Books by G.A. McKevett
Just Desserts
Bitter Sweets
Killer Calories
Cooked Goose
Sugar and Spite
Sour Grapes
Peaches and Screams
Death By Chocolate
Cereal Killer
Murder à la Mode
Corpse Suzette
Fat Free and Fatal
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
FAT FREE AND Fatal
A SAVANNAH REID MYSTERY
G.A. McKevett
KENSINGTON BOOKS
For the baby named Eve,
Our angel with heaven’s starlight in her eyes.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank Jennifer Hald and Leslie Connell, Moonlight Magnolia detectives extraordinaire!
Also, I want to thank all the fans who write to me, sharing their thoughts and offering endless encouragement. I enjoy your letters more than you know. I can be reached at:
sonjamassie.com
or
gamckevett.net
Chapter 1
The tiny, southern California town of San Carmelita had its picturesque areas where Hollywood celebrities browsed for antiques, shopped quaint boutiques, and sunned themselves on pristine beaches. But Saul’s pawnshop wasn’t in any of those areas. Saulie’s was on the other side of town, the part of town that the city council frequently discussed at meetings, trying to figure out new, cheap ways to spruce up the neighborhood. Or at least keep tourists out of it, so they wouldn’t get themselves mugged or perforated by a stray bullet.
Nestled snugly between a tattoo parlor and a porn store, Saul’s shabby little hockshop had been trading valuables of questionable ownership for instant cash for over fifty years. But Saul himself was neither shabby nor questionable. He was a character, and he also had character…which made him one of Savannah Reid’s favorite people.
As she and her friend, Detective Sergeant Dirk Coulter, left Dirk’s old Buick and walked up the sidewalk toward Saul’s shop, she stepped off the walk to allow a teenage boy and his pit bull to pass, giving the dog and his master plenty of room.
Wearing full gang attire and a surly, wanna-piece-of-me? scowl on his face, the gangbanger looked threatening enough without his wide-jawed, excessively toothsome companion. And while the streetwise Savannah had kids like him for lunch on a bologna sandwich spread with plenty of mustard and a dab of mayo, she made it a point to avoid pit bulls whenever possible.
Dirk nudged her with his elbow. “Afraid of a little puppy dog?” he said.
“Puppy dog, my hind end,” she replied, her Southern drawl thick, despite all her years on the West Coast. “Remember when we saw a ‘pup’ like that one take a chunk out of a patrolman’s thigh a few blocks from here? All because the cop jumped over a fence and into the wrong yard, chasing a perp?”
Dirk shuddered. “Gross. Like I’m gonna forget that one. We saw some pretty nasty stuff when we worked graveyard back then.”
Savannah felt her own little chill. During the years she and Dirk had served together on the San Carmelita police force, they had seen some pretty nasty stuff in the noonday sun, too. Heart-wrenching, soul-scarring images that kept you awake at night. Unless you read a lot of trashy novels right before bedtime and ate a lot of chocolate—Savannah’s remedies for just about any of life’s unpleasantries.
Dirk was still a cop—still collecting nightmare material.
Savannah had moved on to greener pastures and become a private detective. Well, sometimes the grass was greener…when she actually had a paying client or two. Then there were the other times, like this one, when she had absolutely nothing to do except tag along with Dirk.
As they passed one seedy establishment after another, she wondered if there wasn’t a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon than hanging out on the bad side of the tracks with a guy who had been gruff in his twenties and grumpy in his thirties. And now that he and she were solidly in their forties, he had worked his way up to a five-star curmudgeon.
Dirk let go with a deep, chest-rattling cough, which he tried his best to suppress. She knew why. And it wasn’t going to work.
“That’s the third chest cold you’ve had this spring,” she said. “Not to mention the four sinus infections and all the sore throats.”
He growled under his breath. “So, don’t mention it. Don’t you start nagging me, woman. I won’t stand for it.”
“Since when? I’ve nagged you to quit smoking since the day we met. Pointing out all of your faults keeps me from having to focus on my own. So, why stop now?”
“Because I’m gonna fly into a blind rage if you don’t. I’ve had enough of your—” More gagging and coughing took his breath away, along with the rest of his argument.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You and your blind rages,” she said. “I live in fear.”
When they reached Saul’s front door, Dirk opened it and stood aside for her to enter. Savannah liked that. Right after a cigarette, he might smell like a Las Vegas casino, but Dirk was still an old-fashioned gentleman.
Dark and dank, the tiny pawnshop needed a good airing. The only bright spots in the glum establishment were the glass-front counters that held treasures ranging from estate jewelry and fake estate jewelry to dented French horns and antique typewriters.
A small gnome of a man appeared at the tinkling of the silver bells that hung above the door. He was wiping his hands on a dirty cloth as he came out of the back room, a hopeful look on his wizened face. But at the