Read Online Just Desserts by G. A. McKevett - Free Book Online Page A

had Savannah found a stopped watch on a victim, damaged at the moment of the attack. This “blessing” had thrown the entire case into confusion. Mickey Mouse’s white-gloved hands had indicated that the murder had happened nine hours before the coroner’s estimation. Savannah had spent two weeks trudging through the mire of contradictory information only to find out that the victim had worn the watch only for sentimental reasons. Mickey hadn’t worked for years.
    Moving on to the snakeskin wallet, Savannah examined its contents. They were depressingly predictable. Gold cards, driver’s license, several business cards bearing telephone numbers that had been written in various feminine styles.
    Savannah scribbled down each name and number, noting that none of them appeared to be male. Interesting. Any man with nearly a dozen women’s cards in his wallet would inevitably have some problems in his marriage, which might explain Beverly’s somewhat cool acceptance of his death.
    “When you get finished there take a look at this,” Jennifer said, still peering through the microscope.
    “Interesting?” Savannah asked, her curiosity aroused by the barely subdued enthusiasm in Jennifer’s voice.
    Jennifer grinned, stood, and vacated her stool, making room for Savannah. “Oh... I think you’ll think so.”
    Climbing onto the stool, Savannah studied the strange specimen that lay on the slide. It appeared to be a soggy, blood-soaked mass of something that had, perhaps, once been pink. “What is it? Or should I ask, ‘What was it?’”
    “A piece of paper. I found it in the right pocket of his slacks.”
    “Right leg?” Savannah asked, wincing as she remembered the mangled thigh.
    “Yeah, that’s why there’s so much damage to the document, but if you look closely, you can see what it was.”
    Document? It seemed a strange choice of words for her to make. Probably another list of women’s phone numbers, maybe rated with stars, she thought as she leaned over the scope and tried to look through it.
    She wasn’t big on microscopes. In fact, she had maintained a major grudge against them since ninth-grade biology class, when Mr. Reeves had insisted that they look with both eyes, cocking their heads to one side. She had never gotten the hang of it and had, therefore, received a D in the class.
    But Mr. Reeves had kicked the proverbial bucket years ago and was peacefully interred in a Georgia cemetery... God rest his dear soul. So, with a delicious surge of defiance, she closed her left eye tightly and stared down the scope with her right.
    At first she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. It appeared to be an even intermeshing of fibers, with black splotches. Then she reminded herself that the substance was being magnified many times over.
    The dark spots were letters.
    Slowly, as she stared, they began to form into some semblance of order. “R...” she said. “Is that an R?”
    “Good girl,” Jennifer said, sounding a bit like Mr. Reeves had on one of his better days.
    “And an E...S... TR...A... restaurant? Is that it? No, wait a minute ...” The rest came into focus clearly. She lifted her head and stared at Jennifer, who looked both pleased and intrigued. “It’s a restraining order,” she said.
    “That’s right. I’ve been able to figure out enough of the rest to know that it was granted to him, not against him.”
    “A man getting a restraining order?” Savannah shook her head thoughtfully. “I don’t mean to sound sexist, but most restraining orders are issued to women to keep men away from them. And they’re usually only granted if the plaintiff believes her life is in danger.” She looked through the scope again. “Can you tell who it was issued against?”
    “Sorry. The shotgun blast obliterated that small piece of information when it took off most of his leg.”
    “I wonder,” Savannah said, contemplating this new bit of information that just might help her wind up this case quickly.