Cereal Killer

kneel there and toss her chili, she would have cleaned it first. It’s part of the ritual for most bulimics. She hadn’t cleaned it and didn’t have anything in her hand to clean it with. Nothing lying on the floor.”
    “Which brings us back to... why was she in there?”
    “I told you already. Somebody dragged her in there.”
    “After she was dead?”
    “I guess.”
    “But why?”
    Savannah opened her mind to the possibilities. But it had been a long day, and it seemed her brain waves were leveling out to a flat line. Nothing.
    “I don’t know,” she told him. “You figure it out. I can’t do all of your work for you.”
    She chuckled as she hung up on him.
    The cats had snuck into the bedroom while Marietta had the door open, and they were snuggling against her pajama legs, circling, arranging themselves in positions that would have been miserably uncomfortable for anyone outside of the feline species.
    “Diamante, Cleopatra,” she said, reaching down to stroke first one, then the other. ‘You two figure it out. Why would somebody drag a dead body into a bathroom and leave it there? And if they did drag it in there... does that mean that the dragger had anything to do with the person getting dead in the first place? Probably, huh?” The cats blinked up at her with sleepy eyes.
    “Got that?” she asked them. “Good. You girls discuss it between yourselves. I want an answer by morning.”
     
    By the time Savannah trudged downstairs in her bathrobe the next morning, she had no more information about Cait Connor’s death than she had upon retiring.
    Not surprisingly, neither the cats nor her subconscious had formulated any more theories during the night.
    She found her sister stretched out on the sofa in the living room, a sheer wrap of black chiffon over her purple leopard nightgown. She lay on her side, lounging on some throw pillows, watching an old black-and-white romance movie on the television.
    As always, every hair on her head was teased on end, smoothed, and sprayed stiff. And every layer of makeup had been carefully troweled on.
    Marietta might have her cleavage bared for almost every occasion, including funerals, baptisms, and PTA meetings, but her naked face was only a distant memory to her friends and loved ones.
    All she needs is a glass of champagne and a box of bonbons to make the picture complete , Savannah thought. She mumbled a feeble, “Good morning,” in her direction as she passed through on her way to the kitchen.
    “It’s about time you woke up,” Marietta returned. “I thought I was going to plumb starve to death before you finally showed your face. Do you always sleep this late?”
    Savannah glanced up at the clock on her kitchen wall. “It’s eight o’clock,” she said. “Not exactly dawn-thirty, but it ain’t noon either.”
    “Yes, but it’s eleven at home, and my stomach’s operating on Georgia time,” came the answer from the living room.
    “Too bad your butt doesn’t shift into gear on Georgia time,” Savannah grumbled as she poured a rich blend of chicory and French roast into the coffeemaker.
    “What?”
    “I said, what do you want for breakfast? Cereal? Fruit? I’ve got some bear claws and...”
    “No, I want the works—eggs, sausage, biscuits. Grits, if you’ve got ’em. I believe that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. And I’ve got a lot to do today so I need my energy.”
    Savannah shuffled over to the refrigerator and rummaged through it, gathering the eggs, sausage, butter, and peach preserves. “Just for the record,” she shouted, “my home is your home and that includes the kitchen. You don’t need to wait for me. Next time, don’t sit around hungry. Just jump right in and help yourself to anything you want.”
    “Oh, I couldn’t do that. That would be presumptuous.”
    Savannah paused, egg in hand, and considered walking into the living room and cracking it on her sister’s perfectly coifed head. “No,” she muttered, “we wouldn’t want to be presumptuous, heaven forbid.”
    “What?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Well, do you mind then? I’m trying to watch this movie, and you keep interrupting. It’s at my favorite part where they kiss and make up.”
    “Gr-r-r-r.”
     
    By the time Savannah and Marietta had finished eating breakfast, Savannah was considering the pros and cons of skipping the country and not mentioning to her family where she had gone.
    Brazil was nice this time of year, but not