Poisoned Tarts. G. A. McKevett

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      As the woman wiped her eyes and blew her nose, Savannah gave her a quick glance over. She might be attractive if her eyes weren’t red and swollen, her bright red hair was combed, and her simple cotton shirt and jeans didn’t look as though she’d slept in them.

      Savannah judged her to be in her early forties, but she seemed to have experienced some rather difficult years. The deep lines on her tanned face and the roughness of her hands suggested that she worked outside in the sun with little time for feminine niceties like salon manicures.

      Reaching over and placing her hand on the woman’s freckled forearm, Savannah said, “Ms. O’Neil, please tell me about your Daisy.”

      The mother ran a trembling hand through her tousled hair. “What do you want to know?”

      “What sort of girl is she? Has she ever run away before? Things like that.”

      “No. Daisy’s a very good kid. She’s never given me a bit of trouble. She was on the honor role at school, and she’s always hung out with nice kids. Well…until she went to a fancy club in Hollywood one night to celebrate a friend’s birthday. That’s when she got hooked up with this gang, these Skeleton Key girls.”

      “So, you don’t consider the Skeleton Key Three good kids?”

      The mother gave her a disgusted look. “Oh, come on. You read the tabloids, or at least see them on the stands and read the headlines. They’re trashy, these girls.” Looking around the opulent room, she added, “Having a ton of money doesn’t make you classy…just more interesting to the media, I guess.”

      Savannah smiled. “Well, what’s more interesting than an extremely rich person? A rich person who behaves worse than we do. A rich person we can feel superior to.”

      “Yeah, I guess that’s a large part of the appeal.”

      Savannah remembered some of the tabloid headlines she’d read, about how the cops had been called to hotel rooms where the Three had been throwing wild sex and drug parties. She thought of this good kid, this honor role student who had never given her mother a moment of trouble. She cleared her throat and asked one of the most obvious and difficult questions. “Have you ever had any reason to believe that Daisy does drugs of any kind?”

      “No. Well, I think maybe some of these girls smoke pot or maybe take some of those party drugs when they go to clubs. But I don’t let Daisy club hop with them…for that very reason.”

      “Does Daisy attend their private parties, parties here at the mansion or…um…in hotels?”

      Ms. O’Neil gave her a guarded, unhappy look. “She doesn’t attend those parties. The ones you’ve read about in the paper.”

      “Okay.” Savannah wasn’t sure she believed that one, but apparently, Daisy’s mom did. “Does she have a steady boyfriend? One she might have run away with? Or an ex-boyfriend she might be having problems with?”

      “No one now. She had a boyfriend for a long time…over a year. She liked him a lot. But a couple of months ago, this Tiffy Dante made eyes at him or—more likely—flashed him some body part, and he dropped Daisy cold.”

      “So, would you say that Daisy was depressed?”

      The mother considered her answer a while before giving it. “No, not really. She was earlier this year. But Tiffy started taking acting lessons at a studio in Hollywood, and she let Daisy tag along—to keep her company on the drive, I suppose. And even though Tiffy wasn’t doing all that well, Daisy took to it like you wouldn’t believe! She’s great. A natural actress. The teacher recommended her to an agent, and he landed a bit part for her in a sitcom. They start filming tomorrow, and she was so excited about it. That’s why I know there’s just no way possible that she would run away. She was like a kid counting the hours before Christmas morning.”

      Savannah thought of her youngest sister, Atlanta, and her obsession with being a movie star someday. Or a country-singing Nashville hit. Or a runway model or…

      “Yes, I’m sure she was very excited to have a part on a TV show,” she told the mother. “Most people would be jazzed about that, but especially a teenager.”

      A rather ugly thought ran through Savannah’s mind. “Uh, how did Tiffy and the other girls feel about Daisy’s good fortune?”

      “Tiffy was tiffed. Big time. But then, Tiffy’s always miffed and throwing a temper tantrum about something. She couldn’t understand why they would cast Daisy for a part when she’s…well…she’s not as slender as the other Skeleton Key Three. Daisy is…how do they say it? Pleasingly plump.”

      “A full-figured beauty. Like me.” Savannah smiled.

      The woman gave Savannah a quick look. “My Daisy is larger than you. And she’s beautiful.”

      With those words, the woman started to cry again, and Savannah searched her purse for more tissues.

      “When was the last time you saw Daisy, Ms. O’Neil?”

      She sniffed. “You can call me Pam,” she said. “And the last time I saw my daughter was when she left yesterday afternoon to come over here. She said she was going to be studying her lines with Tiffy, Kiki, and Bunny, that they’d offered to help her. That’ll be the day, when those girls want to actually help my Daisy.”

      “What time did she leave your house?”

      She thought for a moment. “It must have been about four. I had only been home from work a few minutes when she told me she was leaving.”

      “Where do you work, Pam?”

      “I have a job with the city—road repair and maintenance. I’m a flagman. So you can see why my daughter is so enthralled with all this crap.” She waved her hand, indicating the house and its furnishings.

      “Well, money on this kind of scale can turn anybody’s head,” Savannah said softly, “especially an impressionable teenager.”

      Reaching into her purse and pulling out her notebook and pen, Savannah asked, “Other than these girls, Tiffy, Bunny, and Kiki, does Daisy have any other friends she spends time with?”

      “No. These girls just sort of absorbed her. She doesn’t have time anymore for anybody or anything. Just hanging around here or tagging along behind them, when they allow her to, when they need somebody to make fun of and feel superior to.”

      Glancing again at the ostentatious painting over the fireplace, it occurred to Savannah that Tiffy Dante probably felt superior to almost everyone. But if what Pam O’Neil was saying was true, it certainly did sound as though Daisy was the Omega dog in a pretty ruthless pack.

      “You say they make fun of her. What exactly do they say when they do that?”

      Pam twisted the tissue in her hand and fought back more tears. “Oh, the usual stuff that teenagers ridicule each other about, I guess—her clothes, her hair. Of course, none of that is up to their standards. But mostly they harass her about her weight.”

      Savannah nodded. “Yes, sadly, that’s an easy target today, what with all the emphasis on being abnormally thin.”

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