Cooked Goose

now, I’m not sure myself.”
    “Is he going to die like those other policemen?”
    Dirk cleared his throat, leaned across the table and patted the girl’s hand. “Not if we can help it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

    2:03 P.M.

    G oing into someone’s house, when they weren’t at home, without their knowledge or permission, had always given Savannah tingles along the spine. But entering Bloss’s gave her a downright chill. She had been there before, when she had collected Margie’s clothes for her. But that entry had been at the request of one of the house’s occupants.
    If Bloss knew they were there, he would have a fit; she had no doubt about that.
    Unless, of course, he was as dead as the other missing cops and didn’t care about anything.
    “Not a bad place,” Dirk remarked, looking around at the heavy, dark Spanish-style furniture set off against cool, white walls. Plants hung from the high, beamed ceilings and mint green and coral Oriental rugs covered the oak-planked floors. Everything was neat and tidy, obviously cleaned by a maid service, Savannah surmised. Captain Harvey Bloss wouldn’t have the time to do much dusting or vacuuming on his workaholic schedule.
    “Must have had it decorated by a professional,” she said. “Anybody who wears hot pink, palm tree neckties and isn’t couth enough to use a tissue for his nose wouldn’t come up with this.”
    Dirk’s own nose twitched, like it was out of joint. “I guess on a captain’s salary, you can afford a pad like this. Too bad he doesn’t deserve it.”
    “You go see if you can find that chest Margie was talking about,” Savannah told him, “while I snoop around.”
    “How come you get to do the fun stuff?”
    “ ‘Cause I’m a girl and I’m not getting paid.”
    “I’m not sure what that has to do with anything,” he grumbled as he headed off toward bedroom to check out the closet.
    Savannah made a beeline for the bathroom.
    “What are you gonna do in there?” he called after her. “Contrary to popular belief, it’s the bathroom, not the bedroom, that’s the best place to snoop. It’s where you find the coolest stuff, every time.”
    A couple of minutes later, after Dirk had searched the bedroom closet and Savannah had finished with the bathroom and poked around the rest of the house, they met in the kitchen.
    “Any sign of the ring?” she asked. Dirk was holding something behind his back.
    “Nope,” he said. “I’ll bet whoever nabbed him took it, too. This was all that was in the chest, and I don’t know for sure if it was for that ring.”
    He held out a small, black velvet, ring box that was empty, but it bore the imprint of a large ring on the nap of the fabric inside.
    “At least I didn’t see no blood,” Dirk continued, “or nothin’ that would make you think he got hisself killed here.“
    “Bloss didn’t get nabbed,” Savannah said, quite sure of herself. “He isn’t missing, he’s hiding.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “There’s no suitcase or overnight bag in any of the closets, except a Barbie one in the second bedroom, which must have been Margie’s, when she was a kid. A man who travels as much as Bloss does would have at least one handy.”
    Dirk shrugged. “Maybe he just throws his junk in a pillowcase like I do.”
    Savannah made a face and shook her head. “And... his shaving stuff is gone.”
    He thought that one over for a second, then nodded. “Gotcha.”
    Opening her purse, Savannah took out her memo book and cell phone. She consulted the book, then dialed a number.
    “Mama Talula, this is Savannah Reid,” she said brightly. “I was in your shop earlier today.”
    “Yes, of course,” Mama replied in her charming, gracious accent. “The very happy woman. Are you still happy, child?”
    “Oh yes.” Savannah took the ring box from Dirk and turned it over and over in her hand. “Tell me one more thing, Mama. The rings you sold those men... the ones we were talking about today... did you put the rings in boxes when you gave them to them?”
    “Of course. A work of art must be properly displayed.” Savannah smiled to herself. “Do you happen to recall what kind of boxes they were?”
    “The same boxes I always use... just your standard ring box covered with black velvet.”
    “Thank you, Mama. Keep smilin’.”
    She switched off the phone and handed the tiny box back to Dirk.
    “Well?” he said.
    “No applause,” she said, grinning from ear to ear, “just throw