Sour Grapes

comforting pat on the shoulder and said, “Hang tight, kiddo. I’ve gotta have—”
    “I know, I know... a few words with Dirk, fill him in on what’s going on.” Atlanta sighed, once again dissatisfied with her lot in life. “I need a Diet Coke. I think I’ll go to the kitchen and see if they have some.”
    Savannah tried to think of a delicate way to express her concern, but she couldn’t, so she said it straight “Be sure that you’re around people. Don’t go anywhere that you’re going to be alone. Understand?”
    She saw the fear intensify on Atlanta’s face and hated to see her sister so scared. But, on the other hand, fear could be a good thing; it made you more careful. And under the circumstances, caution was definitely in order.

    A few minutes later, she was showing Dirk the stain on the bed and trying to explain the finer points of Barbie Matthews’s psyche.
    “She’s a raving bitch. A spoiled brat. And she’s up to no good, I’m sure of that Ah... if she’s alive, that is.” Dirk played his flashlight over the soiled bedspread. “Yeah, I hear ya. This is a pretty gross mess all right” He lowered his voice. “If this goop came out of her, she’s probably not feeling too good right now. You know anybody with the urge to kill her?”
    “You mean, besides me and Atlanta?” She shook her head. “I don’t really know the girl, only talked to her a few minutes.”
    “And that was enough to make you hate her?”
    “Absolutely. I’m sure you’d agree if you’d had the displeasure of making her acquaintance.”
    Dirk glanced around the room at the scattered clothes, makeup, jewelry, hair dryers, and towels. “But this was Atlanta’s bed, not the other kid’s, right?” he asked.
    “Yes, but this one had been assigned to Barbie. She bullied Atlanta into changing with her. So we don’t know whose benefit it was done for.” Savannah pointed to the writing on the wall. “Why do you suppose they wrote that upside down? It’s not easy, writing while standing on your head.”
    Dirk walked closer to the bed and shined his flashlight along the window sill. “The fighting really sucks in here. Can we turn those lamps up?”
    “No,” she told him. “I think they were going for cozy ambience when they decorated, not crime-scene processing. What are you looking for?”
    “With a little luck, bloody fingerprints,” he replied. “I think the reason the word was written upside down is because the person who dumped the blood... and the other guck... on the bed was outside, leaning in through the window.”
    Savannah thought that one over for a second and grunted her approval of his theory. “Good. Yeah, that makes sense. And hey, look, the screen is off.”
    “How much do you want to bet it’s layin’ on the ground outside?”
    “Let’s go look.”
    “Naw, you stay here and wait for Dr. Liu. Me and Ryan’ll check outside.”
    Savannah didn’t have long to wait. No sooner had Dirk left than Catherine Villa appeared, escorting Dr. Jennifer Liu. “ This lady says she’s the county medical examiner,” Catherine said, her voice shaky. “She says you sent for her.”
    “I did. Don’t worry, Mrs. Villa, it’s just... in case... really, don’t worry.”
    “Don’t worry? You call the coroner to come to my property, and you tell me not to worry?”
    Savannah grabbed Dr. Liu by the arm and pulled her into the room. “Excuse me,” she said to Catherine, “but we have to do a little work in here. I think I’ll close this for now. See you later.”
    She slammed the door in Catherine’s extremely concerned face and turned to Dr. Liu.
    Medical examiner Dr. Jennifer Liu looked like anything but what she was. Tiny, petite, deceptively fragile in appearance, she hardly seemed like someone who cut up dead bodies for a living. But she claimed to love her work and frequently regaled crowds at cocktail parties and the local Irish pubs with her vast repertoire of “stiff” jokes.
    “Don’t worry? You told her not to worry?” Dr. Liu asked. “Somebody somewhere had better be worried, if I was called out in the middle of a very hot date.”
    Savannah looked her up and down, noting the black-leather pants, the four-inch high-heeled boots, and the black, sequined, angora sweater. It must have been a very hot date, indeed.
    “Oh yes, I’m worried. I’m very worried.” She pointed to the bed.
    Jennifer took a look. “Yuck.”
    “Yuck? I didn’t know that word was in a