Cooked Goose

was one of the first to show up on the beach when we started searching for Titus’s body. Now we’re here. Apparently it isn’t healthy to respond to a crime scene these days.”
    DeCianni stared at her long and hard for a few moments, then turned to Dirk. “Is she serious? Do you think that’s what’s behind this?”
    Dirk chuckled and shook his head. “Come on, DeCianni. Cops were crawling all over both scenes. It’s got nothin’ to do with anything. Savannah was just yanking your chain.”
    DeCianni stuck his face so close to Savannah’s that she could smell his booze and cigar breath. “Don’t go bustin’ a guy’s balls,” he said, “when his partner’s missing. You haven’t been off the force so long that you don’t know what a low blow that is.”
    “Ex-partner,” she quietly added.
    “Same difference.” He nodded toward her, then Dirk.
    She considered that for a second, then agreed. “True. Sorry, it was a bit below the belt.”
    “I’d like to see how you’d feel if something bad happened to this guy...” He punched a thumb toward Dirk. “...or vice versa.”
    As he swaggered away, the butt of his baggy sweatpants sagging almost to the back of his knees, Savannah turned to Dirk. “Is it just my imagination, or did that sound a little like
    a threat?”
    Dirk sniffed. “DeCianni likes to think he’s a major threat to humanity. Personally, I think beneath the blowhard bull he’s a pussy.”
    Savannah propped her hands on her hips. “Excuse me. But as a woman and a cat lover, I take offense at that.“
    “The profanity?”
    “The association.”

    * * *

    December 15 —5:32 p.m.

    “Where else but Southern California can you have a barbecue ten days before Christmas?” Tammy said as she danced around the gas grill on Savannah’s patio, wearing a bright red bikini and a sappy grin.
    Savannah noted, with only a twinge of bitterness, that the grin was wider than her assistant’s cellulite-free rear end. “Southern Florida,” she said, “the Caribbean , the French Riviera. Here, have another beer.” She shoved a brew at her, determined to put some meat on the kid’s bones.
    “Nope. It’s mineral water for me.”
    Savannah turned to Dirk, who was chug-a-lugging down his fifth Beck’s. “Mineral water,” she murmured, “how healthy... how virtuous.”
    He simply grunted and slid lower in the chaise longue, pulling his Dodgers cap down over his eyes.
    It had been a tough week, and they all needed to kick back a bit. Even Margie was getting into the spirit of the cookout, sitting at the picnic table, stripping the shucks from a dozen ears of com. Except for the outlandish hair coloring, the unconventional piercings, and the metal studs sprouting from her black jeans and T-shirt, she might have been any other suburban kid.
    Ten minutes before, she had reached into the cooler for a beer and gotten her hand smacked; Savannah was a vigilant big sister. Five minutes after that, the two of them had been squeezing lemons in Savannah’s kitchen, and now a pitcher brimming with icy lemonade sat on the picnic table beside the baked beans and potato salad. Margie was rapidly making the pitcher’s contents disappear.
    The sun was setting, casting a purple haze across the tawny foothills behind the neighborhood. A coyote yipped in the distance, prompting a chorus of yowls from his neighbors, who were as restless as he was over the recent brushfires. The occasional piece of white ash floated, like a dirty snowflake from the sky, and settled on the lawn.
    “When are your sister and the kiddies supposed to get here?” Tammy asked as she watched Savannah turn the chicken breasts over the flame. The smell of the salsa marinade and hickory smoke filled the damp, evening air, making everyone’s mouth water.
    “My granny called this morning,” Savannah said, “and told me they received a call from Vidalia yesterday. Seems the driver kicked them off the bus somewhere in Texas . They spent the night in a motel and caught another one the next morning.”
    “That’s awful!” Margie said, nearly dropping her com. “Your sister being pregnant and all. That driver should be ashamed of himself.”
    “Ashamed? He should be fired,” Tammy added, equally scandalized.
    Savannah chuckled. “I thought so, too. I even went so far as to suggest a good, ol’ fashioned horsewhipping... until I heard about the fire.”
    “The fire?” Dirk peeked out from under his cap brim. “Yeah. The one