“Come with me,” Savanna said to Sydney, and crossed the street to where Dylan stood outside the door to the dance studio. “Good. We were just about to. Are they sending someone?”
He nodded. “I don’t know who I talked to, but she said an officer would be right over. None of us has an alarm system, apparently. Maybe it’s time I thought of getting one.”
Savanna got closer to Libby’s Blooms, looking out for glass. Most of it had fallen inside the shop. The enormous picture window was basically gone, large pieces hanging in shards from the edges. A hole at least six or eight feet in diameter went through into the store. Several floral and plant displays in the front window had been knocked over. Dirt and pottery and displaced greenery lay all over the tile floor.
“I wonder if it was a break-in or vandalism. We’re lucky they didn’t get us too.” Dylan looked at the front of the dance studio. The lights inside were on, and as they talked, Miss Priscilla appeared, pulling a rolling cart full of trophies behind her. She left it and came outside.
She nodded at Savanna and Sydney. “Girls.”
“Hi, Miss Priscilla,” they said together, then looked at each other, embarrassed.
She stood near her husband and frowned at the destruction. “Huh. Well, that’s a mess. I thought you were exaggerating,” she said to Dylan. “What happened?” She turned her intense stare on the Shepherd sisters.
If Savanna didn’t know better, she’d swear she was ten and in trouble for talking in ballet class. She gazed wide-eyed at the older woman. “We don’t know.”
A black-and-white police cruiser pulled up at the curb, hitting the siren once, and the man Savanna remembered was Officer Whitney got out. He walked from one side of the shattered storefront to the other, assessing the situation. “No one’s hurt? Can someone tell me what happened?” He pulled a small notepad and pen from his shirt pocket.
“I was walking back from getting coffee,” Dylan said, pointing down the street toward the coffee shop, “and found it like this.”
“Did you see anyone? On foot or in a car?”
“No. And I’m sure it wasn’t like this when I left. I’d have noticed. It must’ve just happened.”
“Mrs. Blake, you were here working in the dance school when it happened? Did you hear anything?”
Priscilla Blake shook her head. “I didn’t. Though I am a little hard of hearing.” Other shop owners were emerging from doorways up and down Main Street, peering toward the officer and the small group in front of Libby’s.
“We didn’t hear or see anything, either,” Sydney offered. “Which is strange, since we have a clear view over here from my window. I see pretty much everything if I happen to be looking. We somehow missed what happened, but my sister spotted the broken window.”
“Officer,” Savanna said, “can you tell by looking what happened? It looks like something got thrown through the window, right?”
Whitney nodded. “That’s what I’d say. But I’ll need to get inside and check it out.” He put his notepad away and pulled his radio from his shoulder and spoke into it, calling an evidence tech to the scene. “Mr. and Mrs. Blake, Ms. Shepherd—both of you,” he said, addressing the group around him on the sidewalk. “Can you think of anyone who’d do this? It seems pretty antagonistic, right after the florist was killed.”
Detective Jordan came around the corner on foot from the police station and joined the group. No one had an answer to Whitney’s question. Jordan addressed the sisters. “Kent and your uncle aren’t at work already, right? Any damage to your place?” he asked the Blakes, who shook their heads.
Officer Whitney cleared his throat. “I, uh, I haven’t cleared the flower shop yet. I was about to.”
“Wait for Evidence. Callie’s working today,” Jordan said.
At that moment, the lights all came on inside the shop. Seconds later, Anthony Kent stood looking through his broken window at the gathering group on the sidewalk. Kate had come out now, as well as the tenant Savanna had run into on the second floor, and the deli owner across Main Street. A quick glance to her left told Savanna that Marcus Valentine was at home. His red convertible was parked at the curb. Had he not heard the commotion? Or maybe he had, and was staying out of the way?
Jordan motioned to Anthony. “Mr. Kent, I need you to come out here. Now.”
Anthony looked shocked when he came through the front door. “Who did this? Why would someone throw a rock through my window?”
“You found a rock? Just now?” Sydney asked. “That’s what happened?”
