Savannah Reid 12 - Fat Free and Fatal (15 page)

“Lady,” Savannah said, “you give me a call at dawn or dead midnight and I’ll be here with bells on. And your buddy with the bike will be wearing handcuffs. Is that a deal?”

To her surprise, the old woman held her hand out and gave Savannah’s a hearty shake.

“You’ve got yourself a deal. Hell, I’ll sit, eat, and sleep out here on this porch. And if he comes within five miles of here, you’ll get a call, so be ready.”

“Oh, I’m ready.” Savannah thought of the bloodstains on the driveway at Dona Papalardo’s mansion. She thought of the motorcycle tracks on the hill above the estate and the expensive boot print.

She didn’t know for sure if the guy who had been staying over at Kim’s house before her death was also her killer. But she was more than eager to see him in the police station’s interrogation “sweat box” with Dirk firing some questions at him.

“Yes,” she told the lady. “I’d say I’m as ready as you are.”

The woman nodded her silver head and gave Savannah’s hand another hearty shake. “Then let’s do it.”

S
avannah and Tammy were sitting at the island in Dona Papalardo’s kitchen, Savannah downing her morning coffee and Tammy sipping her green tea, when Juanita hurried in and said, “Senorita Savannah, my lady would like to talk to you right away, if you please. She is upstairs in her room.”

Setting her mug aside, Savannah jumped off the stool. “Is anything wrong?” she asked.

Juanita shrugged. “With my lady, there is always something wrong these days.”

Savannah hurried up the stairs, down the hallway, past the guest bedrooms, and up yet another flight of steep, curving steps to an area of the house that formed a sort of mission bell tower above the rest.

At the top of the steps was a small, open area with windows that provided a panoramic view of the property and the neighboring countryside. Opposite the staircase, a door—a heavy, arched affair with mission-style hardware—was slightly ajar.

Savannah walked over to it, stuck her head inside the room and said, “Hello? Dona? It’s Savannah. May I come in?”

“Yeah, come in,” was the feeble reply.

Savannah walked in and instantly felt as though she had taken a step back in time. It was as though she had entered a nineteenth-century boudoir. The thick, dark red, velvet drapes were closed and at least a dozen candles gave the room a romantic and yet somehow sinister ambiance.

The air was heavy with the smell of smoke from the candles and Dona Papalardo’s custom-blended French perfume.

Gold glinted everywhere on gilded picture and mirror frames, on candlesticks, and in satin brocade fabrics. From the fainting couch, draped with fur throws, to the dressing area separated by a tri-fold screen covered with hand-painted cabbage roses, to the canopy bed with its red velvet curtains and mountains of accent pillows, the room spoke of a gaudy but playful spirit. It looked like a room where a grown-up woman could play “dress up” with Grandma’s old clothes and pretend to be a grand lady.

If Granny were an expensive French courtesan.

In the center of the enormous bed, nearly hidden among the pillows, lay Dona Papalardo.

She was wearing a white lace-trimmed corset and bloomers, and a pink silk scarf was tied headband-style around her hair.

But in even in the dim candlelight, Savannah could see how pale Dona’s skin looked, and how sunken her eyes were. Her face shone with a fine sheen of sweat, like someone caught in the throes of a terrible fever

The realization struck Savannah, with a force that nearly took her breath away, that Dona Papalardo wasn’t long for this world. Whatever was wrong with this woman was more than depressing or challenging; it was life-threatening.

She hurried over to Dona and leaned across the bed to put her hand on her forehead. “Are you all right, sugar?” she asked without considering their employer-employee relationship. “I hate to say it, but you don’t look so good.”

Dona brushed her hand away. “What are you? My mother?” she asked, irritated, but half-smiling.

Savannah chuckled. “No, too many people’s big sister, that’s more like it.” She sat down on the edge of the bed. “But seriously, you look sick. Can I get you something? Take you to the doctor or…?”

