Cereal Killer

into the kitchen, vowing to spritz it with Lysol before she used it again. She had to eat something; she couldn’t take this... whatever it was... on an empty stomach.
    “Did you eat yet?” she called back into the living room.
    “No, I was waiting for you,” came the predictable answer.
    “Waiting for me to cook it and serve you, is more like it,” she mumbled as she pulled a package of pork chops out of the refrigerator, along with a head of lettuce, some tomatoes, and a Bermuda onion.
    Cleopatra and Diamante ran into the kitchen, tails up and waving, anticipating their evening ration of Kitten Kitties.
    “Sometimes I just feel plain used,” Savannah said as they wrapped themselves around her ankles. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve got WELCOME printed across my forehead.”
    No sooner had she scooped the fishy-smelling concoction into their bowls than she heard a purring sound, and it wasn’t coming from the cats. It was the sound of her cell phone buzzing in her purse on the kitchen table.
    “Go away,” she told it. “Let me get a mess of pork chops and mashed potatoes in my stomach and a nap and then you can wipe your feet on the old Savannah doormat.”
    She pulled her cast-iron skillet out of the oven, set it on the stove, and lit the flame under it. But as she was reaching into the cupboard for the can of shortening, the phone started to buzz again.
    “Lord Almighty, there’s no rest for the weary... and apparently no dinner either,” she said as she turned off the stove, walked over to the table, and fished her phone out of her purse.
    “What do you want?” she barked, expecting it to be Dirk.
    Instead it was Tammy on the other end, and she sounded excited. “Oh, I’m so glad you picked up this time,” she said. “You’re not going to believe where I am.”
    “Well, let me tell you where I am,” she said. “I’m in my kitchen, trying to make myself a bite to eat and—”
    “I know.”
    ‘You know? How do you know?”
    “I didn’t know that you were cooking, but I know you’re home because I’m parked about a block and a half from your house.”
    “What are you doing there?”
    “Surveillance.”
    ‘You’re doing surveillance on me? Tammy, I m not someone who needs to be—”
    “I know, I know. I’ve been tailing Tumblety all day long. I followed him all over town early this morning and then I tailed him all the way out to Arroyo Verde and back....”
    Savannah completely forgot about food or sleep as her brain began to spin. “Arroyo Verde? Today?”
    “Yeah, and then he came back here to San Carmelita, and guess where he is right now?”
    The hair on the back of Savannah’s neck started to prickle. “Don’t tell me....”
    ‘Yes. I’m sitting in my car, watching him with my binoculars. And right this very minute, that creep is peeping in your kitchen window.”
     

Chapter
    20
     
    I t took every smidgen of Savannah’s self-control not to rush over to her window and confront Tumblety. But if she did that, he would simply run, and she wasn’t in the mood to let anybody get away with anything today. And especially not violating her privacy!
    Calmly, she turned her back to the window and said, “Really? Now isn’t that just so-o-o-o interesting. Let’s keep talking about this.”
    She strolled back to the table and picked up her purse. “I’m going to go into the living room now,” she said, “and I want you to tell me everything he does. Okay?”
    Tammy assured her she would.
    Her purse in one hand, the phone in the other, Savannah walked into the living room where Marietta was still chatting happily on the phone.
    “Mari,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Listen close. Do exactly what I say. Okay?”
    Marietta looked up at her and screwed up her face in annoyance. “Can’t you see? I’m on the phone.
    “Hang up right now, and call 911. ’
    “Why?”
    ‘Just do it.” Then, into the phone, she said, “What’s he doing now?”
    “He’s left the kitchen window and is working his way around to the living room. Your shrubs are in his way.”
    “If he smashes my new lilac bush, I’ll kill him for sure,” Savannah muttered. Turning back to Marietta, she plastered a fake smile on her face and said, “Did you dial 911 like I said?”
    “No! You’re acting weird, Savannah, and you’re getting me spooked. Cut it out.”
    “Marietta. Do what I’m telling you, girl. Hang up that phone and call 911. Tell them that we have a prowler at 217