Cereal Killer

May I ask why you want to know?”
    There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and Savannah thought she heard Leah Freed sniff. Then she said, “Ms. Reid, two of my girls are dead. I want to know all I can about what happened to them.”
    ‘Your girls? You were Kameeka’s agent, too?”
    “Her agent and her friend, just like Cait. I can’t believe that they’d both die, unexpectedly like that, within twenty-four hours of each other... not accidentally anyway. Do you believe it?”
    “That they both died accidentally? It could happen, I suppose, but—”
    ‘You don’t think so either, do you?”
    Savannah made it a practice not to reveal too many cards too early in any poker game. But the woman seemed sincere and, considering her loss, deserved an honest answer.
    “I have my doubts, Ms. Freed, that they died as a result of accidents. The coincidence is a bit much.”
    “Then I want you to find out what really happened to them.”
    “Well, this is Detective Coulter’s case, and he’s the best detective I’ve ever known. I’m sure that he’ll—”
    “No, I want to hire you. I want you actively investigating this and reporting everything you find out directly back to me.”
    At first, Savannah was taken aback by the job offer so blatantly stated. Then she decided that it had been too long between gigs if it took her that long to realize someone wanted to give her money for what she was doing with Dirk for free.
    “Of course,” she said. “I’d be happy to have you as a client.” She waggled one eyebrow at Tammy, who suppressed a series of giggles with one hand over her mouth and did a little dance in her desk chair. “Let me give you back to my assistant. She’ll discuss my rates with you and set up an appointment for us to meet.”
    “I’m sure your rates are fine,” came the immediate reply. “And I don’t have time to wait for an appointment. I want you to come to my office. Now. I’m on the tenth floor of the Plaza Del Oro Tower, Suite B. I’ll see you in...?”
    “Fifteen minutes,” Savannah said.
    “Good.”
    Even the click as Leah Freed hung up sounded more decisive than most, Savannah thought as she handed Tammy the phone.
    “We’ve got a client?” Tammy said, jumping up from her seat and following Savannah as she headed back to the hallway.
    “We sure do.” Savannah snatched her keys and purse off the table beside the door. “Leah Freed was both Cait’s and Kameeka’s agent She wants me to find out what happened to her girls, as she calls them.”
    “And she’s going to pay you?”
    Tammy’s shock seemed to be as deep as Savannah’s— a realization that gave Savannah a moment’s pause to consider whether maybe she should have grown up to be a flight attendant or a movie star, as she had intended to when she was an adolescent Something that actually made money frequently enough that getting paid wasn’t a novel experience.
    “Yeah,” she said as she hurried out the door. “She’s going to pay me. And that’s how I know she’s up to something.”
    “What do you mean?” Tammy called after her.
    “She’s an agent... and she didn’t even bother to dicker about the price. Something’s up, for sure.”
     
    With fourteen stories, the Plaza Del Oro Tower provided the only high point in the San Carmelita skyline. As Southern California was earthquake country, high-rise buildings were the exception rather than the rule. Savannah would never forget how disappointed she had been the first time she had beheld the Los Angeles skyline. Expecting something similar to the photos she had seen of Manhattan and Chicago, she had wondered where the skyscrapers were. From a distance, L.A. looked more like a giant parking lot than a bona fide city.
    But after having been jarred from her bed by several quakes, she found herself of the same opinion as most of her fellow West Coasters—skyscrapers were overrated... especially during a 7.1 rumbler.
    So, as she approached the Plaza Del Oro financial center, she looked up at the “massive” fourteen-story building and congratulated herself for not being successful enough to warrant an office at that prestigious address.
    The lobby with its sunlit atrium was cheerful enough, as was the bank of elevators with their tiled walls and floor, bright with primary colors and South American motifs.
    She quickly made her way to the tenth floor, and when she stepped out of the elevator she entered a new world.
    The colorful