Death by Chocolate

enough,” Savannah
replied, lifting one of her two black cats, Diamante, onto her lap and stroking
her glossy coat. After spending the afternoon with the terrible threesome
silkies, it soothed her soul to be in the company of a peaceful, benign animal.
That, and the cup of coffee generously laced with Bailey’s.
    “How many were there?”
Tammy curled her bare feet under her and nibbled the celery stick in her hand.
Tammy was always munching vegetables. “Live” food, she called it.
    Savannah had decided long
ago to love her anyway. Nobody was perfect.
    “Three,” Savannah replied. “All
mailed from Los Angeles. How’s that for narrowing down the possibilities?” She
sighed.
    “What did they say?”
    “In a nutshell? Basically,
‘Shape up and treat people better, or you’re going to die, you stinking bitch.’
”
    “That blunt?”
    “Oh, yeah. No frills around
the edges, just your generic death threat.”
    “Handwritten?”
    Savannah sniffed. ‘Yeah,
right. No such luck. Typed. A word processor. Arial font 14.”
    “Fourteen? That’s bigger
than average. Maybe the typer has a vision problem.”
    “That occurred to me, too.
Or maybe they just wanted to make sure Eleanor didn’t miss a word. The words
were in bold, too. Exclamation marks everywhere.”
    “Sounds juvenile.”
    “Maybe.”
    Savannah’s second miniature
black leopard, known as Cleopatra, hopped onto her lap and jostled with
Diamante for the best petting position. Both had started off their lives as
ordinary housecats, but nobody starved in Savannah’s household. No one was even
allowed to feel a hunger pang. And after years of a never-ending flow of Kitty
Kiddles and assorted goodies from Savannah’s hand, the oversized twosome could
have easily felled a zebra in Africa.
    Savannah offered them a sip
from her coffee/Bailey cup. Only Cleopatra accepted. Diamante preferred her
coffee black.
    “I know,” Tammy said, “that
you think Lady Eleanor is the greatest, but—”
    “ Thought she was the
greatest. She’s a pig. And I say that with all due respect to the porcine
population. I wish I’d never met her in person. Boy, talk about a letdown.”
    “When goddesses tumble from
their marble pedestals....”
    “Something like that. I
gotta tell you, it’s a painful thing, losing one of your idols.”
    “Anyway, I know you thought
a lot of her,” Tammy continued, “but this gig sounds like it’s more trouble
than it’s worth. Maybe you should pass on it.”
    Savannah stroked first one
cat, then the other, feeling them arch to enjoy her touch to the fullest. She
looked down at the tiny teeth marks in her finger. Hitler, Satan, Killer—how
sick was that?
    She thought of the woman
with the spiky gray hair, the gaudy muumuu, and the voice that felt like a
parmesan cheese grater raking across her nerves. The commands
to “sit” and “get lost.” The harried, weary look on the gentle maid’s face. The
death threats that had the tone of someone who was, very simply, fed up with
Lady Eleanor.
    “Maybe you’re right. Maybe
I don’t need the hassle right now,” she said, feeling a cloud lift from her
head and shoulders, a cloud that had been floating around her since that rude
2:00 a.m. phone call.
    “Good.” Tammy crunched on
her celery. “I think that’s wise. Let Eleanor find another flunky to guard her
royal heinie.”
    Savannah thought a few
seconds more, weighing all factors. “Did you pay the bills this morning?” she
finally. asked.
    “Some of them.”
    A long, heavy silence
stretched between them.
    “How many of them?”
    Tammy sighed. “I paid last
month’s electricity. The phone from the month before last.”
    “The mortgage?”
    “Nope.”
    “Insurance?”
    “Uh-uh. The electric and
phone tapped you out.”
    “When’s the last time you paid
yourself?”
    “Last March.”
    “That long, huh?”
    Savannah drained the last
of her coffee. Tammy finished off the celery stick and started on the carrots
before she said, “So, when do you report for Eleanor Guard Duty?”
    “Tonight at eight P.M.
That’s when she starts taping.”
    “A taping. Hmmm. That
should be interesting. Youknow... kinda nice.”
    “Gr-r-r-r…”

Chapter

3
     
     
     
    ”G ee,” Savannah whispered to
the maid, who she had recently found out was named Marie, “somehow I thought
the show was filmed in her actual kitchen, like she says it is on TV.”
    ”A lot of people think
that,” Marie said as she walked around the