Sour Grapes (A Savannah Reid Mystery #6) (12 page)

bed and decided that Anthony had probably remained

behind for their sake.

"Atlanta, sweetie," Savannah said, torn between family loyalty and duty, "if you're feeling better, I should probably talk to Mrs. Villa for a minute, just to fill her in on what's happened."

Atlanta nodded. "Sure, I'm okay."

She didn't sound nearly as certain as her words.

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Savannah could tell she was trying to be brave, and she respected her for it. Most people twice Atlanta's age would have freaked out under the circumstances.

Savannah stood. "Would you like to sit here for a while, or would you rather come with me?"

Atlanta jumped to her feet. So much for wanting to be rid of her interfering older sister.

The moment they stepped into the gallery Catherine

ran over to them. She had changed from her evening wear to a designer jogging suit that looked like it had

never been taken on a run. Her white tennis shoes were spotless, and her French twist still perfect. Her already fair complexion was even more pale, and she appeared terribly upset.

"Oh, Savannah, I'm so relieved to see you." She clasped her hands to her chest dramatically. "What on earth is going on around here? Somebody said that one of the girls had something dreadful put on her bed." She turned to Atlanta. "I believe they said it was you, Miss Reid."

Atlanta glanced at Savannah, who gave her a warning, "keep quiet" look. She shrugged and studied the ranch-pegged hardwood floor.

"Well, yes, that's true," Savannah offered. "Although we aren't sure yet how it got there or exactly what it is."

"I was told it's blood," Catherine said. "You don't think one of our girls has been hurt, do you?"

"I certainly hope not. We've called the police and--" "The police? Was that really necessary? I mean, if word of this gets out . .

"Yes?"

Mrs. Villa actually looked embarrassed, as though ashamed to be caught worrying about anything so frivolous as her vineyard's reputation, when one of her

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young guests might have recently shed some of her

life's blood on one of her bedspreads.

"You . . . you know. . . how this sort of thing gets all blown out of proportion," she said. "People love a morbid story, and I can just see it all over the newspapers by tomorrow morning."

Savannah pasted a sympathetic look on her face. "Of course I understand. But certainly none of us would call the press. And the police officer who's coming is a personal friend of mine. We were partners together on the force for years. I'm sure we can trust him to be discreet."

Mrs. Villa seemed immensely relieved. "Oh, thank goodness." She glanced around and lowered her voice. "After all, this event was meant to generate positive publicity . . . what with my husband running for the senate. And, of course, we did it to help the girls with their scholarships, and all that."

"Of course . . . all that."

Catherine paused, giving Savannah a searching look, as if trying to decide whether or not she was being

mocked. Savannah decided to let her wonder.

"I just feel so terrible about this." She toyed with the drawstring of her jogging pants. "Is there any way I can help?"

"Actually, yes," Savannah said. "If you can ask your staff--anyone you can spare--to help us. Ryan Stone and Mrs. Lippincott are organizing a search for one of the young ladies who appears to be missing."

"Missing? Oh my! Now you are scaring me!"

"Please don't be overly concerned at this point," Savannah said with far more assurance than she felt. 'This may be nothing more than a cruel, tasteless joke. We'll know more soon."

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"Do keep me informed. I want to know everything. I'll go speak to Mrs. Lippincott now about that extra help." 'Thank you. You're most gracious."

As Savannah and Atlanta watched Catherine

WhitestoneVilla hurry away, Atlanta leaned close to Savannah's ear and said, "Do you like her?"

"Of course I do. She's my employer. And when you're a private detective who gets a job once in a blue

moon. . . you like anyone who offers you a paycheck. So what if she's shallow, a bit dense, and a snob? That doesn't make her altogether a bad person, does it?"

Atlanta gave her a half smile. "Pretty close, I'd say."

Savannah pressed her finger to her lips. "Sh-h-h, now would be a good lime to keep your opinions to yourself. Which reminds me, I don't want you to tell anyone here about your disagreement with Barbie. Nobody. Got that?"

