Buried In Buttercream by G. A. McKevett Page B

hell.
    â€œThis bites,” Dirk said as they walked up the sidewalk and under the arbor.
    â€œYeah. Really.” Savannah could feel her jaw tightening, her spine stiffening. “We’ve gotta close this case ... for so many reasons.”
    â€œOh, yeah.”
    They knocked on the door and heard a small dog yipping ferociously inside.
    â€œWatch out,” Dirk said. “A barking rat.”
    â€œYeah. Might rip out your Achilles tendon, if you’re not careful.”
    Eventually, the door opened and a grandmother straight out of central casting appeared. Every wave of her silver hair was in place. She wore a simple house dress with pastel pink and lavender flowers. And Savannah was surprised to see that at least one woman in the world, other than Granny Reid, still wore a snowy white apron when cooking.
    She even had a small smudge of flour on her chin.
    At her feet, a small, fluffy white dog of questionable heritage scampered, still barking with impressive volume and endless enthusiasm. Savannah couldn’t help thinking that she could quickly get tired of such an animal. It made her glad she had non-barking cats.
    â€œYes?” the woman said with a smile, wiping her hands on her apron. “May I help you?”
    A little girl with big brown eyes and glittery butterfly barrettes holding back her long, chestnut hair peeked around her grandmother’s skirt. She was holding a large chocolate chip cookie in her hand. Some of the chocolate was smeared around her mouth.
    The scent of the cookies wafted through the door, smelling like heaven itself.
    â€œAre you Mrs. Geraldine Aberson?” Savannah asked.
    â€œYes, I’m Gerri Aberson,” she replied as she scooped the dog up and tucked it under her left arm. “Shhh, Snowflake. That’s enough.” It stopped barking immediately and began to lick her cheek.
    Dirk pulled his badge from his pocket and showed it to the woman. “I’m Detective Sergeant Dirk Coulter. This is Savannah Reid. We need to talk to you.” He glanced down at the child. “Is there anyone else here, other than the two of you?”
    The woman looked confused, concerned. “Yes, my husband is here.”
    â€œAnyone else?”
    â€œNo, just the two of us and our granddaughter here, Elizabeth. Why?”
    Dirk glanced down at his shoes, then at the girl. “Are you friendly with either of your neighbors?” he asked.
    â€œUh, yes. All of them. Why?” the grandmother wanted to know.
    â€œAre any of them home now?”
    She nodded and pointed to the house on the right. “Leslie’s always at home this time of day.”
    â€œCould you send Elizabeth over there for a little while?”
    â€œYes, I suppose so.” She bent down, eye level with the girl. “Lizzie, could you go to Mrs. Connell’s house and knock on her door and ask her if you can stay with her for a few minutes?”
    â€œCan I have more cookies when I get back?” the girl asked.
    â€œSure you can. And a glass of milk, too. Scoot along now.”
    Dirk and Savannah waited until the child had left the yard before Savannah said, “Could we please come inside? We really need to talk to you about something very important.”
    â€œOf course. Please come in.” Geraldine took a few steps back into the house and beckoned to them.
    They followed her inside to find that the home was as quaint and grandmotherly as the lady who lived there. With its Victorian-style furniture, assorted antique accessories, classic art in gilded frames, and stained glass windows, Savannah imagined that this would be the way Granny Reid would furnish her home ... if only she could afford to.
    â€œYou should call your husband in here, too,” Dirk told her.
    â€œOh. Okay. Just a moment, please.” She set the dog on a hand-hooked rug and walked halfway down a hall. “Reuben!” she called out. “Reuben, come here! We’ve got