“The doctor? No, thank you. I’ve already been to the doctor. That’s why I’m in this condition in the first place.” She reached over, picked up a gold-and-red brocade pillow and hugged it to her belly.

Savannah found the gesture pathetic and telling.

“What did they do to you?” she asked softly.

“Nothing I didn’t ask them to do, beg them to do,
demand
that they do,” Dona replied. “So I have no one to blame for this but myself.”

“I heard you had gastric bypass surgery,” Savannah said. “I guess it didn’t go so well.”

“The whole world knows I had gastric bypass surgery. You can’t keep something like that a secret in this industry. And no, it didn’t go well. It took me a year to find a surgeon who would perform it for me…and this is the result. I’m still sick long past the time when they said my body would adjust. I’m in constant pain, can’t eat anything—no matter how small—without suffering for it, and my weight is now actually lower than I ever wanted it to go. Imagine the irony of
that
!”

Savannah was pretty sure she knew the answer, but she asked the question anyway. “Why was it so hard to find a doctor who would perform the surgery for you?”

Dona gave a horrible, dry, ironic laugh. “Because I wasn’t fat enough. I didn’t meet the body mass index criteria. I had to convince them that I was suffering from a bunch of other nasty symptoms: sleep apnea, diabetes, hypertension.”

“But how could you fake those things? It would be hard to fool a doctor.”

“Not an unscrupulous doctor who wants to be ‘fooled,’ who has a fancy car and big house to pay for, not to mention a hefty alimony.”

“And apparently you found one of those.”

“Eventually I did. One who was willing to ignore certain test results and fudge on others, one who suggested that if I could just pack on another twenty or thirty pounds, he could justify the surgery. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘it’ll melt right off you afterward. You’ll be surprised and pleased at how quickly.’”

“And were you surprised and pleased?”

“At first I was too sick to care if I lost weight or didn’t, or even if I lived or died. I got a post-op infection that nearly killed me. And after I recovered from that, every time I tried to eat anything, I got the condition they call ‘dumping.’ And even though you’re supposed to get over that in time, I still have it.”

“I’ve heard of that,” Savannah said. “Vomiting and diarrhea, right?”

“And extreme weakness, dizziness, sweating. I’ve fainted more than once in public. Boy, that gets the paparazzi swarming like buzzards.”

“I’m sure it does.” Savannah watched as Dona grimaced and held the pillow tighter against her belly. “Does it hurt all the time?” she asked.

“Yes. I can’t sleep, I can’t think, I can hardly function. The painkillers make me sick, and now I’m getting ulcers on top of everything.”

“Can it be reversed?”

“No. I’m going to be this way for the rest of my life.”

Savannah reached over, covered Dona’s hand with her own and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry. I had my doubts about gastric bypass surgery, but I had no idea it was this bad.”

To Savannah’s surprise, Dona squeezed back. “It isn’t for everyone,” she said. “It truly saves some people’s lives. They tolerate the surgery well, they shed enormous amounts of weight, and they thrive afterward. I have friends in the entertainment industry who swear it saved their lives.”

“Maybe they had better doctors.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Perhaps a doctor who’s willing to bend the rules like mine did shouldn’t have been trusted. And maybe it wasn’t even his fault. Everyone’s body is different. Maybe I’m just one of those who didn’t do well for whatever reason. A certain percentage doesn’t.”

They sat quietly for a few moments, saying nothing. Savannah could feel the waves of depression and despair radiating from the woman lying on her luxurious bed. She felt the cold perspiration on her hand and her trembling. She thought of the pictures of Dona taken just before the surgery. She had been heavy, yes, but beautiful and vibrant and bright-eyed. This woman was an empty, lifeless imitation of her former self.

Well,
Savannah thought,
society demanded that she be thin. Okay, now she’s thin. And this is supposed to be, somehow, more beautiful?

“Juanita said you wanted to see me,” Savannah said at last. “How can I help you?”

Dona released her hand, fell back onto the cushions, and stared up at the canopy above her. “I was wondering how much longer you and your assistant intend to be here.”

