Down in Flames

by Cheryl Hollon

Officer Williams turned to the twins and her eyes widened. “Ladies, can you tell me what happened after class?”

  Rachel batted her eyes. “You can’t treat us special, Joy—I mean Officer Williams.”

  Faith glared at her sister. “Don’t make this out to be a big mystery. She’s a busy woman.” She turned to Officer Williams. “We don’t drive anymore, so we ordered an Uber ride on our credit card. So, if you need our alibies, we have evidence.”

  “If an alibi is needed for you two, I’ll ask for that receipt.” Officer Williams grinned as she scribbled in the notepad. “And last, what about you, Miss Webb?”

  “I gave my statement to the traffic officer.” She noticed Joy’s disapproving frown and backpedaled. “But I’m happy to go through it again. I heard Nicole get hit and then Jacob began to scream, followed by Suzy howling. I was out in the street in seconds, but I only caught a glimpse of the car.”

  “Anything distinctive about it?”

  “Nothing at all. A small white car speeding around the corner of the block. It barely registered with me.”

  “Before the accident, was anyone in the shop with you?”

  A look of concentration flitted across Savannah’s face, then vanished. “Yes, my office manager, Amanda Blake, stopped in for a few minutes.”

  Officer Williams nodded then recorded her findings on the notepad. She stowed the pencil and the notebook. “Thanks, everyone. I appreciate your patience.” She looked over at Savannah. “I need a quick word.”

  They walked over to the front door. Officer Williams pointed over to the Mustard Seed Inn. “I talked to the receptionist over there but got absolutely nowhere. Do you think you could go over at the same time of day that Nicole was hit and ask if anyone saw something?”

  “Of course. I’d be happy to help.”

  “I would appreciate it. I can’t recommend that the department hire you yet. There’s no connection to the art community at all, so this is just as a personal favor. Most of the residents are reluctant to share any information with the police. I can’t say I blame them, but you might be able to get cooperation where all I’m getting is resistance.”

  Savannah smiled. “I’d be happy to try.”

  “Thanks, I’ll get out of your way now. Have a great class.”

  “Sure.” Savannah watched her friend go out the front door, then she turned back to the students. “Well, that was surprising. Let’s get back to work.”

  Savannah demonstrated several different techniques for joining short rods of color to clear rods. “Here is your chance to experiment and find out which technique works for you. Everyone works with glass differently—some right-handed folks use their left hand to do the heavy lifting while using their right hand for more precise moves. Switch things around. Find what works for you.” She took off her protective glasses and perched them on top of her head. “Now it’s your turn. Choose your four colors from the scrap box. Punty up.”

  Herbert was blindingly fast and had his colors ready in five minutes flat. The twins were still choosing colors, while Lonnie needed a reminder on how to light his torch. Patricia was trying out alternative hand positions.

  After helping the twins catch up to the rest of the class, Savannah again showed the steps for making a medallion. “Now for the loop. You use a clear rod that you attach to the medallion and then heat the next inch of the rod and form a loop with a twist, letting gravity assist you.” She formed the loop and separated the clear rod from the piece.

  “Again, this is only one way. Let me show you some other methods I’ve seen other artists use over at Zen’s Glass Studio.”

  By the end of the class, everyone had fashioned a looped medallion with Herbert needing no assistance and the twins needing major support. As everyone was getting ready to leave, she asked Herbert to stay behind for a few minutes.

  “You are excelling in this class. I mean, in everything. Your flameworking skills are extraordinary. Your color combinations are gorgeous. So imaginative. How are you enjoying it?”

  “I’ve only occasionally practiced doing anything remotely artistic, but I’m shocked by how much I appreciate the satisfaction I get in creating my own pieces. I’m having a ball.”

  “Good. I thought your continuous grin could be an indication, but I wanted to make sure before I hit you with a proposal.”

  His brow crinkled. “Proposal?” She saw him fiddle with his wedding ring.

  Savannah laughed. “Really, Herbert. Not that kind.” She lifted her left hand. “Although this is not a diamond, it is my fiancé’s grandmother’s ring. I’m engaged to the pub owner next door.”

