Pane and Suffering (18 page)

Chapter 21

 

S
avannah stretched her long legs and her heels struck the spindles at the bottom of her single Jenny Lind bed. For a moment she believed all was right with the world. Mostly right.

Then she remembered.

She threw off the covers and struggled to sit at the side of the bed knowing that hardly anything was right. A cool nose pressed the soft skin of her knee followed by a lick and whimper.

“Good morning, Rooney. Yes, yes, I'm getting up.” She gave him a huge snuggle and he tried to hop up into the bed. “Rooney! No, Rooney! You'll break it.”

He managed anyway and Savannah giggled uncontrollably at the sight of a dog almost as big as her bed wriggling like a little puppy.

Taking his head in her two hands, she said, “You've forgiven me for not being my dad? Have you? I hope so because I've fallen in love with you.”

She sped through her morning routine and was just about ready to leave for work when she saw the Dan Brown first edition. She grabbed the soft, well-worn dish towel still on the dining room table, wrapped it around the book, and placed it carefully in the large compartment of her backpack.

She drove to the shop and was soon unlocking Webb's Glass Shop preparing for the fifth day of class. She pushed the ON button and the cash register started its boot-up routine then flashed, blinked, and the screen turned blue. Panic tightened her shoulders and stabbed into the back of her neck. She leaned out the front door, but there was no Edward in sight. “Okay, Crabby. It's just us.”

Pushing the switch to the OFF position, she counted out, “One alligator, two alligators” all the way to fifteen just to make sure that all the bad electrons had scurried away to cause havoc elsewhere. She pushed the switch to the ON position and gentle whirring noises announced the beginning of a normal boot-up process.

The door jangled as Edward walked in with a tray of coffee and scones just in time to catch Savannah giving herself a high fist pump.

“Edward, the cash register had a blue screen meltdown, but I challenged it to a dual by using the big OFF switch.”

“Let me see. Most times it's just lazy.”

He peered at the screen. “Nothing wrong here. It looks happy. Good job.”

“Can I begin to hope this will continue to be your gift to world peace?”

His brow crinkled. “World peace.”

“The world should be continuously protected against an uncaffeinated woman who has ready access to powerful glass-breaking tools.”

“I am suitably cautioned and now very cautious.” He put the tray on the counter.

“Why do you come in so early? The pub doesn't open until eleven thirty.”

Edward handed her a huge white cup. “Here, have a cappuccino. It's when I get my paperwork done. You know, the vendors, orders, and deliveries routine. Also, we installed a monster of a refurbished espresso machine that makes everything you never heard of. I'm trying them out on you before I serve paying customers.”

She took a tentative sip. “Oh, wow! This one is gorgeous. It is so rich and smooth. Why the monster machine?”

He pulled over one of the stools and perched on it. “It's another way to generate an income stream out of the pub.”

“Why? Are you worried?”

“Like most of the small businesses around here, I'm struggling. Not failing by any shot during the high season, but I'm trying to stabilize our cash flow.”

“Is this something I should worry about, I mean, does this mean you can't pay back the loan?”

“I'm not willing to let any opportunity escape. I've got everything wrapped up in the pub. It won't fail for lack of effort”—he tilted his head a bit—“but it's something you should check out. Who did your dad use for financial information? It's on his statements, right?”

“Dad's longtime financial advisor is Kevin Burkart, who he trusted implicitly. He double-checked the financials independently, but I found a current spreadsheet with more financial information on my father's computer desktop. I've only been through the last few months' paperwork and financials. I have no idea how the shop does seasonally or even over the course of a year. Since I'm not that great with numbers, I'll have to depend on Burkart to calculate whatever monthly trends show up in the data.”

“Hmmmm. Sounds very businesslike. I thought you were only interested in selling out as quickly as possible.”

“Well, that's something a prospective owner would need to know, anyway. I've begun to think a bit differently.”

Edward stood up. “You mean you might stay?”

“Might. Yes, it's possible, I might stay.”

The door jangled, followed by, “Good morning, lovebirds.” Amanda shouldered the door out of her way and bustled toward the classroom.

Savannah felt a flush creep across her cheeks. She lowered her eyes
. It's too soon to think about anyone else so soon after breaking up with Ken—way too soon.

