“Murder? What murder?” Edward stood up tall and his green eyes narrowed.
Savannah stood and paced in front of them. “Please, guys, let me tell this in my own way. Sit down, Edward.” She stood silent until he was back on the stool. “When I judged the glass category at the Spinnaker Art Festival this weekend, my first place selection also won Best of Show.”
“Too right. The festival was covered in the Tampa Bay Times Sunday paper. It was a huge success. No mention of a murder,” said Edward.
“That’s because it hadn’t been discovered.” Savannah paused. “Yet.”
“Yet?” Edward stood and folded his arms across his broad chest. “Come on, Savannah. Out with it.”
“Okay, okay. Hold your horses. The artist that I chose, Megan Loyola, didn’t show up to the awards ceremony to collect her twenty-five-thousand-dollar check. When I went to check her booth, it had been cleared out and there was no sign of her.”
“What happened?” Edward asked.
“When Rooney and I were on our training run this morning, we found Megan’s body in the water behind the festival’s portable office trailer.”
Jacob looked at Edward and Amanda. “Miss Savannah talked to Mr. Webb’s worktable this morning. That usually means she’s upset.”
“Yes, I’m even more disturbed now that Detective Parker has informed me that I’m the prime suspect for her murder.”
Edward moved over to Savannah and quietly folded her into his arms.
She nearly melted in warmth. He was so closely tuned to her feelings.
He whispered into her curls, “How is that even possible? Has the world gone berserk?” He kissed her cheek.
Savannah gently escaped out of Edward’s arms and looked into his worried eyes. “It’s because I was one of the last few people to be seen in public with Megan and I’m also the one who found her body. Detective Parker came by this morning and gave me an unofficial warning that I was under heavy suspicion.”
“I still don’t understand how he can think that.” Amanda sighed deeply. “He knows you’re a good person.”
“Logically, I completely agree with Detective Parker’s reasoning. I’m the most rational suspect at the moment, but that should change.” Savannah broke away from Edward and looked at the three one by one. “The trick is going to be to help him find the real killer before Detective Parker has no other choice but to arrest me.”
“If we’re going to find another killer”—Jacob looked down at the floor—“we need another plan.”
“You’ve hit the nail right on the head.” Amanda polished off the last bite of her scone and brushed the crumbs off her ample chest. “Let’s get cracking and find Megan’s killer.”
Edward spread his hands wide. “But, where do we start? We don’t know anything.”
“We actually each know a lot”—Savannah folded her arms in front of her chest—“but we don’t know it as a group. I have an idea. We need to do what Detective Parker does for each case. He has a murder room where all the evidence and information is posted on a wall. I saw it during the investigation of my dad’s case. Let’s do the same.” She stepped up to the whiteboard on the wall opposite the old desk and picked up the black dry-erase eraser.
She hesitated. The sketches and notes written there were her father’s and she hadn’t wanted to use the whiteboard. It gave her a comforting feeling that he was looking over her shoulder as she struggled with the finances and piles of paperwork the business generated.
She turned to the wall beside the desk that had a corkboard crowded with mandatory employment posters, Grand Central District newsletters, business receipts, scraps of preliminary sketches, and, oddly, a striped sock. “We could clear this off and—”
Jacob stood in front of the whiteboard. “This is the best method. It’ll help everyone to know what’s happening.”
Dad wouldn’t hesitate, and neither should I.
“You are absolutely right.” In broad, sweeping strokes, she quickly wiped everything from the whiteboard and wrote “The Case of Megan Loyola’s Murder” across the top of the board.
“There’s one suspect we know.” She wrote “Suspect” at the top-left corner of the whiteboard, then drew a vertical line down to the very bottom. She then wrote “Investigation” to the right and drew a horizontal line under both words. “He was seen arguing with Megan late Saturday afternoon.” She wrote “Frank Lattimer” and then noted “Subject of argument at Festival” beside his name and drew a line beneath both across the whiteboard.
