Killer Calories

so.
    “Show the ‘gentleman’ to our table, Antoine, and bring him a chair,” Ryan said. “Any friend of Savannah ’s is welcome.”
    “You’re too kind,” Savannah said gratefully. She hated to think what a scene Dirk would have made if tiny Antoine had tried to toss him out the front door.
    Ryan shot Gibson a quick, but distinctly sour look. “Yes, I am, aren’t I. ”
    “It’s probably something important, or he wouldn’t follow me in here,” she said. “He’d be afraid they’d charge him just for coming through the door.”
    “I’ll speak to Antoine about instating a cover charge,” Ryan mumbled.
    John pasted a mildly pleasant and infinitely patient look on his face.
    A moment later, Dirk ambled into the room, winding his way between the sparkling beveled -glass partitions, dodging the palm fronds. He looked even more disheveled than usual and not particularly happy to see her sitting there with two men he had decided long ago to despise.
    He gave Ryan and John a curt nod, which they returned, and plopped down on the chair beside Savannah ’s. Pausing to reorient, he looked her up and down, taking in the French twist hairdo, the pearl drop earrings, the simple but elegant black dress.
    “Damn, you clean up good,” he said. “Why don’t you get dolled up like that when I take you out?”
    “I thought the pearls were a bit much for the all-you-can-eat-for-a-buck, happy hour at Joe’s Sports Bar.”
    He glanced around, looking—as Savannah ’s Granny Reid would say—as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. “Yeah, I bet they won’t sell you a glass of water here for a buck.”
    On cue, Antoine appeared. “Good evening, sir. And what will you be having?”
    “Whatever you got on draft.”
    Antoine waited, but when no other information was forthcoming, he lifted his pinched nose a few notches and said, “That will be one... beer... for monsieur.”
    “And some pretzels.”
    Antoine raised one eyebrow. “Pretzels, monsieur?”
    “That’s right. A bowl full of them and keep ‘ em coming. I’m starved.”
    Antoine cast a questioning look at Ryan, then at John. But both men had become fascinated with the hems of their napkins. Savannah didn’t know whether to blush or giggle.
    “I’m sorry, monsieur,” Antoine said, sounding anything but remorseful. “But we have nothing like... pretzels.”
    “You gotta have something around here to munch on. How about Buffalo wings?”
    Antoine’s eyes widened. “ Buffalo wings, monsieur?” Ryan cleared his throat loudly and held up one hand. “Excuse me, if I may,” he told Dirk. Turning to Antoine, he said, “I think perhaps the gentleman would enjoy les cuisses de grenouille with a nice sauce piquante .”
    “Hey, wait a minute. That sounds expensive.” Even the thought of spending money flustered Dirk.
    “Everything sounds expensive when it’s ordered in French,” Savannah told him.
    “Don’t concern yourself with the cost,” Ryan told him. “It’ll be my pleasure.”
    Dirk sputtered for a moment, then muttered a semigracious thank you. “Exactly what is it... that stuff you ordered?” Savannah bit her lower lip to keep from snickering. Gibson’s eyes sparkled as he took a sip of his cognac. Ryan looked Dirk straight in the eye and said, “Why, it’s French Buffalo wings. That is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
    “I just don’t wanna find myself eatin ’ nothin ’ like snails and shit. I don’t eat crap like that.”
    Savannah punched Dirk’s shoulder. “So, how did you know I was here?” she asked, heading for safer waters.
    “I stopped by your place. Miss Prissy-Pot was there.” Savannah turned to Ryan and John. “That’s his term of endearment for Tammy. The two of them get along splendidly.”
    Dirk grunted. “She told me you were over here, chowin ’ down, and I thought I’d come over here and fill you in on the latest with Kat Valentina.”
    Savannah perked up instantly. “Did you get the autopsy report?”
    “Yep. Dr. Liu wrapped it up a couple of hours ago.”
    “So, tell us,” Ryan interjected, a half smirk on his handsome face, “exactly how did Ms. Valentina... croak?”
    John Gibson nearly strangled on his cognac. Savannah dabbed furiously at her lips with her napkin.
    Dirk studied each one suspiciously in turn before replying. Dr. Liu ruled the death accidental. She had hyperthermia— that means she got too hot sitting there in that mud bath, plus drinking