“Not quite, Amanda.” Edward looked quickly to Savannah.

Amanda looked at the door to the custom workshop. “Hey, what's that?”

Edward and Savannah turned to look. On the door was a wrinkled sheet of copy paper taped to the door with four strips of tape, one hastily placed in each corner.

Savannah's heart slammed into the wall of her chest. Written in red dry erase marker was

Amanda shrieked, “He's been back. He's been in here. Ughhh!” She wiped down her arms and shook out her hands. “This is an intrusion of monster proportions.”

Edward pulled out his cell phone and took a picture of the note. “This looks very much like the same writing as the first one you received. This means we're getting close.”

“So why don't I feel so good about that?” Savannah asked. “I'll have to call this one in to the police, as well. I had hoped to have some results by now, but I don't.”

“You have to call it in. You know it's the right thing to do,” Edward said as Amanda also nodded.

“Yes, I know, but I don't have to be happy about it. I'm so not happy about it.” She huffed in disgust. “On a high note—good news. I solved the cipher last night.”

“Oh, that's fabulous. What did it say?” asked Amanda.

“And that's also the bad news. It's confusing. The message reads, ‘On the edge of splendor.' It doesn't make any sense to me at all.” She looked at each of them in turn. “Either of you? No? Okay, I'll show it to Jacob. Maybe he will know.”

Edward ducked his head and gently took the drained coffee cup from Savannah's hand. He looked into her eyes and grinned like the chimney sweep in
Mary Poppins
. Placing his index finger beside his nose, he said, “Not quite.” He left.

Savannah shrugged and followed Amanda into the classroom where she positioned and repositioned her bags and boxes around her worktable.

“Amanda, what a funny thing to say. We're not lovebirds. What was the idea?”

“Oh, I just wanted to make a little joke. Edward has been a little weird lately and he needed to get shaken up.”

“He looked like he thought it was funny.”

“A little imbalance is good for everyone.”

“We've had enough imbalance lately, and it's not the good kind. Besides, he makes wonderful coffee and I don't want anything to interfere with that. Aren't you early?”

“Oh, yes. I was thinking that you probably need to give me some training on the cash register so that you could see to Rooney at lunch.”

“Goodness, what a terrific idea. Thanks. Let's do that before the rest of the class shows up.”

As she turned, something on the bulletin board caught her eye. “Hey, Amanda, look at this poster for a stained glass conference held in New Orleans. The dates were last week.”

“Sure. That's been up there for a couple months. Why?”

“Did you notice who was teaching one of the workshops last Sunday?”

Amanda peered closer at the speaker advertisements on the poster, “Oh my goodness. One of the speakers was Frank Lattimer of Lattimer's Glass Shop. If Frank was in New Orleans, he can't be the killer.”

“Afraid so, but we need to confirm that.”

“It would be super easy for me to call the conference organizers and ask about Frank.”

“Yes, but it just so happens that I know an attendee.” She pulled out her cell phone and punched one of the recent numbers. “Ivy? This is Savannah.”

“Hey, girlfriend. What's up?” Her roommate was perky, as always.

“Weren't you at the New Orleans conference last week?”

“Yeah, it was fantastic. I learned a lot at the lectures, but even better I now have a passion for chicory coffee with beignets. Why?”

“Did you attend a lecture with a Frank Lattimer on Sunday?”

“Uh, yep. It was lame. He didn't bring anything new to the conference and I walked out after about ten minutes. I wasn't the only one. It was a mass exodus. That had to be embarrassing for him. Everything else was stellar. Too bad.”

Savannah groaned. If his lecture was that bad, it explained why he didn't want Savannah to know where he was last week. He probably thought she would be more reluctant to sell to him if she found out that he was currently being criticized within the glass conference circuit. “Thanks. I needed to know. I'll call you later on.” She ended the call.

Amanda looked as depressed as Savannah felt. Frank wasn't the killer.

 

 

Savannah was trying to teach Amanda how to properly start the cash register, but they kept losing focus to talk about the investigation.

Amanda looked up from her tablet. “Has Smythe come by to see you again? He's been stirring things up around here pretty badly. Sully, one of the antique dealers at the end of the block, chased him out by waving a poker at him until he drove away.”

