“Ken, my dad is dead. Why do you not understand that?”
“Yes, I know, but—”
“Listen carefully. I won’t be back in time for the exhibit. Do you understand?”
“I can’t believe you would abandon the exhibit. It’s taken me over a year to get enough pieces for an individual show.”
“It’s not an individual show. We were supposed to be co-exhibitors.”
“Okay, but—”
“Ken, at this point, I don’t care about the exhibit. Get a new partner.” She punched the END CALL button on her cell, momentarily nostalgic for the satisfying feeling of slamming down an old fashioned handset.
It took me way too long.
As she passed the oak glass door bookcase handed down through her mother’s family, she saw the family Bible on the top shelf. One more chore I’ve been putting off. She pulled it down, wiped a thin coat of dust off with her hands, placed it carefully on the dining table, and then opened the beautiful volume. Great-grandmother Adams signed the first pages using pale blue fountain pen ink. The year recorded was 1866. The Bible had been a rare and cherished wedding gift.
The last time she held the book was when her dad had entered the date of her mother’s death. It was now her turn to enter the date of her father’s death. She tilted her head from the left to the right several times to reduce the tightness in her shoulders. Then she got up and searched for the nicest pen stuffed in the coffee cup by the phone in the kitchen.
Carefully, she added the date of her dad’s death and wondered who would be around to update it for her when she died. A chill crawled up her spine. Stop that. Morbid thoughts are not helping.
Looking over to the table that held the phone, she saw the red light blinking on the old-fashioned answering machine, the type that had a cassette tape inside. She punched the PLAY button and Edward’s voice announced, “Hi, Savannah. I’m calling to see if you’re doing okay after today’s—well, you know what. Give me a call if you need to talk. I’m told I have a great shoulder to cry on.”
Savannah pressed her lips together in a slight smile. “That was really sweet. Don’t you think so, Rooney?” She looked down into the confused amber eyes. He tilted his head and looked up expecting an explanation.
It’s too soon after breaking up with Ken.
“I don’t think I’ll call just yet.” She reached down with both hands to waggle Rooney’s head, but he cowered down into the recliner trying to disappear. “I know, I know. I’m not Dad, but right now, I’m all you’ve got. Time to eat?”
He scrambled off the recliner into the kitchen, toenails clicking on the wood floors.
She fed Rooney in the kitchen and made herself a peanut butter and blackberry jam sandwich on sourdough bread. She poured a glass of milk, wrapped the sliced sandwich with a paper towel, added a snack bag of chips, and put them on a small tray. On her way to the living room, she looked at her dad’s fancy recliner. He’d bought it last year for his aching back. Glass artists were prone to back problems. She looked around. What on earth was she going to do with this big house and all the furniture? She put the tray on the coffee table and settled in her usual place on the comfy sofa. As she was about to take a bite of the sandwich, the doorbell rang.
Rooney galloped in from the kitchen, barked once, and sat by the front door.
Savannah put the sandwich down and peeked out the security peephole. It was Mrs. Webberly from across the street holding a large dish wrapped in aluminum foil. She was a tall, loose-jointed yoga instructor who had been looking out for Savannah since her mother died.
Lately, she looked in on Rooney several times a day. Savannah exhaled quickly and relaxed her shoulders in preparation for the nosy grilling that was certainly coming her way.
That’s mean. Mrs. Webberly was like family. She’s the old maid aunt I never had.
She pasted a friendly smile on her face and opened the door.
“Hey there, Savannah. I’ve brought you a nice casserole so you don’t have to cook.” Mrs. Webberly stepped into the living room and spotted the tray. “Oh, another sandwich. I know you’ve never been much of a cook, but it’s nice to have a hot meal after a stressful day. I’ll just pop this in the oven for a few minutes.”
“Please don’t trouble yourself, Mrs. Webberly. I’m just fine with my sandwich. I don’t feel like eating anything heavy. I had a shock today and I’m not over it yet.”