“You’re the boss. It’s your call. But I think it’s a good idea if at least one of us is here at all times until we solve this case and have Kim’s killer in custody. Don’t you?”

“I suppose.” She took a deep breath of resignation. “Do you have any idea who it might be?”

“Actually, we do have a possible lead. Do you know anything about Kim’s boyfriend?”

“Kim had a boyfriend? Since when?”

“We don’t know for sure, but there were men’s clothes and toiletries in her house. It appeared that a male at least visited and stayed overnight sometimes.”

“Hmm. And she was always complaining that she wasn’t getting any. She was actually pretty obnoxious about it. I got tired of hearing it.”

“So, you’d have no idea at all who he might be?”

“No. Other than griping about her long bout of celibacy, Kim kept her private life to herself.”

“Okay.” Savannah swallowed her disappointment and went on to her next question. “Would you mind if my assistant brought a computer here to your house? Juanita said you have an Internet connection in your downstairs office, as well as wireless access.”

“Sure. I don’t care. Do whatever you want.”

“Do you think you’ll be going out today or…?”

“I’ll be in. I’m far too weak to even think about going anywhere or doing anything other than lie in this bed.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I chose this.”

“I don’t think you did. I think you tried a desperate move to improve your life, and sadly, it didn’t work out. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Dona wouldn’t meet her gaze, but Savannah thought she saw tears welling up in those famous green eyes. “Why do you ask about me going out?”

“Oh, that. Well, if you’re going to be inside the house all day today, I’d like to go to my house and get Tammy’s computer.”

“Go, that’s fine.”

“And…also if it’s okay with you…I’d like to invite two friends over this evening. Ryan Stone and John Gibson. They work with me sometimes on cases, and I’d like to run some of this by them. They’re former FBI agents and quite resourceful.”

Dona waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. I don’t care. For the time that you’re here, the house is yours. Have a pool party if you want. Heck, somebody should be enjoying it.”

“Well, we won’t get all that festive, but thank you.” Savannah stood. “I guess I’ll go then. Are you sure there isn’t anything at all that I can do for you? Anything I can get you?”

“My old body back? Fat but happy.”

“How about a chocolate raspberry truffle? They aren’t very big.”

“I’d never keep it down. But thank you.” She laid her head back, reached down, and pulled the comforter up around her shoulders. “Close the door on the way out, would you? And tell Juanita I don’t want to be disturbed.”

As Savannah left the room, her heart ached for the woman who lived behind heavy drapes, blocking out the golden California sunshine, in a room that smelled of candle smoke, Parisian perfume, and desperation.

Dona had everything that people thought they wanted. Beauty, fame, talent, money, the admiration of countless fans. And now she even had the stick-thin body that society adored and demanded.

But none of that matters
, Savannah said to herself as she left the room and headed down the stairs,
if the Grim Reaper himself is sitting on your front porch.

And Savannah had the sinking feeling that no matter what she did to try to protect Dona Papalardo in the next few days or weeks…the old fellow and his scythe weren’t going to leave until there was yet another harvest.

W
hen Savannah first entered her house, she thought someone was being slaughtered in her living room. Then she realized it was Jesup and Bleak—or at least a movie they had rented and were watching on her television.

She walked in just in time to see a crazed killer who was chasing a young woman in skimpy lingerie around a dark house.

“Run out the front door, idiot,” she said to the screen.

“What?” Jesup wanted to know, pausing the movie.

“I told her, ‘run out the front door.’ That never seems to occur to those nitwits. They just keep running around the house in their knickers, squealing and waving their arms around all girlie-silly. Sheez, makes you wanna start rooting for the bad guy. Like, if she’s that stupid, she deserves to die.”

“Whoa,” Bleak said, “that’s a little brutal.”

Savannah thought for a moment. “Yeah, I guess so. But then, it’s just a stupid movie, right?”

