Sour Grapes

responsibility for your young ladies’ safety,” Catherine was saying. “You have to send them all home immediately.”
    “But, Mrs. Villa, we mustn’t interrupt the pageant. The girls have been preparing for this for months. It’s very important to them... the scholarship and—”
    “We’ll set up some sort of scholarship, whatever you like, but we have to end this pageant and get the girls out of here before something else awful happens.”
    Catherine glanced over and saw Savannah and Dirk. “You! Come here!”
    “Us?” Dirk said.
    “Yes, you. Please tell Mrs. Lippincott how important it is that we send the young ladies home right away. You of all people should know that. You saw that poor girl and...”
    Catherine’s façade of composure cracked, and she began to cry. Savannah walked over to her and put her arm around her shoulders. ‘There, there. Do you have an office, Catherine?”
    “Yes.”
    “Does it have a lock on the door?”
    She sniffed and nodded.
    Then I would suggest that we go there right away, because Rosemary Hulse is right on our heels, and I don’t want a picture of you in tears to appear in the paper... and I’m sure you don’t either.”
    Catherine wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, lifted her chin, and patted her French twist. “Follow ^ _ » me.

    As Savannah, Dirk, and Marion Lippincott left Catherine Whitestone-Villa’s office, “The Lip” was having a difficult time hiding her glee. “I can’t believe you talked her into allowing us to continue!” she told them. ‘You were wonderful in there... both of you. Though I’m a little confused. To be honest, I’m surprised that you were on my side.”
    They paused at the end of the hallway, at the door leading to the gallery. “It isn’t a matter of taking sides,” Savannah told her. “It’s an issue of keeping the status quo.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Easy,” Dirk replied. “If we have everybody here in one place, it’s easier to keep an eye on them. And chances are, we’ll keep the murderer here, too.”
    The unflappable Mrs. Lippincott gave him a starded look. “Are you telling me that you think the killer is here at the pageant?”
    “Better than even odds.”
    Mrs. Lippincott turned to Savannah. “Do you think so, too?”
    “Whatever he says. He’s the dude with the badge.” Marion thought that one over for a moment, then nodded. “I guess that makes sense. You will let me know as soon as you have a suspect, won’t you?”
    “Absolutely,” Dirk assured her.
    As she walked away, Savannah said, ‘You’re not going to tell her squat”
    “I know.”
    “So, you shouldn’t he to people. Your nose will grow longer.”
    “My nose? That’s not what I heard. I thought it was—”
    “Oh, shut up. What’d you do, rent one of those stupid, X-rated cartoons again?”
    “Lie to me, Blue Fairy... lie to me.”
    “Eh..

Chapter

16

    T he girls were gorgeous; Savannah had to admit it as she watched them glide, as graceful as princesses at a coronation, past the judges’ table in their evening gowns.
    The lawns behind the Villa Rosa guest center had been converted into a fantasyland with a million white sparkling lights winking in the olive trees and rose topiaries lining the path where the contestants passed, while their admirers watched in rows of chairs that had been assembled for the event.
    A Maypole had been raised in the center of a makeshift stage, its ribbons stretching to the ground, the pole itself wreathed in garlands of roses and twining vines heavy with grapes.
    The girls were dressed in every hue, from the most delicate pastel to deep, intense jewel tones. And they all sparkled... with either rhinestones or sequins, as their budgets had allowed.
    Savannah was pleased to see that Atlanta had made a lovely selection, a simple but classy dress of dark blue satin, accented with rhinestones across the bodice. She had admitted to Savannah that she had stuck them on with a hot-glue gun herself the night before coming to California, but the effect was no less stunning in the subdued, romantic lighting.
    No one would have guessed that Atlanta Reid wasn’t a pampered Southern socialite, but the daughter of a sometimes-truck stop waitress who was also known as the town’s “loose woman.”
    But Atlanta was also Granny Reid’s granddaughter. She had been taught to sit, walk, and talk like a lady since she was old enough to do all three. And as Savannah watched her cross the