Cooked Goose

meticulously trimmed.
    “The place looks great,” Savannah said as they climbed out of the car. “Looks like Christy’s got a green thumb.“
    “No, actually, that’s Titus. He’s quite the gardener. How long has it been since you’ve been here?”
    “Oh, gosh... at least five years. I was still on the force. Titus and Christy had just started going together, and they gave a barbecue.”
    They headed up the cobblestone sidewalk which was lined with a royal blue carpet of Crystal Palace lobelia, dotted with clusters of sweetly scented paperwhite narcissus.
    “I remember that barbecue,” Dirk said. “It was in July or August.”
    “Of course you remember, darlin’. Free food, free beer. It was probably the high point of the social season for you.”
    Dirk stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, his hands on his hips. “You know, Reid, I’m getting tired of your ‘cheap’ cracks.”
    She shoved his shoulder as she walked past him. “Don’t be so cheap, and I won’t crack. Buy me dinner sometime, big boy, and see how friendly I get.”
    He followed her, wearing his grouch face. “Ah, you’re just messin’ with my head,” he said. “I took you out to The Bench for your birthday and you didn’t exactly come across afterward. In fact, you’ve never come across... not even close.”
    She gave him a withering look. “You don’t exactly woo a girl. All-you’Can-eat miniature meatballs and buffalo wings at a sports bar’s happy hour ain’t exactly my idea of a birthday bash.”
    “You chowed down on the pretzels and the peanuts, too,” he offered in rebuttal.
    “You said you were taking me out for a meal. I was starving.” She shook her head, disgusted. “And to think I got all dolled up in my pearls and little black dress for you.”
    He dropped the grumpy facade and winked at her. “You looked pretty damned good in those pearls, too... as I’ remember.”
    She returned the flirtatious grin and added an extra waggle to her walk. “Fortunately, your taste in women is better than your choice of restaurants and cuisine.”
    “What’s my cousin got to do with anything?”
    “Not a thing. I’m just messin’ with your head again.” She pointed to the black, late-model Jeep in the driveway. “That’s his Cherokee, huh?”
    “Yes, but I think he drives a 1968 Charger, too,” Dirk said, glancing around the otherwise empty drive.
    “Maybe it’s in the garage. Wanna look?”
    He shook his head and stepped up onto the porch. “Let’s see if he answers the door before we go pokin’ around.”
    Savannah joined him on the steps and watched and waited as he rang the doorbell several times. “Hmmmm,” she said. “Maybe our boy went fishing for the day or into L.A. for a gardening expo.”
    “Wouldn’t that be nice. Not likely, but nice.” He jiggled the knob, but the door was locked. “Let’s try the back,” he said.
    Before they reached the rear door, they saw the first signs of trouble. Savannah knelt down and pointed out some dark, red-black drops on the cement walkway leading from the back of the house to the driveway.
    “Not a good sign,” she said, feeling her stomach lurch. The thought of a fellow cop coming to harm still made her sick, even if she wasn’t officially one of the fellows anymore.
    “Not good at all,” Dirk muttered as he hurried to the door. He turned the knob and the door swung open. “You know any cops who leave their doors unlocked?”
    “Not a one.”
    “Me neither.”
    Dirk drew his weapon, and Savannah did the same. Carefully, he took a few steps inside. She followed. They were in a small, tidy kitchen with freshly starched curtains at the window and a bowl of fresh fruit on the table. The answering machine on the counter was beeping and the light flashing. Savannah glanced at the message indicator. Five calls.
    “Titus?” Dirk called, his pistol pointed at the ceiling, every muscle and nerve tense and ready for use. “Hey, Titus,” he yelled louder as he walked slowly toward the door leading to the living room. “Are you home, buddy?”
    “It’s Dirk and Savannah ,” she added, close behind him. “Yoo-hoo, Titus?”
    They had taken only a few steps into the living room when they saw the carnage: the sofa overturned onto its back, the glass coffee table shattered, the television knocked off its shelf and lying on the floor with its picture tube broken, a mirror on the wall cracked and books and knickknacks scattered everywhere.
    But