Buried In Buttercream

better,” Gran said. “The sad fact is: Somebody got themselves kilt in Savannah’s fancy bridal suite, and Dirk’s in there with the coroner, trying to figure out what happened.”
    “Yes, he is,” Savannah told them, “and I need to get back in there with him. I just came out here to tell everybody how sorry I am that this sort of thing happened ... again ... and to tell you to eat whatever you want in there in the reception room and then get along home.”
    “But when are we gonna eat supper?” Marietta wanted to know. “Are you going to be home in time to cook us something fit to eat? We can’t keep ordering pizza like we’ve been doing. It’s expensive.”
    “Yeah,” Atlanta agreed. “And that cake and ice cream’s only gonna last so long in our stomachs, you know. I worked up a powerful appetite with all that singing.”
    Granny spun Atlanta around and gave her a not so gentle shove toward the clubhouse. Then she turned and did the same to Marietta. “You girls oughta give some thought to something other than your bellies once in a while. You know, gluttony’s a sin when carried to extremes.”
    Fortunately, at that moment, Ryan and John strolled by on their way to the clubhouse. When Marietta caught sight of Ryan, she wasted no time leaving her sisters behind and scurrying after him.
    “Look at her following him,” Granny remarked, “trailing after him like an orphaned pup.”
    “Eh, more like a bitch in heat,” Savannah muttered under her breath.
    “I heard that, Savannah girl.” Granny gave her a disapproving look, tinged with a grin.
    “And you disagree?”
    They both watched as Marietta caught up with Ryan and grabbed him by the arm. She leaned into him, making sure that her voluptuous curves nestled into his side, whether he wanted to be nestled or not. All the while she was tittering like a teenybopper, instead of acting like the forty-plus woman she was.
    “Do I disagree?” Gran said. “Only with your choice of words. Not with your evaluation of the situation.”
    Gran turned to Savannah, reached up, and tucked one of her dark curls back behind her ear, then laid her soft hand along her granddaughter’s cheek. “You get back to your man, sweetie pie. Don’t pay this bunch no never mind. I’ll see to it they behave themselves and get back home all right.”
    “What about feeding them?”
    “That’s the least of your troubles. Every blamed one of them knows full well how to stack a bologna sandwich if it comes to that. They’re not a bunch of helpless children anymore, even if they do act like it when you and me are around. We spoil that lot, Savannah. Always have.”
    “Is it okay, then, really, if I work this case with Dirk and leave you all to fend for yourselves?”
    “It’s more than okay. It’s the right thing to do. Take care of your detective business. It’s what you do best, and the only thing that’ll take your mind off what you lost here today.”
    As Savannah walked away from her grandmother and crossed the lawn, heading back to the clubhouse and the crime scene, she knew that she wasn’t going to be able to hold it together much longer. She felt like she had been through a rough cycle in a giant washing machine.
    And she was about to fall apart at the seams.

Chapter 7
    W hen Savannah arrived back at the bridal suite, she found the Crime Scene Investigation squad in full swing.
    The once immaculate room now bore a dark coating of fingerprint powder on nearly every surface. And the print technician squatted beside the bedroom door, deftly swirling her long bristled brush over the knob.
    Another tech was in the bathroom, swabbing the sink with cotton swabs, which he then stuck into vials and sealed them.
    A third was on her hands and knees, shining a bright light onto the carpet. She stopped and used a pair of tweezers to pick up a wad of some sort of fuzz and put it into an envelope.
    Dirk stood over her, watching, with a look of dark concern on his face. His hands were thrust deep into the pockets of his tuxedo. His head was down. Savannah could tell, just by his posture, that he was very unhappy.
    He did seem to perk up slightly, though, when he saw her.
    Leaving the technicians to their work, he walked over to stand with her in the open doorway leading to the hall.
    “Anything yet?” she asked.
    “No. You know how hard it is to process a suite like this where multiple guests stay. It’s as bad as a hotel room. You never know what you’ve got