Bitter Sweets

saying, “I’m sure we could help you find your sister. But I think you should speak to Ms. Savannah Reid herself. Yes, she’s the owner of the agency...a retired, thrice-decorated, police detective. That’s right. One moment please.”

    Tammy cupped her hand over the mouthpiece and “cut a rug” as Savannah’s Granny Reid would say, wriggling her diminutive butt and jumping up and down on her three-and-ahalf-inch heels. “We’ve got a case, we’ve got a case.”

    “Glory be,” Savannah muttered as she grabbed the phone out of her assistant’s shaking hand. “Maybe we won’t starve after all.”

    Brian O’Donnell. Medium height, slender build. Distinctive dark red hair, brown eyes and curl-tipped mustache. Forty-sevenyears old. Residence-Orlando, Florida, fifteen years. Occupation-real estate broker. Married. Looking for sister.

    Savannah glanced down the yellow legal pad on her lap at the notes she had taken over, the last twenty minutes. Sticking the end of her pen in her mouth, she chewed it thoughtfully, then-remembering that she was trying to quit-she returned her attention to the man sitting in the matching wing chair across from her.

    His eyes met hers over the rim of the mug as he sipped the steaming coffee. “Do you think you can help me, Ms. Reid?” he said, after licking a drop from his mustache. “Do we have enough to go on?”

    “Actually, you aren’t a bad detective yourself, Mr. O’Donnell. You’ve given me more here than I would have hoped for.”

    “Good. I’m glad to hear that. Finding my sister means a lot to me.”

    Savannah watched as his hands closed around the mug. Although his posture was casual with one sneaker propped on the opposite knee of his semiworn jeans, he held the cup handle more tightly than necessary. She jotted the fact down on her mental legal pad.

    That was the main reason why Savannah had decided to offer her clients coffee or tea when she first interviewed them here in her private office-a small area that had, until recently, been her sun porch. The steaming beverage of their choice and Cadbury chocolate-dipped tea biscuits were more than a token of Southern hospitality. While eating and drinking, a person often allowed his or her carefully constructed facade to slip, revealing a candid glimpse of what was going on behind the scene. Experience had taught her that a lot could be learned about aperson just by watching the way he seasoned his coffee or chewed a cookie. Brian O’Donnell had inhaled his three biscuits without stopping to savor a single crumb. Definitely not a hedonist, like herself.

    Savannah had worked hard at convincing herself that the silver tray, bearing coffee, whipped cream, cinnamon sticks, various liqueurs, and chocolate curls had nothing to do with the constant cravings of her own sweet tooth. Of course, she knew better, but she didn’t really care.

    Setting her own china cup aside, she picked up the stack of papers which O’Donnell had laid on the coffee table between them. “This may seem like a rather personal question, but I’d like to know why finding your sister is so important to you,” she said, flipping through the assorted documents.

    Brian’s face was haggard with harsh, angular lines, a bit pale, with smudges under both eyes. Within the first two minutes after they had met, Savannah had surmised that, either he didn’t spend enough hours in bed, or he spent more hours tossing and turning than snoring. But, at the mention of his sister, his expression softened and he turned to gaze thoughtfully into the blaze of the gas log fireplace, which she had turned on for his benefit. Another cozy touch designed to set a client at ease. It seemed to be working.

    “My mother died when Susette was five and I was seven,” he said. “A sudden illness... some sort of flu, I think. Dad wasn’t really sure. He didn’t feel adequate to raise two children on his own, thought a girl should have a mother to teach her...girl things, you know.”

    Savannah nodded. “Go on.”

    “So, he put Susie up for adoption. I remember the day theycame to take her away. She and I both cried a lot, begged Dad not to go through with it. I know he loved her. But I guess he had to do what he thought was best.”

    He was silent for a long moment, staring into the flickering blaze. Then, he cleared his throat and took a brisk slurp of coffee.

    “Susie was a pretty good kid...for a girl.” He gave Savannah a sideways glance.