Free Killer Gourmet by G.A. McKevett

perforated.”
    â€œOr maybe he just tossed one too many and sent somebody over the edge,” Tammy suggested.
    Waycross combed his fingers through his thick red curls and leaned back in his chair. “I’ll tell you what.... I like to think of myself as a peace-loving sorta guy, and I’ve got all my front teeth to prove it. But I wouldn’t abide somebody I worked for chuckin’ skillets at me, right and left. That wouldn’t happen more than once or twice before I’d be takin’ some action of my own.”
    Savannah gave him a soft smile. Of all of her eight siblings, Waycross was her favorite. The eldest of her two brothers, he had been forced at a young age to assume the role of patriarch in their less than conventional family.
    Their absentee father had done little to contribute to the raising of his younguns. As a long-distance truck driver, he spent most months of the year on the road and away from his family. Sadly, Savannah had figured out that this lifestyle suited him quite well. Far more than that of a caretaker father.
    The caretaking of the nine-child Reid brood had been left up to their mom, Shirley. But just as sadly, Shirley had been ill-suited for the role of motherhood. She much preferred to hold down a barstool at the local tavern than to assume less recreational duties like feeding hungry kids, washing dirty clothes, or applying bandages to skinned knees.
    Eventually, the state of Georgia had intervened, and the children—all nine of them—had been placed in the custody of their grandparents, Granny and Grandpa Reid.
    A short time later, Grandpa had gone to meet his Maker, and little Waycross had become the “man” of the family. Like Granny Reid and Savannah, he had done his best to fill the parental void for the rest of the children.
    Although not all of them had become solid and upstanding members of society, most had managed to stay out of jail. And in the small backwoods town of McGill, Georgia, that pretty much constituted “turning out good.”
    â€œNow, Waycross,” Savannah said, “you’ve got just enough of Granny in you that I wouldn’t put it past you to give somebody a good skillet smack if you felt it was necessary. But that’s a far cry from what we’ve got here.”
    â€œNo kidding.” Dirk pointed to the gruesome pictures spread across the table. “This attack wasn’t just meant to slow Chef Norwood down or curtail his meanness.”
    â€œThat’s for sure.” Savannah got up from her chair, walked over to the kitchen counter, and began to go through the motions of making another pot of coffee. Most of the night was gone already, but she knew they would be at it until the break of dawn.
    Homicide investigation was many things, but it wasn’t your usual nine-to-five job.
    As she scooped up an extra portion of coffee, she added, “Whoever killed Chef Norwood, they weren’t aiming to just take him down a notch or two. A bunch of stabs in the belly and, as if that wasn’t enough, some nasty whacks across the head with a meat cleaver. Nope. Somebody intended to demolish that boy altogether.”
    Â 
    â€œYou’re taking your bubble bath now? Let’s see.... You’re three hours behind me. So it’s seven o’clock in the morning there in California.”
    Savannah settled back into the mountain of sparkling bubbles and felt her tense muscles begin to relax immediately. It wasn’t just the deliciously hot water. It wasn’t the flickering candlelight that gave the tiny bathroom its cozy ambience. It wasn’t the fact that she had pulled the shades and locked the door, figuratively shutting out the world.
    No, it was because Savannah was talking to her beloved grandmother. So far, nothing in her life had been so terrible that a talk with Granny Reid couldn’t make it at least a bit better.
    She pressed the cell phone a little tighter to her