Cereal Killer

there. See you soon.”
    Marietta practically snatched the phone out of her hand the moment she had finished the call. “I hope he wasn’t trying to call while you were gabbing there,” she said.
    Savannah quirked one eyebrow. “Excuse me, but I wasn’t on that long and anyway, isn’t it my phone?” Marietta shrugged. “Yeah, I guess, but it’s really important that he get through to me if he wants to.”
    “I figure if he called and the line was busy, he’d call back, right? If he really wanted to get in touch, that is.” Oops.
    Judging from the way that Marietta’s nostrils were flaring, Savannah decided that might have been the wrong thing to say.
    “I gotta go.” She hurried toward the door. “Mari, j hope he calls. Tammy, go on home if you want to.”
    Not wasting any time, Tammy caught up with her before she reached the sidewalk.
    Savannah laughed. ‘You’re running like your drawers are on fire,” she told her. “Had enough of Marietta for one day?”
    “Oh, please,” Tammy returned, “I’ve been listening to that crap all day. And don’t look now, Sister Savannah, but your shorts are smoking, too.”
     

Chapter
    11
     
    S avannah found Dirk in the park, sitting at the same picnic bench where they had recently shared their lunch. It seemed like such a long time since then, she thought as she felt the weight of two lost lives bearing down on her.
    Someday I've got to learn not to take this stuff personally, she thought as she passed the sandbox and swing-set area to join him at the table. And the day I don't take it personally is the day I should quit this business and take up needlepoint.
    As she approached, he put out his cigarette with a guilty smile. A week ago he had “quit.” Again. Thanks to her constant nagging, he had gotten quite good at quitting. He did it at least once a month.
    “Had to get away?” he said as she sat across from him on the opposite bench.
    “Big time,” she replied. “When you called, I was sitting there praying that I’d hear from you. I owe you one.”
    The smile slid off his face. “Okay, then help me with this case. I’m getting nowhere fast.”
    “Did you get in touch with Tesla Montoya?”
    He shook his head. “Nope. I called her back, left a message at her home phone and her cell. I even drove by her house on the way over here and nobody was home.”
    “Where does she live?”
    “Just around the corner. She’s got an apartment in an old house behind City Hall.”
    “Hmmm... now that I think about it...” Savannah tapped her nails on the picnic table top. “She called a doctor after she called you. His name is Pappas. I think she was going to his office. Maybe she’s still there.”
    Dirk reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out his cell phone. “I hate to bother anybody who’s in the middle of a doctor’s appointment,” he said, “but if you think she’s really got something...”
    “She sounded pretty serious about wanting to talk to you. And she said something about nobody being able to help the situation—except for her.”
    Dirk punched some numbers into the phone. “Coulter here,” he said. “I need an address on a Dr. Pappas.” He made a face. “I don’t know if he’s local or not. Try for a local listing and then spread out. Sheez. Not likely to make detective anytime soon, are you, Sherlock?” Covering the phone with his hand, he said, “I don’t know where the department gets these jokers. They couldn’t find their butts with their hands cuffed behind ’em.”
    “So, next time, don’t call the station house, just dial 411 for Directory Assistance like everybody else in the world.” He looked at her as though she’d suddenly sprouted another head, then grunted. “Hurrumph. Don’t interrupt me when I’m talkin’.”
    A second later, he pulled out a small notebook and pen and started scribbling. “Okay, 452 Santa Barbara Avenue. Thanks. Now, was that so hard?”
    He hung up and shoved the phone back in his pocket. “Let’s go,” he said. “It’s over by the hospital.”
    As they were walking across the grass to his Buick, he suddenly stopped and gave her a funny, searching look.
    Long ago, Savannah had decided that Dirk had a problem with multitasking... like walking and talking at the same time. It was a guy thing.
    “Will they really give you an address if you call regular ol’ Directory Assistance?”
    “Sometimes. But you’ve gotta ask nice,” she told him. He