Buried In Buttercream (21 page)

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Authors: G. A. McKevett

BOOK: Buried In Buttercream
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“So, you're gonna sit there and look me straight in the eye and lie to me?” Dirk was asking Willy. “If you piss in my ear and tell me it's raining, we're gonna have a very rocky relationship, my friend.”
Willy looked like he wasn't particularly happy being yelled at in his own office. And he didn't look like he was accustomed to it either. Apparently, most of the people in Willy's life were too intimidated by him to raise their voices in typical Dirk-fashion.
But it took a lot more than a leather vest, a chest and tummy covered with naked-women tattoos, and a long, greasy ponytail to impress Dirk.
“Don't go giving anybody an alibi who doesn't have one,” Dirk was telling him as he leaned over the front of Willy's desk, his hands planted among the papers scattered on its scarred surface. “Because that'll get you at least five to ten for interfering in the course of a homicide investigation.”
“Okay, okay,” Willy said, holding up one hand. “Maybe Francie wasn't here the whole time she told you she was. Maybe she went out for a while to run a little errand for me.”
“What kind of errand?”
“She took care of some business for me.”
Savannah left Hercules wanting more and walked over to the desk. “Take some advice from me,” she told Willy. “My buddy here will work with you as long as you tell him the truth. But most of the guys who've lied to him in the past are now missing vital body parts. So, you'd better pony up quick.”
“What did she do for you?” Dirk demanded to know.
“She took some money to one of my girls to take care of a ... a medical procedure she needed done.”
“What kind of medical procedure?”
“An abortion, okay? She was knocked up, and she needed to get it taken care of. We don't exactly have a medical plan for the girls here, so I take care of them. I'm sorta like a daddy that way.”
“Oh, yes, heartwarmingly paternal, that's you,” Savannah said.
Dirk shook his head and backed away from the desk. “When she came back from supposedly delivering this money to your damsel in distress. Where and how did she tell you it was done?”
Willy thought for a while. “I think I was behind the bar. She came up and said something like, ‘I took care of her. No more problem.' Something like that.”
Savannah's heart sank. Not that she'd invested a large chunk of her life on this dead-end street, but still, she had hoped that maybe...
Oh, well. Life was full of disappointments. She'd file this one away as “not earth shattering.”
Hercules had left his place in the corner and followed her to Willy's desk. He was nudging her hand again, trying to get a few more pets out of the visit.
“Tell me something, Willy,” she said, fingering the velvety soft ear and thinking that maybe she'd have to reevaluate her stance on pit bulls. “How does Bambi feel about her?”
“The Aberson gal? I don't think Bambi knew her.”
“Not Madeline. How does Bambi feel about Francie?”
“Oh, she hates Francie. Francie makes way bigger tips than her. You know ... she's a blonde and ... well, she's got way bigger tips.”
Five minutes later, when Savannah left the office with Dirk, she had a new-found appreciation of at least some pit bulls.
But in her book, Willy was nothing more than a flea-bitten mutt.
Chapter 19
“
S
o, where are you on the case?” Tammy asked as as she joined Savannah and Dirk at Savannah's kitchen table.
“Nowhere,” Dirk replied. “Absolutely, positively nowhere.”
Tammy turned to Savannah. “Come on. It can't be
that
bad. You have to have
some
clues,
some
leads.”
“Oh, we've got clues up the kazoo. In fact, we have too many. Unfortunately, none of them lead to any solid subject.” Savannah shook her head and toyed with a coconut and macadamia nut cookie that was lying on a napkin in front of her. “I hope wherever she is on the other side, Madeline realizes how difficult she's made our job. With the kind of life she led, there are just too many people who hated her enough to kill her.”
“It's bad,” Dirk said. “So bad that, at this moment, these cookies are the only thing making my life worth living.”
Tammy was mortified. “You can't let a cookie, especially one made with refined flour and white sugar, be your only reason for living.”
Dirk bit into the cookie and closed his eyes when he chewed. “Yeah, well, you haven't eaten Alma's and Waycross's cookies.”
Tammy's indignation evaporated. “Waycross bakes?”
Savannah stifled a chuckle. “He bakes, restores classic automobiles, can fix any machine on the planet, plays piano for the kids' Sunday school class, and plants Granny's garden for her every spring. Oh, and he can bench press one and a half times his body weight. Twice.”
“Whoa!” Tammy's eyes were positively sparkling.
“Yep,” Savannah said, “Waycross is a real Renaissance man.”
To Savannah's utter shock, Tammy reached over and took a cookie off the plate in the center of the table. She fiddled with it awhile, breaking it apart and examining each piece. Finally she popped one into her mouth and chewed.
“Holy cow!” Savannah said. “I can't believe my eyes! Did I just see Miss I Only Eat Healthy Food put some cookie in her mouth?”
“It's mostly just macadamia nut,” Tammy returned. “I don't want him ... and Alma, of course ... to think that I'm rude by not eating their cooking.”
“Why not? Lord knows you've turned your healthy little nose up at my cooking ten thousand times over the years!”
Dirk nudged Savannah. “She wasn't trying to impress you. In case you haven't noticed yet, your girlfriend there's got evil designs on your little brother.”
“I do not!” Tammy said, nearly choking on her nut.
“Of course, I've noticed,” Savannah told him. “I just didn't think she'd go so far as to poison her own body to impress him.”
Tammy's eyes narrowed. “You know ... I don't like you two very much.”
“Sure you do.” Savannah pushed the plate toward her. “Here, have another cookie.”
Tammy tossed her long hair back over her shoulder and lifted her chin. “I came here to see if I could help you with your case, not get insulted.”
“Hey, you know the drill around here,” Dirk told her. “One comes with the other.”
“Case? Insults?” said a voice behind Savannah. “Can I help with the case and get insulted, too?”
She turned and saw Waycross, who had just walked in from the living room. “Sure,” she said. “No shortage of insults to go around in this place.”
Tammy went from “perky” to “perkiest” in a heartbeat. “I love your cookies, Waycross,” she said. “You'll have to give me the recipe sometime.”
Waycross shot her a look that Savannah could only describe as blatantly flirty. “You don't need the recipe,” he said. “I'd be happy to whip a batch for you any time you've got the hankerin'.”
Oh, yeah,
Savannah thought.
Little brother's definitely the one with the “hankerin'.”
And she couldn't blame him. Tammy was lovely as she sat there, a red flush to her cheeks, ducking her head shyly, her curtain of golden hair falling around her face.
She looked across the table at Dirk and saw from his grin that he found the whole thing quite amusing.
Tammy and Waycross? Sure, why not?
she thought. They were two of her favorite people in the world. Both had hearts of gold and both deserved love if they could find it. Especially Tammy. After all she'd been through, she had a good guy like Waycross coming to her.
“Drag up a chair,” Savannah told her brother, “and take a load off. We wouldn't mind a fresh perspective.”
Once he was settled next to Dirk, across from Tammy, Savannah said, “It's awful quiet around here. Where is everybody?”
“Sightseeing,” he replied. “Alma got 'em to go to the beach for the afternoon. Fly some kites. Dig in the sand. Build castles. You know ... tourist junk like that.”
“You and Alma have been jewels during this trip,” Savannah told him. “I don't know what I'd have done without you.”
“Kilt the whole kit and caboodle of them?” he said.
“Probably. Or at least locked them all in the upstairs bathroom and tossed the key out the window.”
“No problem,” he said. “I aim to help any way I can. Now, let's hear about this case you're workin' on. We gotta get 'er done, so we can get you two hitched.”
“And then,” Tammy said, a sad look on her face, “you guys will all be going back home, huh?”
Waycross looked at her for a long time, a definite sweet longing in his eyes. “Well,” he said softly, “let's don't go gettin' the horse before the cart.” He turned to Dirk. “Now, good buddy. Let's hear what you've got.”
“It's more like what we
don't
have.”
“Then let's hear that, too.”
 
