Killer Physique (A Savannah Reid Mystery) by G. A. McKevett Read Free Book Online

the kitchen counter.
    “How’s about you and me go grab some coffee and donuts over at the Patty Cake Bakery?” Ah, she told herself. See there. I judged him too harshly. He can be a real sweetie pie when he’s a mind to be.
    And she was pretty proud of herself that she had fol owed Granny Reid’s advice and not gone to bed mad at her husband. Of course, she lost a few “Wife Points” since they hadn’t actual y been in bed more than a minute or two. But she stil felt pretty proud of herself. Maybe she’d be able to get the hang of this marriage thing, after al .
    Dirk looked down at his watch, smiled, and nodded. “Yep, this is the perfect time to drop by Patty’s. She’l be gettin’ ready to toss last night’s coffee and startin’ to box up the day-old donuts for the homeless shelter. With any luck we can score some of both. Won’t cost us a plug nickel.” He gave Savannah an extra squeeze and a kiss on the top of her head.
    Yes, there was nothing in the world that made Dirk Coulter happier than free food. And when her husband was happy, Savannah was happy, and al was right with the world.
    More or less.
    “I hope Dr. Liu rules this death an accident,” she said, as he opened the car door for her.
    “Hope al you want,” he replied dryly. “You and me both know it wasn’t no accident. It’s got ‘hinky’ written al over it.” As Savannah got into the Buick and Dirk closed the door, she wondered: What could be worse than accidental y kil ing yourself for pure old vanity?
    She closed her eyes and, for the sake of her dear friends and al of Jason’s adoring fans, wished with al her might that this situation was as bad as it was going to get.
    Because, sad as an accidental death might be, it was a heck of a lot better than murder.
    Anything was.
    When Dirk drove the Buick up to the front of their house, Savannah saw a hot pink, vintage Volkswagen Beetle parked in the driveway, next to a pre-restored 1969 Dodge Charger.
    “Gee, Tammy’s here, and so is Waycross. I’m positively shocked.”
    Dirk chuckled. “Every time we leave home, your baby brother makes up some flimsy excuse to park his butt over here.”
    “Oh, I don’t think he needs an excuse, flimsy or otherwise. I reckon before we even clear the driveway, she’s on the phone, inviting him over.”
    “And how does Big Sister Savannah feel about having Baby Brother Waycross cavorting with the help?” Savannah smiled. “Two of my favorite people in the world finding happiness together—that’s like a double-dark fudge brownie with a big ol’
    scoop of Granny’s homemade vanil a ice cream on top. What’s not to love about it?” As they got out of the Buick and walked past the Charger, Savannah noticed a new coat of gray primer on the front right fender.
    “Hey, look at that. He got the front end al straightened out,” she said.
    “You know, when he first bought this old pile of junk, I thought he was nuts,” Dirk replied. “But it’s comin’ along.”
    “Never underestimate Waycross. He’s always been a hard worker—an ambitious kid. He’l turn that ‘old pile of junk,’ as you cal it, into a General Lee before you know it.”
    “Rebel flag and al ?”
    She laughed. “Honk the horn and it’l play ‘Dixie.’ You can take the boy out of Georgia, but—”
    “But his neck’s stil gonna be red?”
    “Something like that.”
    When they reached the front door, Savannah took her time and made quite a lot of noise as she unlocked it and stepped inside. Dirk fol owed, just as noisily.
    But even with al of their precautions, it was a red-faced, breathless, and embarrassed couple they found snuggling on the sofa.
    Giggling and trying to smooth her beautiful, long blonde hair back into place, Savannah’s assistant, Tammy Hart, looked like a kid who had gotten nailed with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar.
    Though one look at her younger brother’s half-opened shirt told Savannah that it probably wasn’t a cookie jar