A Body To Die For. G. A. McKevett

      “Yeah, the one they sell to benefit cops going through divorces because they availed themselves of the free services of sex workers while on the job.”

      “What?” Tammy’s eyes widened. “They have a charity fund for that?”

      “Of course not. Well, not that I know of. But once you say, ‘Miss July,’ their brains will lock up and freeze, so it doesn’t matter what you say after that.”

      “Okay.”

      Savannah chuckled as Tammy strolled away, looking particularly fetching in her snug red T-shirt, denim shorts, and espadrilles, her long golden hair shining in the early morning light. No, Tammy wouldn’t have any problem getting around this scene or any other scene where the population was predominately male.

      As Savannah walked over to the Buick to join Dirk, she heard a familiar sound in the distance—helicopter blades, beating the air, in a distinctive staccato rhythm, rapidly approaching.

      “Sounds like our ‘eye in the sky’ has arrived,” she said as she opened the passenger’s door and slid into the car beside him.

      “Yes, and please, please, God, let them find him,” Dirk said.

      “Wouldn’t that be good?” Savannah said. “Then you wouldn’t have to go over the edge on a rope and get all nervous and barf and embarrass yourself in front of everybody? Wouldn’t that be peachy keen?”

      Dirk responded with a “drop dead” look.

      She took a bite of her maple bar, chewed it, savored it, swallowed, and said, “Too bad nothing good like that ever happens to you.”

      “Screw you.”

      She laughed.

      He slid lower in his seat, and once again, draped his arms across the steering wheel and leaned his head on them.

      “Want half of my other maple bar?” she asked, reaching out to snatch him from the gaping jaws of depression.

      He was instantly alert, but indignant. “Other? Other maple bar? She got you two? How come she got you two maple bars? She only got me one lousy fritter.”

      “’Cause she likes me best.” She tore the pastry in two and held the half out to him. “Do you want it or not?”

      Before he could reach for it, his cell phone rang. It was a ringtone she didn’t recognize, a standard, generic buzz. Very unlike Dirk, who had assigned some kind of a song, usually rock-and-roll, to everyone he knew.

      “Coulter,” he barked. “Who’s this?” He dropped his gruffness instantly and became Sunshine and Light. “Oh, right. Hi! How are you today?”

      A beloved family member, maybe? Savannah mused. No, Dirk didn’t have family, beloved or not.

      His smile broadened. He was practically dancing in his jeans. “Wow! Fantastic!”

      Perhaps someone saying he’d won some lottery money…or better yet, a free trip to a buffet?

      “Oh, man, that’s great! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

      Holy cow! Savannah thought. He hadn’t been this happy when she’d given him that Harley-Davidson T-shirt eighteen years ago. And she was pretty sure he’d insist on being buried in that ratty shirt.

      “Okay. Again, thank you so-o-o much. I owe you one, man. I do. I won’t forget this!”

      He punched the “off” button, turned and gave her a big, nanny-nanny-boo-boo-smirk. “So! Good things don’t happen to me, huh? Isn’t that what you just said? I could have sworn that was just what you said. I heard you say—”

      “Oh, shut up and tell me. What is it? You won a lifetime subscription to the Victoria’s Secret catalog?”

      “Better than that. Way better than that.”

      It must be good, she thought. Dirk’s nuts about Victoria’s girlies.

      “Spit it out,” she said. “Now.”

      He rolled down the Buick’s window, stuck his arm out, and waved wildly to the helicopter as it flew slowly by.

      She noticed that the chopper wasn’t a law enforcement copter, as she had expected. It had the call letters of a Los Angeles television station emblazoned on its side. It was a news helicopter.

      “It was them,” he told her. “The guys in that chopper. They found him! They spotted the body about a quarter mile from here. They said it’s in the middle of the river, caught on a log. We might even be able to see it from the road if we go down there!”

      “Hey, that is good news! You don’t have to send out search teams, just a couple of firemen and a CSU investigator or two with a gurney to hoist him up and out of there. Job done.”

      “And most important,” he said with a deep sigh, “I don’t have to go over the cliff myself and lead a search team, now that we know where he’s at. I don’t really have to even look over that damned cliff again if I don’t want to. Well, at least not here at Deadman’s Curve.”

      “It’s your lucky day, buddy,” she said, slapping him on the shoulder. “You dodged a high caliber bullet on that one, big-time.”

      “I know it.” He wiped his hand across his brow. “Believe me, I know it.”

      “What’s next?”

      “Are you kidding? I’m gonna send a team over that cliff, and then I’m outta here. I’m gonna go buy a lotto ticket, while I’m on a roll!”