Killer Calories

little, making her look a bit like a guppy.
    “Say?” she sputtered. “How would I know what it says? Like I told you, it has your name on it. I wouldn’t dream of—”
    “Oh, can it. You steamed it open. I know you steamed it open. And now you know that I know... so, stop lying before your tongue turns black and falls out of your head.”
    “But how did you...”
    “I had eight younger brothers and sisters, Tammy. I know when somebody’s jerking my chain, and it pisses me off. So, don’t do it.” She took a nail file from the nightstand and carefully slit the top of the envelope. “Besides, if it had been addressed to you, I would have steamed it open.”
    “You would have?”
    “Certainly. I’m just as nosy as you. But I’m a detective; I get paid for it.”
    Tammy snorted and plopped down on the bed beside her. “I do, too, at least in theory. You haven’t written me a check yet this week.”
    “Stop bitching, or I won’t tell you what’s in my letter that you’ve already read.”
    She unfolded the sheet of matching beige stationery and read the typed words.

    Dear Ms. Reid,
    From what I can see, you’ve been doing a good job, pursuing this matter for me as I requested. It appears my money was well spent. But I’m anxious to know if you’ve formulated any theories as to Kat Valentina’s death.
    I understand it is customary for private detectives to provide reports, detailing their findings to their clients. Would you please write me such a report as soon as possible?
    Leave your report in the mailbox at the entrance to the spa on La Palma Drive at nine o’clock this evening. Immediately after putting your report into the box, go directly to the public phone in the spa’s main lobby near the rest rooms. I’ll call you then to reveal my identity to you and give you further instructions. Please have your assistant, Tammy Hart, with you at the phone, as I would like to speak with her, too. Thank you.

    “Whoever our client may be, they don’t seem to have any problem with assertiveness,” Savannah said, mulling over the letter’s message and general tone.
    “But at least we’ll be able to find out who it is when they call the public phone tonight.”
    Savannah chuckled. Ah... the naïveté of youth. “They aren’t going to call and tell us anything, kiddo,” she told her. “But they said...”
    “I know. They want me at the lobby phone so they can pick up the report without being seen. And they’re smart enough to demand that you be there, too. That way, I can’t have you posted as a lookout near the mailbox.”
    “Oh.” Tammy looked perturbed that she had been duped. “You’d better hurry. It’s almost nine o’clock, and you have to write your report.”
    “Yes, and it’s too late to call Dirk. He couldn’t make it up here that quickly.”
    “What are you going to do? How are we going to be at the phone booth and keep an eye on the mailbox at the same time?”
    Savannah tapped her fingernails on the envelope and chewed her bottom lip. “I’ll think of something,” she said. “In fact, it’s coming to me right now.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

    “ The stars are out,” Tammy said as they hurried along the gravel driveway that led from the Royal Palms entrance to La Palma Drive .
    “More importantly, the moon is up,” Savannah replied. ‘I just hope half a moon is enough.”
    She held her report in her hand, a hastily scribbled account of what she had uncovered so far. Which wasn’t much, once she left out a few pertinent facts that she didn’t feel like sharing with some anonymous somebody—paying client or not.
    “Maybe they’ll call us and tell us who they are.” Tammy’s voice sounded so hopeful that Savannah didn’t want to discourse her, but...
    “Not meaning to sneeze on your ice cream,” she said, “but if our client calls and tells us who they are, I’ll eat a cockroach dipped in Tabasco sauce.”
    “That’s hardly a fair bet. You’ll eat almost anything.” Savannah gave her a warning grunt, which seemed to work, because the younger woman stayed quiet for an entire thirty seconds or so.
    They reached the end of the driveway and exited the wrought-iron gates. By the light of one streetlamp overhanging the gate, they found a large white mailbox with the spa’s address painted on the side, along with the omnipresent symbol of the twin palms.
    Savannah shoved her folded report inside and slammed the small door closed. Looking around, she