Buried In Buttercream

that. But it’s important that we talk to you. And you need to understand that my friend here isn’t going to leave until we do.”
    When Odelle didn’t shake her offered hand, Savannah dropped it, but she took one step closer into the doorway. “Whatever’s going wrong in your life right now ... we can talk about that. Maybe we can even help. But if you shut the door on us, your problems are only gonna get worse, fast.”
    Odelle hesitated, obviously thinking things over. Then she raked her fingers through her mussed hair and glanced down at her wrinkled attire.
    “I’m not exactly prepared to receive guests,” she said, her voice shaky.
    “That’s okay, ’cause we’re not anybody special,” Savannah told her. “You don’t have to get gussied up or dig out your crystal and china for us. Invite us in and give us some water in a Dixie cup, and we’ll be happy.”

    “Yes, I’ve already heard about Madeline,” Odelle said, as they sat with her in her gracious living room and watched the flames flicker in the massive stone fireplace.
    “How did you find out?” Dirk wanted to know.
    “Geraldine Aberson called me.” Odelle fiddled with a crystal tumbler that contained the second shot of scotch that she’d consumed in less than five minutes.
    The first she had bolted.
    “You and Geraldine are friends?” Savannah asked, taking a sip of water from her own cut glass highball.
    “I’ve known her and Reuben for years, through Madeline. I wouldn’t say we’re exactly friends.”
    “How long were you and Madeline business partners?” Dirk asked.
    “Over twenty years. We started fresh out of college. We both knew exactly what we wanted to do, and we were good at it. You wouldn’t believe some of the events we coordinated together in our heyday.” Odelle looked sad as she stared down into her drink. “But that was before ...”
    “Before ... ?” Savannah prompted.
    The sad expression evaporated, replaced with one of pure, raw anger. “Before Madeline went nuts and threw everything away for a guy who wasn’t worth the bullet it would take to shoot him.”
    Savannah glanced at Dirk and saw his eyebrows go up a fraction of a notch. “And who was that ... ? Ethan?”
    “No. Ethan’s a decent guy. And he deserved a lot better treatment than he got from his so-called loving and devoted wife.”
    “So, who’s the dude?” Dirk asked.
    “Arlo Di Napoli. He was Ethan’s best friend—or so Ethan thought until he found Arlo and Madeline in his bed together. End of friendship, end of marriage.”
    “Yes, I can imagine so.” Savannah jotted that one down in her mental notebook for much future consideration. “When did this happen?”
    “About two years back.”
    “That long ago?” Dirk said.
    “Oh, Ethan kicked her out that day and filed for a legal separation. But they were still haggling over the terms of the divorce. Mostly over Elizabeth. They both wanted primary custody of her.”
    “Sounds like a barrel of laughs,” Savannah said dryly.
    “Oh, you’ve no idea. And it’s lovely for me.” Odelle tossed back the rest of her scotch. “Madeline just stopped even trying where our business was concerned. She didn’t give a hoot about anything but Arlo anymore. Showed up late or not at all for our bookings. Wasn’t worth anything when she did appear. I’ve lost a fortune because of her. And now I’m financially destitute.”
    She glanced around the beautiful room with its handcrafted furniture that was an opulent mix of Mission and Art Deco with the occasional Asian accent. Even Savannah’s untrained eye knew the value of the intricate red oak woodwork and thick, silk, embroidered coverings.
    “And now I’m going to lose all of this,” she said, waving a hand. “My home. Everything I own. Because Madeline was too stupid to know that she had a good life—a loving husband, a thriving business, a beautiful little girl. And she threw it all away for a piece of trash like Arlo Di Napoli, because he was a bit more exciting in bed. Big deal.”
    She shook her head in disgust. Savannah could tell by the glassy look in her eyes that the booze was hitting her. She wondered how much Odelle was drinking these days.
    “And the funny part is,” Odelle continued, slurring a word here and there, “Arlo broke up with her! She gave him an ultimatum. . . ‘Leave your wife or I’ll tell her about us.’ He told Madeline to go to hell, that she’d been nothing but an easy piece for him. So,