Cereal Killer

concerned.”
    “No, really. I’m hoping you’ll do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to a social function this evening. And if Tammy is free, John would like to take her. We realize it’s short notice, but it shouldn’t take long for you ladies to become ravishingly beautiful. It’s formal, by the way.”
    Savannah looked over at Marietta, who was still trembling with rage and indignation. She quickly weighed the options before her: Spend the evening with two delicious men at a formal affair. Fight with her sister for another two hours and wind up committing homicide. And as fun as that might be, there was the body disposal, which could prove tricky with all the new advances in forensic investigations.
    “We’ll come.”
    “Excellent. John will be delighted. We’ll pick you ladies up at half past seven.”
    “Where are we going?”
    Again, that throaty chuckle on the other end that never failed to set her knickers atwitter. “We’re going to Mystic Canyon. Specifically, to the Wentworth estate in Mystic Canyon for dinner, dancing, and a charity auction to benefit the county symphony. I believe several of the people you’re investigating in these murders will be attending. It should be fun.”
    Savannah grinned from ear to ear. “Oh, yes. I’m sure it will be. Thanks for thinking of us.”
    “Always, sweetheart. Always.”
    Savannah had to wait a moment or two after she hung up before her legs would work again. Ryan frequently had that effect on her. Then she walked past the incensed Marietta without a word and into the kitchen where Tammy waited, an expectant look on her pretty face.
    “Well, what did Ryan want?” she asked.
    Savannah laughed. “All I can say is: Put on your dancin’ a shoes, darlin’. We’re gonna rock the night away. And better yet, while we’re there, we’ll squeeze us some bad guys.”
     
    Tucked away in the hills behind San Carmelita, Mystic Canyon was a secluded and exclusive community where middle-class citizens, like Savannah, or even the upper-middle-class folk seldom ventured. This wasn’t because they didn’t want to venture there. It was simply because the overzealous guards at the gate made sure they didn’t get the chance.
    So Savannah felt more than a little pleased with her- i self when she sailed past the security booth with Ryan, John, and Tammy in the guys’ vintage silver Bentley.
    Savannah sat in the back seat of the car with Ryan, trying not to gawk and drool, as they drove past everything from stately Tudor mansions to sprawling Spanish haciendas—palatial residences that ranged from vintage Hollywood art deco to Miami Beach contemporary.
    Every estate reflected the skill and taste of some renowned architect and, perhaps, that of its wealthy owner. And each property created its own fantasy land for the occupants and visitors alike, inviting them to spend a bit of time on the French Riviera, the streets of Rome, or the baronial English countryside.
    “It’s nice to see how the rest of the world lives,” she said, thinking of her own leaky roof that needed repairs.
    “A very small segment of the rest,” Ryan replied, “if it’s any consolation.”
    “A little.”
    She glanced down at her evening attire, a simple black dress, and felt a fleeting moment of anxiety. When she went to one of these high-society events, she always felt a bit like Cinderella—a scullery maid who knew, no matter how she dressed, she was still just a poor girl from the Georgia cotton fields.
    But she dispelled her feelings of inadequacy by remembering what her grandmother had told her, “You’re from fine stock, Savannah girl, so hold your head up high and look ’em all square in the eye. They’ve got nothin’ over you, darlin’, so don’t let ’em think they do.”
    “You look fantastic this evening, Savannah,” Ryan said, as though sensing her momentary lapse of confidence. “You do that dress justice,” he added, glancing down at her abundant cleavage. The wraparound silk dress revealed a tasteful but tantalizing amount of creamy curves with its low V-neck. And it fulfilled her personal standard: “Show Off the Goods, But Don’t Be Trampy.”
    Savannah gave him a grin and a nudge. “Watch it. You’ll make John jealous.”
    “Too late for that,” John replied from the driver’s seat. “I’ve known all along that if Ryan ever leaves me for a woman, it’ll be you, Savannah. Besides, how can I be jealous when I have such a lovely