Cooked Goose

hand, held it up to the porch light, and studied his slightly skinned knuckles. “How did this happen? Did you, ah, hit the door frame, too?”
    “I was trying to grab him, keep him from fallin’.” He shrugged and shook his head sadly. “Damn... I guess I missed.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

    8:01 p.m.

    Savannah picked up the phone in her bedroom and punched out Tammy’s number. Any young woman as attractive as Tam should be out at this time of night, sharing a meal... and maybe even dessert... with an equally attractive male.
    But Savannah knew she would be home.
    Long ago, Savannah had formulated the theory that the more attractive a woman was, the less likely she was to be asked out on a date. Super homely gals didn’t seem to receive a lot of invitations either. But those ladies in the middle, the girl-next-door types—they were scarfing up on the men.
    At least, that was the reason Savannah preferred to explain why she was seldom asked... unless you counted dinner with a couple of gay gentlemen or happy hour beer and pretzels with Dirk.
    She didn’t count those.
    “Hi, babycakes,” she said when Tammy picked up the phone. “What ‘cha doin’?”
    Tammy sounded so out of breath that, for a second, Savannah reconsidered. Maybe her assistant wasn’t that lonely after aU-
    Then Tammy answered Savannah’s question with a panted, “Working out. Floor exercises. Sit-ups and—”
    “Never mind, you make me tired just thinking about it. Have you got a pair of five-inch heels?”
    Tammy was quiet for a moment, thinking. “I think so. Why? Do you want to borrow them?”
    “No, I want you to wear them. I’ll be wearing my own, five and a half inches, bright red.”
    “Me? Why? Are we going to play Hookers on the Stroll?“
    “No, just Loose Ladies on the Town.”
    “What’s the difference?”
    “About four inches of leg and three inches of cleavage. We just want them to drool, not shove money in our garter belt. Get ready. I’ll pick you up around 2200 hours.”

    9:12 P.M.

    “Your sister doesn’t like me, and I have to tell you, I’m not too crazy about her either,” Margie said as she stood in the doorway of Savannah’s bedroom and watched her pulling her “fallen woman garb” from various dresser drawers.
    “Oh?” Savannah studied the small rip in the hem of her leather skirt—thanks to a tussle she had been in with a porn shop robber... another assignment of Dirk’s. It wasn’t that big a tear. She doubted that Edward Stipp, after all those years in San Quentin, would even notice, let alone give a hoot. “Did something happen between you two while I was walking with Dirk?” she asked.
    “Kinda.” Margie walked into the room, gave a furtive glance down the hall, and quietly closed the door behind her.
    “You don’t have to sneak,” Savannah told her. “Vi once slept right through a Georgia twister. The tornado tore most of the roof off, but when it had moved on down the road, we found Vidalia still snoring away in her bed. So, tell me... I what’s up?”
    Margie walked over to Savannah’s bed and plopped down on her tummy, her black-booted feet waving in the air. “She got mad because she said I hollered at her kids. That was the word she used, ‘hollered.’ ”
    “I see.” Savannah searched through her closet until she found the disco-era red satin blouse with the deep vee neckline. Then she took the assorted garments into the adjoining bathroom and went inside to dress. She left the door open while she changed so they could continue their conversation. “Well,” she said as she slipped off her sweater and slacks, “did you... holler, that is?”
    “Kinda. I told Jack he was a rotten little booger rat and I said it pretty loud. I guess that was hollering.”
    Savannah stuck her head out of the bathroom and gave Margie a curious grin. “Booger rat? Where did you get that?” Margie giggled. “I don’t know. Just sorta made it up on the spot.”
    “Mmmm... different.” Savannah ducked back inside and began to slip on the garters and fishnets. “And what had he done to earn such an auspicious title?”
    “He made some nasty comments about my hair and my n0se ring. And I’d already told him two or three times to shut up... nicely, of course.”
    “Of course.” Savannah grunted, trying to contain her burgeoning bosom in a push-up bra. Might as well give ol’ Ed the cop killer an eyeful. If he was up to his nasty former habits, she would use any wiles, feminine