Sour Grapes

don’t mind leaving that part of the job behind. Did they give you any ideas who might have had it in for her?”
    “Mom said she’s sure it’s the boyfriend, a kid from the east end. And Dad said, ‘No way. He’s a good boy... even if he is from the east end.’ ” “ Yeah, when I interviewed them earlier, Mrs. Matthews didn’t strike me as very liberal when it comes to embracing those of another economic status.”
    “No joke. She’s ready to jab the needle in him herself, right now, trial be damned.”
    “Did you run the boy?”
    Yeap, a couple of misdemeanors, nothing major. I dropped by his place, but his mom said he was gone for the day. I’ll try again tonight. It’s not exactly APB time... until Dr. Liu’s done with the autopsy and we know for sure she was murdered.”
    “When is she doing it?” “ Tomorrow afternoon, I think.” “ That’s quick.”
    “Yeah, only one other stiff in the morgue. Lucky for us, it’s a slow weekend.”
    “And even luckier for the would-be stiffs who ain’t.”
    “Huh?’
    “Never mind.”
    Dirk settled into serious eating, which meant he had no time for mundane conversation, as he polished off his first plate and sweet-talked a waitress out of a second.
    Savannah finished her lunch and used the remaining minutes of the meal to relax and watch the crowd. Catherine and Anthony Villa were moving among their guests, the perfect host and hostess, cool and calm, with no hint of trouble. No one would have guessed that only hours ago, someone had been murdered on their property.
    Savannah also kept an eye on the press members, who had been given a prominent table in the center of the room. While the pageant was hardly the most newsworthy event of the season, several of the local papers had sent reporters, and Savannah recognized the anchorwoman of the local cable channel.
    She wondered if any of them knew about Barbie Matthews. From their casual demeanor, she assumed not. But no sooner had she come to that conclusion than she saw Rosemary Hulse, a newspaper reporter for the San Carmelita Star, talking on her cell phone. She had listened to her caller only a few seconds when her expression changed from laid-back to serious. Rosemary’s forte was crime reporting, and she always seemed to show up when Savannah least wanted a public informer on the scene.
    The moment Rosemary put her phone away, she stood and excused herself.
    Elbowing Dirk, Savannah said, “Hey, buddy. Rosemary Hulse just got a phone call. She knows.”
    “Dandy.”
    “How long do you suppose it’ll take her to corner Catherine or Anthony Villa?”
    “About two seconds.”
    His prediction was dead center; Catherine had left her table and walked to the back of the room to speak to the headwaiter, and that was where Rosemary nailed her.
    Watching the two women converse, Savannah saw Catherine Villa’s struggle to remain the poised politician’s wife. And she had to give the lady major points for “cool.” As she answered Rosemary’s questions, she wore the appropriate, sad, terribly concerned expression, although Savannah could imagine her agitation.
    Rosemary had pulled a small tape recorder out of her purse and was holding it under Catherine’s nose, taking the “quote,” no doubt that would be on the headline of tomorrow morning’s edition of the Star. Any homicide was big news in the small, quiet community of San Carmelita. But one involving a beautiful young woman, on the posh estate of Villa Rosa, whose owner just happened to be running for senator? That was too juicy for second-page news.
    The conversation didn’t last long; Catherine Villa was pretty good at wriggling out of an unpleasant situation, Savannah observed. She seemed to notice some urgent situation on the opposite side of the room that demanded her immediate attention. In a wink, Rosemary was standing alone, recorder in her hand and a frustrated look on her face.
    The reporter glanced around the room, and her eyes met Savannah’s. “Uh-oh.” Savannah tossed her napkin onto the table and stood. “I’m outta here before she snags me, too.”
    “Me, three.” Dirk gulped down the last of his tea and followed Savannah as they made their escape from the pool area and through a door that led back into the courtyard.
    Catherine Villa was there, and so was Marion Lippincott. Savannah and Dirk could hear them arguing even before they saw them. “ That’s it. This beauty contest is over. We can’t take