Killer Calories

bag over each of the body’s hands and taped them. “I noticed that. Alcohol and a hot tub of anything is a bad combination. She may have died of heatstroke. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen the combination turn lethal.”
    “I drink margaritas in hot tubs any chance I get,” Savannah said. Not that she had that many opportunities. In her part of town there weren’t a lot of whirlpools and tennis courts.
    “Well, stop it, or I’ll be doing a postmortem on you someday.” Jennifer rose from her knees and nodded to her assistants, who had just entered with a gurney and a white body bag. “You can have her now. Careful, she’s slippery.”
    Dirk held up a tiny bit of black silk and lace that might have been a teddy and turned it this way and that, scrutinizing every stitch. “I guess this is what she wore out here. Sorta skimpy.”
    “If she’s like she was in the old days,” Savannah said, “I’m surprised she was wearing anything. She wasn’t exactly known for her modesty.”
    Savannah recalled a night when she had been summoned to the club for some disturbance. She had seen Kat strutting, naked, across the lawn, completely unconcerned with the fact that several police officers were present.
    Neighbors of the club had complained continually about her nudity and her impromptu love fests that often occurred in plain sight of the surrounding properties. In this elite area of town where people had more money than they knew what to do with, voted Republican, and went to church every Sunday, Kat Valentina was considered an unwelcome nuisance by those who were most forgiving. The rest deemed her “Hollywood Trash.”
    The irony of the term crossed Savannah ’s mind as she saw them load the remains of the unpopular neighbor into the white plastic bag and zip it closed.
    No... whatever Kat Valentina might have been or done in her lifetime... she wouldn’t have wanted or expected it all to end this way.

CHAPTER THREE

    S avannah looked across the dining table into the most beautiful green eyes she had ever seen. She was madly in lust with Mr. Perfect, otherwise known as Ryan Stone. He was the ideal man in every way. Around forty, tall, dark, so handsome that just seeing him made her ache, romantic, kind, and sensitive. And he adored her; he had said so on many occasions.
    But there was always a snag.
    Ryan was involved, committed to someone else, heart, body and soul. Oh, yes... and he was gay.
    His life companion, John Gibson, sat beside Savannah , just as handsome and charming as Ryan. A middle-aged man with thick silver hair, a melodic British accent, dry wit and old-world charm... no wonder Ryan loved him.
    And Savannah loved them both.
    “Thanks for inviting me to dinner. It was wonderful,” she said, savoring the ambience of Chez Antoine, her favorite French restaurant. As always, Ryan had called ahead and asked Antoine to prepare his salmon mousse, just for her. Gibson had brought her a single, perfect, lavender rose that stood beside her wineglass in its sparkling, crystal bud vase.
    Maybe she could figure out a way to marry them both.
    From behind one of the potted palms, Antoine himself appeared, a tiny man with a gaunt face and too-black hair slicked back from a pronounced widow’s peak. He might not be particularly attractive, Savannah had decided upon meeting him years ago, but he made incredible crêpe Suzette. And on Savannah ’s list of priorities, a great dessert always took precedence over a GQ haircut.
    He took her hand and kissed it for the fourth time that evening. “And my lovely Savannah , did you enjoy the food I make for you?” he said, his voice dripping with French mystique. Okay, she admitted, so he spread it on a little thick. She couldn’t help lapping it up.
    “Very much, Antoine. Everything was perfect.”
    He sighed, and his smile faded. “Then I fear, your perfect evening is about to be ruined. There is a... gentleman... at the door, who says he is a friend of yours. He wants to join you.”
    Antoine lowered his voice and leaned closer, making the most of the opportunity to peer down the front of Savannah ’s low-cut evening dress. “ This man... forgive me... he looks a bit like a ruffian. I don’t know that you would welcome his company.”
    “Dirk.” Savannah gave Ryan and John an apologetic look. “Do you mind?”
    Of course they minded. Dirk-after-dessert was hardly the way to end a lovely meal. But they were far too well mannered to say