Half an hour later, Waycross said, “You're right. Y'all got squat.”
“Succinctly put.” Savannah got up and walked to the refrigerator. “Who needs ice cream with those cookies?”
“Not me,” Tammy said demurely. “They're perfect by themselves.”
“Oh, please,” Savannah whispered. “Love makes liars of us all.”
“Who do you think did it, Savannah?” Waycross asked her as she plunked a bowl of butter pecan in front of him.
“She thinks it's the husband,” Dirk said. “She always thinks it's the husband, unless the gal had a boyfriend, then she thinks it's the boyfriend.”
“But this floozy had one of each,” Waycross said.
“And a business partner who hated her, and her lover's wife, and a father-in-law who acted like he was tickled pink when he heard she'd expired,” Savannah said. “We've got motives for all of them and nobody's got an alibi that's worth a hoot except the husband, who's in Las Vegas.”
“That's too bad,” Waycross said, “ 'cause it sound to me like he's the one you mostly need to talk to.”
Savannah turned to Tammy. “When did that hotel concierge in Vegas tell you that he's coming home?”
“He's booked there for three more days. I'm not sure why. The convention's over tonight.”
Dirk reached for another cookie ... and took two. “I don't think I can wait that long to look him in the eye and ask him about his dearly departed wifey. Let's just say that I have powerful motivation to wrap this case up and get on with my life.”
He gave Savannah a longing look. She grinned back. And Tammy giggled.
“Whatcha say, gorgeous?” he said. “Wanna go to Sin City with me? We can lean on this guy and also check out that cat house alibi of his while we're at it. It's a five and a half hour drive. I can make it in four.”
Savannah scrunched up her nose. “How can a gal turn down a romantic offer like that? I'll drive, and we'll make it in five and a half.”
She turned to her assistant and saw the residual pain in her eyes, still so keen and sharp, even after three months. Tammy had lost so much—her sense of security, her innocence, her trust in others, and most devastating, her trust in herself, her judgment and intuition.
She needed something ... badly.
“If you aren't too busy, Tams,” Savannah said, “we'd really appreciate it if you'd come with us. You've done so well with that hotel concierge. It would help us a lot if you were along.”
Dirk shot Savannah a quick, mildly disapproving look. She knew that he'd rather this was a trip for two, but he would also understand when she had a chance to tell him why she'd invited a third party.
For all of his griping about Tammy, for all of his bickering with her, Savannah knew that Dirk loved the kid as much as she did and wanted what was best for her.
Tammy gave a yelp of joy that sounded like she'd just discovered she had five out of five
and
the mega ball. “Really? You mean it!”
Savannah smiled. “I guess that means you're available.”
“Oh, I am sooo available!”
Savannah looked at Waycross, sitting there looking at Tammy with love-struck, beagle puppy eyes.
She gave Dirk a questioning look. He gave her a little smile and a slight nod.
“But who's gonna keep this wild woman here out of trouble?” Savannah asked. “Tammy's hell on wheels when she's gamblin' and drinkin' and all those evil doin's.”
Tammy snickered. “Oh, come on. I don't—”
“Well, I don't have time to walk around town with her on a leash,” Dirk said. “I've got a murder case to work.”
Dirk and Savannah fixed Waycross with a pointed stare, which he didn't even notice, because he was too busy watching Tammy giggle.
Finally, when Savannah cleared her throat much too loudly, he looked up. “Oh!” He stammered, stuttered, and turned two shades redder than Tammy. “You mean? I? Oh! I'll do it. That is, well, not the leash thing, but I'll come along and keep an eye on her.”
He reached over and placed his hand on Tammy's shoulder. “If you want me to, that is. I know you don't really need anybody to take care of you, 'cause you're plenty smart enough to do that for yourself. But if you want some company—”
“Sure! You bet!”
More giggling. More goo-goo eyes. More blushing.
It was almost more than Savannah could stand.
“I'm going to go pack,” she said. “And while I'm at it, I'm gonna try to figure out how to tell my grandmother I'm going to a place where you can commit all seven of the deadly sins in seven minutes without even getting up outta your seat.”
 
