Death by Chocolate

between sips from a water bottle. “Tammy says you’re not feeling good
this morning.”
    “I have a cold. I’m tired.
It’s been a tough week. That’s all.” She decided to stick her head out of her
shell for a moment and attempt to be civil. “You look good in that getup. What
are you doing?”
    “My yoga. I do it every
morning to calm my mind, to harmonize my spirit and my body.”
    Savannah tried to summon a
modicum of enthusiasm. She couldn’t find any, so she faked it. ‘That’s good.”
    “It also helps with muscle toning
and weight control. You should try it sometime.”
    Savannah glared at her with
red, burning eyes. “I have tried yoga, Cordele. I live in southern
California, for pete’s sake. We’ve all tried everything at one time or another.
We’re very open-minded people.”
    “Obviously you didn’t stick
with it,” Cordele replied, scanning up and down Savannah’s body. “Discipline is
the key.”
    “Eh....” Savannah mumbled,
“go sit on a Lifesaver and tell me what flavor it is.”
    Cordele bristled like a
banty hen. “What did you say?”
    “Nothing. Never mind.”
    “No, I heard what you said.
It was that obscene Lifesaver insult you used to say when we were kids. I
remember the first time you ever said that to me. I was devastated.”
    “No!” Savannah held up one
hand. “Don’t you even start with me this morning, girl, or I swear I’ll breathe
on you. I’ll cough on you and sneeze all over you, and give you this friggin’
cold. You just aggravate me some more and see if I don’t! Back off. I mean it!”
    Tammy hurried into the
living room, having overheard. She looked from one sister to the other, but
they were locked in a glaring match.
    “Cordele,” she said. “Would
you like to have some breakfast? I believe we have fresh strawberries and
yogurt in the refrigerator. Some wheat germ to sprinkle on the top. What do you
say?”
    Eventually Cordele broke
the glare standoff and stomped away into the kitchen.
    “Thank you,” Savannah
mouthed to Tammy.
    Tammy just smiled—her sunny
good-morning smile. And Savannah thanked her stars above that she had a friend
who was observant, perceptive, compassionate.... and a morning person.

Chapter

12
     
     
     
    N o sooner had Savannah
pulled into the parking lot at the station house than Dirk came bopping out of the
back door. He hurried over to her Mustang and stuck his head in the open window
on the passenger’s side.
    “Were you watching for me
from the window?” she asked. “Or have you developed ESP in your old age?”
    “I was watchin’. Hillquist
is in the squad room, and I figured you’d just as soon avoid him if possible.”
    “Like creeping cruditis,”
she said.
    Since Police Chief Norman
Hillquist had fired her from the police force several years back, he had been
her least favorite person on the planet. “Dirty, sucking, pond scum” was the
way she usually referred to him. And that was to his face. Behind his back she
was less kind.
    “Thanks for sparing me,”
she said. “Get in, and I’ll drive.”
    He hesitated. Like most men
she had met, Dirk preferred to be the one behind the wheel. Usually she didn’t
care either way. But today she wanted at least the illusion of control over
some part of her life.
    “Get in,” she said. “The
lab’s all the way across town. Just think how much gas money you’ll save.”
    He opened the door and
plopped himself inside. Giving her a double sideways take, he said, “What’s
with your nose bein’ all red? You got your cold back or somethin’?”
    “No,” she said. “I was
putting on lipstick, and I missed.”
    “And your eyes are puffy,
too. I hate to tell you this, but you look like shit, Van. You should be home,
not running around with me.”
    “My sister is in my home.”
    He smirked. “So you prefer
my company to hers, huh?”
    “Yeah. Sorry state of
affairs, no?”
    They drove along in silence
for a few minutes until they reached the industrial area of town. Savannah
looked around at the endless rows of soulless gray buildings and asphalt
parking lots.
    “I remember when this was
all orange groves and strawberry fields,” she said. “Look at it now.”
    “Progress. It just keeps
marching on. Pretty soon, San Carmelita will just be another part of L.A.”
    “Don’t even say it.”
    She pulled into one of the
lots and parked next to a dull gray building with an equally dull gray door.
The only clue to its occupancy was the Great