Killer Calories

he asked. “Are you going to tell me when my life, as I’ve lived it so far, will be over, when it’s going to come crashing around my head?”
    “Dion... I...“
    She stood, walked over to him and put her hand on his arm. She thought of what Ryan had said about Dion’s unforgiving, unsupportive friends and family.
    Words of advice sprang to her mind, lectures about having the courage to live with honesty and openness, despite society’s judgments and criticisms. But Savannah quickly reminded herself that only a fool offered advice that they, themselves, had never been in a position to take. It was always so easy, when you were on the outside, looking in. Or so it seemed.
    No, she would do them both a favor and keep her pious platitudes to herself.
    She couldn’t think of anything else to say. And she had always thought that, in times like those, it was best to just keep your mouth shut. So, she did.
    But she patted his arm. And she said silently wished him peace, love, and understanding.
    No matter what she did to keep the facts of this case under wraps, the details were bound to leak out, sooner or later. Sex, violence, and celebrity-media mainstays. When to news hit the tabloids, Dion Zeller was going to need all compassion and understanding he could get.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

    ” I appreciate you taking me out for breakfast like this,” Savannah said as she sat next to John Gibson and watched him maneuver the majestic Bentley around the curves of La Palma Drive .
    “You’ll be eternally grateful when you see where we’re going,” he replied, a smug grin curving his silver mustache .
    Visions of strawberry cheese blintzes danced in Savannah ’s head, or perhaps Antoine’s crêpe Suzette. With John’s gourmet taste, anything was possible.
    “But there aren’t any restaurants in this direction,” she said as they headed toward the residential, more rural, hills. ”Unless we’re going to rob an avocado or lemon grove.”
    “Better than that, my dear,” he told her. “Much better. We’re going to be sharing a spot of tea—and with any luck, a French pastry—with Ford Chesterfield at his marvelous hacienda.”
    “You got us an interview with Ford Chesterfield? But. but he refused my calls. I’ve called him at least four times in the last three days, but he won’t come to the phone. He tells his sister to get rid of me. Of course, she worded it a little more politely than that, but the bottom line was still the same.”
    “I know, love. But, forgive me for saying so, but you didn’t attend Oxford at the same time he did, many years ago. And, since I’m not nearly as charming or beautiful as you, I’m certain my Oxford affiliation is the only reason I received this invitation. You mustn’t take it personally.”
    “He actually invited you for breakfast?”
    “Well, I rang him last evening and suggested I knock him up this morning at half-nine and that he might have a pot of Earl Grey brewing.”
    “Knock up...? Half nine...?” She did a quick British/ Californian translation. “Ah, ha... you told him you’d drop by at nine-thirty.”
    “Of course, dear girl, that’s what I said. You are happy about this, aren’t you? I distinctly recall at dinner the other night you were bemoaning the fact that you hadn’t had the opportunity to interrogate him.”
    “Sure, I am. I’m thrilled. So, he knows I’m coming, too? He agreed to talk to me?”
    “Not at all. It should be a lovely surprise. I simply can't wait to see the look on the old chap’s face. It should prove most entertaining.”
    “Me either,” Savannah said with subdued enthusiasm. “Gee... just can’t wait.”

    * * *

    Savannah sat at a white, glass-topped, wrought-iron table with John Gibson on her right side and Ford Chesterfield to her left- She definitely felt outclassed.
    A pot of tea, shaped like a small English cottage, steamed in the center of the table, and each of their cups were filled to the brim with the fragrantly floral-scented Earl Grey.
    And Ford Chesterfield had not thrown her out on her ear the moment he saw her. Although he appeared a bit leery, he had certainly been cordial enough when inviting them inside the house, then out to the garden patio.
    “Where is Phoebe?” Savannah asked, mildly disappointed that the lady hadn’t made an appearance.
    “She is attending the monthly meeting of her garden club,” Ford replied between small, delicate sips. “I’m afraid the third Wednesday of