“Oh, sweetie, it’s no trouble at all. I understand completely.” She talked over her shoulder as she went into the kitchen. “I’ll just put this in the fridge for you so you can heat it up later tonight or even better, tomorrow.”
“That’s very kind, but I really don’t need—”
“I find that most of my casseroles are so much better the next day.” She found room in the refrigerator, returned to the living room, and plopped herself into the comfortable recliner with the satisfied look of a zealous parishioner who had satisfied a moral obligation.
Savannah’s mouth opened to protest and then she snapped it shut. Her dad really wouldn’t have minded and the sad truth was that he wasn’t coming back to use it.
“What was your shock today? Hugh was there to help with the class, right?”
“You haven’t heard?”
Mrs. Webberly sat straight up in the recliner, “Heard what?”
“We found Hugh in the custom workshop. The police think he died of a heart attack.”
Mrs. Webberly went pale as she cupped both hands over her mouth. “Oh my goodness. That’s both of them gone.”
“Are there any relations that I should contact?”
“Well, the last I heard, his only cousin died last year. He did have a financial manager, though. I have his name and phone number.” She stood and stumbled forward a step. Savannah hopped up to catch her by the arm, but Mrs. Webberly had already regained her balance. “Goodness, how clumsy. I’m sorry but this is a horrible shock. Hugh was a dear friend of mine. He would come by for supper and well, company, at least once a week.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m going to be just fine. Eat your sandwich, dear. You need your strength.”
Savannah returned to her seat. “I didn’t know that he didn’t have anyone. He was like an uncle to me and he was around for all our holidays. I know he lived close by, but I’ve never been to his place.” Savannah took a bite of her sandwich.
“He lived in a small garage apartment near the glass shop. It was all he needed and he didn’t want to own anything that would require any trouble.”
“I need to check up on that tomorrow. Can you give me the name of his financial manager? I’ll give him a call in the morning.”
“Oh, I know just where it is. Let me pop into my kitchen and get it from the bulletin board. That’s where I keep it.” Mrs. Webberly bolted out the front door, leaving Savannah and Rooney staring after her like the chorus in an opera.
As she said, she was only gone a minute and returned with a small yellow index card in her hand. She handed it to Savannah and stood with one hip canted and her arms folded across her stomach.
“Have you thought about funeral arrangements for Hugh? Since he was completely alone, there really won’t be anyone but his business contacts.”
“Um, not yet. I’ve just started to deal with Dad’s affairs and haven’t even thought about Hugh. Are you sure that there’s no one at all?”
“It strikes me that I should really be handling Hugh’s affairs.” Her voice began a watery tremble. “I mean, we were quite good friends and now that he’s gone . . .” Her gaze slipped far away. She sighed deeply and cleared her throat. “You’re in quite a pickle with the shop. It’s too much for you.”
Savannah felt a huge weight slip from her shoulders like a heavy coat. “Mrs. Webberly, that is enormously kind of you. Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure. At my age, I’ve more experience arranging these things and”—she reached into a pocket, pulled out a wadded tissue, and sni
ffed loudly into it—“he was a very close friend.”
“I’m sure he would be pleased.”
“He was an easy man to please. Enough of that. Now, tell me. How are you coping?” She settled back into the recliner. “Your dad’s heart attack was a surprise to us all. He was such a dedicated jogger and he was training Rooney to run with him. Did he tell you about that? Well, I’m sure he meant to, but he was always telling me how busy you were.”
That was a direct hit to Savannah’s guilt. She should have paid more attention to what was going on in her dad’s life. Their weekly Skype conversations mostly consisted of her chattering away about the new works she was attempting. He had so much more going on than she would have ever expected. I should have known.
She reached down and attempted to give Rooney a small pat on the head. His low growl caused her to snatch her hand back. “Rooney is not coping very well. I think he will need a new home. I can’t take him back to Seattle. Do you know anyone who would like to have him?”
