Death by Chocolate

long
iridescent plumage sweeping behind them.
    Ah, she thought. I have
stepped through the looking glass. This is wonderful!
    So far Lady Eleanor’s
domain was everything she had ever dreamed and more. And if she got the job,
she might actually get to spend time here in this fairyland. The very thought
of anyone’s body needing to be guarded in this gentle world seemed
inconceivable. What bad thing could possibly happen amid such splendor?
    She rounded a curve in the
road, and suddenly the house was before her. A dark, dusky rose beauty, trimmed
in white with balconies, stained-glass windows, and a wide porch that wrapped
all the way across the front of the house. White wicker furniture with thick
floral cushions invited the weary traveler to take a load off and enjoy the
ocean view beyond.
    The estate canines were
less hospitable, Savannah realized the moment she opened her car door and set
foot on the cobblestone driveway. Three tiny, silky terriers bounded off the
chairs on the porch where they had been napping and raced toward her, fangs
bared, growling and yipping like a pack of starving mini-wolves.
    “Well, hello there,” she
said in her best dog-wheedling tone as she knelt to hold out the back of her
hand for the first one to sniff. “Are you the welcoming committee? Ow! Damn it,
you little booger!”
    She sprang to her feet and
grabbed her nipped finger, which was leaking drops of blood. The mangy pooch
had chomped her!
    Looking down at the tiny
creatures who circled her feet, lips quivering, gaping jaws frothing, the pink
bows in their hair belying their ferocity, she wondered if someone had trained
them to go for the Achilles tendon.
    She glanced up at the house
and thought she saw a movement of bright color, like a giant parrot, at an
upper window. Thinking better of retaliation, she decided not to kick the
fellow who had just sank his fangs into the toe of her new kidskin loafer.
    His buddy jumped on her,
leaving muddy streaks from the knee to the hem of her taupe linen slacks.
    “Back off, you flea-bitten
varmints,” she said in a low, but menacing tone, “or I’ll bring my two cats out
here next time, and they’ll eat you mutts for breakfast.”
    “All right, all right, come
back here, boys,” said the same soft female voice Savannah had heard on the
speaker at the gate. “Hitler, Satan, Killer! That’s enough!” Instantly, the
terrible terriers tucked their tails and headed back to the porch and their
cushioned chairs as a tall, thin woman in full black-and-white maid’s garb
stepped out of the front door and onto the porch.
    “Please, Ms. Reid, come
inside. Their bark is much worse than their bite,” she said, beckoning Savannah
with a dust cloth she held in one hand.
    Savannah looked down at the
blood drops on her finger. ‘Their bite’s pretty good, too, for their size.” She
stepped up onto the porch and looked at the dogs, who were circling on the
cushions and settling down for naps. “What did you say their names were?” She
couldn’t believe she had heard correctly.
    The maid’s pale cheeks
flushed, and she shrugged her thin shoulders. “I didn’t name them,” she said,
then lowered her voice and added, “I never would have named poor, innocent
animals such... but.... well.... Please, come inside.”
    Savannah stepped through
the door, heavy with leaded beveled glass, and into a foyer with a
black-and-white marble-tiled floor. A mahogany staircase, ornately carved with
cupids, roses, and lilies, curved to her right, while an arched doorway to the
left opened into a formal parlor.
    “If you’ll have a seat,”
the maid said, waving a hand toward the diamond-tucked, burgundy velvet settee,
“I’ll get you a cup of cappuccino. Mrs. Maxwell will be with you.... ah...
soon.”
    But Mrs. Maxwell didn’t
join her soon. Savannah had plenty of time to cool her heels, sip two cups of
cappuccino from a delicate English porcelain cup, and memorize every piece of
antique furniture in the room, from the glass-front bookshelves filled with
leather-bound classics to the jeweled dragonfly Tiffany lamp in the corner. It
was nearly two o’clock when the maid appeared again and said with subdued
enthusiasm, “Lady Eleanor will see you now on the verandah.”
    Not particularly eager to
encounter the furry-faced fiends again, but anxious to get the bodyguard show
on the road, Savannah followed the maid through the parlor and a vast dining
room to the back side of the house, which