Cereal Killer

office.”
    “Doctor?” Savannah’s mind couldn’t quite grasp the thought. “A doctor condoned that sort of weight-loss regime?”
    “You’d be surprised what they’ll condone when the payoff is high enough. He’s on Wentworth Cereal’s payroll.”
    She glanced up and down his greens. “Are you a physician?”
    He gave a dry chuckle. “Nope. Just a lowly surgical nurse over at Community General.”
    “There’s nothing lowly about nursing,” she replied softly. “It’s one of the most noble occupations on the planet. Nurses are right up there with teachers.”
    “Along with police officers and private investigators?” He gave her a brief but nice smile, and it occurred to Savannah that Cait Connor had been married to a very handsome man. They must have made a stunning couple.
    She grinned and shrugged. “Well, up there with cops to be sure.”
    Over his shoulder, she could see the CSU technicians through the glass wall as they filed through the living and dining areas and up the staircase to the second story of the house. Dr. Jennifer Liu, the county medical examiner, led the procession.
    Kevin stopped crying long enough to follow her line of vision; he turned in his chair and watched as the team disappeared up the stairs. “Who are they?” he asked, sniffing and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
    “That’s the Crime Scene Unit,” she told him.
    His eyes widened. “Crime? You mean, like a homicide investigation?”
    “It’s perfectly routine,” she assured him. ‘Your wife was young and healthy, and she died unexpectedly. They always do an investigation under those circumstances, just to make sure.”
    “To make sure of what? That somebody didn’t kill her?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Cait didn’t have an enemy in the world. Everybody who knew her loved her. She was the best person I’ve ever known.”
    “Like I said, it’s just routine. They have to rule out foul play, and I’m sure they will. From what you said, it sounds like a clear case of hyperthermia and dehydration.”
    A worried frown creased his forehead. “I never even considered that it could have been anything but the dieting. I don’t think I could stand it if I thought somebody had actually hurt her. But who would...?”
    “Don’t even think about it right now,” Savannah told him. “There’s no point in putting yourself through that on top of everything else. Just wait until the medical examiner does her job and makes her ruling.” Savannah deliberately avoided using the word “autopsy” because of the painful mental pictures it would paint for him. Reality would seep into his consciousness all too quickly no matter what she withheld in conversation.
    “How long will the autopsy take?” he asked.
    So much for protecting the psyche of the next of kin, she thought. “A day or two.”
    Glancing over his shoulder again, Savannah saw a woman in a bright red pantsuit standing on the other side of the glass, watching them. Unless CSU techs had drastically changed their uniform, a civilian was on their crime scene.
    Momentarily forgetting that she, too, fell into that category, Savannah rose from her chair and crossed the patio to the sliding door. When she opened it, a furry bundle of energy bounded out at her. It was a golden cocker spaniel puppy with enormous eyes and a stub of a tail that wagged its entire body.
    “Susie, come back here!” the woman in red shouted, yanking on the red leather leash. “Ba-a-ad dog!”
    The pup slunk back to her owner and lay at the woman’s feet, a vanquished spirit... at least for a few seconds.
    “May I help you?” Savannah asked.
    The woman looked about the same age as Savannah with long straight black hair that fell to a blunt cut below her shoulders. She had a dark tan and, judging from the depth of the crow’s-feet around her eyes, she had gotten it the old-fashioned way—from hours on the beach.
    Her suit, though a bit on the bright side, was a smart cut and expensive fabric. Savannah made a quick mental note that her high-heeled Italian sandals probably cost more than her own entire summer wardrobe... not-so-carefully assembled over the past twenty years.
    “May I help you?” Savannah asked again, interjecting a note of “What are you doing here?” into her voice.
    ‘Yes, you can help me. Tell me what the hell’s going on,” the woman demanded, matching Savannah’s aggressive tone note for note.
    Before Savannah could open her mouth