G. A. McKevett - Poisoned Tarts (Savannah Reid Mysteries)

Dedicated to

Joleen and Arden

With such joyful beginnings,

How very blessed,

And how deeply loved you are.

I want to thank all the fans who write to me, sharing their thoughts and offering endless encouragement. I enjoy your letters more than you know. I can be reached at:

sonjamassie.com

Chapter 1

Palm trees and jack-o-lanterns. Yuck, Savannah Reid said as she entered the supermarket and skirted around a display of chrysanthemums, colorful gourds, and pumpkinssome of which had snaggletoothed smiles scrawled on them with black permanent marker. I hate autumn and winter in Southern California. I mean, I love California in the spring and summer, but holidays just bite if you dont have the right weather to go with them.

Her companion Dirk Coulter answered with a disgruntled grunt, communicating his disgust at being dragged along on this little shopping foray. Dirk hated grocery shopping nearly as much as he hated watching soap operas and chick flicks or listening to female prattle. And in his opinion, any discussion that didnt revolve around sports or things police-related, constituted female prattle.

Hows a body supposed to get into the Halloween spirit when its eighty degrees out? Savannah said as she yanked a shopping cart out of the queue. No frost on the pumpkin. Nary a fodder in the shock in sight. How depressing.

Fodder in the shock? What the hells fodder? he asked as he took the cart from her and began to push it himself. Detective Sergeant Dirk Coulter might not be up on his Victorian poets, but he was a gentleman when it came to opening doors and pushing shopping carts.

Oh, shoot, I dont know, Savannah said, her Georgia drawl even more pronounced than usualas it tended to be when she was aggravatedbut I need some of it around to get in the mood. How am I going to give a good Halloween party without the smell of burning leaves in the air, that crisp morning cold that gets your blood flowing and?

Oh, enough of your griping, woman. Youll give your Halloween party the same way you do Thanksgiving and Christmas. Youll decorate your house with way too much junk and cook way too much food and invite all of us over and make us dress up in stupid stuff and...

I told you last Christmas that you dont have to dress up anymore. I just plumb gave up on that after seeing you as a maid a- milkin . Lord help us, I still have nightmares about that.

You have nightmares! My skin still crawls when I think of how I allowed myself to be talked into wearing a dress and putting a mop on my head.

Free food.

What?

I told you that if you wanted to sink your chompers into that fine holiday feast of mine, you had to play along. She giggled, recalling the sightDirk with milk bucket in hand, yellow yarn mop on head, inflated boobs straining against the front of a pink floral jersey dress. He had balked at the ruby red lipstick and chandelier earrings. Dirk had a few standards, free food or no.

Dont worry, buddy, she said. I wont ever ask you to do that again. I have to draw a line somewhere at how much humiliation I heap on a body. Even you.

Gee, thanks. He followed her past the jack-o-lantern display and into the produce aisle. So, what do I have to do to earn all the good food youre going to feed us at this party youre giving?

Just help me shop, she said. When he grinned brightly, she decided to push her luck.... and help me carve a couple of pumpkins. His face fell until she added,... you know, scoop out the gutsthe gross stuff that us girls dont like to do. He perked up again.

She chuckled, reminding herself that manly men like Coulter needed special handling. Why dont you take the cart to the other side of the store and load up on some beer? And on the way back, hit the chip aisle and get whatever you think we need.

Really? Wow. Okay. Cool.

In seconds, she was watching him retreat with far more vigor in his step as he headed across the front of the store to the refrigerated beer coolers on the opposite side. And not for the first time in the many years she had known him, it occurred to Savannah that watching Dirk walk away wasnt totally without its rewards. He might be over forty and not the hard body hed been when they had met nearly twenty years ago, but he still filled out his Levis quite nicely.

And among his other nice assets was the fact that after all these years, she could still feel him watch her walk away with the same rapt attention. And since she had gained two decades and thirty pounds since theyd met, she couldnt help being grateful.

You just really had to love a guy who sincerely liked his women well-rounded.

Once he disappeared around the corner, she focused on the task at hand. It wasnt easy putting on a successful Halloween party. The devil was, indeed, in the details... or the vampire, or zombie, or whatever ghoulish creature one chose to be. No fairies, butterflies, or ballerina princesses in pink tutus at her extravaganza! Nope, a Reid Halloween party was not for the squeamish. She had been present at enough crime scenes to know what real gore looked like... unfortunately.

And now, there were decisions to make. In a dimly lit room, which would feel the most like real eyeballs, olives or peeled grapes? Grapes were best, and she could probably pawn the tedious task of peeling them off on her best friend and co-detective, Tammy Hart. So

Sit down, you stupid little shit, before I knock you in the head!

Savannah jumped, nearly dropping the bag of grapes in her hand, and whirled around to face the angry male standing about ten feet behind her. He wasnt a particularly large man, but he towered over the tiny toddler sitting in the shopping cart. The child, a little boy no more than two, stared up at the enraged adult with terror on his innocent, baby face.

Not for the first time when witnessing something like this, Savannah longed for the old days when she could walk up to a bully like this, flash a badge, and have a serious talk with him. When she and Dirk had been on patrol, they had done it at least five times a night.

She knew better than most that domestic abuse, in all its hideous forms, kept law enforcement employed.

Beside the mans cart stood a woman with a bag of potatoes in her hand, a guarded, pained look on her face. In spite of the fact that she was well-dressed and wearing expensive jewelry , she had an air of defeat about her. The hang of her head, the slump of her shoulders betrayed a wounded, heavy spirit.

She started to put the potatoes into the cart, but the man snatched them out of her hand. Baking potatoes? he snapped. I told you to get red potatoes. Whats the matter with you? Cant you do anything right?

Im sorry, she whispered as she took the bag of potatoes from him and replaced them in a bin. I forgot.

She picked up a bag of red potatoes, and as she put them into the cart, the child strained in his seat, reaching for his mother. The father raised his hand as though to strike the boy, and the child cringed in a move that was obviously well-practiced.

You try to get out of that cart one more time, the man said, and I swear Im gonna bash you.

Honey, please, dont... the mother whispered, casting a quick look around. She saw Savannah watching, and a look of pain and embarrassment swept over her face.