Buried In Buttercream

custody of our little granddaughter.” She drew a deep, shaky breath. “We aren’t bad people, but we can’t help feeling the way we do about her.”
    Savannah studied the couple, appraising every word and gesture. They seemed surprised enough at the news, but the coldness in Reuben’s eyes was disquieting, to say the least.
    And as she tried to decide whether or not she considered him capable of murder, Dirk stepped closer to him, wearing a grim look on his face. It was the look that Dirk often wore when he thought someone might have done something horribly wrong.
    “Do you mind telling me where you’ve been today?” Dirk asked him.
    “Right here, building birdhouses,” was the even, emotionless reply.
    Dirk turned to Geraldine. “And can you vouch for him?”
    She nodded vigorously. “He’s been right here with me all day. Both of us have. Except for when I went to pick up Lizzie for Madeline. She’d had a sleepover at her little girlfriend’s house.”
    “And what time was that?” Dirk wanted to know.
    “About two thirty this afternoon.”
    “How long were you gone?”
    “Well, I stopped and got gas, first, so ... I guess I was out of the house forty-five minutes, give or take.”
    “And, Mr. Aberson, you were making birdhouses all day long?” Dirk asked.
    “Except for when my wife was gone.”
    Dirk raised one eyebrow. “Oh?”
    “Yes. That’s when I called our son. We talked on the phone most of the time.”
    That would be easy enough to verify, Savannah thought, if they needed to. “Where is your son?” she asked.
    “He’s in Las Vegas on business,” Geraldine replied. “A convention. He’s an extremely successful businessman. We’re very proud of him.”
    “I’m sure you are.” Savannah gave Geraldine what she hoped was a kind, comforting smile.
    It wasn’t easy to appear kind and comforting when you were trying to weasel information out of somebody.
    “And how long has Ethan been in Las Vegas on business?” Savannah asked.
    “He’s been there for the past three days,” Reuben said, with a tone that suggested he was daring her to contradict him.
    “Where is he staying?” Dirk interjected with an equally confrontational tone.
    “He always stays at the Victoriana when he’s in Las Vegas,” Geraldine said. “It’s a nice, quiet hotel.”
    Savannah glanced over at Dirk, who was reaching for his card. It was the end of the interview.
    He handed it to Geraldine. “If you think of anything that might help us, would you please give me a ring there at that number?”
    She took the card, looked at it, then tucked it into her apron pocket. Reaching down, she scooped up the dog again and held it close to her chest. “We will,” she told him. “Good luck with solving your case.”
    “Thank you,” Savannah said.
    Silently, she added to herself: We’ll need it. It’s hard to figure out who killed someone like Madeline.
    Because, if her father-in-law was right, she was somebody that nearly everybody wanted dead.

Chapter 8
    S avannah had always considered herself a “house” kinda gal, rather than an apartment dweller. She couldn’t vacuum or dust without loud rock and roll, couldn’t cook without blasting her country tunes, and couldn’t fully celebrate Christmas without at least once shaking the house on its foundations with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s rendition of the “Hallelujah Chorus” at top volume.
    She wouldn’t have been popular in an apartment building.
    But if she were ever forced to opt for communal living, her first choice would definitely be Ryan and John’s complex.
    Perched high, high, high on a hill overlooking San Carmelita and the ocean, the condos were the envy of everyone beneath them ... which was everyone in town.
    Whenever she strolled through the place, which was lushly landscaped with mature tropical plantings, she always felt like she had stepped into a South Pacific paradise. The giant pool with its rock waterfall and swim-up bar was deliciously inviting. And overhead, what seemed like a hundred giant palms danced, their graceful fronds swaying in the sea breeze.
    “I always forget how nice this place is,” Dirk said to her as they walked the stone pathway leading to the most exclusive of the buildings ... the one in the far corner with the most privacy and the best ocean view. “Maybe you and me should’ve gone into the body-guarding business.”
    “I tell myself the same thing every time we come over here,” she