Killer Calories

shoulder. “I understand how you feel about your brother, Phoebe. Really, I do. But we’re talking about murder here. Someone’s life has been taken from her; it doesn’t get more serious than that. I have to do something.”
    “Can you wait until tomorrow morning? Give him a chance to get stronger, please.”
    Savannah thought of Kat Valentina’s body lying beside the mud bath, limp and lifeless. She thought of how Ford had looked when pointing to himself, confessing that he had poisoned her. His eyes had been full of regret and pain. Not that it mattered; Kat Valentina was dead... forever.
    Part of why Savannah had been a police officer for so many years was because she had a strong sense of justice. If one of society’s citizens crossed the legal line and caused someone irreparable harm, they had to pay the price. Retribution was only fair. And having seen so much injustice in the world, Savannah was big on “fair.”
    But Phoebe was right. Ford Chesterfield wasn’t going anywhere until morning. Twenty-four hours wouldn’t make that much difference in the end.
    Dirk would probably be hightailing it over to the hospital as soon as he got wind of Dion Zeller’s overdose. But she wouldn’t absolutely, positively have to tell him anything... at least, not right away.
    It didn’t seem that much to ask.
    “All right,” she said. “I’ll wait until tomorrow morning. Then I’ll need to talk to the police. I’m sure they’ll be sensitive in the way they deal with your brother, considering his circumstances. Meanwhile, maybe you should hire a lawyer on his behalf. If he makes it through this present health crisis of his, he’s going to need one.”

    After she left the hospital, Savannah decided to stop by her house before returning to the Royal Palms. In spite of Mrs. Normandy ’s surrogate care, Diamante and Cleopatra needed a pet from their mistress. And if she were honest, Savannah would have to admit she needed to pet them. It had been the day from hell, and she was looking forward to it ending.
    Besides, she had some thoughts churning in the back of her mind, and she thought better at home than anywhere else.
    Once inside her house, sitting in her favorite chintz, overstuffed chair, her cats—like sleek, ebony bookends—snuggled on each side of her, Savannah felt a deep sadness steal over her.
    Sometimes, there was something worse than not knowing. Knowing could be worse. Much worse.
    She needed to talk to her grandmother. She needed to talk about roses and gardens and about what it meant to be the oldest child in a family... especially if you were a woman.
    Yes, she definitely needed to talk to Gran.

    Later, Savannah was filling Tammy in on the details about Dion’s condition when Bernadette knocked on their dorm-room door.
    “Here it is,” Savannah told Tammy. “Just about on time.”
    Savannah opened the door to find Bernadette standing there, a pink message pad slip in her hand.
    She gave it to Savannah . “Phoebe Chesterfield called,” she told her. “She wants you to come up there to the house right away, says she has something important to tell you.”
    “I’m sure she does. Thank you, Bernadette.”
    “I heard her brother had a stroke,” Bernadette said, fishing. “I hope he’s all right.”
    “Me too.”
    “The hospital called and Dion’s doing a little better. They think he’s going to be all right.”
    “That’s great. Thanks.”
    Savannah closed the door and handed Tammy the note. “How did you know Mrs. Chesterfield would call and invite you up there?” Tammy asked.
    Savannah gave a wry chuckle. “Because that’s probably what I would do... at least, I would want to. People are pretty predictable, if you just put yourself in their place.”
    “Have you got what you need?” Tammy asked as Savannah picked up her purse and sweater.
    “Yep. All set.” She headed for the door. “Make that phone call for me, okay?”
    “You got it,” Tammy replied with an eager-to-please smile. “That’s why I get paid the big bucks that I don’t get paid… right?”
    “You’re absolutely right.”

    Phoebe Chesterfield met Savannah at the door wearing a long, flowered housedress and a worried look on her face. “They made me go home,” she said. “The nurses and doctors wouldn’t let me stay with him through the night. Otherwise, I never would have left.”
    “I know,” Savannah said, as Phoebe ushered her inside. “They probably felt you needed your rest. It