But the conversation was anything but cozy. Deciding the best way to nail a crooked cop, especially a lieutenant, was somber business. Jake McMurtry had joined them tonight. His misery was palpable, his position being more tenable than anyone else’s at the table… except for Dirk, who was equally out of sorts. He had received word an hour before that the DA was preceding with the charges against him, in spite of the new developments in the case. As usual, Savannah had provided the munchables and potables for the occasion: Beck’s Dark beer for Dirk, Earl Grey tea for John Gibson, sparkling mineral water for Tammy, a glass of Chardonnay for Ryan, a Coke for Jake, and a cup of strong coffee laced with cream for her. More hot-from-the-oven Valentine cookies were piled on a plate in the center of the table, along with a platter of Brie and English wheat crackers. No one died of starvation on Savannah’s watch. “As if that weren’t enough,” Savannah said, after she and Dirk had told them everything they had witnessed earlier that evening during the interrogation, “wait until you hear the other little tidbit of info we have for you.”
