Cereal Killer

resisted the urge to jump out of her chair and cut a rug right on her living room carpet. There was nothing on earth like an exciting lead on a case to take the edge off a recent sibling spat.
    “When are you going to go visit him?” she asked.
    “I figure now’s as good a time as any to go rattle his cage.”
    Glancing at her watch, Savannah said, “It’s nearly ten. Prime time for peeping and stalking. He’s probably not home.”
    “Then I’ll wait for him to come back. Wanna go with me?”
    She looked up at the top of the stairs and listened for a moment. Marietta’s wailing had settled down to plain old sobbing, but she sounded like she could go for a couple more hours at least.
    “I might as well go along,” she said. “It’s not like anybody around here is going to get any sleep before midnight.”
    “I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes. And Van...”
    “Yeah?”
    “Could you bring a thermos of coffee, just in case it’s a late, late night?”
    “Sure.”
    “And some more of that cake if you’ve got any left?”
    Savannah looked at Marietta’s plate, still brimming with goodies.
    She knew her sister pretty well. And she knew that in a little while, grief-stricken or not, Sweet-Tooth Mari would remember the cake and hotfoot it down the stairs for a late-night snack.
    She thought of how disappointed she’d be if it was gone.
    ‘You got it, buddy,” she told Dirk with a nasty grin on her face that Granny Reid definitely would not have approved of. “I’ll be waiting on the porch for you in fifteen minutes—with a thermos of coffee and a Tupperware container full of cake.”
    “I love ya! ” he said with the usual enthusiasm that he showed when free food was being offered.
    “Yeah, I know,” she replied. Then, still grinning, she added, “Thanks.”
     

Chapter
    13
     
    S itting on the passenger side of Dirk’s old Buick, watching him lick the chocolate off his fingers, she wondered exactly what it was that she considered “charming” about him.
    “Don’t you have some napkins or at least paper towels in that heap back there?” she said, nodding toward the landfill in his back seat and floorboard.
    “What? And waste a bite of this heavenly stuff?” He closed his eyes in ecstasy as he polished off the last bit, and for a moment she thought he might actually lick the Tupperware clean. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Van,” he said, “you may have your limitations, but no matter what anybody says, you’re a damned good cook.”
    “Gee, thanks... I guess.”
    Savannah looked out the dirty window at an even dirtier neighborhood—if, indeed, this end of town could even be called a neighborhood. The object of their surveillance, Mr. Ronald Tumblety, lived in a rusty blue van parked behind an abandoned auto repair shop in San Carmelita’s “industrial” area.
    Though on this particular block of Potter Street, it appeared there hadn’t been any bona fide industry in the past decade or more. Even the graffiti on the cement block walls was outdated, including some faded references to the Vietnam war and Watergate.
    When Savannah and Dirk had arrived two hours ago, it hadn’t taken long for them to realize that Tumblety wasn’t living in the auto shop—the address he had given to the Department of Motor Vehicles. And a quick once-over of the property told them that his official domicile was the van with two flat tires and a broken windshield that was parked in the rear.
    Apparently “Tom Peeping” didn’t pay much, and neither did stalking.
    “How long are we going to wait for this guy?” she asked, getting more depressed by the moment.
    Dirk set the empty container on the dash, sighed, and rubbed his belly contentedly. “Why? You in a rush to get back to your sister?”
    Savannah glanced at her watch. “It’s after midnight. She’s probably composed herself by now.”
    “I can’t believe she’d take some Internet romance that seriously.”
    “Oh, you’d be surprised what Marietta, Queen of Drama, takes seriously. Especially when it comes to men.” Dirk snorted. “Not me, man. I stay a million miles away from broads like her. They’re way more trouble than they’re worth.”
    “Got a lot of Marietta types after you, do you, Stud Muffin?”
    “Naw. I see ’em comin’ and I head the other way.” Savannah pulled the collar of her jacket up around her neck and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s chilly in here.”
    “Ah, stop your