Killer Calories

money,” Savannah said. “No doubt about it. But that’s hardly proof of murder.”
    “To be honest, Savannah , there’s no evidence of homicide at all, is there?” Ryan asked.
    She could see the doubt in his eyes, hear it in his voice.
    It seemed nearly everyone thought Kat’s death had been accidental. Was she stupid for believing otherwise when there wasn’t a shred of physical evidence to support her suspicions?
    She supposed time would tell.
    “No,” she said, “none. The only reason why I’ve even questioned the circumstances is because of the notes and money I’ve received from my anonymous client.”
    “But they won’t even tell you who they are, let alone who murdered her... or how the killer supposedly did it.”
    “I know. I’ve been feeling my way around in the dark with this case, figuratively... and literally,” she added, remembering the night before in the avocado grove.
    “Were there any signs of injury at all on the body?” John asked her. “Anything to indicate a struggle?”
    “None. Not a scratch or a bruise.”
    Ryan took a sip of his wine. “Ms. Valentina was relatively young. As a professional dancer, she must have been fairly strong. Besides, she was known for her fiery personality. Î can’t imagine her going down without a struggle.”
    “Me either,” Savannah admitted.
    John toyed with his bread and scowled, thinking. “Unless she was already unconscious when she slipped beneath the mud.”
    “That’s what Dr. Liu decided,” Savannah said. “Jennifer believes the heat from the mud bath, combined with the alcohol from the margaritas, caused her to faint. She passed out, slid deeper into the bath, and drowned.”
    “Did the doctor find mud in her lungs?” Ryan asked. “Yes. So she was alive and still breathing when she went down.”
    “Such a sad business.” John shook his head. “And I’m sure Dr. Liu ran the standard toxicology tests....”
    “She did,” Savannah said. “And the only thing amiss was Kat’s extraordinarily high blood alcohol level. Although, from what I understand, a high alcohol content wasn’t unusual for Kat Valentina.”
    Ryan replenished her wineglass, then gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know you’re working hard on this, Savannah , and I understand that you have a gut-level feeling about it. But, if she was murdered, how do you suppose they did it without leaving any signs of violence on the body?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe somebody slipped her a mickey in the margarita pitcher.”
    John brightened. “Now, there’s a thought. Did the doctor test the residue on the pitcher and glass?”
    “Not to my knowledge. I don’t think she would, unless something showed up in the toxicology screen. Why test the glassware if there’s nothing in the body?”
    “True.”
    Both men looked as confused and discouraged as Savannah felt.
    As though on cue, Antoine appeared, bearing another tray of canapés. Savannah ’s spirits immediately lifted.
    “Enough shop talk about gruesome and ghoulish topics,” she said. “Why work when we can eat? Bon appétit .“

    An hour later, Savannah felt like Cinderella being driven home in her carriage after the ball. But she couldn’t get her mind off the case. Settled in the backseat with Ryan, she I recounted her misadventures, the frustrations she and Tammy had experienced, trying to be everywhere and watch everyone at once.
    When she finished telling them about the avocado-grove attack and the mailbox fiasco, Ryan said, “That’s it. I know you’re an independent woman, Savannah , who likes to do everything herself. But I think it’s time to pool our resources.”
    Leaning forward, he tapped John on the shoulder. “What do you think, old chap?” he said. “Would you like to spend a little time with me at a wonderful spa? It comes highly recommended.”
    “So I’ve heard,” John replied dryly. “It sounds perfectly splendid. I can scarcely control my enthusiasm.”
    Ryan laughed, and said to Savannah , “That’s what I’ve always loved about the British... their unbridled apathy.”

    Like Cinderella shedding her finery, Savannah propped herself against the mailbox, slipped off her suede pumps, and replaced them with her sneakers. Tucking the heels under her arm, she walked as quietly as possible along the gravel driveway. The last thing she needed was to get busted, creeping back into the Royal Palms with the smell of wine and French cuisine on her breath and a sated look