He heard his name and looked up at her, but returned his gaze to Mrs. Webberly.
“You can’t be thinking of giving Rooney away. It’s too soon for that. You need to make sure that you don’t need him first. He’s a wonderful companion, don’t you think?”
“He doesn’t much like me. At the moment, he thinks I’m the reason Dad isn’t around. He tolerates me, but just barely.”
“It will just take time,” Mrs. Webberly said while gently stroking Rooney’s head as he looked up to her like a punished teenager. “He’s still a puppy and he’s confused.”
“I know how he feels.”
“It’s bad. The only person in his life is missing and he’s just waiting until John comes back. He doesn’t understand that he’s not coming back.”
Rooney turned away and shuffled over to sit on the floor right beside the sofa. He had obviously been trained not to jump up on the furniture.
“One thing you can do right now is feed him every morsel he gets. That will make a positive bond for you both.”
“I can do that.”
“Another thing is to take him for his walks so that he will look at you as his new pack leader. Dogs are not really very complicated. And our master Rooney here is young and smart. Once he sees you as his provider, he will change.”
“Did Dad seem like anything was bothering him over the past few months? Now that I’m looking back, he seemed a little stressed.”
Mrs. Webberly pursed her lips, “Actually, now that you mention it, Hugh seemed a little strung out as well. But then, neither of them were much for chattering about feelings and such.” She sniffed noisily, “I’m going to miss them.”
Finally, Mrs. Webberly left. Savannah cleared away the few dishes, set the kitchen up for her morning coffee, and sat back down on the living room couch. I’m going to have to get involved in the investigation.
Chapter 6
Late Monday Evening
Although it was getting dark, Savannah felt that she needed to find the hidden message at Crescent Lake as soon as possible. If her dad suspected murder, he must have had some evidence to lead him to that conclusion. Just because he was paranoid didn’t mean that he was an alarmist.
Savannah clipped Rooney’s leash onto him and jogged out the front door heading toward Crescent Lake. The cache was on the far side of the park from her house in the corner of what was now a dog park. Rooney would be the perfect cover. A complication was predicting the actions of a puppy. She wasn’t sure how he would behave and even worse, if he would pay any attention to her at all.
In the early days of geocaching, the hidden containers were created out of military ammunition boxes, but they’d progressed to smaller more easily concealed weatherproof containers. Her dad had chosen a Hello Kitty pencil box as the perfect geocache to make a small girl excited about finding others.
The pencil box was completely unsuitable for becoming an official cache. Given that a pencil box isn’t exactly rugged or expected to be used for more than carrying a little girl’s whimsies around in a backpack, he had chosen to hide it in a sheltered spot. He had probably been checking on it while exercising Rooney.
Rooney behaved perfectly until they approached the dog park and he began to get excited and pull strongly on the leash to hurry Savannah toward the entrance. Thinking that he wouldn’t be calm enough for dog interactions, she decided to take another mile loop around the lake, hoping against hope that it would burn off some of his puppy energy and he would listen to her.
She was right. The next pass proved to be better, and Rooney was curious but calm as they approached the double gate to enter the large dog pen. She unclipped his leash and he looked up at her with sad eyes that said, “Only my daddy brings me here. I don’t want to be here with you.”
He was reluctant to leave the gated enclosure and stood stiff-legged, eyes wide. “Come on, Rooney. You know you love this place.” A small pat on his head broke his stance and he followed Savannah into the dog park. As soon he entered, several dogs came up to greet him with sniffs and circles. He stood still and shyly returned sniffs and then he hop-jumped in playful joy and ran with the dogs in a game of chase and see who runs the fastest.
Savannah scanned the people benches and saw several clumps of doggy parents sitting together along with two groups standing together. It looked very much like a coffee shop kind of gathering. From their friendly greetings and comfortable chatter, it was obvious that most were regulars. Angling eye contact to avoid getting trapped into conversation, she wandered over to the back of the park to a small magnolia tree. It was a good deal larger than it had been when she was ten. Although it looked like a dwarf species specially selected to be slow growing and low maintenance for parks, it had been a good many years since they’d hidden their geocache.
