Killer Calories

he killed Kat.”
    “We don’t know that he didn’t. Besides, you can’t even be sure that Dr. Ross was the one who wrote that letter and shoved it under our door.”
    “It’s his handwriting. I already compared it to the excuse he wrote for me.”
    Both women sighed. Savannah picked up the note, folded it twice, and tucked it inside her bra.
    “Which swimsuit are you going to wear?” Tammy asked> ever on fashion patrol. “The Victoria ’s Secret one-piece or your new bikini.”
    “Whichever one I can best hide my Beretta in.” Tammy mulled that one over for a few seconds. “The one-piece,” she decided. “Plus, it shows off your boobs good, and your butt doesn’t look too big.”
    “Yeah, that’s what I figure, too.”
    Normally, the heady floral fragrance that filled the bathhouse would have put Savannah in a romantic mood. But the smell reminded her of the mud bath where Kat Valentina’s body had been found. That not only spoiled the ambience, but the memory prompted her to be careful this evening.
    There was more than a chance that Kat Valentina had not died an accidental death. And if there was, at least, a possibility that Dr. Freeman Ross had something to do with it, Savannah had to stay alert and resist any temptation to succumb to fanciful distractions.
    “Yoo-hoo,” she called out, looking around the small room. “Anybody around?”
    Her voice echoed off the blue-and-white-tiled walls and bounced back at her. But no one else replied.
    Maybe she had been stood up.
    Or worse yet, maybe she had been set up.
    She could feel the comforting weight of the Baretta in the right pocket of her terry-cloth cover-up. For extra reassurance, she slipped her hand inside and curled her fingers around the grip.
    Hearing a noise behind her, she spun around and saw Zeeman Ross standing there in a deliciously small and tight swimsuit with a fluffy white towel slung over one shoulder. He tossed the towel onto a redwood bench and gave her a welcoming smile that was warmer—and more appealing—than she had expected.
    If he were concealing a weapon, it would have to be a tiny one, she figured, like maybe one of those plastic cocktail toothpicks, shaped like a sword. His all-too-brief briefs scarcely even hid the bare necessities. And, from what she could tell from one quick, ladylike glance, his necessities were more than minimal. Quite a bit more.
    He walked toward her, moving more like a professional athlete than a physician. Since when did they make doctors who were all muscle and could pass for Olympic divers in their swimsuits?
    A flood of some erotic, exotic hormone hit her system and quivered through her body. It was the closest thing to sex she had experienced in a long time.
    Too long, she decided.
    “ Savannah , I’m glad you could come,” he told her, holding out his hand.
    Come? Well, I didn’t actually... I just...
    “Oh! Yes, well, I couldn’t turn down a mysterious invitation slipped under the door like that. Nice dramatic touch.”
    He smiled. “I thought it would appeal to the sleuth in you.” She noticed he wasn’t wearing his tortoiseshell glasses. With his muscular physique, the transformation from Clark Kent into the Man of Steel was pretty convincing. “I was hoping to find a location more appropriate, like a hidden staircase, a secret room, or even a cloak closet,” he said, “but Royal Palms has pretty mundane floor plans for most of its buildings.”
    “And the Chesterfields ’ bell tower is probably occupied... by Phoebe.”
    “Exactly.”
    “Then this will have to do.” She pointed to the spa, a small, intimate, round tub of white tiles, trimmed with royal blue. The center of its bottom glowed with an aqua light, and the water bubbled gently, sending herbal-scented steam into the air.
    As Freeman Ross lowered his gorgeous self into the water, Savannah allowed her terry-cloth cover-up to slide off her shoulders. Carefully—while trying to look nonchalant—she placed it on the tiles at the edge of the tub, making sure it would be readily accessible while she was in the water.
    She felt his eyes on her, but she couldn’t interpret the expression to tell whether the one-piece had been the best choice after all. And when she sat down across from him, she saw he was wearing a strange little smile that she couldn’t quite decipher.
    “Is that where it is?” he asked, nodding toward her strategically discarded cover-up.
    He couldn’t know, she thought. Or he’s