Buried In Buttercream

there! Be still, my heart.”
    “Be still your mouth, before you get in trouble.”
    “I’m so afraid.”
    “Live in fear, my dear. Live in fear.”
    “Pooh.”

    Ten minutes later, Savannah and Dirk were walking down the street, tailing Tammy and Waycross, who were still tailing Ethan Aberson.
    Their strange, clandestine parade continued for a few blocks before Dirk lost his patience, took out his cell phone, and called Tammy.
    “What the hell are we doing?” he barked into the phone.
    Savannah saw Tammy shoot an annoyed look over her shoulder before she answered him.
    Dirk put it on speaker phone so that Savannah could hear.
    “What do you mean, what are we are doing?” Tammy said. “We’re surveilling our suspect.”
    “How many times do I have to tell you, there’s no such word as ‘surveilling’?”
    “There is, too, I looked it up in the dictionary.”
    Savannah nodded. “Me, too. It’s a word.”
    “Okay, why exactly are we ‘surveilling’ our suspect instead of me just interviewing him?”
    “Because he’s going someplace suspicious, and we want to observe what he’s going to do there.”
    “He could be going anywhere. How do you know it’s someplace suspicious?”
    “Because we know. We saw which brochure he took out of that display there in the lobby. And we’re just pretty sure that’s where he’s headed.”
    “Where’s that?”
    “You’ll see.”
    Tammy snapped her phone closed as she shot Dirk a cocky look over her shoulder.
    He growled. “One of these days, one of these days ... to the moon.”
    “Yeah, yeah. She lives in fear, too.”
    Two blocks ahead, Ethan turned the corner, which resulted in a new view for all of them.
    This was a quiet, sparsely traveled, street where the buildings were in far more need of a sprucing up than the Victoriana. The desert sun had done its damage on the walls of businesses and houses alike, causing their paint to peel and fade to pastel, no matter what their original shade had been.
    Decorative bits of wrought iron were rusted, flowerbeds were empty, and lawns were parched. The signs on the various storefronts advertised off-beat and colorful services and products, like: Lady Velma’s Tarot Readings, Stinkin’ Inkin’ Tattoos and Body Piercings, and Lame Vanilla Washington’s Voodoo Parlor.
    And in the center of this eclectic block, was the strangest of them all. A large, two-story, brick structure with blackened windows and a large, white skull painted above the front door.
    Ethan Aberson hurried inside.
    They could hear the bells on the door tinkling as he opened and closed it.
    This time it was Savannah who called Tammy. “What the heck is that place? And don’t tell me it’s ‘someplace suspicious,’ unless you wanna get beaned the next time I’ve got you within reach.”
    “It’s the Museum of Death,” Tammy said proudly. “Cool, huh? And suspicious, no?”
    Savannah looked at Dirk. “Do you consider a museum about death out of the ordinary?”
    “Not for an undertaker. You’ve gotta figure that anybody who’s a funeral director has to be wired just a little bit different from the rest of us.”
    “Well, I think it’s suspicious,” Tammy said. “We’re here investigating him for murder, and he’s all obsessed with death? What are the chances?”
    “Surely they have quite a few visitors to this place, and they can’t all be murderers,” Savannah said, knowing that her words were falling on ears that had already made up their minds.
    She’d seen Tammy like this many times before. Savannah called it her Super Sleuth mode. There was no dampening the gal’s passions at a time like this.
    “Listen,” Tammy said, “we’re going in now, so I have to hang up. Can’t risk him overhearing what I’m saying to you.”
    “No, of course not.”
    “Are you two coming in, too?”
    Savannah turned to Dirk. “Do you want to check out the place and tail the tails?”
    “No. We’re outta here. They can follow him around, while we go check out that cat house she says he went to. But while we’re gone, tell her not to approach him for any reason whatsoever. He’s to be considered armed and dangerous at all times.”
    Savannah returned to the phone. “Dirk says—”
    “Yeah, yeah, I heard him.”
    “He means it, Tams. And I mean it, too. No contact! And if you need anything at all, call me. Okay?”
    But Tammy had already hung up.
    Savannah looked at Dirk and shook her head. “I almost feel sorry for ol’