She started scanning for the Hello Kitty pencil box from a distance. She vaguely recalled that it should be on a low branch about ten feet up the tree. She started the painstaking search for the camouflaged Velcro fasteners that kept the box well hidden if you didn’t know where to look.
There it is.
It wasn’t remotely within reaching distance, but still there.
Why would you do this? You could have instructed Burkart to hand over in complete privacy after the funeral whatever information you wanted me to have. We’ve known the people at Burkart’s Financial Services for a long, long time. You could have left something with Mrs. Webberly. Why this fuss? Oh, right. I remember. You’re paranoid.
Moving to the side of the tree sheltered from view, Savannah grabbed the lowest limb for leverage and placed her foot on the trunk of the tree. She froze. Oh, no. She dropped her foot and released the limb. There was no way to reach the little box without actually climbing the tree. Suitable limbs were in place to make it easy for a normal person . . . a normal person who wasn’t petrified by climbing a few feet. The nausea she always experienced when faced with heights returned to sap all determination. I can’t do this. It’s too high. I can’t.
Pulling out her cell, she dialed Edward.
He picked up and Savannah could hear the bustle of the pub in the background. “This is Edward. What’s up, Savannah?”
“I need your help. Can you come down to the dog park at Crescent Lake?”
“Dog park?”
“Yes, I need you to climb a tree.”
“Really? Have you gone crackers? Now? Right Now?”
“Yes, please. Right now. It’s vital. I’m deathly afraid of heights. It’s about Dad’s message. He’s hidden it in a tree too tall for me to climb.”
There was a pause. “I’ll be there as quick as I can.”
While waiting, Savannah played fetch the stick with Rooney and admired his athletic grace. He didn’t tire of the game and it was a useful means of keeping away from the other doggie parents.
It took about ten minutes until she heard the smooth rumble of Edward’s motorcycle pulling up. He dismounted and strolled their way looking savagely handsome
.
Savannah cringed in embarrassment but felt relief as Edward quickly climbed up the few limbs and ripped the box from its Velcro holders. He jumped down like a kid and handed it over to her. “Is this what John’s code revealed?”
“Yes, this is it,” she acknowledged, turning the small pink box over in her hands. “Our first geocache. Exactly what the message said.”
Rooney was waiting a little distance from the tree, head cocked to the side. He walked up and sniffed the box in her hand and began to whine. Tears sprang to Savannah’s eyes as she realized that it must smell of her dad.
“I’ve got it, Rooney.” Looking around to make sure she wasn’t being watched Savannah pushed the small box under his nose. “Here, you can smell him, can’t you?”
He stopped whining.
She ruffled his floppy ears. “Now go and play.”
Rooney wiggled his stubby tail, looked at the box again, then turned swiftly to join the other dogs playing chase at the far side of the dog park.
Motioning for Edward to join her, she sat at a deserted bench near the back of the park and opened the pencil case. She gulped a quick breath. On top was an old tattered envelope that she recognized. She picked up the creased, brittle envelope and carefully removed the yellowed sheet of ruled notebook paper. Unfolding it, she recognized her third-grade rounded cursive writing in thick pencil.
Mommy,
Why did you leave Daddy and me?
I promise to be extra good.
I promise not to throw toys in the house ever ever ever.
I promise not to draw on the walls.
I promise to clean my room.
I miss you.
I Love You,
Vanna
No one else can ever call me Vanna.
Savannah lost her closely guarded control and began to sob in great gulping heaves into her hands. Edward gathered her gently into his shoulder and let the tears soak into his cotton shirt.
After a bit, she dragged a tissue from her backpack, dried her eyes, blew her nose, and regained her composure. “Thanks. I didn’t know the letter I wrote to my mom would be in the box.”
Pane and Suffering Page 6