Free Poisoned Tarts by G.A. McKevett Page A

sure it wasn’t anything bad, though. Couldn’t be anything bad.
    Dirk jarred her back to the present. “Really?” he was asking. “Do you really think the kid’s okay?”
    Savannah remembered Granny’s “Don’t speak evil” warning again, but she also remembered that Gran had taught her not to lie.
    â€œNo,” she said softly. “I don’t think she’s okay. After talking to that bunch back there, I don’t think she’s just off getting into mischief. I think it’s a lot worse than that.”
    Dirk nodded…and he did look tired…and he did look old. “Me, too,” he said. “I hate to say it, but me, too.”
    As Dirk turned onto Lester Boulevard and headed toward Savannah’s neighborhood, she asked, “Where are you taking me?”
    â€œHome. Don’t you want to go home and rest, visit with your grandma?”
    She thought about it for a moment: her soft chair, her big, black cats curled around her feet, a cup of hot coffee, and a slice of the carrot cake that Gran had baked that afternoon. It was tempting.
    But then she thought of Pam O’Neil’s red, swollen eyes, so full of pain and worry.
    â€œWhat are you going to do with the rest of your evening?” she asked him.
    â€œI thought I’d drive over to the mom’s house and talk to her, maybe get a look at the kid’s bedroom. Why?”
    Savannah flipped open her cell phone and dialed her house. Gran answered.
    â€œHi, Granny,” she said. “It’s not looking good, this case with this girl. We’re a bit worried about her.”
    â€œI’m sorry to hear that, sugar. Is there anything I can do?”
    â€œMaybe say one of your prayers for her.”
    â€œI sure will.”
    â€œAre you going to be up a while yet?”
    Gran chuckled on the other end. “Just until all my little chickadees are back in the nest,” she said…the reply that Savannah had heard so many times during her teenage years. “Why? Are you wanting to stay out with your young man past your curfew?”
    Savannah laughed. “Just another hour or so. I’d like to go with Dirk to the girl’s house before I come home.”
    â€œI’ll be up quite a while longer. I’m reading my Bible and my new True Informer .”
    Savannah knew that if her grandmother had a new True Informer , she wouldn’t be going to bed for two hours. Granny Reid devoured the tabloid from cover to cover, including the classified ads in the back.
    â€œDon’t wait up for me if you’re tired, Gran. Go on to bed if you’ve a mind to, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
    â€œYou’ll see me when you set foot inside this house,” Gran replied. “You go find that little missing girl. Don’t you worry ’bout me.”
    Savannah told her good-bye and snapped the phone closed. “Granny says we can stay out a little longer, but no French kissing and you gotta drive below the speed limit.”
    â€œDarn. I guess that means no parking and making out at Lover’s Leap.”
    â€œGran’s death on parkin’, demon alcohol, and chewin’ tobacco. She used to threaten me something fierce about partaking of any of those three.”
    â€œAnd did you?”
    â€œPartake?”
    â€œYeah.”
    She grinned. “Of course not. I was a good girl. The perfect teenager.”
    â€œYeah, right.”
    â€œOkay. Two out of three.”
    â€œYou partook of two out of three? Or you avoided two out of three?”
    She chuckled, reliving fond memories. “That’s right. You’ve got it.”
    Â 
    When Dirk called Pam O’Neil to see if they could drop by, she eagerly invited them over. And when they pulled into the driveway of the humble duplex in the working class end of town, she was sitting on the stoop, smoking a cigarette, waiting for them.
    â€œI couldn’t believe it