Detective Jordan looked at her sharply, then back at Libby’s husband. “Where? Show me.”
“What? Oh no, no.” Anthony shook his head, running a hand through his thinning hair. “I just meant that’s what it looks like. Right? I didn’t see any rock. I don’t know what could’ve happened.” He narrowed his eyes as he looked past Sydney to the mess of glass.
Sydney slipped her hand through Savanna’s arm, leaning close to whisper into her ear. “That was weird. Why would he assume that?”
“We’re pretty sure no one had shown up yet to open the shop,” Savanna told the detective. “Max says his starting time is later now since Libby’s gone.”
“We may have questions once we go through the debris,” Jordan said, looking from the Blakes to Kent to Savanna and Sydney. “If any of you remember anything, let me know.”
Dylan and Priscilla Blake headed back inside the dance studio.
“The seeds,” Savanna said, looking at Detective Jordan.
“What seeds?” Anthony Kent asked, looking confused.
“Uncle Max and I found the seeds to Libby’s extinct plant—the Cry Violet. Maybe this is crazy, but I wonder if someone was trying to steal them. I’d think there’d be some money in growing extinct plants.”
“Really?” Jordan looked at her, his tone intrigued. “You found seeds? So there are more left? This may not be a straight vandalism job. Whitney, come with me.” He put a hand on the door and looked back at Savanna. “Where were the seeds?”
“The office. In the big book on top of the bookshelf.” To Anthony, she said, “We found them by accident. Max placed them back exactly where we’d found them. We thought you and Rachel would want them.”
“Go back to your shop,” Jordan told Sydney and Savanna, his voice stern. “Mr. Kent, Kate, people. Please move away. We don’t even know yet that the perpetrator is gone and not inside.” He and Whitney went into the flower shop, each with a hand on his holstered gun.
Savanna and her sister retreated back across the street but stayed outside, watching. “What do you think happened?” Sydney asked.
“I don’t know. My first thought was the seeds, but that seems unlikely. Maybe someone just targeted the shop because no one was there yet? Is there money in there?”
Sydney frowned, thinking. “There’s a safe, yes. Libby deposited the earnings in the bank twice a week, so in between, there’s always money in the safe.”
“But why would someone break in in broad daylight?” Maybe Savanna was off base. “What if it was a warning or something? To convince Anthony Kent to sell?”
“I don’t know,” Sydney said. “Uncle Max seems pretty sure Anthony’s already planning to sell. The vandalism isn’t really necessary.”
“Right.” Savanna peered through the grooming salon window at the wall clock. “Oh my gosh, I have to run! First bell rings in three minutes!” She darted inside and grabbed her purse.
“I’ll text you if anything happens,” Sydney called, as Savanna pulled away from the curb.
Savanna’s relaxing, productive morning of soup and Lego and pie delivery had turned into a mad rush into Carson Elementary. She ran from the faculty lot into the building, abruptly slowing to a fast walk once inside. Her first class began at nine, and it was 9:02. She arrived breathless and frazzled.
T
ricia Williams sat at Savanna’s desk at the head of her classroom, arms crossed, the children all unusually quiet. “There she is!” Tricia held an arm out to Savanna. “We were just wondering if you’d be here today, Ms. Shepherd.”
“Of course,” Savanna said. “Thank you so much for waiting, Mrs. Williams.” She flashed the fakest smile in the history of fake smiles at the teacher and addressed her class. “Who’s ready to finish their monster today?”
Tricia left, and the students visibly relaxed. For Pete’s sake. Tricia Williams must’ve stressed them all out, sitting here telling them Ms. Shepherd was playing hooky from work or something equally wild. Everyone ran a minute or two late once in a while.
Savanna questioned her own logic an hour later when she was summoned to Mr. Clay’s office. Karen had hand-delivered the little pink note at the beginning of her prep hour. “He says now would be fine, unless Monday is better for you,” the receptionist told her, and turned to go.
“Karen! Wait. Is this because I was late? I’ve never been late before. It was my first time in two years.”
The woman gave her a sympathetic shrug. “I don’t know.”
