Death by Chocolate

overly curious. Two excellent
qualities in domestic help.
    Having the issue of Gilly
resolved for the time being, Savannah left the Maxwell estate with a lighter
heart than she’d had in many days.
    She dropped Tammy off at
her apartment complex and turned her Mustang toward the grocery store and her
mind toward the night’s culinary festivities. As usual when they wrapped up a
case, the Moonlight Magnolia crew would get together, eat and drink too much,
and slap each other on the back, verbally and literally.
    It made life worth living.
    Her menu was coming
together in her head: a honey-baked ham, some of her own potato salad, sliced
fresh tomatoes, and maybe she’d throw together some onion rolls. Pecan pie and
ice cream for dessert.
    And, of course, Ryan would
bring a bottle of Dom Pérignon, that delightful champagne that positively
exploded with a million tiny bubbles against your tongue and lifted your
spirits to all new heights.
    Yes, the evening would be a
pleasant one, to be sure. Cordele’s nose would probably be out of joint that
they were entertaining Savannah’s friends rather than spending “quality” time
together, discussing the bad ol’ days, but.... what the heck?
    This was such a perfect
day—with Louise’s arrest and all—that Savannah was determined that nothing
would ruin it for her.
    Nothing... except a phone
call from Dirk, just as she was picking out tomatoes in the produce section.
    “It ain’t goin’ so good
over here,” were his opening words.
    Savannah dropped her
choices into a plastic bag and tied the top, holding the cell phone between her
chin and shoulder.
    “Have you got Louise in the
sweat box?” she asked. “Yeah, but she ain’t sweatin’.”
    “Turn up the heat.”
    “It’s already up to ninety,
and she’s cool bordering on frosty. Says she was out of town the whole week
around when the kid from the drugstore says she had him get that medicine for
her.”
    She dropped the phone and
had to fish it out of some nearby bell peppers. “Out of town? Doing what?”
    “She says she was cleaning
out in a drug rehab center in San Diego.”
    “Well, was she?”
    “I don’t know. I called
down there and they’re checking. Gonna get back to me. Can you do me a solid?”
Savannah looked at the contents of her grocery cart and could feel the evening
and all its celebrations slipping away. “Sure,” she said. “What is it?”
    “I wanna stay here in case
the clinic calls and keep leanin’ on her. Can you go over to the drugstore and
ask that kid again if he’s got the date right? I already called, and he’s there
for the next forty-five minutes.” She sighed. “No problem,” she said. “I’m on
my way.”
     
    * * *
     
    Savannah found Tony in the
pharmacy’s storage room breaking down empty cardboard boxes. He didn’t seem
surprised to see her. Apparently Mildred had told him about Dirk’s call.
    He also didn’t appear particularly
happy to see her, but then, that was to be expected. There was nothing quite
like the grim possibility of another round in the sweat box to dampen one’s
spirits.
    “Don’t worry,” she told him
right away. “I just wanted to make sure of a couple of things that we talked
about the other day.”
    “Yeah, okay.”
    He put away the utility
knife he’d been using and sat down on a nearby box. “What’s up?”
    “The date that you gave
us.... the day that you actually took those bottles out of the storage closet here
and gave them to Louise, are you sure about that?”
    He folded his hands and
stared down at them. Savannah could see that he was, quite literally,
white-knuckling it. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m sure.”
    “May I ask how you can be
so sure of the exact date?” He nodded and looked terribly sad for one so young.
“I remember because it was my birthday. And I was really looking forward to
seeing her.”
    “Did she know it was your
birthday?” Savannah asked, preparing to hate Louise all the more if she had
implicated this kid in a murder plot on his birthday. But then, somebody who
would poison her own mother wouldn’t have qualms about something as mundane as
using a teenage boy who was deeply, helplessly in lust with her.
    “Yeah.... I guess she did,”
he said. “I mean, I told her it was going to be when we talked the week before
on the phone.”
    “Did she mention it when
you saw her? Like wish you happy birthday, or—”
    “Naw. I didn’t even get to
actually see her that day.” A