Savannah bent down and scooped up the two black cats, who had come running out of the kitchen, their tails waving in the air. “Hello, girls,” she said, nuzzling their black, silky coats. “Did you miss Momma?”

“I fed them,” Jesup said. “Even that stinky mushy crap that you set out.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate that.” She set the cats back onto the floor and walked over to give her sister a hug. “Have you guys been having a nice honeymoon?”

Bleak didn’t stand for a hug, and that was fine with Savannah. He had restarted the movie and was staring, transfixed, at the running, bouncing bimbette on the screen.

“Not particularly,” Jesup said, yawning and stretching.

She and Bleak were both still in their sleeping attire, her wearing his Marilyn Manson T-shirt and Grateful Dead boxers, he wearing his own Charles Manson T-shirt and Grateful Dead boxers.

“Actually, it’s been pretty boring around here,” he said, pausing the movie on a frame where the imperiled chickie-poo had her heinie only inches from the camera. “Hanging out here hasn’t been as much fun as we’d hoped it was going to be,” he continued. “Jess made it sound like her sister was this big-shot private detective who went around solving murders, and maybe you are, but that doesn’t help us a lot if you’re not here.”

“Well, last time I checked nobody had been murdered here at my house, knock on wood,” she said as she walked over to the desk, scooped up the mail and thumbed through it. “Are you two going to spend your whole honeymoon watching the idiot box?”

“What else is there to do around here?” Jesup said, stretching and running her fingers through her gelled hair until it stood on end.

“What are you talking about? You’re in southern California, for heaven’s sake. There a zillion fun things to do. Go soak up some rays at the beaches, cruise Sunset Strip, gawk at movie stars in Hollywood, go to Disneyland, Six Flags, Knott’s Berry Farm, Universal Studios.”

She looked up from the mail to see them both giving her slack-jawed, glassy-eyed stares.

“O-o-okay,” she said. “Not your speed.”

She pulled open a filing cabinet drawer and took out Tammy’s laptop computer in its leather case.

“Is that a computer?” Jesup said. “We need to check our mail, our message boards. You took the cord on the other one and by now we’re way behind!”

“Sorry,” she said, “this one’s going with me. We need it for work.”

“But what are we going to do-o-o?” Jesup did everything but stamp her foot and start to cry. Savannah was reminded of the sweet, curly-haired child she had been, good-natured enough, but never self-sufficient. Someone had always needed to entertain her. And in a family with nine children, entertainment was a luxury. As a result, Jessie had often been unhappy.

She looked at her sister’s new husband and realized that she had married someone who was, if possible, even less motivated than she was. Not something a couple wanted to have in common.

Suddenly, inspiration struck Savannah. “Hey,” she said. “You oughta go out to Malevolent Valley and poke around. If you can handle it, that is.”

“Malevolent Valley? What’s that?” Bleak was all ears.

“It’s northeast of here. You pass through it on your way up to Twin Oaks. You might not want to go there, though. It’s a…darkly spiritual place. The Native Americans considered it an evil place, where restless spirits roamed, waiting to do harm to innocent people who passed through.”

Jesup turned to Bleak, her eyes wide. “Wow, cool! Huh, honey?”

“Yeah! Awesome.”

“No, it’s a really bad place. They say that a bunch of Satanists do devil worship up there, sacrifice goats and all that stuff. You two shouldn’t really go there by yourselves. And certainly not today.”

“How do we get there?” Bleak was practically jumping out of his boxers. “Which way is it, huh?”

“Well, again, I don’t recommend it, but if you take Lockhart Road north out of town, up the coast and then turn inland when you see the signs for Twin Oaks, you’ll go through this valley that’s dark and shadowy and full of gnarled oak trees. About a mile and a half in, you’ll see a wide spot in the road and an old, old sign that says, ‘Apple Juice Two Dollars a Gallon.’ Pull over and park by the sign and take the path that’s there. Go down deeper into the valley. But are you sure you want to do this? I mean, it’s—”

“Oh yeah, that sounds so cool!” Jesup grabbed Bleak around the waist and nearly lifted him off the ground. “Let’s go now!”