The hallway to the office seemed extra-long as Savanna headed down to talk to her principal. She tried to prepare a defense in her head, but it was impossible. She was either being called to the principal’s office because she’d been two minutes late, or because Karen or one of the teachers had told Mr. Clay she’d gotten a huge bouquet yesterday from a parent. Could she simply say the bouquet was a nice gesture of friendship? Or possibly a thank you for being a great teacher? Probably not. Aidan’s card had been incriminating, and someone had opened the envelope and read it.
Mr. Clay waved her in. She’d liked him since the first time they’d met, right here. She’d been back in her hometown less than a week, hadn’t considered the possibility of teaching since sophomore year of college, and had been so nervous she’d felt nauseated. That feeling came back to her instantly now; her stomach was doing backflips.
Now, just as he had two years ago, Mr. Clay tried to put her at ease. “Savanna, thank you for coming to see me. I’ve got to say, it’s hard to believe you’re only in your second year of teaching. The students and parents are very happy with you and your class.”
“Thank you. That’s so nice to hear.”
“I do have a small concern, however.” Mr. Clay folded his hands in front of him on the sturdy old wooden desk. “This is a little awkward.”
“It’s all right, Mr. Clay. I think I know.” He was so nice. She couldn’t help trying to make his job a little easier. “I promise I won’t let anything like that happen again. It was completely unprofessional.”
He frowned. “I’m... Well, I appreciate that, but it isn’t something you can control. I’ve addressed it with the other party on my end.”
Savanna sat up straighter and sucked in her breath. Her eyes were huge. “You—you have? Already?”
“Oh, yes. This isn’t the place for that kind of thing. I know no harm was meant, but I think there’s a much clearer understanding now of the boundaries.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice sounding small to her own ears. “I’m so sorry.”
“No need to be. I don’t expect it’ll happen again.”
“No, absolutely not,” Savanna said. “I’m curious, since I tried so hard to be discreet and get the bouquet out to my car without anyone seeing it. Was it Karen who mentioned it to you? Or possibly Tricia Williams?”
Mr. Clay sat back in his chair, looking confused. “I’m not sure we’re discussing the same thing.”
“Um...”
“I’m talking about our friend Rosa Taylor and her mishandling information she was given in private. She has a good understanding now of police business and detective work and inappropriate sharing of information. She’d passed on some minor details of Libby Kent’s murder investigation to a good handful of the staff here, including you, as I understand it, and that caused some issues for her husband, George. I believe he’s in his third year as Nick Jordan’s partner. The whole ordeal was probably a good wake-up call for both of them.”
“Oh.” Wow. She hadn’t seen that coming. At least she didn’t need to feel guilty for getting Rosa or George in trouble. It sounded as if they both were much too lax with confidentiality. Savanna must not have been the only one to notice.
“I wanted to talk to you to make sure you know not to share anything you may have heard, through Rosa or someone she spoke to.”
She quickly shook her head. “Of course—please don’t worry. I’m glad it sounds like it’s all taken care of. So,” she said, starting to stand. “All set then?”
“Almost,” Mr. Clay said. She stayed seated. “I believe you were referring to your flower delivery from Dr. Gallager yesterday, yes?”
Oh, snap. She’d given herself away. “Yes.” Well, she’d already said her apologies when they’d been miscommunicating; she hoped Mr. Clay would take that into consideration.
“Receiving flowers from a significant other here at school isn’t a problem, Savanna. I saw your bouquet. It was beautiful.”
She could actually breathe again. “Yes, it was, thank you. Mr. Clay, since we’re talking, can I ask, am I breaking any district rules? Am I allowed to date the single parent of a student?”
“In general, yes. It’s only a problem if staff or parents begin to feel the child of that parent is receiving special treatment.”
“I’d never do that. We’ve been dating almost a year, and I don’t think most folks here even noticed. I think our approach was working fine until yesterday, and that was a big mix-up at the florist. I swear nothing like that will happen again.”
“I’m not worried,” he said.