“That's hilarious.” Savannah stooped down and began tidying the papers underneath the counter.

“Sully doesn't hear very well and basically thought that Smythe was casting a curse on his store. Now Sully is trying to hire the owner of the occult bookstore to cast a spell to get rid of the effects of the evil red wand. It was quite a ruckus.”

“Back to the alarm system. I don't expect you to lock up, but in case it goes off for no reason, you just punch in
W E B B
on the keypad and press the RESET button.”

“Cool. That's easy. That Smythe is truly an obnoxious man. I can't believe his company has any notion how rude and vile he treats his prospective sales opportunities.”

“Well, maybe when your job is to buy up people's lives, you need to be obnoxious in order to convince them that they need to sell and that it's the best thing for them.”

Amanda put her hands on her ample hips. “I don't trust that man farther than I could throw him, but he has a horrible job to do.”

“That's a creative way to look at it,” Savannah said. “What I don't yet know is how far he would go to sign up the owners after Dad refused to cooperate. I think it's time to really dig in to his past and alibi. He's our only lead now.”

Amanda rubbed her hands together. “Oh, yeah.”

The door jangled to ring in the students of the class.

Chapter 22

 

R
ooney wriggled a warm welcome to Savannah's lunch visit. On their walk, he sniffed his favorite trees, and while a distracted Savannah was checking e-mails on her phone he was able to roll in the rotting remains of a squirrel.

Unable to seriously scold him for her inattention, she took him around the back of the house. He stood shaking but willing while she wet him down, applied shampoo, and scrubbed him with a brush to put a dent in the stink.
Short hair is a good thing
. Finally, after repeating the ordeal twice, she hosed him off, let him have a really good shake, and then a final roll on a large beach towel she tossed around him.

When they stepped back into the bungalow, the house phone was ringing. Savannah picked up. “Hello.”

“Miss Savannah Webb?” a deep male voice spoke.

“Yes.” She drew in a breath ready to interrupt the rehearsed script of a political campaign or charity plea.

“This is Detective David Parker of the St. Petersburg Police Department. We spoke on Tuesday.”

“Yes, sir. I remember.”

“Good. I have the results of the autopsy performed on Mr. John Webb. I regret to inform you that the examination indicates that your father was poisoned. The cause of death was not a heart attack.”

Savannah plopped down in one of the kitchen chairs. “Can you say that again?”

“Yes, Miss Webb. It appears that your father died of a toxic substance. The poison used mimicked the symptoms of a heart attack and his death was mistaken for that. It's the same poison that caused the death of Hugh Trevor. We are investigating both cases as suspicious deaths.”

Savannah drew a deep breath.
I was right and now they believe it
.

“Miss Webb? Hello? Do you understand?”

Savannah swallowed and concentrated on sounding calm. “Yes, Detective Parker. I understand.”

“Are you all right? Do you feel faint?”

“No, no. I am stunned, actually. Although it's what I have been expecting, it's much more unsettling to hear it officially.”

“That's understandable, Miss Webb. I understand that you called in a death threat left to you by your father.”

“Not a threat. It was a warning.” She switched the phone to her other ear. “I'm wondering why no one came over to collect it.”

“That's all changed now. Please let the forensic team have the message and if you can, please don't touch it.”

“What was the poison?”

“Sorry, I can't tell you that just now. The lab is still narrowing down the components. It wasn't a typical toxin.”

“What happens next?”

“I've been assigned as the officer in charge and I'll be keeping you informed about the progress of our investigation into the death of your father. I'm arranging for a detailed search of his home. I expect that to occur within the hour. The glass shop has already been searched by forensic specialists.”

“Yes, I've already met the specialists. They were very considerate, but focused on their task. I'll stay here until they arrive and make sure they have whatever they need. Then I'll need to get back to work.”

“Excellent. That will be helpful.”

“I'll also have my neighbor, Mrs. Webberly, standing by in case you need more information about the neighborhood and my dad.”

“Is she next door?”

“Across the street. She'll be over to take care of the dog.”

“I'll advise the team. If you have a minute, I also have a few questions. I understand your permanent address is in Seattle.”

“Yes, I'm working as a glass artist for one of the glass blowing studios.”

