Killer Gourmet by G.A. McKevett Page A

her a slightly confused look. “Party? What party?”
    Savannah shrugged. “Oh, nothing. I just thought that . . . Never mind. Glad you’re here.” Savannah glanced down at the still-distraught young woman, whom she had now identified as Francia Fortun, the sous-chef.
    Lowering her voice, Savannah whispered to the M.E., “It’s a messy one. Very high on the Yuck Factor Scale.”
    The doctor gave a flippant nod of her head, which caused her peacock feathers to quiver a bit. Her beautiful face registered no trace of concern as she glanced around the room, looking for the victim.
    Dr. Liu had seen it all. Her Yuck Factor Scale was set much higher than her fellow human beings, making her difficult to impress.
    But Savannah did notice a momentary look of surprise that registered in those dark eyes when Dr. Liu spotted the corpse near the stove. Was that even a trace of revulsion that she saw cross the doctor’s face?
    Wonders never ceased.
    But then, even hardened professionals like the county medical examiner seldom saw such a brutal homicide. Most killers were content with a bullet or two, or a few stabs to their victim’s most vital areas.
    This was definitely overkill in one of its most gruesome forms.
    The doctor gave Dirk, Ryan, and John only a cursory nod before she walked over to the body and squatted beside it.
    Savannah couldn’t help grinning . . . just a little. Dr. Liu was an excellent coroner, but she was all female. And Savannah knew that any woman who owned a pair of boots as expensive as those would never kneel in a pool of blood while wearing them.
    â€œSomebody did a thorough slice-and-dice on him,” Liu said, accepting a pair of surgical gloves from Dirk.
    â€œNo kidding,” Dirk replied. “Looks like his head went through one of these giant food processors.”
    Savannah heard Francia give a little groan and start to gag again.
    For the sake of the young woman and the crates of vegetables that had already been fouled, Savannah reached down and pulled her to her feet.
    â€œI think you’ve been in here about long enough,” Savannah told her. “Let’s get you to a more peaceful surrounding, and we can have a little talk just between us girls.”
    Savannah turned to the two workers and crooked her finger. “You fellas come along, too. Y’all are looking a bit peaked around the gills. Reckon you could use a change of scenery, too.”
    Â 
    Savannah led the three into the dining room, where she suggested that the men take a seat in one corner.
    As she led Francia to the opposite side of the room, she motioned for Tammy and Waycross.
    They hurried over, eager to participate in any way. She knew they were dying of curiosity about the whole horrible affair, but they were well-trained enough to keep a low profile unless invited in.
    â€œTammy,” Savannah said, “would you mind getting Francia here a glass of ice water? And Waycross, I think those two gentlemen over there in the corner could use a couple of cold beers to quiet their nerves.”
    She nodded toward where the waiters, the bartender, and a couple of busboys were huddled around the fireplace, whispering among themselves. “Get them something, too, if they need it. And tell them not to leave until Dirk questions them. Okay?”
    â€œSure,” Tammy said. “And how about you, Savannah? Can I get you something?”
    Savannah sighed, feeling a few years older than her octogenarian grandmother. What a day this had turned out to be. So much for a relaxing, culinary treat.
    â€œOh, I’m sure my nerves could use a cold beer, too. But I’ll pass and settle for ice water like Francia here.”
    â€œActually,” Francia interjected, “if they can have a beer, I want a glass of wine . . . if it’s all the same to you. A full-bodied, dry Cab. After what I’ve seen tonight, I think I deserve it.”
    Tammy gave Savannah a