Death by Chocolate

like them all for
it. Everybody around her hates her, and if you spent two minutes with her,
you’d see why. She’s a miserable person, and she’s determined that everyone
around share her misery.”
    “Have you seen the
letters?”
    She nodded, and sneezed.
    “Do you think they’re
serious?”
    She shrugged. “Who knows?
But either way, you have to operate on the assumption that they are. Better
safe than sorry and all that.”
    “So, you’re gonna stay over
there for a while?”
    He actually looked
disappointed. If she hadn’t felt so rotten, she might have been flattered that he
would miss her. But in her present state of mind, she decided it was the free
food and big-screen TV that he was grieving.
    “I’m taking a suitcase,”
she said. “She’s already told me she doesn’t want me to stay, but....”
    “But you’ve never been one
to worry about whether you’re wanted or not.”
    She gave him a searching
look over her tissue. “Gee, thanks... I guess.”
    “No problem. Hey, are you
gonna eat the rest of your roll? You didn’t get any sneeze cooties on that
half, right?”
     
     
    This time when Savannah stepped
out of her car in the Maxwell driveway, she was well prepared. “Hey, you sweet
things,” she mumbled as she pulled a plastic sandwich bag from her purse and
unzipped it. At her feet, the silkies snarled, but with only a fraction of the
ferocity they had displayed the day before. And no one sank his fangs into her
living tissues. Definitely an improvement.
    “Look at what Auntie
Savannah brought you.”
    She tried to ignore the
added pain in her sinuses when she bent over to feed them the tidbits of fried
chicken livers seasoned with garlic powder. “Don’t think this is because I
particularly like you,” she said as they gobbled down the offering. “But I
figure things will go much more smoothly around here if you and I are friends.”
    They ate every smidgen and even
licked her fingers clean. Tails wagging gaily, they sat up and begged for more.
She had to admit that with doggy smiles on their furry faces, they were pretty
darned cute. “All right,” she said, “I like you a little bit.”
    “My mother will scream at
you if she catches you feeding her dogs,” a female voice said from the region
of the garage. Savannah turned to see an attractive blonde in a skimpy bikini
watching her, a beach towel dangling from one hand, a pair of sunglasses in the
other. Her suit was wet, as well as the towel. Savannah assumed she had just
been to the beach.
    “So, what is it?” the woman
asked, pointing to the bag in Savannah’s hand. “Arsenic?”
    “Chicken livers and garlic.
Dogs love it. At least, my granny’s bloodhound in Georgia does. Figured it was
worth a try.”
    “Lace it with rat poison
next time. Do us all a favor.” Savannah folded the plastic bag and placed it
back into her purse. ‘Your mother? You must be Louise, Gilly’s mom.”
    “You know my kid?”
    “I met her last night just
before midnight. She was sitting in the gazebo alone.... crying. I spent a few
minutes with her, seeing if she was all right.”
    Savannah hoped Louise
Maxwell could hear the heavy subtext in her words, but although she was
extremely attractive in her Hawaiian print bikini with her golden,
shoulder-length hair and perfect tan, she didn’t appear particularly
intelligent or perceptive and only mildly concerned.
    “Well, was she.... all
right?”
    “She was pretty upset, but
we talked, and I think she felt better afterward.”
    “Good,” she said flatly,
not looking particularly grateful or even interested. Then a sudden look of
anger crossed her face, giving her a flush of passion that took Savannah by
surprise. “Crying, huh? Just before midnight? That’s about the time she goes
down to hang out with my mother. I’ll bet the bitch said something rotten to
her again.”
    Savannah’s eyes narrowed.
“Yeah, it’s sad when a child hears harsh, ugly things. It wounds their
spirits.” Again, her pointed barb seemed to sail over Louise’s head. Most
unfulfilling, she thought, and decided not, to waste her breath. One of Granny
Reid’s favorite sayings came to mind: “Don’t try to teach a pig to sing. It’s a
waste of your time, and it irritates the pig.”
    Nothing she could say here
and now would improve Louise Maxwell’s parenting skills.
    “Wait a minute,” Louise
said, taking a few steps toward her, “I know who you are. You’re the private
detective that