“Good. It would be a great help if you could send me documentation on your whereabouts over the last two weeks.”

“My whereabouts?”

“Yes, I'll be thoroughly questioning everyone who knew Mr. Webb and Mr. Trevor.”

“Oh, certainly. Of course. How do you want this information?”

“You can e-mail the specifics to Officer Boulli in care of the homicide department. I'll be in touch shortly. I understand you have received his card—at least one.”

“Several. In fact, he's quite a problem as far as I am concerned. I have no confidence that he will be able to handle even the smallest of details associated with this case. I don't want anything to do with him at all.” Savannah hung up the phone and walked back to the living room. She knelt on the floor and gave Rooney a smothering hug. “Rooney, buddy. They're taking me seriously, now. I hope they solve this quickly, but I have to admit that it's chilling now that it's happening.”

She made a pass through the house, straightening up the bathroom and kitchen as if she were expecting company. She rummaged through her backpack and pulled out the manila folder she'd used to organize her travel documents. Yep, her boarding pass was still there. That's good evidence. Pulling out her billfold, she extracted the last gas station slip from her neighborhood in Seattle to prove that she was there when her dad died.

A little less than thirty minutes passed, and a City of St. Petersburg Forensics van pulled up and parked on the street in front of her house.

Rooney exploded in angry barking. Savannah ordered him to sit and stay. She was very pleased when he meekly obeyed.

Two tall men in white coveralls carrying large black toolboxes were standing on her doorstep. Their youthful faces were calm and serious. They took one look at Rooney and both stepped back several yards down her sidewalk.

After they looked at each other, the one with the mustache stepped forward half a step. “Good afternoon, ma'am. I'm Forensic Specialist Richard Kyle and this is Forensic Assistant Jimmy Marshall. We're here to conduct a search of Mr. John Webb's property. I believe Detective Parker advised you that we would arrive this afternoon.”

“Yes, he called earlier. I'm John Webb's daughter, Savannah.” She opened the screen door, but they stood there looking at Rooney. They didn't move.

“Could you secure your dog? We can't come in until he is either out of the house or caged. Insurance issues, you understand.”

“No problem. I've got a traveling cage. Hold on just a second and I'll put him in it.” She led Rooney to the spare bedroom and tucked him up in the cage. She grabbed one of the T-shirts that lay on her dad's bedroom floor and filled a small dish of water. Putting them both in the cage, she returned to the calmly waiting specialists.

“He's in his cage now. You can come in.” Savannah let them in and gave them a short tour of her dad's bedroom and the third bedroom that he used as his home office.

They opened their toolboxes in her dad's bedroom and one of them began taking flash photographs of the entire room. After a few minutes, it was obvious they had settled in for a meticulous examination of her house.

Savannah felt a growing pressure to get back to the glass shop. Amanda knew about stained glass, but she might take it upon herself to begin teaching the class, and she was just not ready for all of that just yet.

Besides, Savannah couldn't really see that she could be any help here, and it was probably going to be a slow-moving drawn-out process. She grabbed the car keys out of the ceramic bowl, then went across the street to see Mrs. Webberly.

“Oh my goodness, Savannah. This is unbelievable. I never thought that this would be happening to anyone I know. What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing difficult really. Just keep an eye on things. Rooney's in his traveling cage, so he's fine.”

“Right, but he'll need to be let out shortly.”

“Even as a puppy, Rooney is good for at least two hours. If they're still searching at that time, come on over and tell them that you're taking Rooney for a walk. Make sure Rooney is calm and comfortable. Make sure you clip on his leash.” She turned to go but turned back. “Oh, also go ahead and answer any questions they might have about Dad. They might also have a few questions about the neighborhood. Or anyone who knew Hugh. Really, they should interview you.”

“Shouldn't I ask you first?”

“No, I trust your judgment and I want to be as cooperative as possible. Whatever information they want, I don't want any delays in getting it.”

“That's wise, dear.”

“See if you can figure out if they find anything important. If they do take anything away, go ahead and sign for it if that's what they want you to do. Then make sure the house is locked up after they leave.”

“Certainly, my dear. I hope this isn't too upsetting.”

“It is definitely upsetting, but we need answers. Call me when they leave.” Savannah turned, walked back across the street, and started up the van.