Cereal Killer

orders.”
    There was a long moment of silence all around the table. Then John said, “Good show, old girl! Do tell... who has a restraining order and against whom?”
    ‘Yeah, cough it up, hairball! ” Dirk said.
    Tammy gave him her prissiest adolescent smirk. “Do you mean to tell me that you, Detective Sergeant Coulter, hadn’t checked for that yet?”
    Dirk growled and gouged her again, harder and in the ribs. “I don’t wanna have to hurt you, kid. Give.”
    “Yeah.” Savannah poked her in the other side. “Talk.”
    “Both Cait Connor and Kameeka Wills had restraining orders against the same person.”
    “And...?” Savannah leaned closer, resisting the urge to throttie her.
    “And so do Tesla Montoya and even Desiree La Port.”
    “All four ladies have restraining orders against the same individual?” John asked.
    “The same person.” Tammy paused, milking every drop of drama juice from the moment.
    “Well, who is it?” Dirk roared.
    Hitching her chin upward two notches, she proudly announced, “His name is... Ronald Tumblety. Tumblety, T-U-M-B-L-E-T-Y.”
    Savannah looked at Dirk. John and Ryan looked at Savannah. Dirk just sat there, staring at Tammy.
    Finally, Ryan asked the obvious. “Who’s Ronald Tumblety?”
    Savannah sighed and sank back in her chair. “The hell if I know,” she said.
    “Me either,” Dirk said, letting out a sigh that sounded like a punctured bicycle tire oozing air.
    “Well, who is he?” Savannah asked Tammy.
    Tammy shrugged. “I don’t know. I found out his name and the fact that the basis for the restraining order is because he was stalking them. All of them, at one time or another. Beyond that... it’s up to you professionals.” She looked at Dirk and made a face. “After all, I’m just the amateur sleuth around here.”
    But Dirk was already on his feet. The whole house shook as he left, slamming the back door behind him.
    “Dirk’ll find out,” Savannah said as she picked up her fork and continued to eat her cake. “After all, he’s got the badge and all the legal connections... not to mention that big check from the department every other Friday. Would you like another piece of cake, John?”
    “I’d be delighted, love.”
    “Pass your plate.”
     
    * * *
     
    Half an hour later, when the rest of the gang had left for the evening, Savannah dished up an extra generous helping of the cake and took it into the living room. Marietta was still sitting at the computer, staring at the screen, her face illuminated by the green glow.
    She didn’t even appear to be blinking.
    “Hey, Sis,” Savannah said, walking over to her. “The troops are gone now. Why don’t you take a break from that thing and chat with a live person for a while?”
    Marietta’s only response was a slight shake of her head. Then she began to type furiously.
    “Saved you a big piece of my Death by Chocolate,” Savannah said, waving the cake under her nose. “Raspberry sauce on it. Whipped cream, your favorite.”
    “Naw. Not now.”
    “But, Mari, you’ve been on that thing for...” She glanced at her watch. “Four and a half hours now. What could be so interesting?”
    As though startled out of a coma, Marietta jumped and looked up at Savannah, her eyes wide and vacant. “What?”
    “Come visit with me for a while.” Savannah motioned toward the sofa. “I’m going to bed pretty soon, and you haven’t told me the latest on your new lover boy.”
    Savannah heard the words coming out of her mouth and wondered—not for the first time—if she was a complete idiot. Here she was actually asking to be tortured. And why?
    Just to be nice? Courteous and polite?
    Where had she gotten the idea that it was a good thing, this pretending to give a hoot? Oh, yeah... Granny Reid. Gran had definitely overemphasized that aspect of being a Southern lady.
    Sometimes “nice” sucked.
    Like when Marietta looked up at her with tear-brimmed eyes, her lower lip trembling, and said, “Something’s wrong. I don’t think he loves me anymore.”
    “Who? Mr. Cyberdude?”
    “Sure. Who else. The guy I spent the night with last night. I don’t think he loves me anymore.”
    “Really? Why?”
    “Because he’s telling everybody in the chat room that he never did love me.”
    “Oh. Yeah. Well. I see your point.”
    Maybe it’s not too late for a graceful exit, Savannah thought as she set the dish of cake on the desk beside the computer.
    “I think I’ll call it a night,”