Cereal Killer

nearly far enough away. She had heard that the air was thin in the Himalayas, but she couldn’t see any of her siblings climbing the slopes after her, and she had recently bought a red ski parka from L.L. Bean, so...
    “I’d help you with the dishes,” Marietta was saying as she sipped the last drop from her coffee cup, “but I have to get ready. I’m meeting my boyfriend at six o’clock at a fancy-dantly restaurant in Malibu, and I have to get all dolled up.”
    Savannah tried to erase the scowl off her face, along with any other “disapproving, judgmental” expressions. Having been severely scolded yesterday for being controlling and condescending toward her younger sister, she was determined that today she would refrain from using such words as less than cautious, perhaps somewhat naive, or a tad too trusting. That also left out other prime choices like pee-pee head and shit-for-brains.
    Today she would be the epitome of tact, trusting that her forty-one-year-old sister actually had good instincts when it came to evaluating people’s characters and intentions and used common sense in such matters.
    “The restaurant is right on the water in Malibu, overlooking the ocean,” Marietta was saying. “I figure we’ll have a few drinks.”
    “That’s nice.”
    “And then dinner.”
    “Hmmm…”
    “And if he’s even half as cute in real life as he is in his picture, I’ll probably go ahead and spend the night at his place, so don’t expect me back here tonight. I’ll pack a little overnight bag and—”
    “Are you crazy?” Savannah groaned, covered her face with her hands, and shook her head. “Have you even got the sense that the good God gave a goose?”
    “Don’t you start that crap with me, Savannah Reid! Why, I oughta—”
    Marietta jumped up from the table, but Savannah reached over and grabbed her arm, forcing her back down into her seat.
    “Mari, I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have made the goose comment. But you’ve gotta be smart, girl, or it could wind up costing you, big time. Really, you don’t know this guy from Adam. I wasn’t kidding when I said he could be a criminal. The Internet is a major hunting ground for sex offenders. This meeting of yours could be a setup.”
    Marietta sniffed and stuck out her chin. “My Bill is not a criminal. He’s a Sunday school teacher for Pete’s sake.”
    “Says who?”
    “He told me so himself. And he volunteers his spare time to Big Brothers and his local Boys & Girls Club, and he even works for Toys for Tots at Christmastime.”
    “Well, you might be safe then,” Savannah mumbled into her coffee cup. “He’s probably a pedophile.”
    “What?”
    “Nothing.”
    The back door opened, and Savannah was relieved to see Tammy walk in. Her sunny disposition was even more welcome than usual in the midst of a family thunderstorm.
    “Hi!” Tammy said, radiating cheer and goodwill. Savannah silently blessed her.
    Seeing Marietta at the table, Tammy looked confused for a moment, then beamed. “Marietta! How nice to see you again.”
    Marietta said nothing, just stared at her blankly. Quickly, Tammy crossed the room, holding out her hand. “We met in Georgia, remember?” she said. “When you were going to get married and... Well, it didn’t work out that time, but... Anyway, it’s good to see you. I didn’t know you were coming.”
    “Neither did I,” Savannah said under her breath.
    “I got in last night,” Marietta said. “And my sister and I are already getting into it.”
    “Getting into what?” Tammy asked.
    “Tammy doesn’t speak Southern,” Savannah explained. “She’s a Yankee.” Turning to Tammy, she said, “Marietta means that she and I are having a disagreement about the wisdom of flying across the country to date somebody you met in an Internet chatroom.”
    Savannah watched Tammy’s face as her fleeting expression of alarm was displaced by a poker smile. “I see,” she said evenly. “And when are you meeting this... gentleman, Marietta?”
    “At six o’clock tonight in Malibu on the Pacific Coast Highway. Isn’t that romantic? We have a date for drinks and dinner and .. —she smiled coyly—“whatever.”
    “It’s that ‘whatever’ crap that’s troubling me,” Savannah said.
    Marietta tossed her head. “My big sister doesn’t trust my judgment. She’s afraid that I’m going to get myself raped.”
    “Or murdered, or infected or impregnated or robbed or swindled....”