Free Killer Gourmet by G.A. McKevett Page A

cheek and smiled. “Yes, Gran. It’s only seven in the morning here.”
    â€œThen something’s going on. You’re a nighttime bath-taker, like me, unless there’s something bad in the wind. A kidnapping? A robbery? Some man did his wife wrong and she took a baseball bat to him?”
    â€œMurder.”
    There was a brief silence on the other end, then Granny said, “Murder’s bad, all right. As bad as it gets. Anybody we know?”
    â€œThe chef at Ryan and John’s new restaurant. It happened last night at the end of dinner service. It was their grand opening. Somebody decided to cut him up into fish bait right there on the kitchen floor.”
    â€œBoy, howdy. That must’ve put a damper on the festivities.”
    Savannah chuckled in spite of the subject matter. How many people had a grandmother who would say a thing like that? She didn’t know any. And if there was only one in the world, Savannah was glad she had her.
    â€œIt certainly did. And we were up all night trying to figure things out. I’m going to take this bath and go straight to bed. Dirk’s already in there, snoring like a cartoon bulldog.”
    â€œHmmm.”
    Savannah could practically hear Granny Reid’s mental wheels whirring.
    She scooped up a handful of bubbles and blew on them, sending their glistening iridescence into the air. “Okay, Gran. Whatcha up to? I can hear you thinking three thousand miles away. You’re plotting mischief, I can tell.”
    Gran laughed. “That’s the trouble with you, Miss Smarty-Pants. You think you know everything.”
    â€œNot everything,” Savannah returned. “But I’m an expert on my grandma. And right about now, you’re wishing with all your might that you were out here so you could help us with this case. Am I close?”
    â€œClose? As usual, sweet pea, you’re spot on. I’ve been saving up birthday and Christmas money, and it’s about to burn a hole in my pocket. How would you and that new husband of yours feel about a visit from—?”
    â€œYes!” Savannah practically jumped out of her Victorian clawfoot bathtub.
    â€œAre you sure? I don’t want to impose on a couple of newly—”
    â€œDust off your suitcase and travelin’ bonnet, Gran, and start makin’ tracks in this direction. There’s nothing we’d like better.”
    Â 
    â€œAre you kidding?” Dirk said over his breakfast eggs and sausages later that morning after they had both taken a sleep that was little more than a glorified nap. “There’s nothing I’d like better than a visit from Gran. As long as she understands we’re working a case here and we’re not gonna have time to take her to the beach and Disneyland and all that touristy stuff.”
    Savannah swallowed a bite of her eggs, mixed with a bit of grits and a dollop of cream gravy. “Of course she understands. Why do you think she’s coming? As much as she adores the Mouse, you couldn’t hog-tie her and drag her to Disneyland in the middle of a murder case. Knowing Granny, I reckon she’ll want to be right here, smack-dab in the thick of things.”

    â€œYou know, it’s been proven that distracted driving is more dangerous than drunk driving,” Savannah told her disgruntled passenger.
    â€œWho’s distracted?” Dirk shot back. “You’re not talking on your cell phone. You’re not texting. You’re not even messing with the radio. What’s distracting you?”
    â€œNot what , who .”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œYou.”
    â€œI’m not distracting anybody. I’m just sitting here, minding my own business, not saying a word about the fact that you’re the one driving and I’m just cooling my heels over here in the passenger seat.”
    â€œYou’d better not put your heels on my seat. I just gave them a good cleaning with that