Killer Calories

wanted.
    More scrawling in the air. Then he pointed emphatically to himself.
    “You want to write something?” Savannah asked, trying to understand. He jabbed a finger in her direction. “You want me to write something for you?”
    No, that still wasn’t it.
    Savannah ’s frustration barometer was rising by the moment.
    One more time, he pointed to himself, wrote with his invisible pen, then pointed at her.
    “You write me,” she said. “You write me... oh... you mote me. You wrote me already.” His head bobbed in assent “You were the one who wrote me those two notes. You’re the one who hired me.”
    Vigorous nods.
    “Okay.” Savannah took a deep breath and rearranged her mental notes on this case with her new perspective. “That solves one mystery. But why did you hire me? Why did you think Kat was murdered?”
    Even as she spoke, she knew it was ridiculous to expect him to communicate a difficult answer to a complex question. But her curiosity propelled her to ask anyway.
    Ford looked at his sister, an expression of helplessness on his face. He muttered some words that Savannah couldn’t possibly understand.
    “I’m sorry, Ford,” Phoebe said. “This must be so difficult for you.” To Savannah , she added, “I really wish you wouldn’t upset him like this. He has high blood pressure, you know» and the doctor says he has to remain calm.”
    Savannah understood Phoebe’s concern for her younger brother, and it was obvious he was becoming more agitated by the second.
    “Your sister’s right,” she told him. “I really should go. Maybe if you’re feeling better later, I could—”
    “ Nooo !”
    Even though the word was slurred, there was no mistaking the meaning of it. Ford Chesterfield did not want her to leave yet. He still had something to say.
    With an effort, he lifted his left hand to his own throat and made a movement as though squeezing it.
    “Do you need a drink of water, Ford?” Phoebe asked, scrambling for a nearby pitcher on the nightstand.
    “No,” Savannah said, “that isn’t what he means. I think he’s talking about Kat.”
    He nodded.
    “Kat’s murder?”
    Yes.
    “Do you know that she was murdered by someone?”
    Yes.
    “Do you know how she was killed?”
    Yes. He made a movement as though drinking from a glass.
    “See,” Phoebe said, “he does want some water. He’s thirsty.”
    “No, he means she drank something. Is that what you mean, Mr. Chesterfield?”
    Yes.
    “Did she drink something that killed her? Something besides the alcohol, that is?”
    Yes. Yes. Yes.
    “Was it some sort of poison?”
    He nodded.
    “Do you know who did it?”
    “Savannah, stop this immediately!” Phoebe said, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her away from the bed. “Can’t you see how red his face is? He’s going to have another stroke, and it will be all your fault.”
    When Savannah turned to look at Phoebe, she saw that Ford wasn’t the only one in the room with a flushed face. “What’s the matter, Phoebe?” she said evenly. “Are you afraid of what your brother is about to tell me?”
    “No, of course not. Why would I be afraid?”
    “Then let him tell me what he wants to say. It’s obviously very important to him.”
    She turned back to Ford. “Do you know who killed Kat Valentina, Mr. Chesterfield?”
    His head bobbed up and down. Then his finger pointed... at himself.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

    “ S o, now that you know, what are you going to do about it?” Phoebe said, when she and Savannah had exited Ford’s hospital room.
    “I’m not sure,” Savannah replied, glancing up and down the empty hallway. “Did you know all along that your brother killed Kat?”
    Phoebe said nothing, but stared down at the tiled floor and shrugged her shoulders.
    “I understand about protecting those you love,” Savannah said, “about loyalty and standing up for friends and family, but murder...”
    “I don’t want to discuss Ford with you,” Phoebe told her. “I just want to know if you’re going to go to the police with what you’ve found out.”
    “I’ll have to. sooner or later.”
    Phoebe sighed and, for the first time since Savannah had met her, she looked old. “Then could you make it later? The doctor said Ford may not even pull through. What’s the point of causing more problems for him now? It’s not as though he’s going anywhere.”
    Savannah gave her what she hoped was a compassionate smile and placed her hand on the older woman’s