Atlanta's eyes grew wider, and she gave a paranoid glance around. "Why? Do you think somebody hurt her? You do! And you're afraid that they'll think I'm the one who did it. That's it, isn't it?"

"You know that old phrase: What you say can and will be used against you? Well, that's as true for innocent people as it is for guilty ones. So please, Atlanta, for right now say as little as possible to everybody here. Trust me on this one; okay, sweetie?"

"Okay." In a spontaneous gesture that went straight to Savannah's heart, Atlanta threw her arms around her neck and gave her a suffocating hug. 'Thanks, Van. Thanks for everything. I'm sorry about what I said earlier, about you being sexually frustrated and all that. Even if you are, I shouldn't have brought it up like that."

"No problem." Savannah returned the hug, squeez

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ng her tightly around the waist and trying not to think

tbout how bony her ribs felt. "All forgiven. All forgot-en. All gone."

"Really?"

"Really, really."

The front door of the gallery flew open, and Dirk enered, looking even more rumpled and grumpier than isual. Savannah gave Atlanta a comforting pat on the ;houlder and said, "Hang tight, kiddo. I've gotta have--"

"I know, I know . . a few words with Dirk, fill him in what's going on." Atlanta sighed, once again dissatisled with her lot in life. "I need a Diet Coke. I think I'll In to the kitchen and see if they have some."

Savannah tried to think of a delicate way to express

ter concern, but she couldn't, so she said it straight. Be sure that you're around people. Don't go anywhere hat you're going to be alone. Understand?"

She saw the fear intensify on Atlanta's face and hated

see her sister so scared. But, on the other hand, fear :ould be a good thing; it made you more careful. And mder the circumstances, caution was definitely in order.

A few minutes later, she was showing Dirk the stain the bed and trying to explain the finer points of

larbie Matthews's psyche.

"She's a raving bitch. A spoiled brat. And she's up to to good, I'm sure of that. Ah . . . if she's alive, that is." Dirk played his flashlight over the soiled bedspread. Yeah, I hear ya. This is a pretty gross mess all right." He owered his voice. "If this goop came out of her, she's wobably not feeling too good right now. You know anymdy with the urge to kill her?"

"You mean. besides me and Atlanta?" She shook her

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head. "I don't really know the girl, only talked to her a few minutes."

"And that was enough to make you hate her?" "Absolutely. I'm sure you'd agree if you'd had the displeasure of making her acquaintance."

Dirk glanced around the room at the scattered

clothes, makeup, jewelry, hair dryers, and towels. "But this was Atlanta's bed, -not the other kid's, right?" he asked.

"Yes, but this one had been assigned to Barbie. She bullied Atlanta into changing with her. So we don't know whose benefit it was done for." Savannah pointed to the writing on the wall. "Why do you suppose they wrote that upside down? It's not easy, writing while standing on your head."

Dirk walked closer to the bed and shined his flashlight

along the window sill. "The lighting really sucks in here. Can we turn those lamps up?"

"No," she told him. "I think they were going for cozy ambience when they decorated, not crime-scene processing. What are you looking for?"

"With a little luck, bloody fingerprints," he replied. "I think the reason the word was written upside down is

because the person who dumped the blood. . . and the other g-uck . . . on the bed was outside, leaning in through the window."

Savannah thought that one over for a second and

grunted her approval of his theory. "Good. Yeah, that makes sense. And hey, look, the screen is off."

"How much do you want to bet it's layin' on the

ground outside?" "Let's

go look."

"Naw, you stay here and wait for Dr. Liu. Me and Ryan'll check outside."

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Savannah didn't have long to wait. No sooner had Dirk left than Catherine Villa appeared, escorting Dr. Eennifer Liu.

"This lady says she's the county medical examiner," Catherine said, her voice shaky. "She says you sent for her."

"I did. Don't worry, Mrs. Villa, it's just. . . in case . . . really, don't worry."

"Don't worry? You call the coroner to come to my hroperty, and you tell me not to worry?"

Savannah grabbed Dr. Liu by the arm and pulled her nto the room. "Excuse me," she said to Catherine, "but we have to do a little work in here. I think I'll close this or now. See you later."

