Shards of Murder

by Cheryl Hollon

  Amanda looked up with eyes that threatened to spill heavy tears. “We can?”

  “Sure we can. That was one of the first things my dad taught me about fused glass. He found me crying over one of my early efforts as well.” She smiled remembering his calm, measured advice. “Lay out the pieces over here on this worktable.”

  After gingerly placing the pieces on the surface, Amanda stepped back and looked at Savannah like a puppy expecting a treat. “Now what?”

  Gently pushing the pieces back together, she said, “Go get the mold you used for this piece.” Amanda took off like a shot for the display room shelves. Savannah spread the pieces out a bit, then lifted her voice. “Grab one that’s a size larger, too.”

  When Amanda returned with the two molds, Savannah took the smaller one and placed the pieces in it. “Look, the pieces all fit nicely in the original mold and we can fuse it again to get a new dish.”

  Her face returning to its normal pale shade, Amanda said, “I would never have thought of that. I was going to scrap the whole thing.”

  “Another approach would be to take the larger mold, select a complementary background color, and arrange the broken pieces for the best effect.” She moved them around in several configurations.

  “Wow.” Amanda’s voice was clear and cheerful. “I like that.”

  “You need to remember rule number one for fusing glass. It’s ‘Never refuse to re-fuse.’”

  “That’s funny.”

  “But easy to remember.” Savannah patted her on the shoulder. “This one would be a rebirth of your favorite dish into a new piece that carries the memories of the original along with the new experiences that you’ve gained.”

  Amanda tilted her head to the side. “A rebirth. Hmmm. That’s a great idea.”

  “Good.” Savannah stepped back. “Now, get yourself enough glass to fill in the gaps and we’ll put it in tonight’s firing. You’ll be able to show Dale the results in class tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s awesome! I’ve wanted to try one of the new dichromatic samples. Can I use a strip to fill in one of the gaps?”

  “Absolutely. Do it.” Savannah smiled because she knew the newly arrived, shiny metallic-coated glass would be a magnet for Amanda.

  This was exactly the kind of teaching moment that kept her heart singing. Now she understood why her father had been so concerned with continuing to teach beginning glass students. He could have generated far more income with his private commissions, but this feeling was worth more than a few thousand bucks in the bank.

  “Oh, before I forget, the next posse meeting is at four in my office. We need to think about our next steps. Can you let Jacob know? I’ve already told Edward.”

  Returning to the office, Savannah stood in front of the whiteboard with her hands on her hips. What are we missing? She stood there a few moments more and then picked up one of the markers. She added a Vincent O’Neil entry then wrote “Living at The Pier Hotel—no alibi” in the Investigation column with her name assigned.

  Checking her watch, she saw it was a little before four. She scrunched her forehead. Where’s Edward? He usually gets here early—with a scrumptious snack.

  “I’ve got the kiln ready for you to check.” Amanda flounced down into the desk chair. Jacob followed, pulling one of the stools in from the classroom. He placed it to the side of the whiteboard and perched on it. Suzy circled twice around the stool and curled up underneath it for a nap.

  She checked her watch again and then heard the bell tinkle in the display and retail room. “I’m here!” Edward bellowed. “I’ve even brought some of our new apricot goodies.” He brought a tray into the office stacked with fragrant hot muffins wrapped in triangle papers that had the word apricot imprinted along the borders.

  He placed the tray on the corner of the desk and sat down in the side chair. Grabbing one of the muffins, he looked up at Savannah. “So, where are we?”

  “Nowhere, I’m afraid. So I thought the best way to figure out our next moves would be to review what we all know.” Picking up a marker, she pointed to the first suspect on the murder whiteboard. “Frank Lattimer definitely had a loud argument with Megan late on Saturday, but no one knows what it was about, so that line is still active.”

  Amanda stood and took a blue marker from the shelf. “I identified Vincent as one of Megan’s glass team but you’re still assigned.”

  “This next one is mine.” Edward leaned forward in the side chair and brushed the muffin crumbs from the front of his shirt. “I’ve met with Wanda—alone. Which I believe counts for way above the call of duty, but I haven’t gotten to the bottom of their conversation. She is avoiding saying anything against Megan. On the other hand, she is as open as a church to gossip about anyone else.”

  Savannah nodded her head. “Also, we saw her with Vincent not far from the Chihuly Museum. So basically, I think it’s time I tackle her alone and try to get an alibi out of her.”

  Jacob stooped to pick up Suzy. “I’m still looking at the applications. I’ve sorted them in the obvious ways, but nothing else has come out of that. I’m going to start sorting in obscure orders now.”

  Savannah looked at the others look at Jacob in amazement. Only Jacob could call his first approaches obvious.

  “I’ve been talking to Keith about the intern students, Megan, and her family. He also knows the inside workings of art festivals, which makes him a valuable resource. In fact, I’ve asked him to our next meeting.”

  “Hey! Don’t we get a vote?” Edward folded his arms and lifted one brow.

  Amanda and Jacob looked at Savannah and back at Edward as if they were watching a tennis match.

  “Vote?” Savannah crossed her arms. “Megan’s death is the issue here. Did you forget?”

