Free Killer Physique (A Savannah Reid Mystery) by G. A. McKevett Page B

two sizes too tight.
    Eileen’s personal work ethic was impeccable. She did things the way they were supposed to be done and when they were supposed to be done, if not sooner. And as head of the lab, she demanded equal dedication from every employee unfortunate enough to work under her.
    She didn’t suffer fools. She didn’t particularly like people, especial y men. And she hated anyone who wasted a minute of her precious time while she and her team were processing materials from a crime scene.
    Therefore, she loathed Dirk.
    Although she hadn’t found enough evidence to convict him of being a “fool,” he was far too masculine for her female sensitivities. And probably more than anyone else in the SCPD, he had wasted her time by bugging her every five minutes when she was trying to find the much-needed answers to questions about his cases.
    Long ago, Dirk had been banned from the lab premises. But fortunately for him, Eileen was quite fond of Savannah and would usual y tolerate his presence if he brought along the fairer member of the Van-Dirk team.
    Apparently, he was thinking about this as he pul ed the Buick into the parking lot near the simple white door that bore a smal county seal.
    “Do you have any idea how demeaning it is,” he said, “to have to bring you along every time I come here?” Savannah shot him a look. “Do you have any idea how demeaning it would be to walk around for the next week with a black eye and a fat lip?”
    “You know what I mean.” He sniffed. “I got me twenty years on the job, a gold detective’s shield, and a ful y loaded Smith and Wesson against my ribs, but that woman in there won’t even answer the damned door unless I’ve got you along for the ride.” Savannah chuckled. “That’s because she’s under the delusion that I keep you under control at al times. She figures that if I’m around you won’t curse, handle the evidence, pass gas, or spit on the floor.”
    “What’s the matter with that? She does al that stuff and more. She is one scary broad, if you ask me.”
    “It’s her lab. She’s big. She’s mean. And she knows how to murder you at least a hundred ways. And get away with it.”
    “Don’t think I haven’t thought of that,” he said, as they got out of the car and walked up to the door. “She’s probably got vials ful of acid and nasty crap that she could just spil a drop or two on you, and you’d fal down and crumple up into a wriggly, snotty, slimy heap and die right then and there.
    You know, like a slug when you sprinkle salt on it.”
    Savannah gave him a weird, sideways look. “Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought,” she said. “Way more than you probably should’ve.” She punched the doorbel button. From inside they could hear a loud, irritating buzz that must have resounded throughout the building, like a ten-foot-tal , angry mosquito.
    “Maybe that’s why Eileen’s so cranky,” she said. “I’d be cranky too, if I had to listen to that thing al day long.”
    “Who’s cranky?” came a loud, annoyed voice from the speaker mounted over their heads.
    The door was yanked open and there stood Eileen. Al of her. Topped off by a thick mane of curly silver hair that Savannah had often thought could have provided coverage for at least half a dozen regular folks.
    She was convinced that was one reason why Dirk didn’t like Eileen. Anybody who daily counted the hairs on top of his head wasn’t likely to look fondly upon someone with so much to spare.
    “Did I just hear you cal me ‘cranky’?” Eileen barked.
    “Cranky? You?” Savannah deepened her dimples and batted her eyes. “Why, darlin’, would I say something like that about you? In al the years I’ve known you, I don’t recal the two of us sharing a single cross word between us.” Eileen raised one bushy, silver eyebrow that had never once been visited by a pair of tweezers. “Wel ,” she said, “we haven’t had any differences that a bag ful of your