Killer Physique Page 16

  Ronald Reagan had married Jane Wyman here, and Regis Philbin had taken Joy to be his wife only a few feet away from where Savannah was sitting. She couldn’t resist the thought that Clark Gable or Carol Lombard may have sat right here in this pew when they had attended Jean Harlow’s funeral. And what a unique experience it must have been when Chico Marx’s rabbi had delivered his eulogy here in this reproduction of a lovely, old Scottish church.

  And outside the chapel, interred among a quarter of a million lesser-known people, were the earthly remains of such beloved celebrities as James Stewart, Elizabeth Taylor, Walt Disney, Errol Flynn, Michael Jackson, Sam Cooke, Red Skelton, Louis L’Amour, and L. Frank Baum, as well as George Burns and Gracie Allen.

  It was nearly impossible for her to keep her mind trained on the business at hand when surrounded by so much history.

  But she forced herself to do so. Anything less would have been disrespectful to Jason Tyrone.

  And although she knew it was true, she couldn’t imagine that the coffin in the front of the room contained that beautiful, vibrant human being. Once again, she was reminded of the often-used phrase “earthly remains.”

  Yes, those were merely the remains in that coffin. But Jason Tyrone deserved her respectful attention at his memorial service.

  So she banished the ghosts of celebrities past from her mind and focused on the present.

  Surprisingly, the chapel was less than half full. And she recognized most of the mourners in attendance.

  In the front row sat a nondescript, middle-aged, bald fellow whom Ryan had introduced to the Magnolia team as Jason’s manager, Sid Greene. They had thanked him profusely for the invitation and promised that they were still investigating Jason’s passing. Sid had seemed grateful, expressing a mutual desire to keep Jason’s reputation as clean and untarnished as possible under the circumstances.

  In the same pew, sitting next to Sid, was Vladik Zlotnik, who had played the villain so convincingly in Jason’s movie. But he was anything but ominous today, as he sat, head bowed and shoulders slumped, listening to all the accolades bestowed upon his costar.

  On Sid’s other side was Alanna Cleary.

  Savannah was more than a little surprised to see that Alanna’s beauty was as flawless at a funeral as at a movie premiere. Her beautiful hair glowed in the soft light of the chapel, like delicate spun copper spread across the black velvet of her dress.

  She was crying softly into a white handkerchief. And when the minister began to list the many children’s charities that Jason had supported with his time, money, and endorsements, she began to sob.

  From the other side of the chapel, also sitting in the front pew, Thomas Owen shot her an angry, disgusted look. Savannah had noticed that the two appeared to be avoiding each other before the service. She suspected it was deliberate that they had stayed on opposite sides of the room, avoiding eye contact.

  That wasn’t so surprising, considering the fact that Thomas blamed her, at least in part, for the breakup of his and Jason’s relationship.

  Savannah couldn’t help thinking that if she were sitting in a room with a woman who had ruined her marriage, she would probably be shooting more than dirty glances across the room. Why resort to nasty looks when you had a Beretta strapped to your ribs?

  When the minister finished, the service ended with a soprano’s beautiful rendition of “Time to Say Good-bye.”

  As her lovely voice filled the chapel, touching every heart with the song’s haunting melody, Savannah glanced to her left and saw that tears were streaking down Ryan’s cheeks. She reached over and slipped her hand into his. He gave her a slight nod and a sad smile.

  One look at John told her that he was having an equally difficult time. She reminded herself to be especially kind to them in the coming days. Losing someone you loved took such a toll on the human spirit.

  They would need some healthy doses of healing love.

  Next came the closing prayer. Then everyone stood and watched reverently as six pallbearers—all robust, overly muscular men—carried the coffin from the front, down the center aisle, and out of the chapel.

  As Savannah slowly turned, her eyes on the casket, an unexpected sight caught her eye. Among a few mourners who had opted to sit in the rear of the chapel was Leland Porter.

  He wept openly as the coffin passed him, covering his face with his hands, and shaking his head—as though he could hardly stand to witness what he was seeing.

