Poisoned Tarts. G. A. McKevett

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СКАЧАТЬ heard that,” Gran said, a twinkle in her eye as she joined them in the living room. “Who’s been tippy toeing through the bullpucky?”

      “Me,” Dirk admitted as he quickly stood and offered Gran the chair. “I had to chase a suspect through a pasture yesterday out in Mooney Canyon. I guess I haven’t gotten around to scraping off all the…uh…forensic evidence yet.”

      He held Gran’s arm as she settled into Savannah’s easy chair and gently placed the ottoman under her feet. Then he handed her his brownie and a piece of fudge.

      Savannah smiled, loving him just for a moment, then she said, “Go put those boots out on the front porch and get back in here before my news story comes on.”

      Glancing at the television, she could see that the weather report was nearly finished. And that meant the colorful, local story would be next. She wasn’t sure how she felt about her latest exploits being broadcast for God and everybody to see. With cameras everywhere these days, a body had precious little privacy.

      On the other hand, the footage had convinced the cops who had appeared on the scene that the other guy was the one who had thrown the first punch…or at least attempted to before she’d effectively blocked it.

      There were times when a bit of store security videotape could be a girl’s best friend.

      “I don’t need to see it on the screen,” Dirk said as he plodded off to the hallway. “I was there. I saw the whole bloody, gory scene in person.”

      “Bloody?” Tammy was all ears. “Gory?” She looked anything but appalled. In fact, she looked deliciously intrigued—embarrassingly so.

      Ghoul, Savannah thought proudly.

      She’d taught the kid everything she knew about crime scene gore, its significance, and how to process it.

      Granny settled her generous self into the easy chair and looked perfectly at home, the golden light of the reading lamp setting her white hair aglow with a fire that matched the one burning in her bright blue eyes.

      Granny Reid might be an octogenarian who had traveled a lot of long, bumpy, pothole-pitted roads, but her passion hadn’t dimmed one bit over the years. And one didn’t need a second glance to see where Savannah had gotten her feisty spirit.

      Gran took a bite of Dirk’s brownie, closed her eyes, and savored it for a moment, then she said, “Perfection, Savannah girl. Sinful, scrumptious perfection.” Then she opened her eyes, the moment for savoring over. “Now, what’s this business about you committing murder and mayhem at the local supermarket? I thought I taught you better than that.”

      “You did, Gran,” Savannah said as she sat on the floor beside her grandmother and rested her head on Granny’s knee. “You taught me to be a lady, but sometimes a lady has to…well…”

      “Hey, it’s you!” Tammy said, nearly jumping out of her chair and pointing to the television. “Oh, you look great! I’m so glad you were wearing that turquoise sweater. That’s one of your best!”

      “Oh please. Tammy Hart, stylist to the stars,” Savannah said, giving her friend a grin.

      “Actually,” John said, “Tammy’s right. You do look stunning in that sweater.”

      “I agree,” Ryan added.

      “Oh, right.” Savannah snorted. “Like either of you would even notice.”

      “We notice.” Ryan lifted one eyebrow and gave her a quick once-over that set her pitter to patting all over again. “Notice is all we do, but we notice.”

      Dirk reentered the room and shuffled across the floor in his socks. He sat down on the rug next to the television, reached over, and turned up the volume.

      The blond cutie at the anchor’s desk began the story. “And this afternoon in a San Carmelita supermarket, an altercation sent a local accountant to the hospital. As seen here on the store security videotape, two shoppers exchanged words, and their discussion rapidly escalated into an argument. The woman you see there at the bottom of your screen is Savannah Reid, formerly a police officer with the San Carmelita Police Department.”

      The living room erupted in whistles and cheers. Savannah held up both hands, “Quiet! Quiet! Listen now; throw cash and gifts later.”

      The newscaster continued, an amused look on her face. “At this point in the argument, Reid held up one finger—no, ladies and gentlemen, not that finger—her pinkie—but even that appeared to enrage Timothy Barnett, who took a swing at her. As we can see, Ms. Reid has not forgotten the self-defense training she received from the S.C.P.D. and there…only a few seconds later…you see Barnett on the floor amid a pile of fallen produce, tumbled cans, and broken bottles.” The reporter grinned her perfect, bleached white smile. “Yes, folks, we do have a major cleanup on aisle five.”

      “Yay-y-y-y! That’s our girl!” Ryan shouted.

      “Here, here!” John saluted her with his cup of Earl Grey.

      “Oh, Savannah! I’m so proud of you,” Tammy said, her pretty face shining, tears in her eyes. “You blocked him with an exquisitely executed gedan barai. The mae geri kick to his chest was flawless, and that nage waza was the perfect choice to put him on the floor.”

      Savannah stared at her for several seconds, then said, “Uh, okay. Thanks, Tam.” And she decided to cut back a bit on Tammy’s martial arts training.

      Dirk smirked. “I see you’re still using that ‘the average size is…’ line to provoke suspects,” he said.

      Savannah winked at him. “Hey, the classics hold up.”

      The only less than jovial person in the room was Gran, who sat with her arms crossed over her ample chest, a scowl on her face.

      From Savannah’s seat on the floor beside her grandmother, she looked up into that infinitely dear face and cringed. Her grandmother had raised her and her eight brothers and sisters. Savannah knew the look all too well—she was in trouble.

      “What was that business you did with your finger there?” Gran wanted to know. “Is that what I think it was?”

      Savannah giggled and nudged Gran’s leg. “Naw, it wasn’t that at all. Like the gal there on TV said, it was my pinkie. A perfectly innocent gesture. I’d never do that other one…after you teaching me to be a genteel Southern lady and all.”

      Dirk cleared his throat, and Savannah shot him a warning look.

      “Well, you must have said something pretty unladylike for him to take a swing at you like that,” Gran said.

      “He was being nasty to his wife and little boy, mouthing off and threatening them,” Savannah told her. “And I just couldn’t abide it. You know, like ol’ Leon Hafner used to do. And Gran, I remember all too well what you did to Leon that Saturday night when he came calling uninvited.”

      A mischievous grin flitted across Gran’s face. She shrugged. “Eh, well, Leon deserved to get a skillet upside his head,” she said. “He was always thumpin’ on poor Alice and her too scared and broke to leave him with three little young’uns in tow. She came over to our house that day with СКАЧАТЬ