Free Poisoned Tarts by G.A. McKevett

doin’ good.”
    Old didn’t matter so much.
    Most of the time.
    Savannah rolled down the Buick’s window and breathed the sweet, moist night air. “Do you think we’re old yet?” she asked Dirk.
    He turned to look at her, a surprised expression on his face. “What?”
    â€œDo you think we’re old? I mean, I know we aren’t old-old yet, but…do you think of me as old?”
    â€œYou? Hell, no. You’re not old, Van. You’re no different than you were when I first met you. It’s not like you’re a guy…losing your hair and crap like that.”
    Poor Dirk , she thought. Always with the hair. The world began and ended with The Hair.
    Dirk could lose every tooth in his head and gain three hundred pounds, and all he would worry about was whether his hair had thinned in the past two months.
    â€œ I’m getting older,” he said. “I can feel it in my body, especially the day after I’ve gone a few rounds with some street punk. But you…” He shot her a flirtatious grin that, she had to admit, made her heart beat just a bit faster. “…you’re fresh as a sun-warmed Georgia peach and twice as tasty.”
    Yeap, the pulse rate is definitely up , she thought. “When you look at me like that,” she told him, “you remind me of that guy I met years ago, the one I had to fight off a time or two on stakeouts when we first got assigned together.”
    He bristled. “Who? Somebody got fresh with you? You should’ve told me. I would’ve—”
    â€œI meant you , dimwit.”
    â€œOh.” He cleared his throat and stared straight ahead, suddenly intent on the road. Finally, he said, “It’s been so long since I’ve tried to get into your knickers that I’d forgotten. And that just goes to show you how old I’m getting.”
    â€œNaw.” She reached over and thumped him on the shoulder. “You’re still a virile horndog. You’re just tired, run down a little. They’ve been working you too hard.”
    â€œThey have been. I’ve got five cases on my desk already, and now they throw this one at me. I’m telling you, if that girl turns up dead, I’m screwed.”
    Good ol’ Dirk. Always thinking of others, she thought.
    â€œI’ll help you find her,” she said.
    He brightened. “Really?”
    â€œSure. Sadly, I don’t have any clients at the moment. I want to enjoy my visit with Gran while she’s here, but I should still have plenty of time to help you track her down.”
    Breathing a sigh of relief, fatigue, or depression—with him, it was hard to tell which—he said, “So, you think she’s all right, this girl? You think she’s still alive?”
    Savannah thought of how many times Granny Reid had warned her about saying negative things. “A body has to watch what comes out of their mouth,” she’d said. “Your words float out into the universe, and who knows where they’ll land. You can speak things into being, so be careful what you say.”
    â€œAlive?” she said. “Sure. Daisy’s still alive. She’s just off somewhere, getting into something she shouldn’t, like any other teenager.”
    Savannah thought of Pam O’Neil, of how her mother’s intuition was telling her that something terrible had happened to her precious daughter.
    She thought of Kiki Wallace’s downcast, guilt-filled eyes.
    She thought of Robyn Dante, the so-called queen of the castle, who had answered Savannah’s questions with clipped, curt responses. And even those answers had been contradictory.
    No, Daisy hadn’t been there at all yesterday. Okay, she was there, but not for long.
    No, she hadn’t talked to her. Well, yes, Daisy had mentioned to her that she was excited about taping the sitcom.
    No, Robyn couldn’t imagine why Daisy had gone missing. She was