Cereal Killer by McKevett G. A

Author:McKevett, G. A. [McKevett, G. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter

13

Sitting on the passenger side of Dirk’s old Buick, watching him lick the chocolate off his fingers, she wondered exactly what it was that she considered “charming” about him.

“Don’t you have some napkins or at least paper towels in that heap back there?” she said, nodding toward the landfill in his back seat and floorboard.

“What? And waste a bite of this heavenly stuff?” He closed his eyes in ecstasy as he polished off the last bit, and for a moment she thought he might actually lick the Tupperware clean. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Van,” he said, “you may have your limitations, but no matter what anybody says, you’re a damned good cook.”

“Gee, thanks... I guess.”

Savannah looked out the dirty window at an even dirtier neighborhood—if, indeed, this end of town could even be called a neighborhood. The object of their surveillance, Mr. Ronald Tumblety, lived in a rusty blue van parked behind an abandoned auto repair shop in San Carmelita’s “industrial” area.

Though on this particular block of Potter Street, it appeared there hadn’t been any bona fide industry in the past decade or more. Even the graffiti on the cement block walls was outdated, including some faded references to the Vietnam war and Watergate.

When Savannah and Dirk had arrived two hours ago, it hadn’t taken long for them to realize that Tumblety wasn’t living in the auto shop—the address he had given to the Department of Motor Vehicles. And a quick once-over of the property told them that his official domicile was the van with two flat tires and a broken windshield that was parked in the rear.

Apparently “Tom Peeping” didn’t pay much, and neither did stalking.

“How long are we going to wait for this guy?” she asked, getting more depressed by the moment.

Dirk set the empty container on the dash, sighed, and rubbed his belly contentedly. “Why? You in a rush to get back to your sister?”

Savannah glanced at her watch. “It’s after midnight. She’s probably composed herself by now.”

“I can’t believe she’d take some Internet romance that seriously.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised what Marietta, Queen of Drama, takes seriously. Especially when it comes to men.” Dirk snorted. “Not me, man. I stay a million miles away from broads like her. They’re way more trouble than they’re worth.”

“Got a lot of Marietta types after you, do you, Stud Muffin?”

“Naw. I see ’em comin’ and I head the other way.” Savannah pulled the collar of her jacket up around her neck and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s chilly in here.”

“Ah, stop your complaining. Since when did you turn into a pansy on a stakeout?”

“Since I stopped getting paid for it.”

“So... bill that Leah Freed gal for your time here tonight. You’re working on the case, after all.”

“That’s true, but she thought our killer was going to be somebody in the modeling business, not some civilian nutjob.”

“Who cares who it is, as long as you catch him, right?”

“I guess. I—” Savannah caught a glimpse of movement in the Buick’s side mirror.

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