Cooked Goose

who grieve the deepest are people who love the most. Apparently, you love Titus very much.”
    More tears rolled down her cheeks. “He’s a good man. And I already miss him.”
    As they passed through the living room, Savannah saw a collection of photos spread across the coffee table. They were all of Titus, some with Christy, some with other cops, some with friends and family.
    “I guess it just made it worse, digging these out of storage,” Christy said as they paused beside the table and Savannah studied the pictures. “But looking at them makes me feel closer to him.”
    “I’m sure it does.”
    Then Savannah saw it: a snapshot of Christy and Titus at what appeared to be an air show. He had his arm draped casually over her shoulder; both were wearing goofy, happy smiles.
    Her pulse rate accelerated fifteen points on the spot, and she could feel the blood rush to her face.
    “When was this taken?” she asked, trying to sound casual. “At last year’s Point Morro Air Show,” Christy replied. “We got a little too much sun, had a bit too much to drink, but we had a really good time that day.”
    “It looks like it.” Savannah picked up the photo and studied it closely, making sure she was seeing what she thought she was.
    Yes. Yes. Yes. There it was, as clear as could be!
    “May I borrow this?” she asked. “Just for a while.” Christy seemed confused, but eager to help. “Sure. As long as I get it back. Why do you want it?”
    Savannah thought fast; she wasn’t good at lying to someone she liked.
    “It’s a good picture of Titus... you know... if they want to make up a flyer, or put it in the paper, or something.” Christy looked a little suspicious. “They have his department ID photo. It was in yesterday’s paper. But if you think they might want it...”
    “Thanks. I’ll take good care of it.” She shoved the photo into her purse before Christy could change her mind and hurried to the front door.
    “I’m glad you came over, Savannah .” Christy gave her a hug and clung a bit longer than usual. “Visiting with you really helped. Thanks for coming.”
    “Call me anytime,” Savannah told her. “Day or night, if you need to talk, just give me a ring. We’ll talk on the phone, or if you’ll make me a cup of that lovely tea, I’ll be over here, pronto, with bells on.”
    Another hug good-bye and Savannah was on her way. As she hurried to her car that was parked on the street, she clutched her purse and thought of the picture inside.
    One part of her wished she hadn’t seen it... for Christy Melleby’s sake. But the larger part, the detective part was having to exercise the utmost self-discipline not to jump up and down in the middle of the street and yell, “Yipp-p-p-pee!” She got into the Camaro, started her up, and headed straight for the police station. She couldn’t wait to show Dirk!

    * * *

    4:41 P.M.

    Oh, goodie, Savannah thought when she walked through the front door of the San Carmelita police station and saw Officer Kenny Bates was on desk duty.
    She loathed Bates; he was madly in lust with her. It was a rocky relationship.
    “ Savannah , baby...” he said when she walked up to his desk to sign the clipboard. “You came to see me. Just can’t stay away from me, huh?”
    She grabbed the board and scribbled her name and the time. “If there was a back door to this place, believe me, I’d use it,” she said, “if I could avoid seeing your vile mug.”
    He smirked, and she wanted to feed him his face, feature by ugly feature.
    Savannah and a dozen other females associated with the S-C.P.D. would have brought Kenneth Bates up on sexual harassment charges long ago, except that would have meant having to tolerate his revolting presence in a hearing. The price was too high.
    If Kenny Bates had practiced his annoying behavior in Savannah’s small hometown just outside Atlanta , he might have been reprimanded in some dark alley by a congregation of the harassed women and their assorted male relatives. Baseball bats might or might not have been used, but, either way, Kenny’s behavior would have undoubtedly improved.
    She shoved the register at Bates and gave him what she was certain was her most baleful eye.
    “When are you gonna come over to my place,” he said, “for a little rest and relaxation? I’ve got some X-rated tapes we could watch together. Maybe ‘bone’ up on our lovemaking skills. Maybe get a couple of nice ‘tips’ on how it’s