Savanna felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She hadn’t even realized she’d been harboring anxiety over whether her relationship with Aidan would cause problems at school. Tricia had planted those seeds at the movie theater two weeks ago, and they’d been growing ever since. She’d wasted too much negative energy over nothing.
Before her prep hour ended, she texted Detective Jordan. She hated to bother him with everything he was probably dealing with this morning, but she needed to show him what she’d found. She asked him if she could stop by after school today and show him something. He replied seconds later.
Can’t, sorry. I’m in court after 2:00.
Okay, she texted back. It’s important. Should I leave it with George?
No. I’ll come to you. What time’s your lunch break?
12:30.
See you then.
Chapter Seventeen
Savanna met Nick Jordan outside on her lunch break, on one of the picnic tables along the school’s walking path. The tables were only ever used for field day and occasional outdoor activities.
She took the stack of copies from her purse and set them in front of Jordan, keeping one hand on them. “I have to tell you what I found out about Libby’s. But I have a couple of questions first. Is everything all right with Rachel? Can you tell me why she was brought in for questioning yesterday? Is she a suspect?”
The detective fished around in his pockets, first the ones on the sides and then the inside breast pockets. He produced a handful of Jolly Ranchers and set them on the table between them, unwrapping one. “I got sick of the mints. Rachel is fine. She was in and out in an hour. We told her to go ahead to that flower thing in Grand Rapids. I get that it was important to her mother.”
“But then why did you bring her in?”
“I wanted insight into Marcus Valentine. We’re ruling Rachel out as a suspect. Her alibi is iffy, but I don’t feel she had access to the type of weapon used. She wasn’t very forthcoming about Valentine, unfortunately.”
“So, he is a suspect then? Are you going to bring him in for questioning too?”
�
�No. We’re not bringing him in until we’ve got enough to hold him. That’s in the works now.”
That sounded serious. “You think Marcus Valentine might’ve done it? For what, the money Rachel will be getting? Have you talked to him yet? Do you know if he has an alibi or motive?” Savanna rested her forearms on the picnic table, leaning a little closer as they talked, even though there wasn’t a soul around.
Jordan gave her his best poker face, quiet for a moment. “I met him. I found a reason to catch him on his way into the building, and we talked for a few minutes.”
“Really?” She raised her eyebrows. “What did you think? I’m right, right? He’s kind of charming.”
“I don’t know about all that. Rachel is his alibi, which is problematic. The odd thing was, when I mentioned Anthony and his relationship with Rachel, he made it sound like everything was peachy. Like they’re all on great terms. But Rachel admitted her dad isn’t crazy about her boyfriend. I had Taylor do some digging, and we found out why a prestigious dance school alum would want to move to Small Town, U.S.A. for what’s likely a modest income and a tiny studio apartment.”
Savanna was afraid to say a word. She usually had to work to pull information from Detective Jordan. The fact that he was sharing must mean he’d settled on the dance instructor as his primary suspect. She waited for him to fill in the blanks—why had Valentine settled in Carson?
“Anyway.” He opened another candy and eyed her Wonder Woman lunchbox. “Shouldn’t you eat your lunch?”
“Oh!” She’d forgotten about it. She unpacked it, opening a Tupperware container with carrots and ranch dip and another with grapes, and then picked up her turkey sandwich. “Thanks. You were saying? About why he came here?”
“It’s just background information. Might speak to motive. But you said you had something for me?” He put a hand on the stack of papers she’d set on the table.
Shoot. It’d been too much to hope he’d reveal Marcus Valentine’s secret past to her. So frustrating! She knew when not to push. “So, remember my uncle works at Libby’s and sometimes handles stuff like inventory, ordering, getting contractors for repairs, paying the lease. A lot of different aspects of the business.” She’d rehearsed her wording; she had to make it sound as if she’d been given access to the information, and not that she’d snuck around the office and discovered it. Her conscience had been immediately lighter after confessing to Max, but she didn’t want to get him in trouble with Anthony Kent. She continued. “We were in the office last night, and I made some copies from the flower shop records and found a few really strange things.”
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