McKevett - Bitter Brew (A Savannah Reid Mystery)

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Books by G.A. McKevett

SAVANNAH REID MYSTERIES

Just Desserts
Bitter Sweets
Killer Calories
Cooked Goose
Sugar and Spite
Sour Grapes
Peaches and Screams
Death By Chocolate
Cereal Killer
Murder la Mode
Corpse Suzette
Fat Free and Fatal
Poisoned Tarts
A Body to Die For
Wicked Craving
A Decadent Way to Die
Buried in Buttercream
Killer Honeymoon
Killer Physique
Killer Gourmet
Killer Reunion
Every Body on Deck
Hide and Sneak
Bitter Brew

GRANNY REID MYSTERIES

Murder in Her Stocking

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

G.A. M C K EVETT

Bitter BREW

A SAVANNAH REID MYSTERY

KENSINGTON BOOKS
www.kensingtonbooks.com

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Table of Contents

KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018

Copyright 2019 by G.A. McKevett

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

Library of Congress Card Catalogue Number: 2018912553

Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

ISBN: 978-1-4967-2010-8

First Kensington Hardcover Edition: May 2019

ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-2012-2 (e-book)
ISBN-10: 1-4967-2012-1 (e-book)

Although Halsteads and Novaks are fictitious diseases,
other fatal, genetic disorders are all too real.

This book is dedicated to the people, and their families,
who battle these terrible illnesses.

With weakening bodies, but mighty spirits, and inspiring courage,
they do what we all should....
They live every day as though it was their last.

Thank you, Leslie Connell, for everything, always. I wish I could clone you and give a copy of you to every author and person who needs a loving friend.

I also wish to thank all the fans who write to me, sharing their thoughts and offering endless encouragement. Your stories touch my heart, and I enjoy your letters more than you know. I can be reached at:

sonja@sonjamassie.com

and

facebook.com/gwendolynnarden.mckevett

Chapter 1

S avannah Reid wasnt sure how she had pictured this wedding anniversary, the sacred celebration that would mark a year of wedded bliss to the love of her life, her soul mate, her blessed helpmate. But this certainly wasnt it.

True, Dirk wasnt the most romantic husband in the worldor even on the block. On their side of the street. Among the white, stucco houses with red tiled roofs. With a magnolia tree in the front yard.

When it came to planning a date night or buying a present, he tended to do the absolute minimum. Just enough to avoid matrimonial strife. Barely.

Their first Christmas gift-giving effort as a married couple had proven disastrous. For some reason, which he couldnt imagine, she had been less than thrilled with her new lawnmower. Pointing out the bonus trash bag-grade cover and the fact that it was a manual, push-reel model and didnt use all that expensive gas hadnt sweetened the package. Go figure.

Dirk was overjoyed with his beer-making kit, until he read the directions and realized that it was a bit more complicated than stirring a Kool-Aid packet into a jug of water.

Savannah had wound up making the brew herselfa major nuisance that took eight weeks. When it was finally ready, he sampled it and pronounced it, Flat and tastes like cat piss.

In the interest of giving and receiving something that they actually wanted, and to avoid arguments about who might or might not have actually tasted feline urine over the course of their lifetime, he and she had decided that, rather than give each other one large thing, they would give each other several little things.

Hopefully, this would improve the odds of getting something one actually wanted, since Its the thought that counts didnt seem to account for much in the Reid/Coulter household.

At his insistence, she had shopped for him and herself online. It took a three-day weekend for her to read all the reviews of possible products, consider how many stars it had been given by how many users, and, after figuring in the various shipping costs, calculate the best bargain bangs for their bucks.

Once the research was finished, she had ordered the merchandise with her personal credit card, then collapsed into her comfy chair and consumed most of a box of chocolate truffles with some strong coffee, trying to recoup her normally cheerful spiritthe state of mind that did not include fantasies of strangling husbands.

When the boxes containing her things arrived, she placed them into his outstretched hand.

With a mighty sigh of soul-deep exhaustion, he shoved some cash into her bra and asked, Am I gonna have to suffer through all this rigamarole again on Valentines Day? Whatcha say we skip the presents crap and just fool around a little longer than usual?

So much for domestic tranquility.

Considering their history and his memory lapses concerning romantic milestones, she had drawn an enormous red heart on the calendar on the kitchen wall, marking their anniversary. That way, a guy who could remember the month, day, and time of the next Light Heavyweight championship fight and the winning numbers of last Wednesdays Powerball, would have no excuse. As the day approached and the Whaddaya want? question hadnt been asked, shed gone online, once again, picked out a book, some chocolate, and a stress-reducing meditation download for herself, along with his things.

Then she told him that his shopping was finished, the stuff was on its way, and she gave him the total owed. Hed been so grateful that she couldve sworn shed seen tears in his eyes, as hed shoved the money down her blouse.

Someday, she would mention that shed much prefer to have the cash placed in her hand rather than poked into her bra, Barbary Coast hooker-style. But it could wait. She hated to spoil a tender moment between a husband and his wife.

Now, sitting in her favorite chair, her two black cats on the footstool, curled warmly around her feet, she waited for Detective Sergeant Dirk Coulter to come home, so they could begin their anniversary festivities, whatever those might be.

A rooftop stakeout of a suspected drug house had kept him far longer than he had estimated. Having been a police officer herself at one time, Savannah knew all too well that part of carrying a detectives gold shield included the joy of never knowing when ones tour would end.

You knew what you were getting into, Savannah girl, she whispered. They were words usually spoken by her sage grandmother.

The cats at her feet looked up at her, their pale green eyes glowing with anticipation.

When Mom spoke, there was always a chance that some sort of food treat might be forthcoming.

Gluttons, she told them. Always thinking about food. Youd eat treats for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if Id let you.

She recalled one of the packages the UPS man had delivered a cardboard box with dark chocolate truffles inside. The container that, along with its sister package, was not-very-secretly stashed behind the recliner upstairs in the guest bedroom, otherwise known as Dirks man cave. That was where he tossed the parcels containing her gifts, once she handed them to him. There they would stay, gathering dust, until the day arrived, when he would dig them out and proudly present them to her.

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