“Really?” Amanda said. “That slimy shyster. He’s always smack-dab in the middle of everything trying to get more students for his classes. Does anyone know what the argument was about?”
Savannah turned her back to the whiteboard. “No, but that’s one thing we can investigate. At the very least he could be a good lead. That’s something I can do. He’s always running into the shop to snoop into my business.”
Jacob put his hand up. “Miss Savannah, the kind of glassworks that Megan created needs a team of helpers. Who are the helpers?”
“Yes, indeed. Her pieces were enormous and would have required a team of two, possibly even three, to create.” She turned and wrote “Megan’s team” on the whiteboard along with “Identify” in the next column. Turning back around, she asked, “Who wants to track down her production team?”
“Me, me, me.” Amanda gave her best imitation of an excited schoolgirl. “I can do that. Do you know where she worked?”
“It has to be the Duncan McCloud Gallery. It’s the only hot glass shop in the area with equipment large enough for her works. The studio is about six or eight blocks south of here on Twenty-Second Street.”
“Okay.” Savannah turned back to the whiteboard. “There are still some others.” She added “Wanda Quitman” to the list of suspects and wrote “Upset Megan at reception” in the next column. “I talked to Wanda, or, more accurately, Wanda chattered like a magpie to me during the festival. She was friendly to me, but I think you had better tackle this one.” She pointed her marker directly at the center of Edward’s broad chest. “I suspect she’s a man’s woman.”
Edward lifted his head and smiled. “What about the site of the festival? Could there be something there that only a glass artist would know?”
“Right on point.” Savannah nodded. “Okay, Edward and I will search the festival park right after this meeting.” She wrote “Festival Grounds” followed by “Search for evidence” in the next row. “I really need to deflect their focus from me to the real culprit.”
“What about me?” Jacob looked at each of them. “I’m a good investigator. I was very good with solving the puzzles in the last investigation.”
“That’s absolutely true.” Savannah nodded. “There’s another category of suspects that I know you will be able to help us with. The other exhibitors in the festival each had to fill out an extensive application form for entry into the award competition. I need your special pattern recognition skills to find connections between any of the other exhibitors and Megan. You are the only one who can do this.”
She turned back to the whiteboard and wrote “Registration forms” in the Suspect column and “Find connection patterns in application database” in the Investigation column.
Jacob nodded slightly. “That’s good. I can do that.”
“I know you prefer paper, so before they remove my access to the exhibitor’s database, I’ll have all the applications printed out for you.”
“Print them in color, please. I want them in color.”
Color? Really?
“Certainly, Jacob. I’ll have them to you later this afternoon. I’m going to send the database out for Kinko’s to print and bind for you.”
Jacob’s eyes gleamed and he stood an eighteen-year-old’s style of tall—which is only slightly slumped rather than completely slumped. “Yes, each application in a separate binding.”
That’s going to be expensive, but if something is to b
e found, Jacob is the only one who can find it.
“I called Keith this morning. He hadn’t heard about Megan. He mentioned Leon Price as an ex-boyfriend. I’m going to ask him some questions.”
“Who? Keith?” Edward asked.
“No, I’m going to ask Leon for anything that could give us some leads.” She wrote “Leon Price” and “Megan’s ex-boyfriend” in the last row.
“Thanks, everyone. That’s an impressive list.” Savannah stood and looked at each of them. “I appreciate your help.” She rubbed the corner of her eye and blinked rapidly. “Now, let’s get to the park so I can have something useful to report to Detective Parker. He’s been even grumpier than usual. I think it’s because of Officer Boulli.”
They all nodded their remembrance of the burly policeman who seemed much more interested in protecting his questionable reputation than solving crimes. In the end, he wasn’t successful with either.
Jacob spoke their thoughts. “I thought he was fired. Why is he back?”
