Still Life and Death

by Tracy Gardner

  She raised her gaze to the top of the bookshelf, which had not a book out of place. On top was a lone, old hardcover lying on its side, rather than filed alphabetically like the others. She stood and squinted at the title: The Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care by Benjamin Spock.

  “Uncle Max,” she called over her shoulder, frowning at the book. The black and green of the spine was faded and quite weathered.

  “Yes?” He closed the laptop on Anthony’s desk and came over to her, following her gaze up to the book.

  She stood on tiptoe and stretched out her fingers, reaching for it. She was a few inches shy. “What is that doing here? Isn’t it kind of strange? Do you think it’s Libby and Anthony’s, from when Rachel was a baby?”

  Max plucked the book from the top of the bookcase. He handled it gingerly, turning it over in his hands, and then passing it to her. “It’s certainly old. I can’t imagine why they’d have a childcare book in the office.”

  Savanna carefully opened the cover and read the title page. “1946. But it hasn’t been here long. It isn’t dusty.” She thumbed through the pages, catching a lovely whiff of dated paper and ink—her favorite thing about old books. She gasped. “What was that?”

  Max peered over her shoulder.

  She slowly paged backward from the direction she’d been flipping through and stopped when she found the thing that had caused that split-second flash of color and startled her. “Oh, my.” Her words came out as a whisper. “Is this what I think it is?”

  Uncle Max turned and grabbed a ream of white tissue paper, spreading it out on the table near the door. “Go ahead, turn the book sideways. Let’s take a closer look.”

  She did as she was told, and a pale, dried flower slid out of the book onto the tissue paper. As Max bent to examine it, Savanna held the book over the paper and thumbed through one more time, but nothing else fell out.

  Uncle Max donned one of his white cotton gardening gloves and moved the flower slightly to one side. “Look at this. You’ve discovered how it was that Libby was able to grow an extinct Cry Violet. There are still four seeds left. I wonder how many tries it took before she got one to grow. Goodness gracious, I wonder how she came by this book.”

  “You think the flower has been in this book since the 1940s or ’50s?”

  “It only makes sense.”

  Savanna brushed her fingertips over the page the violet had been closed against all these years. She felt slight depressions and ridges. “You’re right. You can tell where it’s been pressed into the paper.”

  Max followed suit, nodding. “Those small areas must be where the pistol and stamens were lying on the page. Probably for decades.” He looked stunned. “The sheer complexity of this, getting the seed to germinate... I’m impressed.”

  “She was committed. It’s a shame she won’t see her plant win this weekend.”

  Uncle Max smiled. “I hope it wins all the awards. It certainly deserves it. Let’s put this right back the way Libby had it. Anthony and Rachel will be excited to learn about it.” He carefully set the flower back in its depression. As he closed it, he and Savanna jumped at the sound of the stairwell door slamming.

  Anthony stormed into the office, oblivious to the discovery they’d just made. Mumbling under his breath, he snatched his keys from the desk and hurried toward the door. “Sheriff’s got my daughter in for questioning. I’ve got to go. Max.” He stopped in his tracks and turned toward her uncle. “The sprayers are still on upstairs; I forgot them. I know you have plans, but could you take care of those? Then you can lock up early and leave. I don’t care.” He was gone.

  Savanna stared after him. “What—”

  “They brought Rachel in? How strange.” Max patted his pocket, double-checking for his keys. “Let me run up to the roof. Then we can go. My goodness.”

  Savanna stayed where she was in the office, unsure what to do. Sometimes she didn’t understand Nick Jordan at all. She bit her lip, staring straight ahead at nothing while she tried to imagine why he’d brought Rachel in. The label on a file cabinet drawer came into focus, and she frowned, moving closer. Each drawer of the tall metal cabinet was marked with the contents inside:

  Mortgage & Finance

  Employees & Contractors

  Insurance—Health, Dental, Life

  Legal

  She knew what Sydney had said in Detective Jordan’s office about the nitpicky behavior between Libby’s and Miss Priscilla’s: it hadn’t been about parking or lighted signs. So what was it about? An old grudge? Money? Some perceived slight?

