Part 24 (1/2)
”Probably pure coincidence.”
”Probably, but I thought I should tell you. Are you back on the island yet?”
”Just walked in the door of the cottage.” She looked over and saw Dirk waving his hand. ”Dirk says 'hi.' ”
”Actually, I was asking you to get rid of her,” he mumbled under his breath.
Savannah nodded. ”How's stuff there?”
”Stuff's great!” Tammy giggled. ”That was a great idea you had, 'cause-”
”I gotta go. Thanks for, you know, everything.”
”No problem. Glad to do it. All of it.”
There were peals of giggles on the other end as Tammy hung up.
Savannah shook her head, laughing. ”For just five minutes of my life, I'd like to be as cheerful as she is all the time.”
”She's an airhead. It's easy for her to be chipper. She don't know no better.”
A knock at the back door made them both jump. As Savannah went to answer it, she steeled herself that it could be Chief La Cross.
”Or the killer,” whispered a quiet little voice. ”You wouldn't be the first witness who-”
”Oh, shut up,” she told it.
But she subconsciously reached under her arm and touched the Beretta in her holster. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Dirk was right behind her; his hand was on his weapon as well.
However, when she opened the door, it was Betty Sue's smiling face that she saw. In her hands, the shopkeeper held a basket spilling over with freshly cut flowers, baked goods, and a bottle of wine.
”What's all this?” Savannah asked, opening the door and ushering her inside.
”Oh, it's nothing much. I heard you two weren't having a very nice honeymoon, and we can't have that!”
Betty Sue set the basket on the kitchen counter and turned to them. ”Holy c.r.a.p!” she said. ”What happened to you two?”
Savannah put her hand to her swollen, bruised lip. Okay, so much for the merits of cover-up makeup.
”Uh, we sorta fell into a meat grinder,” Dirk grumbled.
”No kidding. I'd hate to see what the other guys look like.”
Savannah felt no need to set any records straight by informing Betty Sue that it was only one guy, and the last time they'd seen him, he looked a heck of a lot better than they did.
”Thank you for this basket,” Savannah said, rummaging through the goodies and finding all sorts of wonderful treats, many of which contained chocolate-Savannah's number one standard of quality. ”You're a sweetheart to think of us.”
Betty Sue lowered her voice and glanced around, as though expecting some sort of eavesdropping gremlins to appear inside the kitchen. ”I heard you're trying to find out what happened to Amelia Northrop. And I remember that friend of yours who rented this place for you, he said you're a cop and a private investigator.”
”Guilty as charged,” Dirk replied as he pulled out a cellophane-wrapped chocolate chip m.u.f.fin and began to unwrap it.
”Do you know who did it yet?” Betty Sue asked. ”Does that have anything to do with the fact that your faces are all beat to h.e.l.l and back?”
How lovely, Savannah thought. Another nice little memory to tuck away in the mental honeymoon alb.u.m. Being told that you look like you've been beaten ”to h.e.l.l and back.”
”Well, we certainly didn't do it to each other,” Savannah said, ”and that's all that matters.”
Betty Sue glanced at her watch. ”I gotta get back to the shop. You two enjoy your basket and, hopefully, the rest of your stay with us.”
”Thank you, ma'am,” Dirk said. ”I'm sure we will.”
Savannah walked Betty Sue to the door. Just as she was stepping outside, Savannah asked, ”By the way, do you know a woman named Opal Parson?”
”Sure. Opal lives just a block away from me on Schooner Drive. She's got a big, wonderful house, sort of Victorian-ish, not like my little sea shack. But then, Opal can afford it. She's a successful interior decorator you know.”
”Yes, so I heard.”
Betty Sue paused halfway down the steps and looked around once again, as though checking for snoopers. ”Don't tell anybody I told you, but you and Opal have more in common than you might think.”
”Oh?” Savannah considered her own modest decorator skills and figured Betty Sue was mistaken.
”Yeah. When she's not decorating, she's got herself another little business on the side. Opal's a private detective.”
”Really?” The hamster in Savannah's mental wheel started running like crazy.
”Yes. She's got herself a specialty, you might say.”
Savannah could almost taste the sweet answer before Betty delivered it.
Betty Sue waggled one eyebrow and whispered, ”Between you and me, she's real good at catching spouses who cheat.”
Fortunately, Schooner Drive was short and had only one big Victorian-style house on it. Then there was the other clue that it was Opal's home-the large gilt, hand-carved sign in the yard: OPAL'S INTERIORS.
As Savannah pulled the Jaguar over to the side of the road and parked in front of the house, she told Dirk, ”I think you should let me take the lead on this one. You know, it being a woman and all.”
He was already sulking from having to give her a turn behind the wheel, so he wasn't thrilled with this new insult added to injury.
”Yeah, that worked out really great with Xenos,” he snapped.
”Don't you dare throw that up to me, buddy boy!” she tossed back. ”I was doing fine with him until-”
”Until he called you a filthy name and shoved you?”
”Until you felt the need to land on him like a ton of bricks!”
They both sat there forever, glaring at each other, nostrils flaring, breathing hard, until Savannah broke the stalemate. ”Maybe in an effort to preserve domestic tranquility, we should never bring up Ian Xenos again.”
”Good idea.” He opened his door. ”Let's get going.”
”I do the talking.”