Killer Calories

this evening?”
    “Right. I needed to settle my affairs, before I check into Hotel Hell.”
    “Geez, Savannah , it’s supposed to be fun. People pay big bucks to come here.”
    “ That’s the real mystery... not what happened to Kat.”
    “ Naw , really, you’re going to have a good time. But I wanted to warn you...” Tammy lowered her voice. “...when you officially check in tonight, they’ll search your bags, just to make sure you aren’t smuggling in any goodies. They’ve had trouble with contraband in the past.”
    “Contraband?” Savannah feigned shock. “You mean... drugs?”
    “Oh, no... I’m talking junk food. You wouldn’t believe the kinds of garbage they try to smuggle in here!”
    “Really! I’m appalled !“ She reached for the cookie jar, extracted one of Mrs. Fields’s best, and took a big bite.
    “Go figure,” Tammy rattled on. “I mean, why would sornebody enroll in a health spa if they were just going to poison their bodies with toxic substances like sugar and chocolate...“
    “And butter.” Savannah chewed, savoring every bite. “Don’t forget creamy dairy butter and, of course, macadamia nuts.”
    “Macadamia nuts?”
    “Yeah. I heard they’re a common problem.” She munched. And smiled. “Macadamia nuts comprise about 10 percent of the overall contraband that’s confiscated at health club entry checkpoints.”
    “Really? I didn’t know...”
    “Oh, yeah, it’s true. They’re worse than peanuts and cashews.”
    Savannah walked over to her pantry, gave the phone cord a pull, and disappeared inside. “I read it in some magazine called Health Spa Beautiful ,“ she continued, rummaging along the bottom shelf. “An article about ‘Keeping Your Spa Nut’ Free.’”
    “ Savannah , I think you’re pulling my leg.”
    “Why, Tammy, honey, would I do that?”
    “Every weekday and twice on Sunday.”
    Savannah cackled with glee as she saw the gleam of a gold foil box behind a cream-cheese brownie mix and a cherry-swirl bundt cake. “Thanks for the tip about the search, sweetie,” she said, coming out of the pantry, chocolates in hand. “I owe you one.”
    Hanging up the phone, she glanced down at the cats, who were gazing up at her as though expecting more salmon mousse.
    “Forget it. One bowlful apiece is enough,” she told them. They meowed a protest. “No way! You two are gluttons! You should be ashamed of yourselves.”
    She left the kitchen and headed upstairs, clutching her truffles to her chest. “Besides, I have to pack,” she muttered. “Maybe I can shove these things under the lining.”

CHAPTER SIX

    “ S o, what do we do now?” Savannah asked. “Paint each other’s toenails, talk about boys, tell ghost stories?”
    She and Tammy lay on matching twin beds in the tiny room that was to be Savannah’s home away from home for the next week... or two... or however long it took her to investigate Kat Valentina’s murder.
    Like the rest of the Royal Palms, the dorms reflected the faded, gaudy glory of the early seventies. The bedspreads were crushed red velveteen that had long passed their prime. The shag carpeting was the sort that required “raking.” Overhead a wrought-iron light fixture represented someone’s idea of a Vornan torch with flickering bulbs that supplied hardly any light at all.
    But Savannah had decided to get into the fantasy of it and enjoy the experience. She was even wearing her Victoria ’s Secret toga nightgown in honor of the occasion. Plus, having Tammy spend the night with her helped. She would just pretend they were hanging out in some badly decorated catacombs.
    “It is sorta like a slumber party, huh?” Tammy said with a giggle, wriggling her pink flannel pajama -clad legs. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.”
    Silently, Savannah filed that information away for future consideration. For all her cheerfulness, Tammy seemed rather lonely at times. Her family lived on Long Island , New York , and Savannah got the impression that they hadn’t been that close even when Tammy had lived at home. The only child of a socially prominent father-physician and attorney-mother, Tammy had grown up with absentee parents... something Savannah understood.
    Savannah had never really known her dad, and Mom had produced child after child, turning them over to their grandmother to raise .
    But at least Savannah had Granny Reid. And she wouldn’t have traded their relative poverty and the responsibility of