  Savannah thought of all the kind things he had said about Jason. How he had described him as being a close friend for so many years. How a superstar, who could have afforded the luxury of any first-class limousine service in the world, had opted to help out an old friend in need of a dollar.

  Jason Tyrone might have been loved by the world. But the world didn’t know him the way these few people inside this tiny church knew him.

  As Savannah’s throat tightened and her own vision became clouded, she glanced around the room and saw not a single dry eye. From those who were consumed with wracking sobs to those who were merely dabbing their eyes and noses with tissues, all were grieving their loss in their own private ways.

  When she and Dirk, Ryan and John, Tammy and Waycross exited the church, they stepped into the bright sunlight and the seemingly endless lawn, which was covered with a seemingly endless crowd.

  Those gathered to pay their respects from afar appeared to be as grief-stricken as those who had been inside the chapel. They cried, holding flowers, candles, and handmade signs that proclaimed, in the simplest words, their devotion to their hero.

  Savannah decided, then and there, that if tears shed by mourners at one’s departure were any indication of a life well lived and a person well loved—then Jason Tyrone had lived the life he had been given well.

  She vowed she wasn’t going to stop until she made absolutely sure that no one had deliberately caused the pain she saw manifested here.

  Jason deserved as much. And so did these people whose hearts were breaking because they had lost him.

  Savannah was never happier than when her kitchen table was surrounded by the people she loved most. Feeding them, making them laugh, letting them know how much she loved them—those were her favorite pastimes.

  When everyone within her immediate vicinity had eaten a bit too much and drunk a little more than they should have of beverages either intoxicating or simply delicious, she felt she had fulfilled her mission in life.

  Usually. But not tonight.

  Tonight the normally boisterous mood at her table was subdued, at best.

  Oh, the food had been good—the fried chicken crispy and seasoned just so, the mashed potatoes fluffy and buttery, the green beans crisp from her garden and flavored with just a bit of bacon left over from breakfast.

  And of course, the pineapple upside down cake had been a thing of beauty. Granny Reid, who had won blue ribbons at the county fair for her pineapple upside down cake, had taught Savannah well.

  But even though she was sure that Ryan and John appreciated her hospitality, Savannah knew it was going to take more than a plate full of good vittles to lift their spirits.

  “It was lovely of you, dear, to have us this evening,” John told Savannah, as he took a sip of the vintage port they had contributed to the feast. “But I’m afraid we’ve been poor company, and I apologize.”

  “I don’t want to hear you apologizing for anything,” she replied. “I’m just glad you came over. I was afraid the two of you wouldn’t be up to socializing tonight.”

  She handed Ryan a small wine glass, which he filled halfway with port.

  “If it hadn’t been you who extended the invitation, we probably wouldn’t have come,” Ryan said. “Today turned out to be even harder than we’d thought it would be.”

  “I understand,” Savannah said, as she set a fresh bottle of herbal tea in front of Tammy and refilled Waycross’s root beer. “Funerals are never fun, but when it’s someone young like that . . .”

&nb
sp; “And when it’s unexpected,” Dirk added, accepting the beer she was handing him, “that makes it even worse.”

  “It was a very nice service though,” Tammy said to Ryan in her most comforting, sisterly voice. “A glowing eulogy and pretty music.”

  “I didn’t realize that Jason had no family to speak of,” Ryan said. “I remember a long time ago I asked if he had brothers or sisters living in the area. He said he’d been the only kid of a single mom. I guess even she’s passed on.”

  At the mention of single moms, Savannah noticed that Dirk looked down, as though he was suddenly interested in the label on his beer bottle. “At least she kept him and raised him,” he said softly. So softly that, at first, Savannah wasn’t sure if any of the others had heard him.

  But they had.

  A heavy silence descended on the room. Savannah searched for the perfect thing to say and couldn’t think of anything. Everything that crossed her mind had the potential to make the situation even worse.

