Death by Chocolate

couple of phone calls to make, she stayed in her car in
the parking lot to eat. If there was one thing she just couldn’t abide, it was
loudmouthed people who sat in restaurants and chattered on about nothing and
everything on their cell phones. Her prejudice even extended to less peaceful,
fast-food eateries, like Burger Haven. She figured that if she didn’t want to
be bored spitless by other people’s inane conversations, the least she could do
was not inflict her own on others.
    “How’s it going?” she asked
with her first call, which was to Tammy. Predictably, she was at Savannah’s
house, manning the Moonlight Magnolia desk.
    “Just one call from a guy
who wants his wife tailed, thinks she’s doing the deed with their kid’s
football coach.”
    “Did you tell him we don’t
do foolie-aroundie tailies?”
    “Yep. He wanted to know what
kind of private investigators we are, then.”
    “Ones with better things to
do than hang around outside quickie motels and take nasty pictures. Anything
else?”
    “A few more calls from
reporters wanting to know about Eleanor Maxwell. Rosemary Hulse from the local
paper dropped by in person. I stopped Cordele from talking to her.”
    “Thank you. What’s she
doing?”
    “Sitting on a chaise in the
backyard, writing in her journal. She does that a lot. I think she keeps track
of everything that happens—or doesn’t happen—to her.”
    “I’m sure she does,”
Savannah mumbled. “It’s part of keeping a running tab on who messed her up and
who owes her what in life.”
    She rolled down the car
window and tossed her leftover fries onto the asphalt, where they were quickly
snatched up by a waiting flock of seagulls—or “shit hawks,” as Dirk
indelicately called them.
    “What?” Tammy said. “I
didn’t hear you.”
    “It’s just as well. Did you
get anything more on Eleanor’s sister, Elizabeth?”
    “Still working on it. She’s
mostly been in the restaurant business and living in the same studio apartment
for years. Not much of a personal life that I can uncover. Orders a lot of her
clothes from catalogs.”
    “You can tell that just
from the Internet?”
    “Wanna know her size and
color choices?”
    Savannah shook her head.
“Scary stuff.”
    “Oops, got another call.
Probably a reporter. Hold on.”
    Savannah munched the
remainder of her sandwich while Tammy talked on the other line and watched a
haggard young mother herd five children of stairstep sizes across the parking lot
to the door of the restaurant. Recalling the Reid horde, Savannah wondered, as
she often had, how Granny Reid had survived—let alone thrived—while raising
nine “younguns,” as she fondly referred to them. The woman should have been
nominated for sainthood. Cordele could complain all she wanted about her
upbringing, but Savannah felt enormously blessed when she thought of hers.
    But she didn’t have long to
reminisce. In only a few seconds, Tammy returned. “It was Dirko looking for
you; says call him on his cell.”
    “Gotcha. Tell Cordele I’ll
see her for dinner. You can join us if you want.”
    A hesitation, then no
answer.
    Savannah laughed. “I was
kidding. Go home as soon as you finish checking out Elizabeth. Just leave your
notes on the desk. I’ll call you if I have any questions.” ‘Thank you,” Tammy
gushed, as though she’d been spared from a lethal injection.
    “No problem. I understand.”
    Savannah drained the rest
of her tea while she called Dirk. “Where are you?” she asked unceremoniously.
They had long ago abandoned the common courtesies of “hello” and “good-bye.”
    “On my way to the Maxwell
place,” was the curt reply.
    “Want company?”
    “Yeah.”
    “I'll be there in ten.”
     
     
     
    Traffic was light, and Savannah
arrived at the Maxwell gates in only six minutes, beating Dirk. Once again she
punched the security code on the pad and let herself inside, wondering how long
she could get away with what was little better than breaking and entering. If
Louise were to really make a stink about her trespassing, she could probably
get her arrested, but what Louise didn’t know... couldn’t cause Savannah any
problems.
    The thought occurred to her
that she should just wait for Dirk before doing any sort of exploring on her
own. But then, waiting had never been one of her favorite pastimes. If nothing
else, maybe she could find Gilly and keep her company for a few minutes. The
child should be in school in the early