Poisoned Tarts Read Free Page A

“Gory?” She looked anything but appalled. In fact, she looked deliciously intrigued—embarrassingly so.
    Ghoul , Savannah thought proudly.
    She’d taught the kid everything she knew about crime scene gore, its significance, and how to process it.
    Granny settled her generous self into the easy chair and looked perfectly at home, the golden light of the reading lamp setting her white hair aglow with a fire that matched the one burning in her bright blue eyes.
    Granny Reid might be an octogenarian who had traveled a lot of long, bumpy, pothole-pitted roads, but her passion hadn’t dimmed one bit over the years. And one didn’t need a second glance to see where Savannah had gotten her feisty spirit.
    Gran took a bite of Dirk’s brownie, closed her eyes, and savored it for a moment, then she said, “Perfection, Savannah girl. Sinful, scrumptious perfection.” Then she opened her eyes, the moment for savoring over. “Now, what’s this business about you committing murder and mayhem at the local supermarket? I thought I taught you better than that.”
    â€œYou did, Gran,” Savannah said as she sat on the floor beside her grandmother and rested her head on Granny’s knee. “You taught me to be a lady, but sometimes a lady has to…well…”
    â€œHey, it’s you!” Tammy said, nearly jumping out of her chair and pointing to the television. “Oh, you look great! I’m so glad you were wearing that turquoise sweater. That’s one of your best!”
    â€œOh please. Tammy Hart, stylist to the stars,” Savannah said, giving her friend a grin.
    â€œActually,” John said, “Tammy’s right. You do look stunning in that sweater.”
    â€œI agree,” Ryan added.
    â€œOh, right.” Savannah snorted. “Like either of you would even notice.”
    â€œWe notice.” Ryan lifted one eyebrow and gave her a quick once-over that set her pitter to patting all over again. “Notice is all we do, but we notice.”
    Dirk reentered the room and shuffled across the floor in his socks. He sat down on the rug next to the television, reached over, and turned up the volume.
    The blond cutie at the anchor’s desk began the story. “And this afternoon in a San Carmelita supermarket, an altercation sent a local accountant to the hospital. As seen here on the store security videotape, two shoppers exchanged words, and their discussion rapidly escalated into an argument. The woman you see there at the bottom of your screen is Savannah Reid, formerly a police officer with the San Carmelita Police Department.”
    The living room erupted in whistles and cheers. Savannah held up both hands, “Quiet! Quiet! Listen now; throw cash and gifts later.”
    The newscaster continued, an amused look on her face. “At this point in the argument, Reid held up one finger—no, ladies and gentlemen, not that finger—her pinkie—but even that appeared to enrage Timothy Barnett, who took a swing at her. As we can see, Ms. Reid has not forgotten the self-defense training she received from the S.C.P.D. and there…only a few seconds later…you see Barnett on the floor amid a pile of fallen produce, tumbled cans, and broken bottles.” The reporter grinned her perfect, bleached white smile. “Yes, folks, we do have a major cleanup on aisle five.”
    â€œYay-y-y-y! That’s our girl!” Ryan shouted.
    â€œHere, here!” John saluted her with his cup of Earl Grey.
    â€œOh, Savannah! I’m so proud of you,” Tammy said, her pretty face shining, tears in her eyes. “You blocked him with an exquisitely executed gedan barai . The mae geri kick to his chest was flawless, and that nage waza was the perfect choice to put him on the floor.”
    Savannah stared at her for several seconds, then said, “Uh, okay. Thanks, Tam.” And she decided to cut back a bit on Tammy’s