  He grinned back. “I’m sorry. No, I mean congratulations. I’ve put my foot in it, haven’t I? Anyway. . .”

  “I would like for you to consider working here at Webb’s Glass Shop as an assistant instructor. It would only be part-time, but it would help me out. With you as a student assistant, I could handle larger classes.”

  “But I’ve only taken a couple of classes. That’s abrupt.”

  “I’ve learned that life doesn’t really wait. The right moment is almost always right now. I wouldn’t assign you to new students at first. There would be an extended apprenticeship where you would assist me with the class until you’re ready.”

  Herbert nodded. “I understand. Let me see how I do with the rest of this workshop. I’m pretty sure that I’ll say yes, but I want to observe with a prospective teaching role in mind.”

  “Sure,” said Savannah.

  “It will give you a chance to look into my background.”

  Savannah let her head dip to nearly touch her chest. “Of course, but I would like for you to fill out an application form before that. I can give you one to take home.”

  “Thanks, I’ll take one just in case, but I still want to observe how you teach.”

  “Fair enough. I hope you will consider teaching. I think you will love it, and even better I think the students will benefit.”

  After checking the kiln and tidying up the workstations, Savannah heard the doorbell clang. “Hey, could you use a little pick-me-up?” She turned to see Edward advancing toward her with a tray. “I’ve got a new pumpkin latte and I need your opinion.”

  “A new recipe? But I thought you were going to be shorthanded until you can get a new manager. What gives?”

  Edward set the tray on one of the workstations and pulled a work stool over and patted the seat. “Sit. There’s a new pumpkin muffin, too. I’m having trouble concentrating, so I’m creating instead. Nicole’s death has knocked me for a loop. Something is wrong with how it happened. The way I cope is to cook my way out of it.”

  Savannah just stared at the muffins and cups of steaming lattes. “I agree that there is something wrong—specifically, the lack of braking. That puts this smack dab into murder, as far as I am concerned.”

  “I agree.”

  “We’re going to have to investigate this. It will be hard. Amanda is with her mother and Jacob can’t speak, but we can’t leave this alone. Not only that, but Officer Williams has asked me to go across the street and talk to the residents of Mustard Seed Inn. There are windows that overlook the street. It’s possible someone could help.”

  Edward sighed deeply. “I’ve been thinking about how little I know about Nicole’s personal life. It’s embarrassing.”

  “Why would you say that?” Savannah frowned. “You’ve been a wonderful boss to not just Nicole, but everyone who works for you.” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Stop that—it’s not helping. You probably know more than you think. Start thinking.”

  Edward stared down into his coffee cup.

  “Out loud,” said Savannah. She reached for one of the pumpkin muffins and took a large bite. “Oh, my. These are good. Come on. Talk.”

  “Right. Well, Nicole worked on most weekend nights, so she didn’t go to concerts. She and Elizabeth went to movies on Monday nights.”

  “What about family? We know about her brother. Who else?”
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  Edward took a sip of his coffee and frowned. “I’ve let this get cold.”

  Savannah tapped his arm again. “Come on, family?”

  “Her parents haven’t spoken to Nicole since she told them about her plans to marry Elizabeth. Her brother took her side and has been ostracized as well. Nicole mentioned an uncle who stepped in to help, but I don’t know his name.”

  “Okay, so if this uncle is her father’s brother, we should be able to find him.”

  “But Amanda usually does all the internet business.”

  “Yes, but we’ll have to give it a try. I can google!”

  “What’s in her personnel file?”

  Edward slapped his forehead. “What a Wally. I’ll get it.” He stood up. “Wait, I’ve got to get back to the pub.” He checked his watch. “We’re open until eleven P.M. and I don’t have anyone working here today who can close. I’m going to start training one of the bartenders today. Anyway, I’ll be home with her personnel file.” He stood and bent over to give her a kiss.

  “I’m going over to the Mustard Seed Inn first. After that I’ll see Amanda’s mother and after that I’ll have a run with Rooney and feed everyone, including myself. See you tonight. Bring us a bread pudding for our late-night snack.” She gave Edward a warm hug followed by a hot kiss. “Wake me if I’ve fallen asleep.”

