Wicked Craving. G. A. McKevett

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      In some ways, it was more disconcerting, this lack of emotion, than the more common outpouring of sorrow.

      “How did she die?” the doctor asked. “Did she fall off the cliff?”

      “She definitely fell off the cliff,” Savannah said. “We don’t know yet exactly why she fell.”

      Dirk cleared his throat. “Doctor, the last time you saw your wife, was she intoxicated?”

      Wellman shrugged. “She’d had a glass of wine during dinner. And maybe a couple more between dances.”

      “How many people would you say attended the ball last night?” Savannah asked.

      “Oh, a hundred. Maybe more.”

      “Did your wife spend her time talking to any one person in particular?”

      “Not really. She was quite comfortable in social settings. She liked to flit around the room, visiting with first one, then the other. I didn’t notice her talking to anybody special … other than me, of course.”

      “Of course,” Dirk said.

      “I know this is a difficult question,” Savannah said, “but, to your knowledge, was anyone upset with your wife? Did she have any enemies that might wish her harm?”

      He hesitated and glanced away, looking through the house to the rear windows and beyond that, to the cliff edge. “No, not really. Maria had a temper and spoke her mind, and that didn’t exactly endear her to some people. But nobody hated her enough to do something like that.”

      “I beg to differ with you,” Dirk said, watching the man closely, studying every nuance of the doctor’s facial expression, tone of voice, and body language. “It takes a lot of hate to push somebody off a cliff to their death.”

      Dr. Wellman stared at Dirk for a long moment, then at Savannah, his eyes searching theirs. And Savannah could feel a deep, gut-shaking fear radiating out of him.

      “And that’s what you think happened?” he asked.

      Savannah nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

      “It couldn’t have been an accident?”

      “We don’t think so.”

      Savannah waited for him to adjust to the news before she asked, “Dr. Wellman, your wife was dressed beautifully for the party. Can you tell me if she was wearing any jewelry?”

      “Yes! She was wearing a sapphire and diamond necklace and earrings that she’d rented from a jewelry shop on Rodeo Drive. Don’t tell me they’re gone!”

      “I’m afraid so.”

      “And her wedding ring? She had a beautiful princess cut stone. I paid a fortune for it.”

      Savannah shook her head. “I’m sorry, but she wasn’t wearing any jewelry at all.”

      “Oh, man, that store’s going to come after me for that stuff. I can’t afford to pay for it. You’d better find it!”

      “We’ll do what we can,” Dirk told him. “I’ll inform all the local pawnshops and jewelry stores to be on the lookout for it.”

      Savannah noted that Wellman seemed even more perturbed by the loss of the jewels than by the loss of his wife. But then, you could never really tell. Some people displayed their emotions quite differently from others.

      A lengthy, tense silence was broken by the jingling of a merry tune, coming from the vicinity of the front of Wellman’s slacks. He stiffened, started to reach into his pocket, then stopped himself.

      Again, he wouldn’t meet their eyes but fixated on the ocean view, as he shifted from one foot to the other.

      The song became louder and louder.

      “You can get that if you want,” Dirk said with a grin that was half a challenge. “We don’t mind waiting.”

      “It’s okay,” Wellman snapped.

      Discreetly, Savannah glanced down at her watch and noted the time: 5:46 P.M.

      No sooner had the phone stopped ringing than it started again, the same ringtone.

      “Somebody really wants to talk to you,” Dirk said. “You might want to pick it up. Could be important.”

      This time Wellman dug his hand into his pocket and took out the phone. But instead of answering it, he turned it off.

      “I’m a doctor,” he said, clearly annoyed and more than a little nervous. “I get nuisance calls all the time.”

      “And what sort of doctor are you?” Savannah asked. Of course, she knew, but she was hoping to irritate him further.

      One of her favorite theories was that an irritated person was more likely to show you who they really were. So, long ago, she had decided to irritate people as quickly and as often as possible.

      As Granny had frequently told her: “You don’t really know a person till you’ve had ‘em mad a a.”

      And the doctor was getting madder by the second. His already ruddy face flushed a few shades brighter. She could have sworn his mustache turned a bit redder. “I’m surprised you don’t know who I am,” he said, lifting his shoulders and puffing out his chest. “I’ve been on several national talk shows lately.”

      Savannah shrugged. “Sorry. I don’t watch a lot of daytime television. What’s your specialty?”

      He gave her a pointed and lingering look up and down her figure. Then, in a voice thick with contempt, he said, “I specialize in weight loss.”

      Giving him a bright smile, she quickly replied, “Ah, no wonder you can afford a house like this. The world’s just full of folks who worry themselves sick over nonsense like that.”

      “But apparently not all people,” he replied, again looking her up and down.

      She continued to give him a broad, wooden smile. But her blue eyes had a cold fire in them. “Some of us are just lucky that way, I suppose.”

      “Lucky?”

      “Yes. Lucky. Self love is a rare commodity in this day and age. What with everybody telling us we’re not worth a tinker’s dam unless we’re all a certain size, shape, or color.”

      “How about you?” Dirk said, stepping a little closer to Wellman. “You got any personal enemies who’d wish you harm? Anybody who might hurt your wife to get even with you?”

      “Yes.”

      Savannah’s eyebrows rose a notch. An investigator seldom got an affirmative to that question. Most people who had true honest-to-goodness enemies—not just your average pissed off relatives, friends, and neighbors—had done something to deserve them. And they usually didn’t welcome the chance to talk about it.

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