She slammed the door in Catherine's extremely con:erned

face and turned to Dr. Liu.

Medical examiner Dr. Jennifer Liu looked like anyhing but what she was. Tiny, petite, deceptively fragile

appearance, she hardly seemed like someone who rut up dead bodies for a living. But she claimed to love her work and frequently regaled crowds at cocktail paries

and the local Irish pubs with her vast repertoire of

'stiff" jokes.

"Don't worry? You told her not to worry?" Dr. Liu isked. "Somebody somewhere had better be worried, if I vas called out in the middle of a very hot date."

Savannah looked her up and down, noting the blackeather pants, the four-inch high-heeled boots, and the )lack, sequined, angora sweater. It must have been a rery hot date, indeed.

"Oh yes, I'm worried. I'm very worried." She pointed

the bed.

Jennifer took a look. "Yuck."

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"Yuck? I didn't know that word was in a medical examiner's vocabulary," Savannah said.

"Sure it is. I get grossed out as quickly as anybody." She set the case she was carrying on the floor and

walked closer to the bed.

'Then how do you do what you do?"

The M.E. produced a flashlight and leaned over the stain, studying it closely. "Easy," she said. "My curiosity is greater than my yuck-factor."

Savannah allowed her a couple of minutes to think

and scrutinize the area, until her own curiosity got the best of her. "Well, what do you think? Any ideas about what that fleshy stuff is there in the middle?"

Dr. Liu opened her case and removed several items: a large cotton swab, a glass vial, and a small bottle of fluid.

"I have an idea what it is," she said. "Or at least what it isn't. Hang on a minute and let me check."

With one of the swabs she collected some of the

blood that lay, congealing, near the unidentified tissue, and stuck it into the glass vial. She unscrewed the lid of the bottle and poured a small amount of the fluid into

the vial. After swirling it around for a moment, she held it up to the light and nodded. "Yes, that's what I thought."

"What? What did you thought . . . . . . think. What the hell is it?"

Dr. Liu sealed the vial with a stopper and began to write on its identification label. "It's blood, but it isn't human. And neither are those." She pointed to the glob in the center.

"Not human?" Savannah released a sigh of relief. "Well, what kind is it?"

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Dr. Liu laughed. "You detectives don't expect much

us medical examiners, do you? I can't tell. These kid tests aren't that sophisticated. Although once I get back in the lab, I'll be able to identify the source."

She placed the vial in a small, padded pouch and dpped it closed. Then she removed a Polaroid camera Yom her case and took a couple of photos of the bed, he wall and its writing, the window and surrounding irea.

"Those organs are too small to be human," she said. don't even think they're mammal. If I'm not misaken, I think that mass on the right is a gizzard. Probably from a chicken."

Savannah looked closely at the area she was indicatng.

"It does look that way, doesn't it? I remember 3rarmy Reid used to fry up a batch of those when we

muldn't afford wings and drumsticks."

Dr. Liu gave her a funny look, and she quickly idded, "Hey, they weren't so bad. Anything's good if roll slap enough gravy on it."

"Ah-h huh. Whatever you say."

"I say, 'Thank God, this isn't a homicide scene.' It nust be somebody's idea of a sick joke. But when I hink of how scared my baby sister was, I want to shove hese chicken guts up their nose sideways."

"I understand completely. I'll take these back to the ab and identify them for sure. And then if you find Four culprit, you can have them back and do just that."

Dr. Liu finished scraping the entrails into another evdence container. Then she knelt on the floor, packed werything away, and snapped her case closed. Standng, she brushed off the knees of her leather pants. "So, you don't mind if I go back to my hot date? I left

him in a Tahitian bar, sipping daiquiris from a pineapple. If I'm lucky, he'll still be there when I get back."

Savannah grinned and slapped her on the back. "Don't worry, Doc. He'll be there. As good as you look tonight . . . believe me. . . he'll be there."

"He'd better be," she said as she opened the door. "If he isn't, you owe me a ten-pound box of Godiva." "You've got it. Have a good time."