  Savannah closed the shop later and walked across the street into the Mustard Seed Inn. Officer Williams had told her that the place was deserted, but she found the opposite. The lobby was crowded with residents enjoying coffee and tea from a well-used setup in one corner.

  The plump, balding fellow behind the reception desk looked up with a friendly smile. “Are you here for the AA meeting? We’re just about to start. Have some coffee or tea and—”

  “No, thanks. I’m Savannah Webb. I own the glass shop across the street. I’m trying to find out if anyone in this building saw the hit-and-run accident yesterday at about this time.”

  “Hi, I’m Tim.” He stretched out his hand. “I’ve seen you around the neighborhood. That was an awful accident. How is she?”

  Savannah shook his hand. “I’m sorry to say she died in the hospital.”

  Tim sighed deeply and looked down for a long moment. “I’m so sorry. Nicole was good people. She was responsible for signing up some of our residents in our rehabilitation program.”

  “Thanks. I’m working with the police as a consultant and would like to know if anyone saw the accident.” That’s a bit of a stretch, but it will be true soon. I hope.

  “I didn’t see it, but I went outside to see why the ambulances and police cars were in the street. Hang on. Gregg said something when we were standing in front of our building.” He looked over to a thin fellow with a salt-and-pepper scruffy beard. “Hey, Gregg, come over here for a second.”

  Gregg walked over, and Savannah noticed the sallow skin and neat clothing that hung on his bones. “Whatcha need, Tim?”

  “Gregg, this is Savannah Webb from across the street. She’s helping the police to investigate Nicole’s death.”

  “Oh, man. She died?”

  Tim nodded. “Yes. Didn’t you say you saw something strange?”

  “Yeah, I called in to that tip line that I saw the car that hit Nicole. I haven’t heard from them at all. Is that what you mean?”

  Savannah tilted her chin down and sighed. “I didn’t know that you had called in. But the police department is in turmoil right now with their move. It’s causing all sorts of problems with their records. Anyway, is there somewhere we can go for some privacy? I would like for you to tell me what you reported.”

  Tim interrupted. “You guys can use the community room until the AA meeting starts. I can hold everyone out here until you’re finished. No one is that anxious to start, anyway. Will that work?”

  “That’s great,” said Gregg. “Follow me. It’s right down this hall.”

  They went into a plain room set up with folding chairs positioned in a rough circle. Gregg sat in what Savannah expected was his regular chair. She left one seat vacant between them, sat, then took out a pen and notepad from her black backpack. “Now, what did you say on the tips line?”

  “I gave them just my first name, Gregg.” He looked at Savannah as she wrote. “That’s all I’m prepared to give. I have family that don’t know where I am, but I’ve told them I’m safe. I don’t want to see them until I’m clean.”

  “That’s fine. I’m putting down just Gregg.”

  “And then I said that I live in the Mustard Seed Inn in a third-story room that overlooks the street.”

  Savannah halted writing. “You were looking down into the street?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I told the recording. I saw the whole thing.”

  “Go on.” Savannah resumed writing.

  “I had just gotten off work. The time was just about the same as now. I always wash up before the AA meeting. I work in a car repair shop and I need a shower to get the smell of grease and oil off me. Then I pulled on jeans and a T-shirt.”

  He paused.

  Savannah looked up. He was picking at his grease-embedded hands. “Go on.”

  In a strained voice he said, “I was ready to go downstairs, but for some reason I looked out the front window. I never do that.” He glanced over at Savannah. “I wish I hadn’t.”

  Savannah waited in silence.

  Gregg swallowed hard, then cleared his throat. “Did you know that Nicole was the one that got me in this program?”

  “No.”

  “Yeah, last month she caught me behind the Queen’s Head Pub getting scraps from the dumpster.” He folded his hands and clenched them. “That was rock bottom for me. I was so far gone that food wasn’t where I spent my panhandling money. That went for liquor. I only ate free food, and that meant scrounging scraps out of dumpsters behind restaurants.”

