Death by Chocolate

stride and said, “I think that’s a given.”
    “What the hell are you
people doing on my property?” Louise demanded.
    At that moment, three furry
mini-missiles flew off the verandah and streaked toward Louise, barking,
growling, snarling, and showing their tiny incisors.
    “Oh, shut up, you stupid
mutts,” she said, kicking out at them. “You’re all going to the pound; you just
wait and see.”
    As though understanding her
words, the dogs backed off. One returned to his chair on the verandah, and the
others soon followed. Savannah was impressed. Louise had quailed the terrors
without garlic chicken livers.
    Dirk was already on his way
up the driveway, his badge out, his grimmest and most officious face on. “I’m
Detective Coulter, SCPD, I’m investigating your mother’s death. First, I’d like
to say I’m sorry for your loss.” ‘Yeah, right.” Louise looked over his
shoulder. “What are they doing here?” She pointed an accusing finger at
Savannah. ‘You have no business being here anymore. Get off this property. And
if she’s with you”—she nodded toward Tammy—“she goes, too.”
    Savannah walked over to
Louise and forced herself to smile, at least a little. Your mother hired me to
find out who was sending her those threatening letters. She paid me up front. I
have to finish the job.”
    “You don’t have to finish
anything! She’s dead, and I’m in charge now. You’re out of here.”
    Dirk cleared his throat.
“Well, technically, Ms. Maxwell... you aren’t in charge. At least, not
yet. If your mother left you this property in her will, you’ll get it once the
estate is settled, but for right now, everything’s still pretty much up in the
air.”
    Louise glanced over toward
the house and noticed the bright yellow crime-scene tape that Tammy had strung
around it. “What’s that!”
    Dirk stepped closer to her,
his eyes watching every nuance of emotion on her face. “It’s a police barricade,”
he said, “to keep anyone from entering the residence for the time being.”
    Savannah, too, was watching
Louise carefully. You could read so much into those first moments when someone
was informed.
    “Ms. Maxwell, you have to
prepare yourself for some hard news,” he said.
    Her face turned pale behind
her suntan. “And what news is that?”
    “We have reason to
believe,” he continued, “that your mother’s death wasn’t from natural causes.”
    Her mouth opened and closed
several times, as if she were gasping for air. “What are you talking about? It
was a heart attack. I heard it was a heart attack. She had a bad heart. She was
on medicine for it.”
    “I know,” he said. “But we
believe that the heart attack was induced.”
    “Induced?”
    “Caused by something....
someone.”
    “Like what? Who?”
    Savannah was watching
closely, evaluating. And she had to say that Louise seemed more nervous and
scared than upset. Most people were upset when they found out that a relative
had been murdered.
    Interesting.
    “That’s what we’re
investigating,” Dirk replied. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you much more right
now.”
    Savannah decided to take a
verbal stab at it. She stepped forward. “But I’m absolutely sure that we’ll
find out who did it,” she said evenly. “We almost always do.”
    A flash of fear, then
anger, crossed Louise’s face. Then her expression went as blank as a freshly
erased chalkboard.
    But Savannah had seen it.
And Savannah knew that Louise knew that she had seen it. Savannah looked at
Dirk. He had seen it, too.
    “And when we do find out,”
Savannah added, just for good measure, “you’ll probably be one of the first to
know.”
    Louise seethed for a
moment, her fists clenched at her sides. For a few seconds, Savannah thought
she might come at her, and she briefly enjoyed the mental image of throwing Ms.
Louise Prissy Short-Shorts on her butt with a karate takedown.
    But just as she was getting
into the idea, the sound of running footsteps caused them all to turn toward
the garage. Sydney was racing toward them, a stricken look on his face. “Is it
true?” he asked breathlessly when he reached them. “I was just talking to
Marie, and she says that Miss Eleanor was murdered. Was she?”
    “I’m afraid it’s a
possibility,” Dirk said. “And you are....?”
    “This is Sydney Linton,”
Savannah said, “Mrs. Maxwell’s driver and handyman. Sydney, meet Detective
Coulter, SCPD.”
    Dirk extended his hand, but
Sydney