Killer Honeymoon Part 20

At first, the two diners failed to notice, so absorbed were they in their conversation, food, and drinks. But the instant La Cross glanced up and recognized Savannah and Dirk, the cozy, happy expression fell off her face.

Savannah could almost imagine that she heard it plop into her umbrella-adorned pink c.o.c.ktail.

"What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing there?" La Cross snapped as she jumped to her feet, knocking her chair over backward in the process. It fell to the floor with a tremendous clatter, which caught everyone's attention.

Suddenly the busy, bustling, noisy restaurant was as silent as a well-tended library. The crowd sat, wide-eyed and all ears, taking in what was going on at their neighbors' table.

"Who me?" Savannah asked, checking the picture on her phone, smiling, and then pus.h.i.+ng the camera b.u.t.ton again.

"Stop that!" Chief La Cross rushed around the table and tried to grab the phone from Savannah's hand.

"Stop what?" Savannah quickly shoved the camera down the front of her blouse and into her bra. "I was just taking some pictures of people who were minding their own business. People who didn't know they were having their pictures taken. Nothing illegal about that. Right?"

Savannah quirked one eyebrow and gave her an unpleasant, bitter smile. "But then, it isn't nearly as bad as taking pictures of a couple on their honeymoon-an unsuspecting guy and gal who're just hanging out, minding their own business around, say . . . Coconut Jane's Tavern or maybe somewhere nearby there."

La Cross looked like she had just been caught stealing an expensive diamond ring in a jewelry store. She also seemed to notice she was making a scene as she glanced around the restaurant and realized that her fellow islanders were watching this highly entertaining exchange with rapt attention.

"It's not like this is a romantic lunch," Savannah said, waving a hand toward William Northrop, who was leaning back in his chair, almost as if trying to hide behind the potted palm. "Is it, Chief La Cross? You aren't having a cuddly lunch with a man who's only been widowed a little over forty-eight hours, are you?"

"You leave!" La Cross whispered, leaning so close to Savannah that Savannah could smell the alcohol and fruit juice on her breath. "Get out of here this minute. I'll deal with you two later."

"No, you can deal with us right now," Dirk said. "We want to know if you take pictures of all the residents who live here on the island without their knowledge or permission. Without them knowing it."

At several of the tables, people turned to each other and began to whisper furiously. "Or is it just the tourists you spy on?" he added for a bit of extra spice. "People who visit your island like us . . . like these folks sitting around here, just trying to have a nice meal?"

The whispers around them suddenly turned into an uproar. Several guests pushed away their plates and motioned for the waiter to bring their checks. Others got out their own cell phones and began snapping pictures of Dirk and Savannah and Northrop. And even more of Chief La Cross, whose face was turning more crimson by the second.

Even her eyeb.a.l.l.s looked red. For a moment, Savannah wondered, if a police chief had a stroke while arguing with you, would that be murder or manslaughter?

"We have one thing to ask you and then we'll leave," Savannah told her. "A simple yes or no will suffice."

When La Cross didn't reply-just stood there breathing heavy, her nostrils flaring-Savannah continued. "Was Hank Jordan at your station house when Amelia Northrop was murdered?"

It seemed to take forever, but eventually the chief gave Savannah the slightest nod.

"Thank you," Savannah said. "One more thing, as we bid you a good day. Do not take any more pictures of me or my husband. We aren't the bad guys here."

Savannah glanced over at William Northrop, who still looked like he wanted to climb into the palm tree next to him and hide. He hadn't said a word, and somehow, Savannah didn't respect him much for not even bothering to get out of his chair and stand up for his dear old buddy Charlotte.

"Now he might be your bad guy," Savannah said, pointing at Northrop. "For all we know, you might be questioning him right now. But if you want to question us any further, I'd suggest you invite us out to lunch, too. Maybe buy us a couple of fancy c.o.c.ktails, and we'll sit at a table and giggle together, like y'all are doing there. But either way, stop spying on us, and let us enjoy our honeymoon in peace."

She and Dirk turned and left, following the same pathway through the tables of people, who now looked far less peaceful than when they had entered.

But none more so than William Northrop and Chief of Police Charlotte La Cross.

La Cross slowly returned to her seat; then she sat down so quickly that it looked like her legs had collapsed beneath her. She gave Northrop one quick, dirty look, then began to chugalug her drink.