  As she tried to decide whether to reply or just let it pass, Ryan spoke up. “How’re you doing with that, buddy?” he asked Dirk. “They’re coming to visit pretty soon now, right?”

  When Dirk didn’t answer, Savannah said, “Day after tomorrow. The suitcases are all packed and ready to go, last we heard.”

  “Oh, that is soon,” John said.

  Again there was a long, awkward pause. And this time it was Dirk who spoke up. “How am I doing? Okay, I guess. Frankly, it’s a bit nerve-racking. Most people don’t meet their parents for the first time when they’re in their forties.”

  Waycross nodded and gave him a compassionate look. “That must be mighty strange. Savannah and me—our daddy won’t ever win the Father of the Year award. But at least we got to see his face a few times a year.”

  Tammy leaned across the table, closer to Dirk. Her big eyes were filled with concern as she said, “Are you sorry that I found them for you? Do you wish I’d just left well enough alone?”

  Savannah held her breath, hoping Dirk would say the right thing. The last thing Tammy needed was to think she had hurt her friend or interfered in his life. She was a gentle person with a tender heart and was easily wounded by such things.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Dirk said, giving her a warm, brotherly smile. “I’ll be grateful to you till the day I die for hooking us up. When I think about how it was, not knowing who my parents were or why they’d given me away like that. . . . Let’s just say this is way better. Even if they turn out to be superweird or somethin’, it’s better knowing than not knowing.”

  “Oh, good,” Tammy said, sinking back into her chair. “You had me worried there for a minute.”

  “He’s just a mite nervous about their visit,” Savannah offered as she sat down next to Dirk, a cup of hot chocolate in her hand. “Nervous in a manly man, Navy Seal, Ponderosa cowboy sorta way.”

  Ryan snickered and nearly choked on his port.

  John guffawed.

  Dirk pouted. “I don’t think it was all that damned funny.”

  Savannah slapped him on the back. “It was all in the delivery, darlin’. All in the delivery.”

  Later, when Ryan and John had left, Tammy and Waycross volunteered to do the dishes. So Savannah and Dirk retired to the living room.

  Savannah sat in her comfy chair with Diamante on her lap. Dirk stretched out on the couch with Cleo draped across his chest.

  These had been their favorite relaxation positions for years. Even back when they were partners and friends, but never lovers.

  For the first two weeks of their marriage they had done the lovely-dovey, newlywed thing and snuggled together on the sofa. But old habits die hard, and it hadn’t been long before they had reverted to their previous arrangement.

  And the cats were more than happy, each having a pets-providing, chin-scratching, treat-giving human at their disposal.

  “That was nice of Ryan and John to ask me how I was doing,” he said, “with all they’ve got going on right now.”

  “They care about you,” Savannah told him.

  “They care about you, and you care about me, so they care about me.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  “I think they feel bad because we’ve been spending all this time on their friend’s case. Time we really don’t have, considering your parents’ visit.”

  He sighed and sank deeper into the sofa. “They shouldn’t feel guilty about something like that. Honestly, it’s kinda taken my mind off the visit. If I didn’t have this case to work on, something to keep my mind occupied, I’d probably be a screaming Mimi.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Absolutely. Whenever I’m not thinking about the case, I start imagining these scary scenarios in my head. Stuff like my mom sitting me down for this big, heavy, serious talk.”

  “You think she’s going to do that?”

  “I guess she kinda has to, doesn’t she? You don’t just waltz into your kid’s life after forty years and say, ‘Hi, sonny boy. Anything new? So much has happened since the last time we saw each other—what with the dinosaurs going extinct and all.’ ”

  “Yes, I see your point. That could be a little weird.”

  “A little? I gotta tell ya, I do not want to hear about how my parents went up to Makeout Point after the prom and spawned me in the backseat of his Chevy Impala. Call me old-fashioned, but that’s an image I do not want in my head.”

  Just for a moment, Savannah’s own mind was polluted with an image of her mother, Shirley, getting it on with her trucker daddy in the bed of his sleeper cab. She shuddered at the thought.