“How'd it go over with Granny, you telling her we were taking this trip?” Waycross asked.
Savannah glanced in her rearview mirror at the tall good-looking kid in the backseat of her Mustang and wondered, not for the first time, if he was really her brother. He was the only redhead in a family of midnight brown brunettes. He was slim and trim when the rest of them were ... well ... not so slim and trim. He was as easygoing and peaceful of spirit as the rest were rowdy and cantankerous.
Sometimes Savannah wondered if her mother had strayed from the straight and narrow on the night Waycross was conceived.
And as soon as the thought went through her head, Savannah pushed it aside. It didn't matter. She was just so grateful to have a brother like him ... no matter where he came from.
“How do you figure it went over?” Savannah said. “You know Gran. It went over like a fart in church.”
Dirk shifted in the passenger seat, making a show of how uncomfortable he was. It was the exact same type of seat as the driver's, but he had to pout about something when she didn't let him drive. “Doesn't your grandmother know that we're going to be too busy to do any of the stuff she's worried we'll do?” he said.
“Oh, I don't think she's fretting about us getting arrested for public drunkenness or prostitution or raising a ruckus,” Savannah said, “but when it comes to stuff like this, she always says, ‘Flee even the appearance of evil.'”
Dirk sniffed. “Heck, if I did that, I'd spend all my time fleeing from most of the people I know.”
“Alma's planning a day in Hollywood and Beverly Hills for everybody,” Tammy piped up from the backseat. “Once your granny gets to see Lucille Ball's and Jack Benny's old houses, she'll be in a better mood.”
“Don't count on it,” Waycross said. “You'd be surprised how long Granny can hang on to a grudge.”
Tammy rolled down her window, put her face half out, and took a deep breath. “Ah, I love the desert. It's so clean and fresh and natural.”

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