Murder A'la Mode. G. A. McKevett

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      She studied the label affixed to the box. The silver lettering read: Li-Lac’s Chocolate, Greenwich Village, NY.

      “I think I’m going to like this. A lot!” she said as she untied the ribbon and opened the lid.

      “They’re truffles,” Ryan said. “The French creams and amarettos are our favorites.”

      “Yes, we’ve long been admirers of Li-Lac’s,” John told her. “When we lived in New York, years ago, I must admit we became shamefully addicted to them.”

      “And now you’re sharing your vices. How generous of you!” Savannah took a long, deep smell and felt herself ascending to chocolate heaven.

      “But are you intending to share?” Tammy asked her. “That’s what I want to know.”

      Ryan laughed. “We bought twice as many, figuring she would.”

      Holding the box close to her chest, Savannah said, “Since when do you eat junk food, Miss Celery Sticks for Breakfast and Carrot Sticks for Lunch?”

      “I make an exception for gourmet candies…or any other kind of food that these two recommend.”

      “It’s my birthday present,” Savannah said, “but maybe I’ll share. We’ll see how good they are first.”

      “Actually, the candy is for both of you.” John grinned mischievously. “And your real gift, Savannah, is tucked there, under the candies.”

      “There’s more?” Savannah peered inside and shuffled the chocolates around until she saw a small white envelope underneath.

      “Much more,” Ryan told her. “And when you open it, you’ll see why we had to rush over here this morning.”

      “Oh, this is fun.” Savannah recognized the fine white linen stationery as one of Ryan’s standard notecards. And her name was written across the front in his stylish handwriting.

      She opened the wax seal on the back, reached inside, and pulled out what looked like a formal invitation, also penned in Ryan’s calligraphy.

      Her eyes quickly scanned it, and she frowned as she tried to make sense of what she was reading.

      “Well, what is it?” Tammy asked breathlessly. “What does it say?”

      “It’s an invitation to…some sort of audition,” Savannah said, still reading. “Tomorrow…here in town…for a…Is it a television show?”

      John smiled, terribly pleased with himself. “It is, indeed. I’m afraid it’s nothing so highbrow as an educational program, but it promises to be fun, if you’re game.”

      Savannah squinted at the paper. “The name of it is Man of My Dreams, and I can audition to be some sort of contestant?”

      “It’s one of those reality shows,” Ryan told her, “like The Bachelorette or Joe Millionaire. You can be one of the ladies who’s competing to win a hunk’s heart.”

      Savannah’s expression went from confused to shrewd in a half second. “What’s the prize?”

      “A diamond tiara and a two-week spa vacation with the guy,” Ryan said, “to see if, well, you know…true love can really blossom.”

      “To heck with romance blooming and all that rigmarole. I could use a diamond tiara.”

      “What for?” Tammy giggled. “Are you going to wear it on a stakeout with old Dirko?”

      “No, I’ll sell the sucker and use the money to patch the holes in my roof before rainy season starts.”

      “Rainy season?” Tammy looked confused. “This is Southern California.”

      “Yeah, where it rains like cats and dogs for a couple of weeks every March. And I’m getting tired of climbing around in my dusty old attic on my hands and knees, setting out pans and bowls to catch the drips. I’m telling you, I need that diamond tiara. I’m going to go to this audition, and I’m going to win the contest, too. You wait and see.”

      “And maybe you’ll fall in love, find your true soul mate,” Tammy said, a sappy grin on her face.

      “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

      Ryan chuckled and nudged Savannah’s arm. “You haven’t asked who he is.”

      “Who who is?”

      “The star of the show, the man of your dreams, the guy whose heart you have to win.”

      She shrugged. “Eh, who cares. If I set my cap for him, I’ll get him. I just turn on the old Southern charm spigot and he’s a dead duck. He’ll—”

      “Lance Roman.”

      Savannah sat, stunned, not believing her ears. “No,” she whispered.

      Ryan nodded. “Yep. Lance Roman, the model, the guy on the covers of those books you like to—”

      That was when Savannah started screaming, shrieking incoherently—emitting cries that sounded like exclamations of ecstasy one moment and wails of agony the next.

      It would only be much later, when she was reliving the moment in her memory, that she would recall somebody saying, “Uh, oh! Is she all right?” and someone replying, “I don’t think so. I’m afraid she’s gone. What should we do? Somebody throw water on her! Or maybe slap her!”

      Chapter

      2

      As Savannah left her house the next day, suitcases in hand and a joy born of greed and lust in her heart, she paused beside Tammy’s classic Volkswagen bug. Looking back at the modest Spanish-style house with its white stucco walls draped in flowering bougainvillea and its crumbling red tile roof, she said, “I’m doing this for you, you know. I’ve got every piece of sexy lingerie I own in those suitcases. I’m going to prostitute myself by going on a television show and pretending to fall madly in love, just so that you can have a new roof. I hope you appreciate it.”

      Tammy popped the trunk on the front of the bug and motioned for her to hurry. “You and I and your house know exactly why you’re doing this,” she told Savannah as she helped her place the suitcases inside. “And it’s got a lot more to do with lechery than a diamond tiara.”

      Savannah grinned. “Whatever are you implying, young lady? You know full well that my intentions are completely mercenary in nature.”

      “Baloney. You’re hoping to lock lips with Lance Roman, and you know it, so don’t try to pretend you’re doing it for a roof. I’ve seen how you look at those book covers with his picture on them.”

      “How?”

      Instantly, Tammy arranged her face into a dreamy, sappy, brainless grin that made Savannah slightly nauseous.

      “I do not!”

      “Do, too!”

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