  Savanna pulled open the drawer labeled Insurance. Quickly scanning the hanging file folders inside, she ignored the multiple files listing health insurance providers and dental plans. She sucked in her breath as she thumbed quickly toward the back and spotted a folder titled Policy update 2020. She plucked it out, closed the drawer, and opened the next one, suppressing her urge to peruse it right this second. In the drawer marked Legal, she grabbed one that caught her eye—a formal-looking notice on Carson’s law firm’s letterhead. She closed that drawer and repeated the process twice more, doing her best to grab anything that might be significant. She scanned whatever she could pertaining to complaints, insurance changes, property value changes, even one labeled Tuition.

  She shot a furtive glance over her shoulder. When Max came back into the shop from upstairs, she’d probably hear the bang of the door from the stairwell. She slid all the documents into one slim stack and shoved them into the top feeder on the copy machine next to the file cabinet, hitting the green start button. The large machine kicked on with an extraordinary amount of noise; she’d never hear Max now.

  Savanna couldn’t recall ever being this nervous. She darted over to the door, peering out into the shop, and then zipped back to the copier when it quieted, grabbed the originals, haphazardly stuffed them back into folders, knowing they were out of order, yanked the file cabinet drawers open, and put them each back.

  She froze with her copies in hand at the sound of the stairwell access door closing, and then the jingle of Uncle Max’s keys as he locked the deadbolt. Oh, snap! She shook open one of the brown Libby’s Blooms bags from under a shelving unit and threw the papers in, adding a handful of baby’s breath branches on top as he came through the office door.

  “I need a few of these for a project at school. Could I pay for them?” She sucked in air, struggling not to appear out of breath.

  “Those aren’t fresh. No worries, you may take as many as you need.” He was preoccupied with the closing routine.

  Savanna’s conscience was jabbing her in the ribs. Ugh. “Uncle Max.”

  He stopped and looked over at her. “Yes, love?”

  “I’m sorry.” She dumped the paper bag upside down on the counter. “I’m so sorry. I can’t lie to you. But I’m so close to figuring out who killed Libby. I think a few of these records could help Detective Jordan solve the case.”

  Max moved to her side and perused the papers. “I see.” He glanced at her. “You’re quick.”

  Savanna hugged him. “I’m sorry, Uncle Max. I promise next time I’ll just ask you if I need something.”

  He returned her hug. “My dear, I appreciate your honesty. I’d have been none the wiser this time—you didn’t have to confess. But I’m glad you did. I only have one question.”

  “Anything.”

  “Do you really believe the clue to who killed our Libby is in here?”

  She nodded vigorously. “I really do.”

  “All right. Then we’ve got to get them to the detective.” He scooped the papers up and deposited them in the bag, handing it to her.

  “Thank you. Can I help with anything?”

  “I believe we’re all set,” he said, waiting as she stepped out of the office and locking it behind her. She followed him through the darkened shop into the parking lot, Lad
y Bella on their heels. “Lucky for us, Anthony doesn’t mind closing up early now and then. This is the second time in a week.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Savanna opened the door to welcome Uncle Freddie and her parents, who were all arriving at the same time. The aroma of lasagna and garlic bread filled the house. Sydney and Uncle Max stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing vegetables and assembling the salad. Skylar had unfortunately called to say Travis and Nolan were both fighting a bad cold; their family was staying in for the evening.

  “Oh my gosh,” Charlotte exclaimed. “Look what you’ve done.” She clasped her hands at her chest and stood taking in the grouping of framed pictures Savanna had hung on the stairway landing wall facing the foyer.

