Buried In Buttercream

definitely. Just think how much tastier dinner will be if we’ve roasted him first.”
    That told Savannah all too clearly how aggravated he was that he’d been chasing his own tail trying to nail this guy. Dirk seldom got terribly, deeply annoyed when on a case. After so many years, it was all pretty routine for them both.
    But this one had proven especially frustrating with so many suspects, so few alibis, and so little physical evidence.
    She understood his vexation and shared it.
    It was enough for her to want to go after Ethan Aberson on an empty stomach. And that was a first for her, a woman with her priorities in order. Food first and then ... well ... everything else.
    “Then let me call Tammy and see what room he’s in,” she said.
    “She’s probably sitting outside his door, watching it like a cat watching a gopher hole.”
    “Probably.” She punched in Tammy’s number on her cell. Tammy answered right away. “Whatcha doing?” she asked.
    “Still watching Ethan’s door,” she said, “with Waycross, of course.”
    “Of course.” Savannah laughed and nodded to Dirk. “What number is it?”
    “Three fifteen.”
    “We’ll be right there.”
    “Good. ’Cause we could both really, really use a potty break.”

    Savannah and Dirk found Tammy and Waycross exactly where she’d said, down the hall, eyes glued to the door of room 315.
    “Good Lord, Tammy,” Savannah said. “You aren’t guarding the president, for heaven’s sake. Go pee, both of you.”
    As they raced down the hallway toward their respective rooms, Savannah and Dirk laughed.
    “I wish there was that kind of dedication on the job,” Dirk said. “If I had a few like her in the department, I wouldn’t have to work half as hard.”
    “Yeah, but she makes me tired, just watching her.” She pointed to the door. “And hungry. Let’s go get this wrapped up. I want to hit one of those famous buffets.”
    They walked up to the door, and Dirk stretched out his hand to knock on it.
    “Hey,” she said. “You’ve been doing a lot of that lately. My turn.”
    As she nudged him aside, she whispered, “It’d be better if he looks through the keyhole and sees me instead of you.”
    “Why?”
    “I’m prettier. And if you were a guy, wouldn’t you open a door faster for a woman than some dude you didn’t know?”
    “What do you mean, if I were a guy?”
    “Shhh.”
    She knocked and listened. The television was on pretty loud inside, but someone turned down the volume. Then she heard footsteps approaching.
    “Yes?” a male voice said. “Who is it?”
    “Housekeeping,” she replied, trying to sound like a tired, bored, hotel maid and not an investigator with her pulse thudding.
    “I don’t need anything. Thank you.”
    “I have to turn down your bed.”
    “It’s down. I’m in it. Thanks anyway.”
    She could hear the footsteps walking away. “Damn,” she muttered under her breath.
    “Yeah, leave it up to you,” Dirk said. “If you were a woman, maybe you’d have been able to—”
    “Watch it.”
    She knocked on the door a second time, a little harder and a bit more insistent.
    Again the steps approached. “Yes?” he said on the other side. “Really, I don’t need turndown service. Thank you. Good night.”
    “But, sir, I’ll get in trouble if I don’t give you your mints; it’ll just take a moment and then I’ll leave you alone.”
    There was a pause, then the rattling of a chain.
    She turned and made a face at Dirk.
    When he didn’t return her mug, but reached inside his jacket to unsnap his weapon’s holster, she sobered up a bit, too.
    It was great fun getting to lie to strangers and outsmart them for a good cause, but they were hunting a killer. And it was time to get down to business.
    Ethan opened the door, and when he saw Savannah, he gave her a warm smile and reached out his hand for the promised candy. But when he saw Dirk standing beside her, his warmth evaporated.
    “Hey,” he said, backing away from the door. “What’s this?”
    Dirk put his foot in the door before he could close it. “Not what you think. We’re not here to rob you.”
    “Oh.” He gave a nervous little laugh. “Good.”
    “Naw, it’s not that good,” Savannah said. “In fact, by the time we’re done, you might even think it’s worse.”

    By the time twenty minutes had passed, it was Savannah and Dirk who were hating the visit as much or even more than Ethan Aberson.
    They had gone in the same verbal