Death by Chocolate

the busy sidewalk. It looked like
everybody and their dogs’ uncles were going to lunch.
    He passed a number of
eating establishments before he finally ducked into a Starbucks.
    “Nice choice,” she mumbled
as she started to walk across the street.
    But the light was against
her, and she had to wait for it to go through a lengthy cycle before she and
the others waidng with her could cross. When it finally changed, they surged
forward, en masse, and she lost sight of the coffee shop’s door for a moment.
    Emerging from the press of
bodies, she glanced over at the store’s entrance just in time to see a familiar
face going in. She would have recognized that short-cropped bright red hair
anywhere. Kaitlin Dover.
    Bells chimed in her head
and she felt her pulse quicken as she hurried to the glass windows at the front
of the store. If Kaitlin’s and Burt’s meeting here was more than coincidental,
she wanted to know. She also wanted to see how they greeted each other.
Greetings said a lot.
    She stopped at the edge of
the window and, as discreetly as possible, peered inside. An old lady sitting
at a table next to the glass gave her a questioning look, but Savannah ignored
her.
    She spotted Burt Maxwell
right away, sitting at a bar against the far wall, thankfully facing away from
the front of the shop. And Kaitlin Dover had walked into the store, given a
quick look around, and headed straight for him.
    No chance meeting, Savannah
thought, watching them closely.
    Kaitlin walked up behind
him and said something. Immediately he sprang up from his stool, turned around,
and embraced her. He gave her a fairly fast peck on the lips, but his hands
were too low on her hips for the hug to be one between casual friends.
    “Hm-m-m....” Savannah
murmured to herself.
    For a moment she considered
walking into the shop and confronting them. But then she decided against it.
She had come to Sunset Boulevard to interview Burt Maxwell, hopefully to find a
new piece to the puzzle. And this juicy revelation was better than anything she
would have gotten from a chat, even if he had agreed to open up to her. Which
wasn’t likely.
    Although, if she didn’t go
inside... she wouldn’t be able to get one of those amazing caramel brownies.
    Oh well, she thought, as
she turned and walked back to her car. Sometimes in the line of duty you had to
make sacrifices in order to call yourself a professional.
    On her way home, she would
pass by a dozen or so Starbucks. She’d stop at one of those and pick up some
caramel brownies... and some chocolate-dipped biscotti, too.

Chapter

17
     
     
     
    “Y ou just got home! Are you
going out again?”
    Cordele stood in front of the
door, blocking the hallway and Savannah’s way out of the house.
    Savannah stood there, purse
in one hand, car keys in the other. ‘Yes. I was going to run one more errand
before we go out for dinner tonight. Is that all right with you?”
    Cordele’s face screwed into
a petulant pout. “Not really. I was hoping you and I could talk awhile this
afternoon.”
    Savannah wondered whether
to ask or not, and decided there was no way around it. “Is something wrong?”
    “Wrong? Wrong? Of course
something’s wrong. It’s been wrong for years. We share a lot of past family
history together that we need to deconstruct in order to work our way out of
it. That’s what I came to California for.”
    Savannah closed her eyes
for a moment, then said, “I meant to say, is anything new wrong?”
    “Well.... not anything
really new, but...”
    “If it’s waited this long,
could it wait a little longer? I have something I really need to do.”
    “Business or personal?”
    Either way, it’s none of your personal business, she thought, but she didn’t say it. There was no point in
making a bad situation miserable.
    “Would you like to come
with me?” she asked. “Where are you going?”
    “To juvenile hall.”
    “What for?”
    “To talk to a social worker
there. A friend of mine.”
    “About what?”
    Savannah steeled herself
and counted to five. “Cordele, darlin’, would you like to come with me? Or do
you want to stay here and read or whatever?”
    Or would you prefer to swim
to Hawaii? she added mentally. I’d be happy to give you a ride to the pier and
throw you off the end of it.
    “I finished the book this
morning,” she added in an accusing tone. “I didn’t come all the way here just
to sit around the house and be bored. I guess I’ll come.” Savannah