  She’d gone through old photos in her parents’ basement and had had a few blown up. She’d painted the naked wood frames herself and had artfully arranged them over a four-foot-high hand-painted mural of a cherry blossom tree just like the one in the backyard of her childhood. The photos above the pale pink flowers on the tree were a mixed collection of Savanna and her sisters as kids and now: Skylar and Travis in a seaside cabana on their honeymoon; Nolan on the couch looking lovingly down at baby Hannah in his little arms; Sydney cutting the wide red ribbon at Fancy Tails & Treats’ grand opening; Charlotte and Harlan on their anniversary cruise in Alaska; Freddie, Max, and Ellie on move-in day at her campus; and Savanna with Caroline at her ninetieth birthday party, on her porch under the tiny globe lights.

  Her mother slid an arm around her waist and smiled, her eyes shiny. “I’m so proud of you. Show me what else you’ve done.”

  Savanna couldn’t help falling in love with her modest little home all over again as she conducted a tour through each room, pointing out the renovations. Freddie’s architectural expertise had proved invaluable when it came to changing the floor plan and figuring out structural issues. Harlan made sure to show Charlotte the security system he’d installed at each point of entry, stressing that their daughter had promised to be consistent in using the safeguards.

  They were in the family room at the back of the house when the doorbell rang, triggering Savanna’s organic alarm system. Fonzie sprinted to the front door, followed by Lady Bella, both barking all the way. Aidan stood on the front porch, holding a bottle of wine with a silver bow on it.

  “Hi!” Savanna ushered him in. “What are you doing here? Your clinic doesn’t close for another hour!”

  “Sanjay offered to cover for me. I didn’t want to miss this too. I’m s—”

  She cut him off. “No. Don’t do that. No more flowers and multiple apologies when you’re just doing what you committed to. I understand.”

  He shook his head. “I appreciate that, but this type of thing can become a problem. I don’t want you to doubt your importance to me.”

  She frowned up at him. Clearly, the flowers, the apologies, his current worried expression were about much more than last night. Had this been a sore point with his late wife? The conversation with Caroline floated through her thoughts. Aidan had obligations to meet. But when he was with her, he was present, invested, all in. It was enough. “Aidan. You’ve never given me any reason to doubt you. We are okay—we’re good. I know who you are.” I love who you are. I love you. The words were on the tip of her tongue, true, vital. But conversation from her family drifted to them from the other room.

  Aidan cradled her jaw, his fingertips at the back of her neck, and kissed her too briefly. He drew back. His lips parted; he was about to speak.

  “Let me ask Savanna—the corkscrew has to be somewhere.” Uncle Freddie came through from the kitchen just then, halting when he saw them. “Oh. Sorry, we were trying to get into the wine.”

  Aidan held up the bottle he’d brought. “Start with this. Good to see you, Freddie.”

  Savanna followed the two men into the kitchen; they immediately launched into conversation about an office plaza in New York that Aidan had learned Freddie was responsible for designing.

  Savanna had noticed right away that Sydney’s edges were a little less sharp tonight. “How are you feeling?” she asked. They were setting the table. “How did Stress Less Yoga go?”

  Sydney handed her the last two plates. “It was amazing. Skylar got as much out of it as I did. I signed up for the next few sessions.” She narrowed her eyes. “That wasn’t coincidence. Did you ask Kate to add that specific class just for me?”

  Savanna shook her head. “I just asked if there were any types of yoga that could help with extreme stress or loss. She took it from there. She’s been concerned about you too, Syd.”

  Sydney gave her a quick hug. “Thank you for looking out for me. I feel a little more like myself. I can’t really fix any of the stuff that’s happened.”

  “No,” Savanna agreed. “I’m glad it helped.” She wasn’t saying a single word to her sister about Libby’s daughter being brought in for questioning. No need to undo all the benefits of her yoga session.

  The evening passed much too quickly. Savanna said goodbye to Charlotte and Harlan on the deck, while Sydney toasted marshmallows over the firepit. Uncles Freddie and Max eventually stood to take their leave.

  Aidan shook Max’s hand. “Thanks again for your help this morning with the bouquet. And for your advice on my hostas. I was starting to think I’d have to dig them all up and start over.”

