Killer Honeymoon by G.A. McKevett Read Free Book Online

overlooked.
    What? This gal never heard of wearing a uniform, or, at the very least, a badge? she thought. How was she supposed to know the woman was the frickin’ chief of police before she ripped into her, verbal guns ablazin’?
    Any decent person would have held up a warning hand and said something like, “Excuse me. Before you dig your grave any deeper, you should know you’re addressing the head honcho here.” Especially once an uninformed body started using words like “knuckleheads” and “muckin’ around” to make their point.
    Savannah swallowed a little lump in her throat, which tasted just a tad like crow, and said, “Nice to make your acquaintance, Chief La Cross. Or, at least, it would be, under pleasanter circumstances. You’ll have to pardon me if my words had a bit of an edge to them earlier. You see, we’ve had a pretty rough last couple of hours.”
    “Yeah,” Dirk said, accepting the lukewarm handshake that was offered to him as well. “When we set out this morning to have a nice, relaxing day here on your pretty little island, we weren’t expecting to wind up in a situation like this.”
    “No. I don’t suppose you were.” Chief La Cross studied them for a long time before adding in a guarded tone, “Hardly any serious crimes occur on Santa Tesla. Certainly, no violent crimes. Why, this island is the closest thing you’ll find to paradise anywhere on God’s green earth.”
    Savannah couldn’t help wondering what travel brochure she had taken that line from. It reminded her that tourism was everything to Santa Tesla and its permanent inhabitants. Without mainland dollars flowing through its stores, hotels, and eateries, the island’s economy would collapse within weeks.
    It also occurred to Savannah that if word got out that an innocent woman had been gunned down in cold blood on one of their beautiful, pristine beaches, that might not be good for Santa Tesla’s bottom line.
    Although, considering the identity of the victim, it certainly wasn’t a secret that could be kept. Short of a media blackout, this would be the lead story on the six o’clock news.
    Amelia Northrop was as well known for her ferocious approach to expository journalism as she was for her exceptional beauty. More than one of her scathing, in-depth reports had brought people in high places, their companies and organizations, their extravagant lifestyles, crashing to the ground.
    Savannah couldn’t help thinking that if she were Chief La Cross, the first place she’d look would be that list of former demigods and demigoddesses, now ruined and publicly disgraced.
    The chief turned from Savannah and Dirk, long enough to wave over the second patrolman on the beach.
    “How long until you’ll be bagging this body for transport?” Chief La Cross asked him.
    “Uh, well, Martin has to take some pictures of it before we—”
    “Then tell him to get them taken, and then either remove it or cover it with a tarp. The press will be arriving any minute. If any unauthorized photos are taken, I’m holding you two responsible.”
    “Yes, Chief.”
    The patrolman hurried away and returned almost instantly with the man in the smock, who took out a camera and began taking shot after shot of the body.
    Chief La Cross led Savannah and Dirk across the beach, back to where they had been standing beside the rocks. “So,” she said, “what do you have to tell me about this? What exactly did you see?”
    “We saw that woman run out of the woods toward the water,” Dirk told her. “We heard the shots and saw her fall.”
    “If you want more detail than that,” Savannah added, “we’d be glad to fill in all the blanks. But before we do that, you’ve got some evidence lying just around the corner and down the shore a piece.”
    “What evidence?” La Cross asked.
    “Some discarded high heels and a purse.”
    A look passed over the chief’s face that Savannah recognized. It was one she’d seen many times. It was an