Death by Chocolate

there. Just
like she said.”
    “Shit.”
    “My sentiments exactly. I’m
gonna have to kick her loose, you know.”
    Savannah’s stomach twisted
at the thought of Louise Maxwell winning the round—maybe even the fight. Yeah,
I know,” she said. “Suppose you could lose the paperwork for a little while?”
    He chuckled. “It’s already
been misplaced for over an hour. Let’s see.... it’s almost seven now. I figure
it’ll show up about eight or nine.”
    “You’re a bad boy.”
    “You don’t know the half of
it, baby.”
    Savannah heard a beep on
her “call waiting.”
    “I’ve got another call.
Talk to you later. Chin up.”
    ”Yeah, yeah, yeah....”
    She pushed the flash button. “Hello?”
    “Savannah,” said a deep,
rich, female voice, “this is Angela Herriot.”
    “Angela! How nice to hear
from you. Are you at work this late?”
    “Always. Listen, I had some
paperwork come across my desk today, and I thought I should give you a call...”
Savannah sat, listening, for the next few minutes. Part of her—the
professional, the detective—was excited by what she was hearing. But the less
cerebral, more human side of her grieved.
    That was the problem with
searching for the truth. Sometimes, often, in fact, when you uncovered a buried
secret, you wished you had just left it lying in its shallow grave.
    Yes, she thought, it
probably would have been better for everybody.

Chapter

24
     
     
     
    B y the time Savannah reached
the Maxwell estate,it was nearly eight o’clock in the
evening. After finding no one at home in either the mansion, the gatekeeper’s
cottage, or the chauffeur’s apartment, she approached the gardener’s cottage
where Marie lived... at least until Louise could legally evict her.
    The door to the little
house stood open a foot or so, and Savannah could hear Marie’s gentle voice
coming from inside. She walked quietly to the door and peeked in. Marie was
sitting in her rocking chair with Gilly in her lap. Marie was reading her a Dr.
Seuss book. The child was munching on one of Marie’s amazing oatmeal cookies
and thoroughly enjoying the story and the attention.
    Savannah hated to
interrupt.
    She felt that she had
already interrupted this child’s life far too much, but....
    Knocking on the door, she said,
“Excuse me, ladies, but could I have a word with you, Marie?”
    Marie glanced up, startled.
But Gilly gave Savannah a bright smile.
    “Hi, Savannah,” she said,
waving with her cookie. “Hi yourself, dumplin’.”
    Gilly laughed. “Do you know
that you talk funny? You call people silly names.”
    “Only people I like.” She
stepped through the door and into the cozy living room. “I was just wondering,”
she said to Marie, “if you happen to know where Sydney is? I knocked at his
apartment door, but he didn’t answer and I didn’t see the Jag in the garage.”
    Something crossed Marie’s
eyes, a certain knowing sadness that Savannah herself could feel deep inside.
    “Every evening after dinner
he goes to the Lucky Shamrock for happy hour. It’s a little Irish pub on the
beach north of here.”
    “I know the place. He goes
there every night?”
    “He has one beer and hangs
out with some guys there for a while. He usually comes home right about this
time. If you like, I’ll make you a cup of mint tea and you can wait for him
here.”
    “Yes! ” Gilly said. “Stay
here with us and listen to the story. It’s about the cat in the hat.”
    “I’d like to, Gilly.” She
turned for the door. “But it’ll have to wait until another time. You ladies
enjoy your book and your cookies. Thanks, Marie.”
    Marie just nodded, the
sadness lingering in her eyes. It occurred to Savannah that an observant and
discreet housekeeper knew a lot, yet had no one to share that knowledge with.
What a lonely occupation, she thought as she left the cottage. What a
burdensome, lonely job.
     
     
    The Lucky Shamrock didn’t
look much like a place that had been smiled upon by Lady Luck. Sitting directly
on the beach, it had no protection from the salt air and ocean winds that had
taken their toll on the once-white clapboard structure.
    The pub’s single
ornamentation was a neon green shamrock that glowed in the window next to a
sign advertising Guinness. The Maxwells’ classic Jaguar was parked right by the
front door.
    Savannah parked near the
back of the lot, got out of her car, and started to walk to the door. She
wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to