  “Anytime. And if you really want to share a cutting of your clematis vine, I’d love it. It sounds like yours has really taken off.”

  “I’ll give it to Freddie,” Aidan said, shaking Savanna’s other uncle’s hand now. “I’ll see you for our tee time Saturday morning.”

  “Eight sharp,” Freddie agreed.

  When Savanna hugged Uncle Max goodbye, he made her promise to let him know if she heard anything about why Jordan had brought Rachel in.

  Savanna thought of the copied documents still in the trunk of her car. She’d be up late tonight; she couldn’t wait to go through them. “I’m hoping to see the detective tomorrow. I’ll find out. Thank Anthony from me for letting you close early, if you think of it.”

  He nodded. “I will. I’m really not sure Anthony will keep the shop. He’s more irritable every day he’s there. And then who knows what it might become if he sells? I’ll be out of work.”

  “I doubt you’d be out of work very long.”

  “I’m not worried,” Uncle Max said.

  “That’s got to be a heartbreaking decision for Anthony Kent,” Savanna mused. “Keep the flower shop his wife loved, or let it go and move on.” In the back of Savanna’s mind was the nagging question of whether Anthony was waiting for something. For his life insurance payout? For someone to be arrested for his wife’s murder? For the assurance that it wouldn’t be him?

  Friday morning, Savanna delivered homemade chicken noodle soup and a new Star Wars Lego set to Skylar’s front porch. She’d been saving the Legos for Nolan’s birthday, but she felt bad that the poor little guy was sick. She set the package on Skylar’s porch bench outside the front door and then texted before pulling out of the driveway; she didn’t want to take a chance on waking anyone. Then she headed to Sydney’s salon with the rest of the unfinished pie from last night. She had so many goodies in her house it wasn’t even funny; they needed to be dispersed.

  Sydney handed her a cup of coffee. She flipped on the switches in the grooming area, opening the shop for the day. “I had such a good time last night. I love having our uncles here in Carson. And your house doesn’t even look like the same place you bought last year. Except for the deck—still my favorite spot.”

  “Thank you. I really love it; it feels like mine.” Savanna hung the oversized purse she’d brought today on the wall hook. It was full of documents she intended to hand over to Detective Jordan later today. “Do you need me to sweep or anything?”

  “Nope, did that last night. You could restock the treat case
if you want.”

  A flash of movement caught Savanna’s eye, and she looked up from the yellow tennis ball dog cookies she was organizing in time to see Dylan Blake strolling by the wide front window with two coffees. “Like clockwork,” she murmured. School started in a half hour, which always seemed to be the time of morning Dylan made his coffee run. She bent to resume her task behind the display counter but halted, tennis ball cookie in midair. Something was very wrong across the street at Libby’s Blooms. “Syd!”

  “Hold on,” her sister called from the grooming area.

  Savanna went to the front window to get a better look. “Sydney! Get out here!”

  “Hold your horses, woman,” Sydney said, carrying a large box and slowly moving toward the treat side of the salon with it. “No, that’s all right, don’t bother to help. I love carrying boxes full of heavy leashes and collars,”

  Savanna rushed over and took one side, helping her sister get it to the pet accessory wall. Once they’d set it down, she dragged Sydney to the window by her sleeve and pointed. “Look.”

  “Oh my gosh! The whole front window’s shattered!”

  Savanna and Sydney went outside in front of Fancy Tails and gawked at the flower shop.

  “Has no one even noticed this yet?” Sydney asked.

  “Did it just happen?” Savanna answered her question with a question.

  “Uncle Max isn’t there, is he?”

  “No. Look, it’s dark inside. He says Anthony has him start later than Libby used to. I don’t think anyone’s there. But—Miss Priscilla’s husband just walked by. Didn’t he notice it?” Savanna pulled out her phone to call the police.

  “Well, you’d think he should have!” Syd exclaimed.

  Across the street, Dylan Blake came through the front door of the dance studio and called over to them, waving his cell phone. “I’m on it, ladies. I just spoke to the police.”