They rushed upstairs to dress, as Savannah put out some extra food for the cats and watered her plants. Then she grabbed some clean underwear and ran into them in the foyer by the front door.

“You two be careful,” she said. “There are some swimming holes a ways down that trail. They’re filled with water this time of year, but there’s a legend that the water turns to blood on summer solstice and Halloween, and the pagans go skinny-dipping in it. So, I don’t know if you should actually touch the water or not.”

“Oh man! That’s just awesome!” Bleak said as they bolted out the door, leaving it wide open.

She watched as they raced to their rental car. “Suckers,” she whispered. She shook her head and then started laughing. “Malevolent Valley, my ass.” She looked down at the cats at her feet, who looked as amused as she was. “You know, Cleo and Diamante, your Auntie Jessie is a dingbat. And so is your new uncle. But at least they’ll get some sunshine and fresh air. And with any luck they’ll do a little cavorting au naturel on their honeymoon. And, sadly, that’s about the closest thing to
normal
that those two may ever do.”

On her way back to the Papalardo mansion, Tammy’s laptop computer on the seat next to her, Savannah pulled her cell phone out of her purse and dialed Dr. Liu’s office. The medical examiner was seldom at her desk, but she figured it was worth a try.

To her surprise, Dr. Liu answered after the first ring.

“Hi, Dr. Jen. It’s Savannah,” she said.

“Well, hello there. Are you on your way here with chocolate?”

Savannah laughed. She and Dr. Jennifer Liu had bonded many times over chocolate. In fact, a two-pound box of Godivas seemed to be the price the ME charged to do a special favor for someone who had once been on the SCPD, but was now a private investigator—a civilian.

“No, sorry. Not this time,” she said. “But I do have a favor to ask of you. A big one.”

“Shoot.”

“My sister is here, visiting me with her new husband. They’re both into this weird crap, white faces and blood-red lipstick, tattoos of bats and demons, a totally unhealthy obsession with death, blood, and gore.”

Savannah could hear Jen laughing on the other end. “I partied with a bunch of people just like them in this underground club in Hollywood last weekend. Creepy but fun crowd. Nobody you’d want to bring home to Momma, though.”

“Oh, please, my grandmother is going to die when she meets this guy.”

“You want me to tell you how to kill him and get away with it?”

“Oh, honey,” Savannah said, “I know how to get rid of him in at least fifty ways and not even you would figure out how I did it.”

“I’m sure you could. So, how can I help you?”

“I think a good, nasty dose of reality would just do these two a world of good. Know what I mean?”

“I think I do. How long are they staying?”

“Oh, mercy, I hope not long. Maybe a week.”

“So, if I get a good one sometime this week, give you a call?”

“A nice, ripe, juicy one.”

“Like the first one you saw?” Dr. Jennifer started guffawing.

Savannah bristled. “That was a really bad one, you have to admit. He’d been outside for days in the summer sun.”

“He wasn’t that bad. All in a day’s work for me.”

“Yeah, yeah. He was extra bad, and you just won’t admit it. But if you get another one like him, be sure to call me. I’ll bring them over and let them watch. That should cure them for a while anyway.”

“Should I offer them face masks smeared with Vicks?”

Savannah nearly gagged as the memory came flooding back. “That is
not
funny, Jen.”

“I guess not. Didn’t really help
you
that much, did it?” She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe, let alone talk. “You went running out of there, hand over your mouth, gagging like—”

“Okay, this conversation is over.”

“Good-bye, Savannah. Nice talking to you.”

“Hurrumph.”

Savannah lifted her wineglass and looked over its rim at one of her favorite sights in the world—Ryan Stone’s face. “Here’s to the two of you,” she said to him and John, who was sitting beside him. “Not only are you guys the perfect dinner guests, but you bring the perfect dinner with you. It just doesn’t get better than that.”

