Killer Calories (20 page)

Ryan chuckled. “So? Are you surprised? In case you hadn't noticed, he's gorgeous.”

“Oh, I noticed.” She rolled her eyes. “Believe me, I noticed big time. But Kat was his co-star, one of his best friends. She must have known he was gay.”

“Like I said, Dion's life was a secret, and guarding that secret consumed most of his time and energy. I'm not surprised that Kat didn't know. Very few people did.”

“Maybe she found out later. I hear she threatened to expose him for something, just before she died. Do you think that could be what it was?”

“To my knowledge, Dion conducted his affairs—no pun intended—with integrity. I don't know any other clandestine activities that he would have wanted to keep hidden. But, remember, I haven't been in contact with him for years. People change.”

Savannah thought of what Bernadette had said about Dion threatening Kat's life.

“Would the Dion you knew and cared for have committed murder?”

Ryan laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Long ago, I gave up trying to figure out what a person would or wouldn't do. Who knows what any of us are capable of doing under the right or wrong circumstances?” He took a deep breath. “But to answer your question: No, I don't believe the Dion I knew would kill anyone.”

“Not even if they threatened to expose him, to tell the world—and more importantly, his friends and family—he was gay?”

Ryan thought long and hard before he answered. “Once again, I can't imagine him murdering someone. But I can tell you one thing ... if Dion Zeller ever
would
kill another human being, that would be the reason why.”

 

By the time Savannah and Ryan had left the gazebo and strolled back to the guests' dormitory, the sun had set and the spa's daily activities were winding down. Several swimmers splashed in the pool, and one elderly man was enjoying a tennis lesson from Bernadette on the court. Other than those individuals, they saw no one as they entered the dorm and headed for their appointed rooms.

“Early to bed and early to rise,” she said as they walked down the hallway and arrived at her door, “makes me cranky and puffy 'round the eyes.”

Ryan leaned over and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “My dear, it would take more than a few early risings to ruin your sweet disposition.”

“You think far too highly of me,” she said, flashing him a dimpled grin. “But please don't stop. I need at least one friend who thinks I'm adorable ... deluded though he may be.”

He tweaked the end of her nose. “Good night, Savannah.”

“You, too. Sleep tight, and don't let the bedbugs bite.”

He grimaced. “That's revolting.”

“Not at all. It's a quaint Southern phrase. Actually, in my childhood circles it was considered a ritualistic nightly blessing ... sort of. But then I was also told, ‘Don't let the bogeyman catch you with your bloomers down when you're contemplatin' philosophy in the outhouse.' So much for quaint Southern phraseology.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek, then a wave good-bye as he continued on down the hall to the room he now shared with John Gibson.

Mercy, that man is a hunk and a half,
she thought, while watching him walk away. Ryan was as dark and handsome as Dion was gold and gorgeous; they must have made a stunning couple.

She unlocked her door—or at least, she started to unlock the door—but found someone had beaten her to it.

It's probably Tammy,
she told herself as she turned the knob and eased the door open a crack.
Even though I told her to be sure it was locked all the time, she must have forgotten.

But she knew it wasn't Tammy. She could hear someone rummaging around in the room, and if it were Tammy, the hair on the back of her neck wouldn't be standing at attention. And she wouldn't have gooseflesh on her arms.

She reached into her sweater pocket and pulled out the Beretta, feeling its reassuring cold metal weight in her palm. Never, in all her years of carrying the weapon, had she actually been forced to shoot anyone with it. And for that, she was infinitely grateful.

But she had scared the crap out of more than a few, and that had been just fine and dandy with her. One of the advantages of carrying a big gun was its fright quotient. Looking down that cavernous barrel tended to make even a hardened criminal reconsider his position on a number of society's most controversial issues.

Bracing herself, holding the gun with both hands, she kicked the door the rest of the way open and found herself face-to-face with the intruder.

“What the hell are you doing in my room?” she asked the person who stood only about six feet in front of her, face frozen in shock.

When no reply was forthcoming, she added, “Never mind what you're doing here. What I want to know is: Were you the asshole who tried to knock me over the head in the avocado grove? 'Cause if you were, I'm gonna plug you one, right between your beady little eyes.”

S
avannah had found her former assailant; no doubt about it. She could tell by the way he refused to meet her eyes as she stared him down over the Beretta's barrel.

“Okay, Josef, cough it up. Why were you stalking me in the oleanders and trying to bash my brains in under the avocados? What did I ever do to you?”

“You went through my room, messed with my stuff without my permission.”

His eyes were coldly angry, and Savannah made a mental note to herself to watch this one. He was more than pissed; he was big, he was ugly, and he was dangerous. She wondered if Kat Valentina had looked into those eyes the night she had died.

“You went through my room first,” she said, taking a verbal stab in the dark. Of course, she had no way of knowing if Josef had been the one to rearrange and redecorate their room when she had first arrived, but it was worth a try. “And you left mine a mess. At least I was neat when I searched yours.”