  Savannah listened without judgment and just waited.

  He sniffed and rubbed the heels of his hands in his eyes. “Anyway, what I said on the recording is that I saw a white car deliberately swerve for Nicole right in front of Webb’s Glass Shop.” Gregg stopped and shook his head like a puppy.

  “And then?”

  “The car hit her, then sped away without even slowing down.” He looked at Savannah. “She had no chance at all. It was deliberate.”

  Chapter 11

  Tuesday evening,

  Jacob’s room.

  Officer Williams parked her black, white, and blue patrol car on Fourth Avenue South in front of the south garage entrance to the Beacon 430 apartment building. She punched into the keypad the three-number code Frances Underwood had given her and heard the door unlock. As instructed, she took the elevator to the third floor, made three left turns, and stood on the WIPE YOUR PAWS doormat.

  She tapped on the door and Frances opened it to a sleek and modern corner apartment. An open-plan granite-countered kitchen was to the left, with an island that held the sink and had room for three tall stools for dining.

  “Thanks for interviewing Jacob here at home,” said Frances. She stepped back and waved Officer Williams inside, gesturing in the direction of a sleek gray sofa sectional with a chaise lounge. There were no pillows. A small dog bed was positioned at the corner where the sofa and the chaise met. The dog bed was obviously special ordered in a matching fabric to the sofa. The large-screen television was mounted to the opposite wall. “I hope you don’t expect much. He still isn’t speaking.”

  “But he’s still texting?”

  “Yes, thankfully. Here’s his number.” She handed Officer Williams a sticky note. “I’ll just tell him you’re here.”

  Frances tapped on a white door on the right-hand wall. “Jacob, Officer Williams is here to talk to you. Don’t forget your phone.”

  “You have to remind him?”

  “Yes, unlike most teenagers who are glued to their phones, he hates it. On the other hand, like most normal teenagers, he exhibits the most irritating behaviors.”


  A long minute passed. Frances stood in front of the door and turned to Officer Williams. “It takes him a while to leave his room. He has a routine that he follows. It usually only takes a minute or so, but it may take longer since you’re here.” She listened closely at the door. “Good, he’s washing his hands now.”

  Frances motioned for Officer Williams to sit in the center of the sofa. “Jacob prefers the chaise so that Suzy is close.”

  The door opened, and Jacob walked into the living room and placed Suzy in her bed. He pulled a smartphone from his back pocket. Then he slipped off his shoes and stretched out on the chaise. It was the perfect position to watch the television.

  Frances sat next to Jacob. She looked at Officer Williams. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thanks.” Officer Williams looked at Jacob, who was staring down at his phone. “We’ll start with a quick message to make sure we’re communicating, so that I have a complete record for our files.” She pulled out her phone and began to text.

  HI JACOB. YOU KNOW ME DON’T YOU?

  YES, WE HAVE MET MANY TIMES.

  DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT I’M THE OFFICER IN CHARGE OF INVESTIGATING THE HIT-AND-RUN ACCIDENT THAT YOU WITNESSED ON MONDAY?

  YES

  WHAT DO YOU REMEMBER ABOUT THE ACCIDENT?

  NOTHING

  Officer Williams looked quickly at Jacob’s mother to gauge her reaction to the interview. This was an unusual approach. Frances was calm and intently watching Jacob’s flying fingers.

  LET’S GO BACK TO EARLIER IN THE DAY ON MONDAY. DO YOU REMEMBER ARRIVING AT WEBB’S GLASS STUDIO?

  YES

  DO YOU REMEMBER LEAVING AND STANDING ON THE SIDEWALK?

  YES

  THAT’S VERY GOOD. WHAT HAPPENS AFTER THAT?

  Jacob reached down to scratch Suzy behind the ears. Her soulful eyes were stuck to his face like glue. She gave a little whimper. He lifted her and folded her into his arms automatically. She fit perfectly.

  I REMEMBER A BRIGHT RED FLASH AND THEN SUZY STARTED TO HOWL.