Savannah sighed deeply. “I heard that he avoided a dismissal again through a technicality in one of the regulations. It’s Boulli’s most advanced skill. He was suspended for a few weeks. At least I hope its Boulli and not me that’s turned Parker into an ogre.”
“You go, girl.” Amanda scooted down off her stool. “I’ll get everything ready for class tomorrow and lock up the shop. Don’t worry about Webb’s.”
Savannah looked at the whiteboard and nodded approval.
The Case of Megan Loyola’s Murder
Suspect Investigation
Frank Lattimer Subject of argument at festival
Megan’s team Identify
Wanda Quitman Upset Megan at reception
Festival grounds Search for evidence
Registration forms Find connection patterns in application database
Leon Price Megan’s ex-boyfriend
Savannah quickly downloaded the Spinnaker Art Festival database and arranged to have it printed and bound for Jacob. She grabbed her backpack and keys from the office and waved to Amanda as she and Edward slipped out the back door.
As she settled behind the driver’s seat, a cold shiver danced across her skin and sank into her solar plexus.
They drove downtown and parked on the street near the plain tan portable mobile home that served as the festival office. Walking over to the drooping remnants of police crime scene tape, Savannah pointed to the section of the seawall. “That’s where Rooney and I found Megan on our training run this morning. It really freaked him out.”
“Only Rooney?”
“No, not just Rooney. It truly freaked me out as well.”
Edward planted his hands on his hips and turned around looking over the ground where the festival had taken place. “It’s still a bit messy, isn’t it?”
Savannah smiled at the scattered bits of litter that looked like a ghostly imprint of the festival. “That’s going to be to our advantage. I’m sure that the forensic specialists were told to search the area where Megan’s booth was set up, but they might not have known how much of the area actually belonged to her. The area behind the booth is what the artists use as a sort of back stage. It’s probable that Megan spent a lot of time back there. Let’s have a look.”
As they walked up toward the part of Vinoy Park that held the artists’ booths, Edward pulled Savannah into a side hug. “You’re really worried, aren’t you?”
Relishing the warm sensation of being tucked into his arm, she said, “I’m very worried. I have no alibi and I don’t know what Detective Parker has for evidence other than the business card. I walked everywhere and touched everything as I was judging the artists. It’s unnerving.”
“We’ll solve this—we have before and we’ll do it again.”
Savannah looked up into his confident face. “I hope so.”
They walked in lockstep until they reached the north end of the park. Savannah slipped out of Edward’s arm. “This is the general area where Megan’s booth was installed. It was at the end of the row about here.” She pointed to a flattened square of grass.
“Describe her booth for me. This looks like there was a floor.”
“It was a fantastic display representing the power and beauty of fire. I remember there was a rug that was black at the edges that had ever-smaller circles of the colors of fire, from bright red to orange, burgundy, and even electric blue. It was such a simple but effective method for grounding the exhibit.”
“Hey, what’s this?” Edward bent down and reached for something. “Ouch!” He drew his hand back and examined his forefinger. “I’m cut. Blimey, what was that?” He pulled out his handkerchief and wrapped it around the finger applying pressure on it by squeezing it with his other hand. Savannah looked down at the grass. There were long, slender shards of orange red glass hiding among the blades of grass directly beyond the beaten-down patch.
Bending down, Savannah looked at the pieces. “I was sure there must be something left behind after her booth was packed up. They look like the shard that was embedded in Megan’s head wound. Although I didn’t get a very good look at her before everything went haywire.”
“So, they could be part of the murder weapon.” Edward squeezed his finger harder and grimaced at the sharp pain. “Or are they remnants of a dropped work of art?”
“In either case, we need to take these away. Obviously, they’re quite dangerous. Kids run barefoot through this park all the time.” She reached into her backpack and got one of Rooney’s doggy duty bags and carefully slipped the shards into the flimsy bag.
“What if they’re evidence?”