He waded into his salad with a vengeance, not looking at any of the other diners, who were openly staring at them.

When Savannah and Dirk got back into the Jaguar, they turned to look and saw that La Cross was glaring at them with an intensity that would have sent s.h.i.+vers through Savannah if she hadn't been so mad herself.

"When it comes right down to it, she didn't do anything all that awful," Dirk said as he started the car and pulled out into traffic.

"She violated our privacy," Savannah shot back.

"Something that we do to other people almost every day of our careers."

"But-but . . ."

"Come on. It's me. You can be honest with me."

"No, I can't," she replied with a sigh. "Because to get real with you, I'd have to fess up to myself first. And I'm not ready to do that, thank you very much."

"How about if I tell you why you're so mad at her?"

"Okay, Mr. Smarty Farty, lay it on me. The cold, hard truth. Smack me right between the eyes with it."

"It's easy. You're mad at her for the same reason I am. She was able to surveil us without us even knowing it. We're p.i.s.sed at her 'cause she beat us at our own game."

He nudged her with his elbow. "How's that, babe? Was I even close?"

She smiled in spite of herself. "You've gotten smarter since you became a married man."

"I know."

"Well, I don't like it."

"If this ain't the most beautiful place on earth, I don't know what is," Gran said as she stood in front of the lightkeeper's cottage with the rest of the gang and looked up at the tower.

Silhouetted against the deepening evening sky, with its brilliant coral-and-turquoise glow, the structure had an almost ethereal beauty about it.

"What do you reckon it is," Savannah asked, her arm around her grandmother's shoulders, "that makes that shape so appealing to the human eye?"

The moment the words were out of her mouth, Savannah realized she had just opened the door for a flood of stupid, adolescent jokes. She looked around the Moonlight Magnolia gang seated in a circle of beach chairs in front of the cottage and saw far too many males for the opportunity for "bawdy" to just slip by.

"The first one who says something nasty and ruins this precious moment is gonna get his jaw smacked," Granny said, still gazing up at the tower.

Waycross grinned. Dirk snickered. Ryan and John looked at each other and covered the lower portions of their faces with their hands.

Savannah sighed, envying Gran. How lovely would it be to have that kind of power?

She'd only have to wait another forty years to know.

"It was really generous of you two inviting us all over for dinner like that," Ryan said.

"We don't mind you guys that much," Dirk replied, then took a long drink from his bottle of root beer-a concession to Granny being present.

John lifted his cup of evening tea. "Kinder words were never spoken."

"Not by Dirk-o," Tammy muttered, sipping from her own sparkling mineral water, enhanced by lemon and lime slices.

Waycross was watching her as she swirled her fingertip in the drink, and Savannah noticed that he had a slightly sad look on his face tonight.

Perpetually the nosy big sister, Savannah couldn't help wondering what that was all about. Being terminally codependent, as well, she couldn't resist spinning her mental wheels about how she might be able to fix it . . . once she found out what it was.

"Actually, we had an ulterior motive for having y'all over for dinner," she said.

"Uh-oh, here it comes." Tammy laughed. "Somebody invites you to their house during their honeymoon, you have to know they're after something."

She looked anything but annoyed. Savannah chuckled to herself. This gang loved nothing more than to be "used" in an investigation. In fact, they lived for it.

Dirk downed the last gulp of his root beer. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't request backup," he said.

"Being a strong, tough, virile man possessing supernatural powers, and all that," Ryan interjected.

"Exactly. But this Xenos dude, he's got a really nasty record, and-"

"Say no more. We're in." Ryan turned to John. "It's been a while since we went after a guy like that. It'll knock the rust off, huh?"

John lifted his teacup in a toast. "Most certainly. It'll be a pleasure."

"Don't be so sure about that," Savannah said. "Since he's got a trail of nasty a.s.saults and some unsolved murders in his past, I doubt we're going to find him pleasant company."

Tammy reached for her handheld device, which was never far away. Savannah and Dirk had given it to her for her last birthday; now it was like an extra appendage. "I've been researching him and found where he'd posted a bunch of messages on a boxing gym's blog. Apparently, he works out there every afternoon at two, without fail. It's in the southern end of Malibu, near Santa Monica. And it's on the same block as his house."

