Buried In Buttercream

grief-stricken,” Dirk said. “Pending divorce or not, you’d think they’d hate to hear that their granddaughter’s mother had been killed.”
    “Especially the father-in-law, Reuben,” Savannah said. “Have you two ever met him?”
    “No.” Ryan removed his cuff links and rolled up his sleeves. “We really didn’t know Madeline all that well.”
    “Where did you meet her?” Savannah asked.
    “We first made her acquaintance,” John said, “at an enormously extravagant party at a Malibu yacht club. It was for Juliana Carvalho ... to celebrate her Oscar win.”
    “We were security for the party,” Ryan added. “And Madeline was the event coordinator. She did a wonderful job, and we felt free to recommend her after that. Soon afterward, she began to specialize in weddings.”
    “Did you know her husband?” Dirk asked.
    John shook his head. “No. We never met him. But we did see her daughter, Elizabeth, at the singer Paula Berntzen’s wedding. Paula didn’t have a flower girl of her own, so the little lass stepped in. Did a lovely job, too. You could tell that Madeline positively doted on the child.”
    “Yeah, we saw the little girl, too, at her grandparents’ house,” Dirk said. “Cute kid. I feel bad for her.”
    “I’ll feel even worse if we find out her daddy had anything to do with it.” Savannah turned to look out at the ocean. She needed to borrow a bit of its tranquility. “His folks said he’s at a convention in Vegas on business. Hopefully, for the child’s sake, that’s true.”
    Dirk turned to Ryan. “Do you two know anybody else who might have wanted her dead?”
    “You might want to talk to her former business partner, Odelle Peters,” Ryan told him. “I’m pretty sure that the two of them had a falling out recently. I overheard some gossip about it at the library system’s spring fund-raiser.”
    Dirk took a pen and a pad from his pocket and scribbled down the name. “Do you happen to know where she is?”
    “Last I heard, she was working out of her home in Spirit Hills,” John said. “A lovely place. She designed and built it herself, I believe. She’s quite proud of it.”
    Savannah took another sip of the exquisite amber liquid and felt its welcome warmth sliding down her throat and nestling deliciously in her belly. From there, the fire spread throughout her body.
    And while it was a wonderful sensation, it reminded her of how very tired she was.
    She glanced across the room and saw that Dirk was watching her, the omnipresent look of concern on his face.
    She hated that look. Although she appreciated the love behind it, she didn’t want him or anyone else to worry about her. Mostly, because it caused her to worry about herself. And she could do quite enough of that without anybody’s help.
    She hadn’t been the same since the shooting. She wasn’t as strong. She wasn’t as stable. She always had the feeling that, at any moment, she could lose her balance and go tumbling ... she wasn’t sure where.
    “Are you okay, love?” John asked, leaning toward her, the same anxious expression on his face.
    “Eh, of course I am,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “Why does everybody keep asking me that? When haven’t I been all right? You’re talking to a mighty tough gal here.”
    “A tough gal who’s been through a helluva lot,” Ryan said softly.
    Abruptly, Savannah stood and placed her half-finished cognac on the marble coffee table. “I’m fine. And we should get going,” she told Dirk. “We’ve got a murderer to catch, and we aren’t going to nab him by sitting here, swigging brandy from Cognac and munching chocolates from Lyon ... pleasant as that might be.”
    The three men jumped to their feet in unison.
    She gave Ryan and John each a quick kiss on the cheek, then grabbed her purse. “You two take care, hear?” she said as she sailed for the front door, leaving a surprised Dirk in her wake.
    As Dirk followed her to the door, Ryan caught him by the arm and whispered, “Take care of her for us, buddy. She’s a lot more fragile than she thinks.”
    “I know,” Dirk replied. “I’m trying. Believe me ... with a gal like that one, it ain’t easy.”

    Once Savannah and Dirk were back in his car, she felt that surge of energy she had experienced in Ryan and John’s apartment—born of a high degree of annoyance—quickly waning.
    A shot of adrenaline only took you so far.
    She had to admit, even if it was only to herself, that