Buried In Buttercream

looked at Savannah. She shrugged.
    “What restraining order?” they both said in unison.
    Tammy picked a cherry tomato out of her salad and popped it into her mouth. After chewing for about a year, she said, “The one that Madeline Aberson took out a couple of weeks before she was killed.”
    “Madeline had an RO against someone?” Dirk said.
    Savannah nearly choked on her iced tea. “Who? Who?”
    Tammy laughed. “You sound like a hoot owl.”
    Shaking a long, floppy fry drenched in ketchup in her face, Savannah said, “Cough it up, babycakes, or you’ll be wearing this.”
    “Threaten to do me bodily harm with trans fats! I’m sure that’s a felony in forty-five states!”
    “How would you feel about having some cod shoved in your right ear?” Dirk added, brandishing a piece of his deep-fried fish.
    Tammy rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay. Madeline took out a civil harassment restraining order against Celia Barnhart.”
    Savannah and Dirk looked at each other questioningly. Then both shrugged their shoulders.
    “Who the hell,” Dirk asked, “is Celia Barnhart?”
    “Funny you should ask that.” Tammy fiddled with her tablet, then turned it so that they could each see the screen.
    On it was a picture of a normal-enough-looking young woman. Conservative even. It was a simple, nondescript head shot, like the thousands used every day on Internet social sites.
    “Okay.” Savannah deflated a bit, like the old Disneyland balloons in her living room. “What’s that supposed to tell us?”
    Tammy messed with the screen a bit more and came up with another picture of Celia Barnhart. This time she looked quite lovely in her wedding gown, standing next to her groom, who was decked out in a stylish tuxedo.
    Though as attractively dressed as the couple was, neither wore the happy, beaming smiles that were expected of a twosome on their wedding day. In fact, they both looked quite disgruntled.
    “Looks like they had the same sort of day we had,” Dirk grumbled. “What? Did their wedding hall burn down, too?”
    “No,” Tammy said. “But you two and this two, you did have something in common.”
    “What’s that?” Savannah asked.
    “The same wedding planner.”
    Savannah quickly added two and two and came up with a couple of couples who hadn’t had the stellar weddings of their dreams. “Don’t tell me she died during their wedding, too.”
    “No, of course not. But according to Celia Barnhart, Madeline ruined the most important day of her life.”
    “A bridezilla, huh?” Dirk said. “I guess women are a bit temperamental at a time like that ... stress and all.” He shot a look at Savannah.
    She said, “Watch it, boy.”
    “Present company excepted, that is.” He turned back to Tammy. “But this gal took it so far that Madeline got an RO against her?”
    “Yes. According to the court documents, which I found online, she threatened Madeline with bodily harm ... during the wedding itself, in front of all of her guests, and then daily for two weeks afterward.”
    “I think we need to talk to this gal,” Dirk said, waving to the waitress to bring their check.
    “Ah, yes,” Savannah said. “If nothing else, we can compare wedding-day horror stories. If hers is bad enough, maybe it’ll make us feel better about ours.”
    “Oh, please. Like anybody in the world has a worse wedding story than you two do.” Tammy laughed and put her tablet back into her purse. “When it comes to getting hitched, you guys have the worst luck of all time.”
    When she had her chore done, she glanced up and saw they both had fixed her with stony glares.
    She shrugged. “Well? You do.”
    “And you, young Miss Prissy Pants,” Savannah said, “if you mention it again, I’m going to change your ring tone on my phone from ‘You Are My Sunshine’ to ‘Rainy Night in Georgia.’”

Chapter 16
    T he next morning, Savannah and Dirk took a trip to Celia Barnhart’s house. She wasn’t home, but one of her chatty neighbors told them that she was a teacher’s aide at a private day school in the neighboring town of Arroyo Verde.
    As they pulled into the school parking lot, Savannah sized up the school. With its pristine green lawns, generously equipped playground, and scores of students running around in neat white shirts, blue and green plaid skirts on the girls and navy slacks on the boys ... it was obviously a place that cost the parents a few bucks.
    A place that was a far cry from the small country school