"I'll bet he walks there," Savannah said. "It'd be pretty stupid, even in Southern California, to drive less than a block."

"That'd be a good time to nab him," Granny added.

"We might luck out, and he'd even be alone," said Ryan.

Tammy nodded. "That's what I was thinking." She turned off her device and looked down, a bit of a woebegone look on her face. "So you four are going to go to Malibu tomorrow and interrogate our terrorist fas.h.i.+on counterfeiter. I guess Gran and Waycross and I can hang out here and wait to hear how it goes."

"No way," Savannah said. "Do you really think we're gonna do something as dangerous as that and just let you guys cool your heels here by a pool? Nice try."

Tammy beamed. "Really? Wow! What do you want us to do?"

Savannah's brain froze. Of course, they weren't going to put three "civilians" in the midst of the action, when the situation was as dicey as this one might turn out to be. But she had to think of something. It wasn't fair to ask the others to do all the dry research work and leave them out of the juicier stuff.

She looked over at Dirk. He gave a slight shrug and shook his head. He couldn't think of anything either.

Suddenly Ryan chimed in. "We need you three to man the audio-surveillance recorders."

A wave of grat.i.tude washed over Savannah. She flashed him a brilliant smile. "Yes!" she said. "We'll want to record the whole thing, just in case he says something incriminating."

"You mean you'll be wearin' microphones under your clothes or somethin'?" Waycross asked, nearly as excited as Tammy.

"Sure they will," Granny replied, looking most authoritative with her nose slightly elevated. "Don't you ever watch television, grandson? They call it 'bein' wired' "

"We'll take our surveillance van," Ryan said. "It's got everything we need. You'll be parked on the street, watching the whole thing out the window."

Tammy rubbed her hands together with glee. "That's so cool! I can hardly wait for tomorrow! It feels like Christmas Eve."

Savannah laughed and looked up at the light tower. The beam had just turned on and was beginning its nightly rotations.

"If you guys are gonna go up there and look around, you'd better do it now," she said. "Daylight's about gone."

Ryan glanced over at Tammy and Waycross. "John and I, we've had a long day. We'll go up another time."

"Me too," Gran said. "Not that I'm too old or nothin' like that, but I'm just not in the mood right now. Somebody else go."

Tammy turned to Waycross. Her pretty face was glowing with excitement. "I want to. I've never been up in a lighthouse before. Do you want to come with me?"

Savannah was surprised to see Waycross hesitate.

A beautiful lighthouse, with a gorgeous girl whom he was obviously very attracted to . . . it seemed like an opportunity he would jump at.

"Yeah, sure," he said, "if you want to."

He rose and held out his hand, helping her up from the low-seated beach chair. But once she was standing, he quickly released her hand.

Together-but not as together as Savannah would have liked-they left the group, walked to the tower, and disappeared inside.

"Hmmm," Savannah said under her breath. "What's up with him?"

She looked around and saw her own puzzlement reflected on the faces of everyone else present.

Granny shook her head and sighed. "Sooner or later, me and that boy are gonna have to sit ourselves down and have a long talk."

Chapter 17.

"I can see why you love this place, Savannah girl," Granny said as Dirk drove the three of them south, along Pacific Coast Highway through Malibu. "I swear, when the good Lord was makin' the big ol' world, he must've spent some extra time on this part."

Savannah turned to her grandmother, who was sitting in the backseat, right behind Dirk. "That's true, Gran. I agree. I look at those sparkling waters every day of my life, and yet, I never get over it."

"Get a gander at those houses," Gran said as they pa.s.sed one dramatic and luxurious beach home after another. Every style was represented, from ultramodern to Italian villas to Tudor mansions.

Although the houses were getting closer and closer together, the farther south they went, Savannah couldn't help thinking that the price of one of those places and the tiny footprint of beach that it was built on would be enough money for her and Dirk to retire in style for the rest of their lives, and then some.

Malibu was a unique community, even in the Los Angeles area where "abnormal" was the "norm."

TWENTY-SEVEN MILES OF SCENIC BEAUTY, the sign said when you entered the town. And that accurately described the layout of the community. The Pacific Coast Highway hugged the coastline, and the houses and businesses of Malibu lined either side of the PCH.