Cereal Killer

Everything in the Wentworth mansion was the real thing.
    Except maybe Charles Wentworth III.
    Phony baloney, was Savannah’s instant analysis when she saw him enter the room in his white tuxedo, his wavy blond hair slicked back in Great Gatsby style and his mannerisms just as affected.
    Savannah watched from the corner of her eye as he moved among his guests. Giving air cheek kisses, occasionally even bowing and kissing hands, he cajoled and flattered his way across the room. But Savannah noted that in spite of his pseudo-charm, he didn’t seem to be making much of an impression on those in his wake. Once his back was turned, more than one of his visitors rolled their eyes, gave him a derisive smile, or simply glared at him with open hostility.
    “Why do they come to his party if they don’t like him?” Savannah asked, knowing she sounded naive, but comfortable in the fact that Ryan wouldn’t mind. “Money,” he replied, “and the power it brings.”
    “But you said he’s practically broke.”
    “Yes, but they don’t know that yet. At least, most of them don’t. Once they figure it out, he won’t be able to get anybody to come to a weenie roast.”
    She looked around the room and saw a number of faces that were familiar to her, mostly from the newspaper society column—members of the city council, a state senator and his wife, a popular female television news anchor from Los Angeles, and the mayor were present.
    But being among the county’s minor-league celebrities wasn’t the attraction for Savannah. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and her spirits soared when she saw Jerrod Beekman standing in a corner, speaking to an attractive young man. And judging from their intimate body language, she assumed he was Jerrod’s date.
    “That fellow over there with Beekman,” she said to Ryan, “is he your friend, Michael Romano?
    “Oh, not at all. John and I spoke to Michael for you yesterday like we promised, and he refuses to have anything to do with Jerrod.”
    “Any good dirt?”
    Ryan shook his dark head. “No such luck. Just your everyday, mundane domestic quarrel that caused them to go their separate ways last summer. All he told me was that Jerrod is in financial straits... almost as bad as Charles Wentworth’s. He was hoping the Slenda campaign would bail him out, but it appears that his boat will sink along with Wentworth’s if this new product flops. ”
    “Which it’s bound to do if word gets out that a couple of top models died eating it.”
    “Exactly.”
    Savannah paused and pretended to study a nearby painting as a couple strolled by them. Once they had passed out of earshot, she told Ryan, “Of course, that presents a problem. What motive would Beekman or Wentworth have to get rid of the models if it would only jeopardize the campaign? Having those two girls die and another one disappear would be the last thing they’d want.”
    “Probably. But you never know.” He winked at her and caused her heart to flutter. He took her hand and said, “I’ve been to these shindigs before. I think the food’s out by the pool. Interested?”
    “Food? Food? Look who you’re talking to here, sweetcakes. What do you think?”
    They wove their way through the crowd and passed through a set of French doors that led them to an exquisite and meticulously maintained formal garden. A fantasy world of topiaries, marble statuary, trellis-climbing roses, and gazing pools, the grounds invited visitors to lose themselves in the enchantment. And— despite the solemn nature of her mission—Savannah allowed herself the luxury.
    Squeezing Ryan’s arm, she whispered, “Thank you for bringing me here tonight. This is amazing.”
    He patted her hand and smiled down at her. “You needn’t thank me. It’s my pleasure.” Then he studied her face and his smile faded. “What is it, Savannah? You looked sad for a moment there.”
    “I was just thinking about my Granny Reid. She loves flowers. Gardening is her passion. She’s never seen anything like this, and I was just wishing that she could be here with me to enjoy this.”
    “Maybe she can someday. And maybe not. But either way, I know she’d be happy to know that her granddaughter is here... and that she’s thinking of her so lovingly.”
    Savannah blinked back a tear and nodded.
    “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Ryan said softly.
    “Eh, don’t worry about it,” she replied with a sniff. “They’re good tears... the only kind you ever give