Death by Chocolate

and gave him her undivided glare.
    Dirk reached into his shirt
pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “I need to know if you have any”—he
consulted his note—“phenylprophedrine in stock.”
    “No,” she said. ‘That’s
been pulled off the shelves.”
    “And after you pulled whatever
you had off the shelves,” he said with exaggerated patience, “what did you do
with it?”
    “We usually send recalled
drugs back to the manufacturer for a refund.”
    “And is that what you did
with your phenylprophedrine?”
    Savannah saw a flicker of
doubt in those gray eyes before she said, “I believe so.”
    Dirk gave her a smile that
looked more like a snarl. “Would you please check your records? I need to know
for sure.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I’m a curious sort
of guy. That’s what you— the hardworking taxpayer—pay me the big bucks for.
Please check. I’ll wait.”
    Meanwhile, a female
customer had approached and was waiting and watching at the counter.
    The druggist returned his
acrid smile and said, “I’ll check for you.... as soon as I’m finished with this
lady.” The instant she turned to wait on the woman, Mildred’s whole demeanor
changed to one of complete courtesy and cheer. “Good afternoon, Mrs.
Simington,” she gushed. “And how can I help you today?”
    Dirk turned to Savannah.
“You know, when punk gangster kids give me no respect, I take it in stride. But
this gal is your average Jane Q. Public. What’s she got against me to give me a
hard time like that?”
    “I don’t know, darlin’,”
Savannah replied, squeezing his arm at the elbow. “Cordele would probably say
your pharmacist here has authority issues.... or maybe she has a problem with
tall, dark, handsome men. Maybe your mere presence stirs deeply buried desires
that are simmering below the surface of her id or ego, or something,
threatening to—”
    “Oh, shut up,” he said,
yanking his arm away. “I know when you’re messin’ with me.”
    “Tall, dark, handsome—and
sharp as a basketball! No wonder she’s intimidated!”
    Mildred took her good, easy
time while waiting on her customer, then sauntered over to a counter where a
computer displayed a kaleidoscope screensaver pattern. She began to type, and a
blue screen with a detailed list appeared. Eventually, she returned to the
counter where Dirk and Savannah were waiting.
    “We had thirty-six bottles
in stock. We pulled them off the shelves,” she recited in a monotone completely
void of enthusiasm.
    “And did you send them
back?” Dirk asked with an equally flat affect.
    “Not yet.”
    His face lit up with a
genuine smile, and Savannah could feel her own pulse quicken just a tad.
    “Good. Let me see the
boxes.”
    The steely eyes narrowed.
“Do you have a search warrant?”
    Dirk’s eyes got just as
icy. “Do I need a friggin’ search warrant to count the friggin’ bottles? That
would mean I’d have to come back here again and have yet another one of these scintillating
conversations with you. And as appealing as that may be, I—”
    “All right, all right. Come
on.”
    She directed them behind
the closed counter and to a door in the back. With a key on the ring that she
had in her pocket, she unlocked the door and directed them inside. “Don’t touch
anything,” she said.
    “Wouldn’t dream of it,”
Dirk replied.
    Savannah held up both
hands. “Me either.”
    The druggist shuffled
around some boxes, rearranged some, and finally thrust one of them at Dirk.
‘There you are,” she said. ‘Thirty-six bottles of phenylprophedrine.”
    It didn’t take Dirk long to
count. He skimmed his fingers over the contents of the box, looked up and gave
Savannah a broad grin. “Thirty-four,” he said.
    “Thirty- four ?” Mildred
snatched the box away from him and conducted her own tally. “You’re right,” she
said, although her tone suggested that those words were foreign in her
vocabulary. “Two of them are missing.”
    “Who else has access to
this room?” he asked.
    “Just myself and my
assistant, Karen, have keys.”
    “Do you have a delivery
boy?”
    She nodded.
    “A young kid, tall and
skinny?”
    “Well, yes. Tony’s slender
and tall. Why?”
    “Does he ever come into
this room?”
    “I... well... I suppose he
might from time to time.... to get something for me or for Karen if we ask him
to.” Mildred’s icy crust was beginning to develop some cracks. Her voice
quivered a bit as she said, “Did you say you’re