Bitter Sweets

study the entrance wound. “Close range.”

    “Because?”

    “Powder burns.”

    She waved her hand, indicating the office in general. “Was our killer organized or disorganized?”

    Tammy chewed on her lower lip for a second.
    “I’d say organized.”

    “Why?”

    “The crime scene appears controlled, not chaotic. No signs of violence-other than the gunshot. Restraints were used.”

    She nodded toward the victim’s hands, which were manacled behind his back. “I doubt those handcuffs were just lying around the office, so the killer must have brought his own. The murder weapon is gone and not much other visible evidence left behind. Looks pretty organized to me.”

    Savannah nodded. “So, what sort of guy are we going to be looking for?”

    Tammy hesitated, searching for the right mental file to access. “Profile of an organized killer: high intelligence, socially and sexually adequate, probably lives with a partner, high birth order, controlled, masculine, charming.”

    Savannah grinned. “Sounds great.”

    “Yeah, really.” Tammy relaxed for a moment, then resumed her recitation. “And he’ll anticipate being questioned...if we can find him, that is.”

    “If we do...what will be our interviewing techniques?”

    “Have a direct strategy and stick to it. Be certain of all your details; he will be. He’ll only admit what he absolutely has to.”

    “You’ve been doing your homework,” Savannah said, flashing the younger woman the dimpled Reid smile that never failed. Her feminine features-wide blue eyes, Betty Boop mouth and heart-shaped face, framed with midnight brown curls-were deceivingly demure. Southern belle daintiness stopped there. In her line of work, Savannah seldom had the opportunity to indulge the genteel side of her personality.

    Thank goodness Granny Reid in Georgia didn’t know what a tomboy she had become.

    “I think I’m going to make a detective of you yet,” she told Tammy.

    The blonde’s pallid cheeks flushed from Savannah’s compliment. “Yeah, well... I’ve been hitting the books.”

    “How about a victim profile?”

    Tammy’s self-satisfied grin evaporated. “Victim profile? Oh, I guess I didn’t get that far.”

    “The victim can tell us a lot. Before some bastard turned him into meat, he was a living breathing human being.” With a brief, but almost-reverent expression on her face, Savannah reached down and gently brushed a lock of hair back from the man’s forehead. “What kind of a person he was can tell us something about the individual who destroyed him. Tell me about our victim.”

    “He is... was... a large man. Well over six feet tall, probably close to two hundred pounds. Caucasian. I’d say mid thirties, dark brown hair, green eyes. Extremely handsome.”

    “You noticed that, too, huh?”

    “Hey, you told me to be observant.” With the tip of one finger she brushed the sleeve of his houndstooth wool jacket. “Expensive clothes, not wearing a wedding ring, quality haircut.”

    “Broad shoulders, slender waist, great buns,” Savannah added salaciously as she leaned over and goosed the body’s rear end.

    “Sa-van-ah! For heaven’s sake, have some respect!”

    “Aw, lighten up, sugar,” she replied, laughing. “Trust me, at this point he ain’t gonna take offense.”

    The phone on the nearby desk jangled, startling both women.

    “Good Lord,” Savannah said. “A call. A real call! Could it be?”

    “Maybe. It might be. Should I answer it?”
    “Of course. That’s what I’m paying you for.”

    Tammy sprang to her feet and hurried to the rolltop desk. After clearing her throat, she picked up the phone and spoke with what Savannah classified as a rather bad Lauren Bacall impression, “Moonlight Magnolia Detective Agency,” she breathed. “May I help you?”

    Excited, Savannah clutched the body’s jacket sleeve and shook it. “Ryan...a call. We finally got a call.”

    “It’s probably a wrong number,” the corpse responded, raising his head and stretching his long limbs. “Mind if I get up now? This cursed floor of yours is hardwood, you know.”

    “Yeah, yeah, sure,” Savannah said, grabbing him by the lapels and raising him to a sitting position. Absentmindedly she rubbed some of the stage blood off his face and began to undo his handcuffs while listening to Tammy’s end of the conversation. It sounded promising. Hallelujah! Their first client!

    “Yes, Mr. O’Donnell,” she was