Bitter Sweets

“talent,” Ryan continued to jot information on his pad. “You work on Mallock,” he told John, “and I’ll look into Colonel Neilson.” “The colonel?” Savannah asked. “Why?” “Let’s just say I’ve met him a time or two, and I find him an interesting character...one I would like to know better.”

    “Good luck. Don’t let Beowulf take a plug of flesh out of you.”

    “Beowulf?”

    “I’m sure you’ll have the pleasure of making his acquaintance soon, if you begin to investigate the colonel.”

    Savannah turned to look out the window at the sinking sun that was setting crimson fire to the hills, the islands, the sky, and even the ocean waves. Ordinarily, she would have thought it a beautiful, peaceful scene, but this evening it looked angry.

    Maybe it was just her mood.

    “I’ve gotta go,” she said, rising and folding her napkin neatly on the tea tray. The time for chivalrous pampering and luxuriant sympathy was over. She had work to do.

    Ryan walked her to the door, his large hand warm and cornforting against her back. “What’s next on your agenda, Savannah?” he asked. She could hear the concern in his voice and loved him for it.

    “Don’t ask,” she replied, giving him a dimpled smile.

    “I don’t think I like the sound of that.” He tweaked her chin. “What are you up to?”

    She donned her most beguiling Southern accent. “Little ol' , me? Why, just a friendly bit of... shall we say...minor trespassing.”

    He laughed and opened the door for her. “Knowing you, it’s probably more like breaking and entering.”

    Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. “Now, I guess that just depends on how you look at it.”

    Savannah knew how Captain Bloss and Chief Hillquist would “look at it.”

    Terms like: Felony “B” & “E”, Crossing a Police Barricade, Compromising the Scene of a Crime, occurred to her as she sneaked through the back door of Lisa Mallock’s duplex. It would be a bit difficult to pretend that she hadn’t seen that bright yellow tape surrounding the property, or the large notice taped to each door.

    And, of course, it would be hard to explain away the flashlight in her hand and the latex gloves she was wearing.

    A couple of good reasons to get in and out, she told herself as she creaked the door closed behind her and snapped on the flashlight.

    The narrow cone of white light swept around the room, illuminating every dark nook and niche, until she was satisfied that she was the only illegal entrant.

    So far, so good.

    The place smelled of undumped garbage, and the air was thick and stale. At least, that was the reason Savannah gave herself to explain her shortness of breath.

    This place gave her the shivers. She would find what she was looking for and get the hell out, back into the fresh, moist night... away from things like little Christy’s lunch pail sitting on the counter and Lisa’s love note to her daughter stuck to the refrigerator.

    Yes, this was definitely an “in and out” sort of situation. Short and sweet... or at least not too bitter.

    As usual, when searching a possible crime scene, Savannah wasn’t sure what she was looking for. But experience had taught her that she would recognize it when she saw it.

    At least, one could always hope.

    She recognized it. A bright red-orange notice lying folded atop the stack of papers on the kitchen table.

    The bit of mail had caught her eye before when she had sat here, eating M&M cookies and trying to gain Lisa Mallock’s trust. It wasn’t just your standard overdue bill. Those types of salutatory greetings Savannah was all too familiar with these days.

    This one was protruding from an envelope which was marked as registered mail. Lisa had signed for it. Someone had paid about five bucks to have that signature.

    Why?

    Tucking the flashlight under her arm, Savannah reached for the red paper and unfolded it.

    She read the bold type which warned of impending legal action.

    THIRD NOTICE OF INTENTION TO LIQUIDATE:
    This will serve as final notice that Cracker Box Storage, located at 903 Harrington Boulevard, will auction the contents of locker number 17, unless the three months overdue rental fees are paid in full within ten days.

    Examining the envelope, Savannah noted with interest that it had been addressed to Mr. and/or Mrs. Earl Mallock.

    One glance around the sparsely furnished duplex told Savannah that Lisa Mallock probably wouldn’t have needed a storage