Death by Chocolate

afternoon on a weekday, but experience
had taught Savannah that “shoulds” weren’t always the case.
    When Savannah parked her
car in the front of the house and got out, she quickly forgot about the little
girl. Loud, very adult voices were coming from the chauffeur’s apartment over
the garage. A man and a woman were having a heated argument about something.
And although Savannah wasn’t close enough to hear any details, she decided to
remedy the situation right away.
    Hurrying to the garage, she
got as far as the bottom of the stairs that led up to the apartment’s door when
the screen door banged open and a red-faced, furious Louise stomped out. “I’ll
call the cops if I have to,” she was shouting over her shoulder. “You get your
shit together and clear out of here by the time I get back from L.A., or I
swear I’ll throw it all in the Dumpster and change the locks on you!”
    “This isn’t right, Louise,”
a male voice shouted back. “You know it, too. You never think about anybody but
yourself. You’re just like your mother, you selfish bitch!”
    Rather than loiter around,
waiting for Louise to see her, Savannah ducked behind a tall wooden fence that
enclosed several recycle garbage cans and a small Dumpster. No point in making
her presence obvious at what was, obviously, an emotionally charged moment.
    Let the two of them have
their privacy; she was perfectly content to eavesdrop.
    From between the fence
slats, she watched as Louise marched past the cars parked along the driveway
and up the road to her gatekeeper’s cottage. She was so angry she didn’t even
seem to notice Savannah’s bright red Mustang sitting among them.
    As soon as Louise reached
her place, Savannah heard a car engine roar to life, and a black Lexus shot out
from behind the cottage and up the road, then through the front gates. Louise
must be on her way to L.A., Savannah surmised.
    She wasted no time leaving
her hiding place among the refuse and making her way to the staircase. Above,
she could hear the slamming and banging of somebody who was grandly ticked off.
    She smiled, happy to be
exactly where she was at the moment. There was nothing like getting somebody
when they were riled. Irate people often said all sorts of interesting things
that they wouldn’t have divulged under more serene circumstances.
    Of course, they also tended
to throw things and occasionally strike out at or shoot others... so she
assumed a cautious posture as she crept up the staircase to the door.
    Through the screen she
could see Sydney ripping pictures off the wall and tossing them onto the sofa.
He was muttering to himself, and although she listened closely, she couldn’t
distinguish any particular words. And his handsome face looked as stricken as
he was angry.
    “Sydney,” she said, softly
knocking on the door frame. “It’s me, Savannah Reid. May I come in?”
    He turned to the door and
stared vacantly at her for several long seconds before recognition dawned in
his eyes. At first, she thought he was going to burst into tears, but he seemed
to gather himself and his volatile feelings together and walked over to the
door. She stepped back as he pushed it open and allowed her inside.
    Dressed in a grease-stained
T-shirt and jeans that had seen better days, he looked the part of a handyman
more than that of an elegant, tea-serving butler.
    His dark hair with its
silver sideburns was mussed and his eyes bloodshot. She thought she could smell
booze on his breath.
    He looked terribly unhappy.
    “Are you all right?” she
asked. “I saw Louise leaving and...”
    “She fired me,” he said.
“I’ve worked for her family for eight years, and she comes in here and says,
‘Get out. I don’t want you around anymore.’ She fired Marie, too.”
    Savannah thought of Marie
and her cozy apartment that she had made into a comfortable home. She looked
around Sydney Linton’s place and, even though it wasn’t as quaint as Marie’s, it
looked comfortable, as if he had been settled in for a long time.
    One entire wall was covered
with a giant state-of-the-art entertainment center with a big-screen television
and high-tech stereo system. The other walls were adorned with posters of vintage
automobiles.
    In a place of prominence
over the gray leather sofa hung a childish crayon drawing done on a piece of
cardboard and framed with red construction paper. The picture was of three
people: a man, a woman in a black and white uniform with a white