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tiny collar. Cleopatra and Diamante wore
only black with clear rhinestones. In Savannah’s household, no
self-respecting pet would be caught dead in purple rhinestones.
Especially if his name was Sammy!
    Dirk walked into the living
room just as Savannah was picking UP a daily planner from a side table next to
an easy chair. She thumbed to the current date and found two entries. “AS
workup” under 9:15 A.M., and “Lunch—Toscano’s” under 1:30 P.M.
    “The barking rat’s not
here,” he said, “or it would already be nipping at our heels. I checked all the
other rooms. No sign of her or Fido.”
    “AS work-up,” Savannah
muttered. “I’ll bet that is for Abigail Simpson, Tammy’s cousin. Wonder if
Suzette made her luncheon date.”
    “What makes you think she
had a date for lunch?”
    “Toscano’s is one of the
most romantic restaurants in the county. No woman would go there alone.”
    “Maybe she was meeting
another chick.”
    “Maybe, but I doubt it.
‘Chick’ lunches, as you call them, usually go down at Kimberly’s Garden or Casa
del Sol.”
    “So, we gotta check
Toscano’s first thing when they open tomorrow,” he said.
    “Nothing in the bedroom?”
    “Nope, nothing but more
mess, like in here and the kitchen.”
    “Was her bed slept in?”
    He shrugged and looked
puzzled. “How can you tell?” Savannah thought of the tiny cubicle in Dirk’s
trailer that served as a bedroom and its perpetually mussed sheets and
blankets. “Never mind,” she said. “She probably doesn’t make hers daily
either.”
    “I never did understand the
logic behind that,” he replied. “I mean, you’re just going to get right back in
it again, so what’s the point?”
    “The same could be said for
doing dishes and changing your underwear. It’s what separates us civilized
folks from the heathens.”
    “Or us practical people
from the fusspots.”
    “Whatever.”
    “You always say that when
you’re losing an argument.”
    “Or when I’m tired of a
stupid one.” She glanced around the room once more. “What do you think?” she
asked him.
    “I still think you quit every
time I’m getting the best of you.”
    “I meant about Suzette Du
Bois.”
    “I think she’s dead.”
    Savannah nodded
thoughtfully. “Me, too. She leaves her car, her purse and keys, her cell phone.
Is her makeup in the bathroom?”
    “Yeap. You taught me to
always check that first when it’s a broad who’s gone. A woman goes off without
her face, that’s a bad sign.”
    “The worst. But what about
Sammy?”
    “Sammy?”
    “The dog.”
    “How do you know its name?”
    Savannah pointed to the
bed.
    “Oh,” he said. “Well,
there’s a nice little sweater with four arm—or leg—holes in it, layin’ on the
bedroom floor, and it’s a chilly night out.”
    “And his rhinestone collar
is there on the coffee table.” She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
“I agree. I’ve got a sinking feeling that Dr. Suzette Du Bois is a goner. And
things don’t bode so well for Sammy Du Bois either.”

Chapter

4
     
     
     
    S avannah stood in front of
her stove, spatula in hand, watching the breakfast eggs fry in the skillet, the
grits bubble on the back burner, and Abigail stew at the kitchen table.
    “I can’t believe they’d
cancel the press conference this morning,” she was complaining to Tammy, who
sat across from her, her elbows propped on the table, her head in her hands.
“Why? Why would they do that!”
    “Because Dr. Du Bois has
gone missing,” Tammy said for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes. “Dr.
Du Bois owns Emerge. She is Emerge. They can’t have a press conference
to announce the opening of Emerge without her there! I’m sorry you’re so
disappointed, Abby, but...”
    Savannah left her position
at the stove and walked over to the table with a basket of hot biscuits and a
jar of Granny Reid’s peach preserves. She set them in front of Abigail, hoping
that the sight of fat-filled,