Score one for the girls' team,
she thought when his eyes widened with surprise and maybe a touch of guilt. Gee, maybe Josef the Terrible had a wee bit of a conscience, after all. Or, perhaps, his reaction had been mere discomfort at having been caught.

“What were you looking for when you tore our room to shreds?” she asked, deciding to press her advantage. After all, since she had him at gunpoint, she would probably never have a better time to grill him.

When he didn't answer, she waved the gun a bit for emphasis. “Well?”

“Information,” was his curt, tight-lipped reply.

“About what?”

“About why you were here. It was pretty obvious you didn't come to the Royal Palms to get into shape.”

The way he gave her a quick, sarcastic, visual scan up and down her body made her want to nick one of his overly developed biceps with a bullet ... just for effect ... one little grazing wound. It probably wouldn't bleed much, and the shag carpet was pretty ratty anyway.

“You're here to get something on Kat, aren't you?” he said bitterly.

“On Kat? She's the one who's dead, remember?”

“Yeah, but you're trying to say she killed herself. You're going to ruin her reputation.”

“Her reputation?” Savannah almost chuckled but reconsidered. Josef didn't look like a guy who was particularly skilled in impulse control, and there was nothing to be gained by pushing him beyond his limits. If he charged her, she'd have to shoot him—and that would sully her pristine record.

“Kat may have done some things that you and other self-righteous bitches didn't approve of,” he said, “but she didn't kill herself. She wouldn't do that. She
wouldn't.
It must have been an accident, just like that doctor lady said it was.”

“So, maybe somebody else killed her.” She watched him closely and saw his pupils dilate. “If that happened, if someone murdered her, do you want them to get away with it?”

His face twisted with an emotion she couldn't quite read. “Is that ... is that what you think happened?” he asked. A muscle twitched in his cheek.

“May have.”

Her arm was developing a cramp from holding the heavy pistol, but it seemed a small price to pay. She thought of the woman he had been convicted of stalking. She remembered the whistle of the wooden club over her head in the avocado grove.

No, she was going to keep Josef Orlet at attention, paying attention, as long as possible.

“I already told the cops,” he said, “if Kat was murdered, that hoity-toity doctor did it. She was sick, and afraid she was going to suffer and all that. She asked him to put her away, nice and gentle, and he agreed to.”

“How do you know all this?”

“She told me so herself.”

Savannah eyed him skeptically. Somehow, Josef Orlet didn't seem the sort of individual to whom Kat Valentina would confide her heart's deepest secrets.

“She
told
you
all of this?”

“Yeah.” The word caught in his throat. He gave a little cough, and added, “Or I might of heard them talking about it together. I don't remember for sure.”

“You heard him tell her that he would assist her suicide?”

“Yeah, but she changed her mind. I talked her out of it later.”

“You did, huh?” He didn't seem the type who could talk people back from the cliff edge of Death's Big Jump either.

“That's right. I told her how I felt about her. And, since she felt the same way about me, she decided she had too much to live for. So she canceled their little appointment.”

“She admitted she was in love with you?”

“She sure did.”

“I see.”

“What's the matter, don't you believe me?”

“Nope.”

She saw the flash of bad temper cross his face before he looked down the barrel of the gun and got control of it. “Well, that's what she said, the day before she died. If you ask me what happened, it was an accident, like they said. She drank too much and got too hot. But if it wasn't accidental, if somebody did kill her, then I figure it was the doc. Maybe he decided to keep their appointment, whether she wanted to or not.”

“Why would he do a thing like that?”

“ 'Cause maybe when she told him that she had changed her mind, she also said she was in love with me. And maybe he couldn't handle it.”

“That's sorta stretching it a bit, don't you think?”

“Stretching what? That a beautiful woman like Kat would have a thing for a guy like me? What's so unbelievable about that?”

Hearing a sound behind her, Savannah took a quick glance and saw Tammy entering the room.

“Hey, what's ... !” she exclaimed when she saw Savannah's drawn gun.

“It's okay,” Savannah told her. “Mr. Orlet was paying us a visit. But, darn it, we weren't home at the time, so we couldn't show him much hospitality. And now we've got a zillion things to do, so he's going to have to leave.”

She turned to Orlet. “Sorry you have to rush away like this. Maybe next time you can take off your coat, throw it in the corner, and stay a spell.”

With the barrel of the gun, she waved him toward the door. Tammy quickly moved aside to let him pass and to stay out of Savannah's line of fire.

Orlet wasted no time disappearing.

“Was he breaking into our room?” Tammy asked, her mouth gaping.

“Seems so. Must be one of those nosy jerks who needs to buy a life of their own.”

“You think he was the one who did it before?”

“I know so; he admitted it.”

“And you let him go?”

Savannah shrugged and tucked her pistol back into her pocket. “There wasn't really much point in holding him. I'm investigating a suspicious death, not busting burglars. Besides, to the best of my knowledge, he didn't steal anything from us.