  “Yes,” she said, “if she even starts down that road, you’d better head her off quick.”

  “That’s the worst part about stuff like that. Once you’ve heard it you can’t unhear it. And, I swear, I think it’d scar me for life.”

  Savannah chuckled. “With all you’ve seen and heard on the job? Dude, you’re a lot tougher than you think you are.”

  He perked up. “You really think so?”

  “Naw, you’re a marshmallow. I was just trying to perk up your spirits a bit.”

  “Gee. Thanks.”

  They both sat in silence for a while, petting their respective cats.

  Then Dirk said, “What I need to perk my spirits up is to find out, once and for all, what happened to Jason Tyrone. I want to either find some solid evidence that there was foul play, or something to prove, once and for all, that it really was an accident.”

  “You and me both. I need to be getting ready for your parents. I could write the Declaration of Independence with my finger in the dust on top of the bedroom dresser. I’ve got leftovers in the icebox that need to be pitched. I need to stock up on groceries and run several loads of laundry. I can’t have your mother thinking you married a slob.”

  “But I’m a slob.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Mothers always cut their sons a lot of slack in that department. But daughter-in-laws, that’s a different story. If the house is a mess, it’s her fault. Plain and simple. Women’s Liberation stopped short of correcting that little problem. Now we gals are expected to have jobs and run the house. Bum deal, if you ask me.”

  Dirk sat up, placed Cleo on the floor, and walked over to Savannah. He sat down on the ottoman at her feet. Reaching over and taking her hands in his, he said, “I am so, so proud that I managed to marry me a great gal like you. Hell, I married so far above myself that, from where I’m at up here, I’m looking at clouds.”

  He waved a big hand, indicating the furniture, the wall decorations, and the carefully chosen, carefully placed knickknacks. “You’ve made us a wonderful house, Van. It’s warm, and cozy, and comfortable, and pretty . . . just like you. And my parents are gonna see that. And they’re gonna see that I love you and you love me. And that’s all that matters.”

  She gazed into his eyes and saw nothing but unconditional love and total acceptance. What was a little blue shaving cream o
n the bathroom mirror in comparison to gifts like those?

  Placing her hands on either side of his face, she pulled him to her and gave him a long, passionate kiss.

  When they finally came up for air, she laughed and said, “You just said all that mushy stuff so you could get in my bloomers. Right, boy?”

  He laughed. “Busted. You got me.” Slowly he trailed his finger tip from her lips down her throat and into her cleavage. “So tell me,” he said, his voice husky, “is it working?”

  She grabbed his hand, stood, and pulled him to his feet. “What do you think?” she asked, as she dragged him toward the stairs.

  “I think I’m about to get lucky.”

  “Imagine that. Me too.”

  Chapter 18

  Savannah woke from a restless sleep and sat straight up in bed, her heart pounding. She was trembling and short of breath, and although she was sweating, she felt cold. It was the kind of cold that came from something deep inside her—not from the temperature in the room.

  “The patch!” she said.

  “What?” Dirk stirred in his sleep and rolled toward her.

  “It was the dadgum patch!”

  He groaned and looked at the clock on the nightstand. “Babe, it’s six forty-five in the morning. Could this wait another half an hour or so?”

  “Huh? Oh, sure. Sorry, darlin’. I guess I was dreaming about it and . . . well, you know how I figure stuff out in my sleep?”

  “I know how you think you figure stuff out in your sleep.”

  “Like the time I figured out that Gloria Houston was embezzling from her boss there at that florist shop.”

  “Didn’t that turn out to be the boss who was embezzling from his own company?”

  “Um, maybe. But there was that other time when I woke up just knowing that Old Man Cronin had been killed with a fireplace poker, there in his own house.”

  Dirk yawned. “It was a baseball bat. His nephew did him in for the insurance money.”

  She was starting to get annoyed. “Fireplace poker, baseball bat, what’s the difference? They were both from inside his house. And I’m telling you, it was the patch.”