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

made them quit. Other than that, no.”
    “And when you got back here? What was happening at that point?”
    Mary Jo looked down at the rug at her feet and a look of great sadness washed over her face. “Kim was dying,” she said simply. “There on the driveway. Dona was holding her in her arms. And she was dying. I’d never seen anyone die before. Not even of natural causes, let alone…like that…”
    She swallowed hard, then looked up at Savannah, her eyes filling with tears. “I didn’t particularly like or even know Kim, but that was really awful. I guess you’ve seen a lot of that sort of thing in your line of work. You’re probably used to it.”
    In her mind’s eye, Savannah saw a line of bodies, the dead and the dying, stretching back over the years—during both of her careers as a private investigator and as a police officer. By now, literally hundreds. And she could remember every single one of them vividly. Far too vividly, sometimes, in the middle of the night.
    “No,” she said. “I’m not used to it. And God forbid I ever will be.”

Chapter 7
     
    S avannah found Dirk standing in the backyard next to an exquisite swimming pool shaped like an octagon. It was rimmed with pastel pink and aqua tiles with an Egyptian motif, and in the center, a fountain sprayed an iridescent jet of water into the air. The tiles were accented with flecks of gold and something told Savannah that in this case, if it looked like gold, it probably was.
    Elegant palms grew along the back side of the pool, partially shading it and providing bathers with a sense of jungle verdure.
    The yard was expansive with numerous areas that had been designed for gracious entertaining. A natural stone barbecue pit was surrounded by chaises with thick, inviting cushions. A garden filled with native wildflowers was dotted with wrought-iron benches where guests could sit and commune with each other and nature. And at the back of the property a delicate gazebo provided a private, romantic setting for viewing the sweeping, verdant valley and the tan, velveteen hills, lined with rows of dark, gray-green avocado trees in the distance.
    Dirk appeared less festive and a lot less elegant than his surroundings, but that was nothing unusual. What was unusual was the brown thing sticking out of his mouth.
    “What the heck is that you’re sucking on there, buddy?” Savannah asked as she walked up to him.
    It looked like a rough brown cigarette, but as she got closer, she caught the sweet, fresh scent of cinnamon. Dirk had never smelled so good.
    “It’s a cinnamon stick,” he said, shoving it to the side of his mouth and talking around it, “and I don’t want to hear a word about it,” he snapped. “Not one word, you hear?”
    She chuckled. “Oh yeah,” she said. “You’re going to walk around with spices sticking out of your face, and you and I aren’t going to have a conversation about it? That’s going to happen…sure.” Then it dawned on her and her face softened into a sweet smile. “Oh-h-h. This is a ‘quit smoking’ thing, right?”
    He looked embarrassed. “Can we just not talk about it?”
    “After I ask you one question.” She reached up and thumped the end of the stick with her finger. “What’s wrong with a chocolate lollipop?”
    He shrugged. “The guys at the station were calling me Kojak, and it was pissing me off.”
    “Why? Just because Telly Savalas was bald? I keep telling you, you aren’t bald. You’re just a wee bit follicularly disadvantaged…there on the top. But you comb it pretty good, so—.”
    “It’s not ’cause the dude was bald.”
    She didn’t believe him, but said nothing.
    “It’s not!” he protested. “It’s just because, well, ’cause you and I are old enough to even know who Telly Savalas was.”
    She nodded and smiled. “Right. Whatever.”
    “No! Don’t you go ‘whatevering’ me! I hate it when you do that.”
    She shrugged. “Okay. Whatever.” She looked around