Death by Chocolate

stow it someplace safe.
    √ Install better lighting
around house and some motion detectors.
    √ Repair holes in property
perimeter fencing.
     
    As Savannah’s eyes scanned the
page, she realized that Lady Eleanor wasn’t likely to do any of these things,
let alone all of them.
    Like many egocentric
people, Eleanor didn’t really believe that she was mortal, that someone could
actually do her harm.
    For so long she had
surrounded herself with people who only obeyed. It was beyond her mental grasp
to think that someone might kill her without her express permission.
    And Savannah herself didn’t
really believe that the woman’s life was in danger. After all, many people
wrote nasty letters to people they didn’t like, especially celebrities. An
anonymous note was a coward’s way of venting hostility without taking any
personal risk. If you didn’t have a personal standard that prevented you from
acting like a jackass and a chickenshit, you could make an enemy crazy for the
price of a stamp.
    It was a long, long way
from writing threatening words on a piece of paper to actually committing the
act of murder.
    But... when you were
talking about the taking of human life, you didn’t think in terms of “What
usually happens is....” You took all possibilities under consideration.
    And dammit, Savannah
thought, she’s got to be a little more careful. Queens have been assassinated
for centuries. Some of them even deserved it.
    But, of course, whether
they derserved it or not didn’t matter. No queen—noble or wicked—died on her
watch. No way. She wouldn’t allow it.
    So why was a little voice
in her head saying something nasty like, Famous last words, girl. Famous last
words.
    “Oh, shut up,” she told her
inner demons as she headed upstairs to what would be certain rejection. “What
do you know about anything?”
    But she felt sort of sick
inside, and it had nothing to do with the cold she was catching. It was a
tightness in her stomach, and she knew the cause. It was because she had
learned long ago.... those little devils were usually right.
     
     
    Savannah stood in the
shadows at the edge of the set, watching the evening taping of the Lady
Eleanor, Queen of Chocolate, show. At her elbow stood a positively giddy Tammy,
so excited that she was about to dance out of her cargo shorts.
    What was it about TV shows,
any TV show, that piqued people’s curiosity and inspired them to adore even the
least adorable?
    With her nose running like
a faucet and her head throbbing like it was being hit by John Henry’s hammer,
she wasn’t in the mood to idolize anybody, let alone Eleanor the Crab. The
so-called lady had already snapped at two of her hapless crew and outright
screamed at another one, and still, Tammy gazed at her as though she were true
royalty.
    “This is just too cool,”
Tammy whispered. “I’m so psyched that you invited me to see it.”
    “It wasn’t exactly an
invitation. I need you. I want you to work.”
    “Oh, I know. But it’s just
so fun to see it all happening right before your eyes.”
    Savannah felt another
sneeze rising to the surface. She pressed her finger under her nose but half of
it escaped. “ Ach —”
    “Sh-h-h,” Kaitiin warned
them as she walked by, wearing her headphones and carrying her ubiquitous
notebook.
    “Sorry.” Savannah nudged
Tammy and led her out of the converted barn with its hot lights and into the
cool night air.
    “Ah, it’s better out here
anyway,” she said as they walked away from the crew’s parked cars and up the
driveway toward the gates and the main road.
    Savannah reached into her
purse and pulled out several plastic bags that contained the letters Eleanor
had received. “I want you to take these to Dirk and ask him to get somebody to
dust them for prints. They’re probably covered, because they’ve been passing
them around here like hot potatoes, but it’s worth a try.”
    “Okay, if I have to.”
    Not a lot of love was lost
between Dirk and Tammy, and Savannah didn’t have to question Tammy’s
reluctance.
    “Yes, you have to. And”—she
pulled another list out of her purse—“here are the names of the people who work
here and miscellaneous family members. Ask him to run them, see if anybody
comes up with a record.”
    “Oh, he’s going to just
love that. Can’t I ask Ryan?” Like most females who weren’t dead, Tammy was madly
infatuated with Ryan Stone and refused to believe he was a lost romantic cause.
She