“They are evidence. We’ve already spoiled them. You’ve got blood on them and I’ve handled them. As the prime suspect trying to clear herself, I’m going to use them for our investigation. Then as soon as we’ve had a look, I’m going to turn them over to Detective Parker. If we hadn’t come to the park to search, they would never have been found. If I get yelled at for knowing a little more than the police about glass, so be it.”
She stood. “Here, let’s see that.” She unwrapped the soaked handkerchief and looked at a deep, narrow cut. “It’s a clean cut and the bleeding has stopped, but it needs stitches.”
“Stitches?” Edward’s face turned pale green. “I’m not good with needles.”
Savannah raised her eyebrows. “You’re afraid of needles?” She folded the handkerchief over to a clean patch and rewrapped the cut. “Nothing to it. There’s a walk-in clinic on our way back. It shouldn’t take too long.”
“But—”
She stopped his protest with a kiss, then said, “I’ll be right there to hold your good hand. Let’s go.”
* * *
After dropping Edward off at Queen’s Head with two tiny stitches covered by a butterfly bandage, Savannah collected the bound applications and dropped them off at Webb’s. By the time she drove home and picked up Rooney, they were a few minutes late to their agility class. It wasn’t a crowded class, as Monday evenings seemed to be unpopular.
Savannah appreciated the extra attention that Rooney received from their instructor, Linda. His first agility meet was on Saturday, and as a team they didn’t exactly shine. Well, honestly, they were dreadful, but Rooney was so keen and enthusiastic, it was a joy just to watch him run.
“Are you ready, Rooney?” Linda knelt to cup his chin and scratched his broad chest. “He looks good. Have fun you guys.” She turned her attention to class and outlined the warm-up exercises.
After several sessions of running laps followed by practicing basic commands, they settled into the first lesson of the evening.
While they were running laps, Linda had taken two objects from the back of her Honda Element. The first looked like a low coffee table and the second was a long strip of plywood with poles attached at intervals.
“Calm down, Rooney,” Savannah whispered. He knew that the equipment meant running fun and he wanted to start right now.
“Today’s practi
ce will concentrate on learning how to weave quickly through a set of posts. We’ll start the dogs on the pause platform exactly like a competition. Then you’ll command him to run the weave and return to the pause platform.”
She stood on top of the platform. “For those of you who are beginners, this is a slalom. The weave is a series of five to twelve upright poles, each about three feet tall and spaced about twenty-four inches apart. The dog must always enter with the first pole to his left, and must not skip poles. For most dogs, weave poles are one of the most difficult obstacles.”
But for Rooney, because he was Rooney, it was simply puppy play. As expected, he had the most difficulty when required to remain calm and still on the pause platform.
Still, they had a lot of fun and were delightfully tired when they arrived home. Unfortunately, no amount of agility practice would make Savannah tired enough to forget about finding Megan’s killer.
Chapter 9
Tuesday Morning
Detective Parker sat at his tidy desk with a single folder open in front of him. It was the preliminary results of the autopsy on Megan Loyola. The sections meaningful to an active investigation had been filled in with all other entries labeled “TBD” for “to be determined.” The two details that bothered him were the cause of death and the time of death. Although the victim had suffered a crushing blow to the head, the ultimate cause of death was listed as drowning.
“You asked for me?” A large head appeared around the door to Parker’s new office. A step up from his former partitioned cubicle, this office featured solid walls and a door that could actually be closed for privacy. Parker’s superior officer had designated it to him based on his case closure rate—the highest in Pinellas County. Although he hadn’t yet personalized the freshly plastered walls, Parker loved this tiny office.
“No, Officer Boulli, I didn’t ask for you specifically. You were assigned to me. That’s quite a difference, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Oh, I—okay.”
The large, bulky man edged around the door and managed to sit in the chair across from the desk without getting very close to Detective Parker. Then Boulli inched the chair back until it touched the wall. It was a feat in studied motion. “What can I do for you, sir?”
Shards of Murder Page 7