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PRAISE FOR G.A. MCKEVETT AND THE SAVANNAH REID MYSTERIES!
CORPSE SUZETTE
“Savannah’s as feisty as ever.”
—Kirkus Reviews
MURDER À LA MODE
“Added to a well-plotted mystery, the very funny depiction of a different side of reality television makes Murder à la Mode a delight.”
—Mystery Scene
CEREAL KILLER
“Food lore, a good puzzle, an exciting climax and cats with their therapeutic purring all add to the fun.”
—Publishers Weekly
DEATH BY CHOCOLATE
“Death by Chocolate is G.A. McKevett at her very best.”
—Midwest Book Review
PEACHES AND SCREAMS
“A luscious heroine, humor, and down-home characters.”
—Library Journal
SOUR GRAPES
“A delicious addition to the series…this cozy is as crisp and sparkling as Villa Rosa’s best white zinfandel.”
—Publishers Weekly
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
Poisoned Tarts
A Body to Die For
Wicked Craving
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
G.A. MCKEVETT
A BODY TO DIE FOR
A SAVANNAH REID MYSTERY
KENSINGTON BOOKS
www.kensingtonbooks.com
For Lillyan Rose,
The newest flower in our garden.
May you grow and blossom all your days
In sunlight and love.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank Leslie Connell for her friendship and support, year after year. Leslie, the Moonlight Magnolia team couldn’t function without you!
I also want to thank all the fans who write to me, sharing their thoughts and offering endless encouragement. Your stories touch my heart, and I enjoy your letters more than you know. I can be reached at: http://www. sonjamassie.com.
Contents
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 1
“You call this place a ‘health’ club? It looks like a medieval torture chamber. What’s so bloomin’ healthy about it?” Savannah Reid said as she and her friend, Tammy Hart, stepped out of the women’s locker room and into Savannah’s idea of “fitness hell.”
She shuddered as she looked around the controversial, militaristic gym with its prison-gray walls, bare cement floor, and jungle of sinister-looking workout equipment. Overhead florescent lights sputtered, while a frenetic noise that might have been called “music” boomed around them. The nerve-jarring racket was interspersed with an abrasive, brassy, female voice, screaming at those who were working out to “Go! Go! Go, you tub-o! Move! Move! Move that lard! Work that lazy ass! Don’t you dare stop!”
The only thing that might even remotely be considered “décor” was an eight-foot-tall poster on one wall, a picture of a woman with flowing blond hair, wearing thigh-high boots and a camouflage-print latex bodysuit. Savannah could only classify her as a cross between a Marine drill sergeant and a dominatrix.
Savannah elbowed Tammy and nodded toward the sweat-drenched men and women, slaving away at the gleaming steel devices. “They actually pay money to do this…to listen to her mouth, to get insulted and demeaned like that?”
“They pay big money. Pain doesn’t come cheap in Clarissa’s House of Pain and Gain.”
They walked to the far end of the room, which was slightly less crowded, and found a couple of machines that were side by side and unoccupied.
Tammy removed her camouflage-print sweat suit—the club uniform—revealing a T-shirt, shorts, and a svelte, trim body that even Clarissa Jardin would have to declare “nearly perfect.”
She sat on the seat of one of the machines, placed her arms between some cushioned pads, and began to expertly push them together in front of her chest, then release them back to her sides.
Savannah lowered herself onto the machine next to Tammy’s and began to do the same.
As Savannah worked muscles that she’d forgotten she had, she glanced down at her own khaki and olive drab sweat suit that she had donned for this undercover gig and began to question her commitment to the assignment.
No doubt, the founder of this fine establishment—and all of its sister franchises across the nation—would not consider her robust figure “perfect.” In fact, although Savannah was quite happy with her own body and its curves, she was pretty sure that Clarissa Jardin would consider her a “tub-o.” And if you listened to Clarissa’s shtick on the talk show circuit, being not-so-svelte put you at the bottom of the human barrel, along with serial killers, puppy drowners, and cupcake eaters.
About a year ago, the fitness diva had moved from Los Angeles to Savannah’s hometown, the quaint, Southern California village of San Carmelita. A small, seaside community, its citizenry consisted of wealthy celebs escaping the smog and congestion of the City of Angels; weekend tourists, who were also seeking fresh air and relaxation; and common folks like Savannah and Dirk who made their livings catering to the celebs and tourists.
San Carmelita had buzzed with gossip when Clarissa had moved there. Savannah’s opinion had been: Big whoopty-do. Just what we needed…another loudmouthed luminary with an attitude.
“I’m hating this already,”