“Here, here,” Tammy said as she toasted the men, as well. “I can’t believe you got Antoine to put together a take-out dinner. That just has to go against every principle he holds dear.”

“Antoine is a dear friend of ours,” John said, clinking his glass against Tammy’s. “And besides that, he’s madly in love with Savannah. He said as much when we popped by his establishment to pick up the meal tonight.”

“Eh, Antoine isn’t in love with me. He’s in lust with that blue silk dress of mine—the wraparound that shows off my womanly wiles to their best advantage. But he has the fanciest restaurant in town and this salmon mousse is to die for.”

Juanita walked out on the patio where they were eating by candlelight once again. “Do you need anything?” she asked. “If not, I will be leaving for tonight.”

“Thanks for asking, but we’re fine,” Savannah said. “Is Ms. Papalardo still in her room?”

“Sí, she has been there all day. I just checked on her, and she is asleep. She took her pill. I think she will sleep all night now.”

“Then why don’t you go on home? We’ll clean up here when we’re finished.” Savannah gave her a warm smile and the maid returned one just as friendly.

“Thank you. I will. Good night.”

When she had disappeared into the house, Ryan leaned closer to Savannah and said, “Is that true? Dona has been in bed all day?”

Savannah nodded. “Today and most of yesterday, too.”

“Is she sick?”

“Very. In mind, body, and spirit, I would say. I’m very worried about her.”

“What a terrible shame,” John said. “I recall seeing her perform for the first time at the Palladium. She played Sally Bowles in
Cabaret
and did a fine job of it, too, I must say. A truly talented woman who appeared to thoroughly enjoy her craft. A real actor.”

“She was wonderful on-screen, too,” Ryan said. “She was the most sultry Stella I’ve ever seen in that television remake of
Streetcar Named Desire
. That’s when I knew she was something very special.”

“Why did she disappear from the public eye for so long?” John asked. “One moment, she was the toast of the town, and the next, she was gone.”

Savannah shook her head sadly. “I hear it was because she gained some weight. She’s in her mid-thirties. It isn’t at all unusual for a woman to ‘blossom’ at that stage of her life.”

John lifted his glass again. “Here’s to ladies in full bloom.”

“Hear, hear,” Ryan said.

“Does that mean I haven’t…uh…flowered yet?” Tammy asked, pretending to pout.

“Don’t worry, sugar,” Savannah told her. “You will.”

“Especially if you eat Savannah’s good cooking,” Ryan added.

“But who would mind if Ms. Papalardo gained a bit of weight?” John continued. “Surely there are roles for women who are more zaftig, both on screen and the stage. Especially for an actress of her caliber.”

“I don’t know if it was because the roles weren’t available,” Savannah replied, “or because she was hiding here in her own fantasy world.” She waved her hand, indicating the mansion and its lush grounds.

Ryan offered Savannah more wine, but she shook her head. “No thanks. On duty and all that, you know.”

He nodded. “Very conscientious of you. But back to Ms. Papalardo and the decline of her career. You don’t have to be gone from Hollywood long for them to forget you exist.”

“I understand that her agent wasn’t a lot of help either,” Savannah said. “He was too busy berating her for gaining weight to put any effort into her career.”

Tammy jumped in. “That’s right. That’s what Juanita told me. And she also said that Dona fired him. They had a big, big fight about it here at the house, and she fired him. Now he’s suing her, and she has a countersuit against him. Apparently, there’s a lot of money involved.”

Ryan and John were suddenly all ears.

“Oh, that sounds like a red flag to me,” Ryan said. “Have you or Dirk checked him out to see if he has an alibi for the time of the shooting here?”

“We’ve been trying,” Savannah said. “Dirk drove into Hollywood yesterday to talk to him. His secretary said he’s out of town, has been for the past week. But Dirk didn’t believe her, said she was way too nervous to be telling the truth.”

“Dirk has good instincts when it comes to that sort of thing,” John said. Then with a grin he added, “You know, an instinctual cunning that comes natural to the low-born rabble.”