Sour Grapes

fresh fruit, yogurt, and bran-muffin glory, was served on the poolside tables beneath the blue-and-white-striped umbrellas. The coffee wasn’t nearly strong enough to raise Savannah’s blood pressure to even minimal levels. But she downed it, uncertain of when she might ever see food or a caffeine source again.
    Afterward, she chased Marion Lippincott around the complex for over half an hour, trying to get a private moment with her. This beauty-pageant business was a lot more work than private detecting, she decided. And, as far as she was concerned, ‘The Lip” was welcome to it. She would just stick with chasing down the perverts and the robbers, murderers and wayward husbands who fooled around with the gals who groomed their wives’ poodles. This pageant routine was far too stressful.
    Finally, she nabbed Mrs. Lippincott inside the gift shop, buying a handful of 35mm film for one of the pageant photographers who was running low.
    “You would think,” she was saying to the woman behind the counter, “that a professional photographer would bring enough film to do the job. I can guarantee you, he will never work one of my pageants again.”
    The clerk didn’t seem to care that Mrs. Lippincott was upset... or about anything else for that matter. Perhaps the coffee hadn’t been strong enough for her, either, Savannah thought, as she watched her not even bother to stifle a leisurely yawn.
    But it gave Savannah the opportunity to be sympathetic. She stepped up to the counter and plopped down a few dollars for some overpriced French crackers. “I can’t believe you have to take care of something as trivial as film,” she said.
    “Oh, no. Film isn’t trivial,” she replied. “In this business, hairpins aren’t trivial. With teenage girls, absolutely everything is monumental... especially at a beauty pageant.”
    Both women took their purchases, bagged in classy gold sacks with the Villa Rosa logo, and walked out of the shop.
    “Before we go back into the center,” Savannah said, pausing outside the gallery, “I need to ask you a few questions about a couple of your girls.”
    Marion hesitated, glancing over Savannah’s shoulder at the door. Duty was calling, but she acquiesced. “Okay, but—”
    “I’ll make it brief. What can you tell me about a girl named Desiree who is staying in the room next to mine?”
    “Desiree Porter is an odious child, who makes my life miserable anytime she shows up at one of my pageants. She’s spoiled, selfish, and not half as intelligent or attractive as her nitwit mother has led her to believe she is.”
    “Oh.” Somehow, Savannah hadn’t expected such candor from a professional like Mrs. Lippincott. Desiree must have really made an impression. “Is she highly competitive?”
    “She will do anything to win. I daresay, she has done everything she can think of... and although she isn’t at all wise, she’s quite cunning. I would imagine she’s thought of a lot of ways.”
    “Have you ever known her to hurt another girl at a pageant?”
    “Nothing I can prove, but I’ve had my suspicions.”
    “How did she feel about Barbie Matthews?”
    “More than once, they’ve been the winner and first runner-up for important crowns. Desiree hated her, and I’m sure the feeling was mutual.”
    Savannah gave a quick look around, but—other than some people in the parking lot, who were well out of earshot—they were alone. “Do you think Desiree is capable of killing another girl... like Barbie?”
    “I wouldn’t put anything past Desiree. Most of the girls I see in the pageants are delightful, lovely young women—the best of our society. But Desiree is the worst. I’ve only known one other girl who was more cruel, more manipulative and devious.”
    Savannah had a feeling that she knew what she was going to hear. “Yes...?”
    “Barbara Matthews. She was the worst.” Marion Lippincott gave Savannah a little smile that sent a chill over her, in spite of the warm, morning sunshine that was chasing away the previous night’s fog. “But she s dead now, isn’t she?” said Marion. “And whatever happened to her... I can honestly say, I believe it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving brat.”
    “I see.”
    “Now, I really must get this film back to the photographer. He’s taking pictures of the girls in their interview suits.”
    She turned to leave, then reconsidered. “By the way... another one of the girls left today. She was afraid to stay