Death by Chocolate

ten-thirty. She and Cordele
had shared a fairly cordial breakfast and, reluctant to end a winning streak,
short though it might be, she had delayed leaving the house until absolutely
necessary. Even then, Cordele had pouted, suggesting that if Savannah cared at
all about confronting some long-standing family issues, she should hurry
home—unless, of course, she cared more about catching society’s misfits and
putting them into dark, hopeless prisons where rehabilitation was a joke.
    Savannah was terribly proud
of herself. She hadn’t growled at, bitten, or even snapped at her sister. She
had simply smiled, nodded, quietly walked out of the house, got into her
car.... and peeled out of the driveway, leaving six months’ worth of normal
tire-tread wear on the pavement.
    Yes, so far, it was a
banner day. No one had bled. God was good.
    At the Maxwell mansion, she
found the gates wide open, so she didn’t use her ill-gotten combination to
break in. And as she passed the gatekeeper’s cottage, she saw no activity at
all.
    No one seemed to be
stirring at the studio; the yellow perimeter tape that surrounded the building appeared
undisturbed. It wasn’t until she arrived at the main house itself that the
stillness started to give her the creeps. Things were too quiet. What was
missing?
    Oh, yes... she thought, the
terrible threesome.
    They hadn’t bounded off the
porch to attack her, as usual. And the cushioned chairs, where they usually
napped when they weren’t mauling someone, were empty.
    While she couldn’t say she
particularly liked the terriers, she had grown accustomed to their shaggy
little faces. And she had derived a certain satisfaction in knowing that—for a
bagful of chicken livers—she had won them over. A feat accomplished by few.
    She was beginning to think
that no one was on the property when she heard a squeal coming from the ocean
side of the house. Hurrying around the building, she found Gilly sitting on the
lawn, playing with a tiny black pup. The squeal had been a cry of delight. She
gave another one as the puppy nipped at her fingers, then jumped up and licked
her chin.
    “Hi, sweetcakes,” Savannah
said as she walked across the lawn and sat down on the grass beside them.
“Who’s your buddy?”
    “This is Mona Lisa,” Gilly
said proudly. “We got her at the pound today. They said they think she’s part
lab and part German shepherd, so she’s really just a mutt. But mutts are good
dogs, too.”
    “Mutts are great dogs. You
say you got her at the pound?” An unpleasant thought was forming in Savannah’s
brain, and she hoped she was wrong.
    “Yeah. Mom took Killer and
Satan and Hider there today. She told me that the pound people would find new
homes for them. But I heard her tell them that the dogs were mean and that they
bite people. And the guy there said, ‘Okay, lady, we’ll take care of the dogs.’
And he didn’t say it nice, either.”
    Savannah winced. As an
animal lover, she couldn’t bear the thought of the three dogs taking the long
walk down the green mile. It wasn’t their fault that they hadn’t been trained
properly and were badly spoiled. She reminded herself to see if she couldn’t
remedy the situation later.
    “But you got Mona here and
brought her home. That’s nice,” she said, reaching down and stroking the dog’s
glossy coat. The pup was still very young, not particularly skilled at even
walking. Wagging her tail a bit too hard caused her to topple sideways.
    “Who named her Mona Lisa?”
    “I did,” she said proudly.
‘There’s a song about a lady named that. It’s a pretty song and she’s a pretty
dog. Don’t you think?”
    “I think she’s gorgeous.”
    “Better than a husky or a
poodle or a dalmatian from the pet store?”
    “Every bit as good, that’s
for sure.”
    Gilly picked up a nearby
plastic chew toy in the shape of a hot dog and squeaked it at the dog. She
yelped and jumped back, growling a tiny puppy growl.
    “She’s full of vinegar,”
Savannah said. ‘That’s for sure.” Gilly nodded. “My mommy said we could buy an
expensive dog from the pet store in the mall if we wanted to, because we’re
rich now that my grandma’s dead. But I told her, no, that I wanted to take one
from the pound and save its life.”
    “You did a noble thing,”
Savannah said. “I’m sure that Mona will love you very much and be a good friend
to you for a long time.”
    Savannah looked back at the
house and around the yard, but saw