Sour Grapes

Hillquist—the individual who held the dubious honor of being “Numero Uno” on Savannah’s fairly lengthy “Shit List.”
    “But as far as he’s concerned,” she added, lowering her voice, “they were red-walled beauties.”
    Dirk grinned, eager as always to stick it to his boss. “You’ve got it. Let’s see if we can get your car towed and bum a ride off Jake. It’s the least he owes us.”
    “Of course. Couldn’t expect you to spring for a cab.” As they walked over to Jake’s van, Savannah glanced sideways at Dirk and saw that something was troubling him. Something heavy.
    “What is it, buddy?” she asked, slipping her arm companionably through his. “What’s bothering you?”
    “I was just wondering...”
    “Yeah?” She donned her most sympathetic, maternal, tell-me-all-about-it look.
    “If I get the department to cough up the fancy tires...”
    “Yeah?” “ You’ll let me off the hook for the burger dinner that you didn’t get to finish, right?”

Chapter

2

    S avannah Reid, transplanted Georgian belle, was never happier than when those she loved were seated around her kitchen table, and she was stuffing their faces with good, Southern home cooking. And at that moment, four of her favorite people were finishing off a platter of fried chicken, a bowl of mashed potatoes, and a boat of cream gravy.
    Well... three of them were eating the calorie-laden goodies. Savannah’s health-conscious assistant, Tammy Hart, was enjoying her usual salad. At least, she said she was enjoying it, though Savannah couldn’t grasp the concept of “savoring” lettuce.
    “Tammy, you need to eat something,” she told her, passing a golden drumstick under her nose. “You’re so skinny now, you’d have to run around in a rainstorm just to get wet.”
    The petite blond reached down and patted her nonexistent fanny. “Actually, I’ve got to watch it. I’ve put on a couple of pounds lately.”
    Savannah tossed the chicken leg onto Dirk’s plate and tried not to burp. A couple of pounds... on that size zero butt. Please.
    She had decided long ago to feel no envy, only deep sympathy, for this emaciated waif. Okay, so Tammy might look great in a bikini, but she would never know the deep, soulish thrill of eating a huge slice of cheesecake, double-dipped in chocolate and topped with raspberry liqueur.
    The poor child wasn’t svelte; she was tragically deprived.
    Savannah turned her attention to the opposite end of the table, where the object of most of her sexual fantasies sat... Ryan Stone, tall, dark, gorgeous, suave, debonair, her dear friend and sometimes fellow private detector.
    And next to Ryan sat the reason why those delicious fantasies would never become reality—John Gibson, Ryan’s life partner, an older, silver-haired, completely sophisticated and charming British fellow. She very simply adored them both. Sadly, so did Tammy and every other female who crossed their paths.
    On the other hand, Dirk—being a red-blooded, all-American, highly heterosexual and not particularly tolerant male—had only recently learned to appreciate their unique skills. As retired FBI agents, they had used their expertise to help both Dirk and Savannah solve some difficult cases. Savannah had noticed that, after they had pulled Dirk’s butt out of the proverbial wringer a few times, he had dropped the “fairy” and “twinkle-toes” comments.
    At the moment, he was making no comments at all, because he was quickly dispensing the chicken leg off to “drumstick heaven.” Dirk was never particularly conversational in the presence of food. Especially free food.
    “This meal was absolutely delightful, my dear,” John said, dabbing at his silver mustache with his napkin. “I can’t believe I’ve lived my entire life thus far without the pleasure of Dixieland cooking.”
    She walked over to the kitchen counter where she began to slice a fresh-from-the-oven apple pie. “Then you should come over more often and make up for lost time,” she said. “We can’t have you walking around with a cholesterol level less than three hundred.”
    She slid a piece, dripping with French vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce, under Ryan’s nose and was rewarded with a breathtaking smile. “Savannah, you spoil us rotten. Please don’t ever stop.”
    “Never. Besides, we’ve gotta celebrate Dirk’s big bust here.”
    She saw him glance down at his chest, and she was thankful his mouth was too full for him to make