Cooked Goose by G. A. McKevett

Author:G. A. McKevett [McKevett, G. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781617735790
Google: rKlEAgAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00H279AMS
Barnesnoble: B00H279AMS
Goodreads: 196188
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 1998-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

9:42 A.M.

When Margie opened her hotel-room door and saw Savannah standing there, she nearly “cut a rug” as Savannah’s Granny Reid described the little dance done by extremely happy people.

“Savannah! Hi!” She threw the door open wide and practically pulled Savannah inside. “I thought it was my dumb dad. Come on in.”

“You should have looked through the peephole first, and then you would have known who it was,” Savannah told her. “And you oughta stop calling him your dumb dad.”

“Why? He is.”

“Because it confuses me . . . makes me think you’ve got a smart one around somewhere.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Savannah sat on the edge of the bed that was littered with deflated potato chip bags, an empty pizza box, makeup and lots of new clothes that looked like they had been purchased at the gift shop downstairs. Yeah, Harvey Bloss was going to have a four-figure bill to pay. And it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving guy.

“The point is,” Savannah continued, “he’s still your father, and where I come from, you don’t talk that way about your elders . . . no matter what their I.Q. . . . or lack thereof.”

Margie plopped down on the other side of the bed and put on a sourpuss. “I thought you came by to see me, maybe to hang out. But I guess you’re here to lecture me about respecting my parents.”

Savannah grinned. It was always fun to make somebody’s day. “No,” she said. “I came by to spring you outta this joint. The parole board granted you a pardon.”

Margie jumped up from the bed, scattering bottles of blue and black nail polish. “No kidding?”

“I kid you not, kiddo. Get your stuff packed.”

“All right!” Then she looked suspicious. “Where am I going? Not back to my house.”

“Nope. Back to my house.”

“He’s going to let me stay with you? He actually agreed to that?”

“He did, indeed. Said he thought you’d feel safer at my place. See there, the old far- . . . fella . . . does something right once in awhile.”

“Fantastic! I asked him if I could . . . well . . . actually, I threw a fit . . . but he said no way, because he really, really hates you, no offense.”

“None taken.”

“I can’t believe he said yes. This is just too cool!”

“Seems your father put your feelings and desires ahead of his own this time.” Savannah nearly gagged on the words. It really grumped her butt to say anything nice about that s.o.b., but she sensed his daughter needed to have some positive thoughts toward the man who had sired her.

Margie started throwing her new clothes and makeup into shopping bags. “He’s not letting me do this because he’s a nice guy,” she said, tossing in some teen magazines. “It’s just that he was afraid that if he made me stay here another night by myself, I’d run away to Hollywood, become a hooker/drug addict on Sunset Boulevard.”

“Now, where would he get an idea like that?” Savannah mused, stretching out on the bed.

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