Killer Calories Read Free

the opposite of the ditzy blonde she appeared to be at first glance. But Tammy had one major character flaw. She was a morning person.
    Her short, golden ponytail bounced from side to side as she trotted up onto the porch, where she continued to jog in place, bouncing ... bouncing ... bouncing until Savannah thought she was going to be seasick just watching her.
    She was wearing a smile that should have been illegal before noon, and a bright yellow short set that made Savannah wish she was still wearing that Buzz creep’s sunglasses.
    â€œHope I’m not too late,” Tammy pealed. “My bug wouldn’t start, so I decided to just jog to work ... get the old blood flowing ... you know.”
    Tammy’s classic Volkswagen bug was the only car on the planet that was less reliable than Savannah’s Camaro. But jogging? It had to be nearly ten miles, and she hadn’t even worked up a good sweat ... just this nice, ladylike sheen that looked great on her golden, California tan.
    Sometimes, Savannah hated her.
    â€œNeat outfit, especially the shoes!” Tammy continued to bounce.
    Savannah thrust the heels at her. “Here, you can have them.”
    â€œGee, thanks. I wonder if they’ll fit.”
    â€œThey’ll fit,” Savannah growled, not adding the fact that their shoe size would be the only size they would ever have in common. Petite Tammy actually wore a minuscule size zero. Until Savannah had pinned her to the floor one day and turned her shirt wrong side out, looking for proof, she hadn’t even known there was a size zero.
    Savannah unlocked the door and found herself face-to-face with two hungry and unhappy felines. Diamante and Cleopatra were more like miniature black leopards than housecats, with appetites as healthy as their mistress’s.
    â€œOooh, they’re so pretty,” Tammy cooed as she followed Savannah into the house and bent to pet the cats. “Good morning!”
    â€œThere’s no such thing,” Savannah grumbled.
    â€œPardon me?”
    â€œI said, there’s no such thing as a good morning. It’s an oxymoron.”
    â€œOh, you’re just grumpy because stupid old Dirk had you out all night.”
    Minutes after meeting him, Tammy had dubbed Dirk, “stupid old Dirk,” and she seldom mentioned his name without the accompanying adjectives.
    â€œI’m not grumpy.” Savannah tossed her bag onto a side table and entered what had once been her living room, but was now the office of the Moonlight Magnolia Detective Agency. “I’m just not a morning person,” she said. “I hate mornings, and I hate morning people ... like you.”
    Tammy laughed, so loudly that Savannah’s ears ached. “That’s funny. You’re a kick, Savannah, even when you’re grumpy.”
    â€œTammy, I mean it. Stop with the perky shit. I’m not up to it. We’re talking no pulse or measurable brain waves until I have a hot bath and a nap.”
    Savannah forced herself to go into the kitchen and pour some Gourmet Kit-Kat into the two bowls beneath the counter. She was rewarded by purrs and satiny rubs against her ankles.
    Undaunted, Tammy did a samba around the office, turning on the computer and printer, checking the fax machine.
    â€œDon’t touch those blinds,” Savannah warned her. “If you let one ray of sunlight into that room, you’re fired.”
    She could tell that Tammy was traumatized by her threat; the girl broke into a rousing rendition of “Zip-a-dee Doo-Da.”
    â€œAnd stop singing that stupid song,” she told her, “unless some guy’s do-da is open.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNever mind.” Savannah sighed. There was no fighting optimism and cheerfulness ... short of murder, and her mood wasn’t quite foul enough to warrant homicide.
    Scrounging around in the refrigerator, Savannah found something that raised her spirits: a