Buried In Buttercream by G. A. McKevett Page A

fatality ... here in the hotel. Right here in the bridal suite, as a matter of fact.”
    â€œWe heard that somebody collapsed in a pool or something like that,” Ryan replied.
    â€œIt’s a little worse than that,” Savannah told them. “And I hate to have to tell you ... it was Madeline.”
    Both men gasped. “No!” Ryan said.
    â€œAre you certain?” John asked when he’d regained some of his composure.
    â€œAbsolutely sure.” Savannah replied. “I discovered her myself. I tried to revive her, but she was gone. I’m really sorry.”
    â€œThat’s terrible.” Ryan wiped a hand over his face. “What happened? Did she fall? Hit her head?”
    â€œShe couldn’t have just drowned,” John added. “She was a very good swimmer.”
    When Savannah hesitated, Dirk supplied the answer. “She had wounds on her back,” he said gently. “We think it’s a homicide.”
    â€œWounds? What kind of wounds?” Ryan wanted to know.
    â€œDr. Liu isn’t certain, but she thinks they might be puncture wounds.”
    John’s face went dark as he registered the news. “Are you telling us that Madeline was stabbed?”
    â€œWe’re afraid so,” Savannah said. “We’ll know more once the autopsy’s finished. Dr. Liu said she’s getting right on it.”
    Dirk laid a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Man, I’m so sorry. This is tough, I know.”
    Ryan nodded, looking dazed. “It is. I mean, Madeline had her flaws. She was far from a perfect person in many ways, but we’ve known her a long time. It’s so hard to believe she’s gone. And that way ...” He shuddered.
    â€œWe need to inform the next of kin,” Dirk said. “Who would that be? Her husband?”
    Ryan shot a quick look at John. “Uh ... that might be a bit complicated.”
    â€œWhy?” Savannah wanted to know.
    John cleared his throat. “As it happens, she and her husband are going through a divorce right now. A rather nasty one.”
    â€œOh, really?” Savannah could feel her antenna rising out from under the big hairdo that Marietta had given her that morning. “How nasty?”
    â€œVery,” Ryan said, “especially the custody aspect. They have a daughter who’s ten years old. It’s getting, well, ugly.”
    Savannah glanced at her watch. “Where would her daughter be this time of the afternoon?”
    â€œTo my knowledge, Madeline doesn’t have any family of her own. I think her mother-in-law watches the little girl when Madeline’s working,” Ryan said.
    â€œThat poor child.” John shook his head sadly. “This is going to be dreadful for her. She loves her mother so.”
    Ryan nodded. “Most people didn’t like Madeline. Quite a few even hated her. But say what you will about her ... she seemed to be a devoted mother.”
    In deference to her friends’ grief, Savannah didn’t ask who hated Madeline Aberson or why. Not yet.
    But sooner or later, she’d have to make it her business. Because one of those people on that long list apparently hated her enough to kill her.
    Â 
    Savannah was expecting something a bit more posh than the simple modular home on its tiny lot in a not-so-great part of town. Madeline had dressed so expensively and driven a large, luxury car. Somehow, Savannah had thought her in-laws would be more well-to-do than this.
    The property was well tended, with a charming cottage garden in the front, surrounded by a white picket fence. There was even a cedar arbor over the front gate, bearing a cascade of pink, climbing roses.
    A small, purple bicycle leaned against a tree that had a swing hanging from one of its largest limbs.
    Savannah’s heart ached at the thought of making this notification. All notifications were tough, but when there were children involved, it was pure