“But he wasn't supposed to be in our room.”

“I know. But we can't exactly lock him up in San Quentin for trespassing.”

Tammy shuddered. “Maybe not, but he gives me the creeps.”

“And you aren't the one he tried to brain in the avocado grove.”

“Brain? Someone tried to hurt you?”

“Yeah, lock the door and sit yourself down on the bed, kiddo. We've got some catching up to do.”

 

Savannah had barely filled Tammy in on the latest pertinent details when she received a summons, via Bernadette, from Dion.

“He wanted me to give you this,” the redhead had said, standing at Savannah's and Tammy's door with the small, folded note in her hand.

“What does it say?” Savannah asked her.

Bernadette's eyes widened in a poor imitation of surprise and righteous indignation. “How would I know? He told me it was for
you
.”

“Yeah, right,” Savannah had said before closing the door in her face. The Pope himself wouldn't have been able to resist sneaking one little peek, and Savannah had a strong notion that Bernadette wasn't even Catholic.

After assuring Tammy that she would be fine, answering the summons in the note, Savannah had taken off for Dion's cottage, flashlight in one pocket, Beretta in the other. All she needed, she decided, was a couple of sticks to rub together and she would rival the Girl Scouts for readiness.

When Dion answered the door, she was shocked at his appearance. His eyes were red and swollen, as though he had been crying, and he radiated none of the vibrancy she had found so attractive before.

“Come in,” he told her, ushering her inside and over to a black-and-white leather chair beneath a model of the S
pirit of St. Louis
. “I'd offer you a drink, but I'm out of cola, and I don't drink booze.”

“That's all right,” she said. “Why did you want to see me?”

He collapsed onto a matching chair beside hers and ran his fingers through his mussed blond hair. He looked tired, anxious, and more than a little afraid.

“You've been asking me a lot of questions,” he said. “In fact, you've been questioning
everybody
. So, I thought you shouldn't mind if I asked
you
a few.”

She searched his eyes for hostility, but she saw none. “Go ahead,” she said.

“I had a long talk with Ryan Stone,” he began, “and he says you know about us.”

“That's right. Ryan is a close friend of mine; we share a lot of things.”

“Did Ryan tell you first, or did you find out on your own?”

She considered a couple of lies, then discarded them. She liked Dion and figured he deserved an honest answer ... though not too detailed. “I uncovered your relationship with Ryan in the course of my investigation here,” she said. “And when I asked him, he confirmed it.”

Dion took a deep breath and she could see the pain etched deeply in his face. For the first time, he looked his age; he looked like a has-been disco star.

“What do you intend to do with this newfound information of yours, Savannah?” he asked.

“At the moment, nothing.”

He looked only slightly mollified. “And later?”

“That remains to be seen. I have no desire to betray my friend's confidence, or to hurt someone he cares for.”

“I see.”

He stood and walked over to his table, where his latest model, a clipper ship, was spread out in hundreds of tiny pieces. Picking up one of the yardarms, he turned the piece over and over in his fingers, like a miniature band major's baton.

“If Kat was murdered,” he said, “and you think she was ... there will be an in-depth investigation. Isn't that true?”

She could see where this was leading, but she couldn't think of any way to head him off at the verbal pass. Besides, she had already decided to be honest with him.

“Yes,” she said. “I suspect there will be.”

“And whatever information you've uncovered ... you'll be forced to reveal it?”

“If it's pertinent to the case, I suppose I will.”

He swallowed hard. “Do you think my relationship with Ryan will be of interest to the authorities?”

“Probably not.”

“How about my lack of interest in returning Kat's affection ... and the reasons for that?”

Savannah shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I can't go through that, Savannah. I can't. Please believe me.”

“Please, don't worry about it, Dion,” she said, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “Really, there's no reason to fear the worst ... not yet.”

He turned to her with more anguish on his handsome face than she could recall seeing in a long time. Her heart went out to him ... for all the good it did.

“And are you going to tell me when it's time to worry?” he asked. “Are you going to tell me when my life, as I've lived it so far, will be over, when it's going to come crashing around my head?”

“Dion ... I ...”

She stood, walked over to him and put her hand on his arm. She thought of what Ryan had said about Dion's unforgiving, unsupportive friends and family.

Words of advice sprang to her mind, lectures about having the courage to live with honesty and openness, despite society's judgments and criticisms. But Savannah quickly reminded herself that only a fool offered advice that they, themselves, had never been in a position to take. It was always so easy, when you were on the outside, looking in. Or so it seemed.

No, she would do them both a favor and keep her pious platitudes to herself.

She couldn't think of anything else to say. And she had always thought that, in times like those, it was best to just keep your mouth shut. So, she did.

But she patted his arm. And she said silently wished him peace, love, and understanding.

No matter what she did to keep the facts of this case under wraps, the details were bound to leak out, sooner or later. Sex, violence, and celebrity—media mainstays. When this news hit the tabloids, Dion Zeller was going to need all the compassion and understanding he could get.