Savannah Reid 12 - Fat Free and Fatal by G. A. McKevett

sake. She didn’t snatch me off the streets, bring me home and clean me up. It wasn’t like that at all.”
    “I’m sure they exaggerated it something awful.”
    “They did! They made it sound like she’s this successful, totally together diva who, out of the goodness of her heart, reached down to pull her poor, loser friend up out of the muck.”
    “They didn’t!”
    “They did! And it’s such a lie. Dona has plenty of problems of her own, I’ll tell you. Lots of problems. And I’ve helped her more than she’s helped me! I mean, not financially maybe, but there are other ways one friend helps another.”
    “Of course, there are umpteen dozen ways.”
    “I’ve helped her in ways that you wouldn’t believe since she had that gastric bypass surgery. She’s been sick as a dog. Throwing up…and other things I won’t even mention because it’s so gross and—”
    “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
    “And only a friend, a real friend would stand by you at a time like that !”
    Savannah nodded solemnly. “How true. Bathroom duty elevates a casual acquaintance to soul-sister status every time.”
    Mary Jo waved an arm, indicating the room they were standing in. “With all of this, everyone assumes that Dona has it all, that she’s happy and fulfilled and doesn’t have a care in the world. Except maybe her weight. But I’ve known her since we were kids and neither one of us had anything. We were going to be a world-famous singing duo. When we were in high school we won every contest we entered. We were going to go all the way to the top together. But then Dona was ‘discovered’ and had her face on the cover of Teen Idol , and as they say, the rest is history. She turned her back on her true love, singing, and started acting just because of the money. And she hasn’t been happy since that day.”
    Savannah recalled the night when Dona Papalardo had won her Emmy, her tears of joy, her grateful and gracious acceptance speech. If she hadn’t been happy that night, she was a better actress than even Hollywood was giving her credit for.
    Savannah had a feeling that Mary Jo was rewriting history, coming up with a new version that she, herself, could live with. And this account played a bit better than: My best friend promised we’d make it to the top together, but she left me behind in her scramble to the summit. And here I sit in a mud puddle looking up at her, feeling bitter and sorry for myself.
    Yes, Savannah decided, the tabloids aren’t the only ones who can spin a yarn when it suits them to do so.
    She had to ask Mary Jo the question.
    She had to.
    The question was a necessary evil in each and every investigation. And no matter how many times you asked how many people, nobody ever took kindly to being asked.
    “Mary Jo,” she said, using her soft, lulling voice…the one she usually used for coaxing her cats out of trees. “If you don’t mind me asking, where were you yesterday when Kim was shot?”
    Mary Jo’s eyes opened wide. “Well, I do mind. I mind because the only reason you’d ask such a thing is because you suspect me of having something to do with it.”
    Savannah shrugged and gave her a half-smile. “Don’t take it personally. I suspect everybody of everything. That way I’m never disappointed…or surprised. In my line of work, you can’t afford to be surprised. It could be deadly.”
    Mary Jo seemed to consider Savannah’s words and decide, perhaps, they had some merit. She relaxed a little, her body less rigid and her expression less hostile. “Okay,” she said. “I guess that’s a fair question. I was out jogging.”
    “Where?”
    “In the hills behind the property. There’s a beautiful valley back there, and except for a few rattlesnakes, it’s a great place to run. I run every day.”
    “Did you see anything unusual while you were out there?”
    “Some stupid kids throwing rocks at a rattler they had cornered between some rocks. I told them they were idiots and