somewhere.” She took a deep breath. “But I don’t live in the future or the past all that much. My present is pretty darn full. It’s pretty much all I can handle from day to day.”
“That’s a good thing, Savannah. I think a lot of people would be happier if they lived in the present, too.”
“I never really decided,” she continued. “And I guess, if you postpone making a decision about something for long enough, sometimes the decision gets made for you.”
“And sometimes our hearts knows what’s best for us and ‘decide’ by ‘not deciding.’ ”
Savannah wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “And that’s okay?”
“I don’t know. Only you can say if that’s what happened.”
Again, the two women sat for several long moments in silence as Savannah processed all that had been shared between them.
Eventually, Savannah stood and tossed her used tissues into a nearby trash can. Then she smoothed her hair and her blouse and donned her best “tough gal” face.
“I don’t know yet,” she told Dr. Anna. “I feel a lot of things right now. When it all gets sorted out, I’m not sure what’s going to come out on top.”
The doctor stood, put her hands on Savannah’s shoulders, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You, my brave friend. You are always going to come out on top.”
Savannah laughed. A little. “How do you know?”
“I’m a doctor. We know everything.”
Chapter 19
When Savannah arrived home, it was to a house filled with guests, and she had to admit she was somewhat relieved.
All the way home from the doctor’s office, she had rehearsed at least a dozen versions of the same speech that, sooner or later, she was going to have to present to Dirk:
“Guess what, honey. That pretty young thing you married a few months ago.... Well, she’s turned into an old hag now and can’t have babies. Hope you weren’t counting on being a dad.”
That was about the best version she had come up with thus far. So she knew the speech still needed some work.
She truly regretted the fact that, before the marriage, she and Dirk had never had one single “baby” talk. It was a conversation that every couple needed to have before walking down the aisle. But perhaps it was even more important, since they were marrying in their forties—a bit late for starting a family.
Driving home, she had been hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, he would be on the same page as she. Only without the hysterical sobbing in the doctor’s office part.
When she pulled into her driveway and saw not only Dirk’s borrowed radio car, Tammy’s pink Volkswagen, and Waycross’s General Lee, but also Ryan and John’s Bentley, she had breathed a sigh of relief. Although it did trouble her to know that she was avoiding alone time with her own husband.
That had never happened before. But then it wasn’t every day that a woman was told she wouldn’t be having any babies. Ever. Or a man either, for that matter.
As bitter pills went, that was a pretty nasty one to have to swallow.
When she entered the house and walked into the living room, she saw Tammy and Waycross huddled together at the desk in the corner. They were staring at the computer screen as Tammy’s nimble fingers flew over the keyboard. She knew they were hard at work because they gave her only the briefest of nods before going back to whatever they were doing.
Ryan, John, and Granny were sitting on the sofa. On the coffee table before them was Savannah’s suspect poster board. The threesome was crouched over it, intently discussing every person named there.
She didn’t see Dirk, and that worried her. But she didn’t want go looking for him either. If she found him alone in another room, he would no doubt demand to know where she had been and what had happened. The last thing she wanted was to have that conversation when there was a house full of guests and no privacy.
Sitting down in her comfy chair, she scooped both of the cats onto her lap. As always, they were thrilled to see her, rubbing their faces against her cheek and the palm of her hand, demanding petting.
Considering the events of the past few hours, she found their unconditional love and affection all the more precious.
“Looks like y’all called yourselves a meeting of the Moonlight Magnolia Detective Agency,” she said. “Guess I didn’t get the memo.”
In unison they turned from what they were doing and looked at her, a bit sheepishly.
“We’re sorry, love,” John said. “But Ryan and I, we were so discouraged and downcast that we could barely stand ourselves.”
Ryan added, “So we decided to drop by here unannounced and inflict our disgruntled selves on you. Guess it’s your lucky day.”
“Not really,” Savannah muttered under her breath. Then she cleared her throat and said, “Why so glum? Is there any special reason you’re all down in the mouth? That’s out of character for you guys.”
That was when she noticed that their normally impeccable attire was actually quite grungy. John’s dove gray slacks were dirty on both knees, and Ryan’s white shirt had black smudges that looked like grease on the elbows and down the front. Their hair was a mess, and Ryan had a streak of oiliness on his right cheek that matched the mess on his shirt.
“You two look like you’ve been in a pig wrestlin’ contest and the pigs took the blue ribbon,” she told them.
“That’s about how I feel, too,” Ryan replied. “After hearing what Otis Emmett said about no one entering or exiting the restaurant’s rear door, we realized that the rod and the knife that Dr. Liu described still have to be somewhere in the kitchen area.”
“Or down the hallway that leads into the bathroom,” Granny added.
“Or in the bathroom itself,” Dirk said as he walked into the living room, juggling several coffee mugs in his hands.
Waycross jumped up from his seat at the desk and hurried over to help him. He took two mugs from Dirk, walked back to the desk, and offered Tammy one.