  “No, of course not.” Edward stood and grasped her arms above the elbows. “It’s just that we’re all involved and you should include us.”

  Savannah dropped her head on her chest. “You’re absolutely right. I should have checked with you first.”

  “Damn right!” Edward sat and crossed his long slim legs. He grabbed another muffin.

  “Okay, I’ll start over. Keith is a resource into the lives of Megan, Vincent, and Leon. Does anyone object to adding him to our investigation?”

  “Not me.” Amanda’s eyes switched from Savannah to Edward and back. “I think he’s ever so handsome and smart. We need every bit of help we can charm”—she looked at Edward—“into solving this murder.” Looking back at Savannah, she continued, “Right, Jacob?”

  Jacob held Suzy up to kiss the top of her head right on the tip of her white stripe, then smiled in agreement.

  “Okay, we’re agreed.” Savannah looked back to the whiteboard. “Next suspect is Leon. Edward that one was yours.”

  “No progress yet. I’ll keep working on it.”

  “The next one is the shards.” Savannah scrunched her left eye. “I haven’t gotten much further on this one, but Keith says it’s a proprietary formula, which could be a major factor in her death. I’ll keep that one going.”

  “What the deal with this one? Relatives.” Edward leaned forward in his chair. “I don’t remember where we are on that from the last time.”

  “This one is for Keith to work.” She looked at the row. “We need more information about Megan’s family and her background. Even Jacob hasn’t been able to get further on this through the application data.”

  Leaning back, Edward said, “Good. He’s from Seattle and has the best chance of getting useful information from the family.”

  “Let me give him a call before I forget.” Savannah dialed Keith’s cell and he picked up right away. “Hi, Keith, I’m putting you on speaker.” She pressed the button and placed the phone on the desk. “I’m with Jacob, Amanda, and Edward. I told them you are willing to question Megan’s family in case there are any leads. Is this good for you?”

  “Absolutely, I know them slightly. But I’ll be the only familiar face here in St. Pe
tersburg. What should I ask?”

  “Frankly, we need to make sure that her family has alibis for Saturday after midnight. Also, if they knew of any problems that Megan had, that would be great.” Savannah looked at the others and they were nodding in agreement.

  “No problem at all.”

  “Thanks, Keith. I would like for you to come to our next meeting, which will be tomorrow morning at nine in my office.”

  “I’d be delighted!”

  “Thanks again. Bye.” She pushed the END CALL button.

  “He’s going to help a lot,” said Amanda.

  “What about Vincent?” Savannah asked. “Although Amanda identified Megan’s glass team earlier and we tracked down Vincent from Jacob’s research, we really don’t know much about him.”

  “Oh, oh, oh.” Amanda waved her arm. “Let me do that one. I don’t have any assignments.”

  “No, I think I’ll keep this one.” Savannah said. “I want you to keep the class on track.”

  “But—”

  Looking into Amanda’s crestfallen face, she replied, “Don’t worry, I’m reassigning the Frank suspect line to you.” She erased her own name and wrote Amanda’s in the Assigned To column for Frank Lattimer. “You’re the best in social media and we really need to nail down his whereabouts. I’d like to do this as quickly as we can.

  “We’re doing great guys.” Savannah stepped back from the updated whiteboard. “Except that this is taking too long.”

  “Thanks for the prod.” Amanda leaned over and grabbed the last muffin and held it in the air. “Does anyone else want the last muffin?” Seeing all the heads shaking no, she took a bite. “These are irresistible,” she mumbled through the crumbs.

  “Okay, posse.” They all looked at Savannah. She smiled wide. “Let’s do our stuff and we’ll meet here tomorrow morning with news and progress, I hope.”

  Edward stood and collected the tray. “Posse? Like in a Wild West movie?”

  “Yes.”

  Standing tall, he replied, “Well, pilgrim, looks like we’ve got some wrangling to do. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He tipped two fingers to his imaginary hat and headed for the front door exaggerating a John Wayne swagger.

  Savannah giggled. “That’s bad, really bad.”

  Chapter 22

  Thursday Evening

  After getting home late after helping Amanda prepare Webb’s Glass Shop for the last day of class, Savannah struggled to feed Rooney, take him for a quick calm-down run, and bustle him into her car for his agility training class.

  Rooney knew it was class day and took every opportunity to play with his food, tangle himself in his leash, and balk at getting into the car.

  “Come on, Rooney,” she muttered as she pushed his large hindquarters onto the passenger seat of the car and buckled the restraint clip onto his halter. “You love this class and you love the instructor. Why do you always make things difficult?”

  Rooney was the essence of puppy innocence when he looked at her on their way to the training facility. It was a longish drive to the training grounds, but it was the best training facility in the state. This would be Rooney’s last chance to brush up before his first competitive trial on Saturday.

  The training session began ordinarily enough with puppy and parent stretches before running a few laps around the practice yard.

  “Hi, Linda,” Savannah said, waving a hand to a stocky woman with tanned wrinkles around smiling eyes and a perpetually positive attitude.

  “Hey, Savannah,” said the instructor. “Are you ready to put Rooney through his paces?”

  “If you think he’s ready.”

  Linda knelt on one knee and took Rooney’s large head into her hands. “Oh yes, he’s ready.” She looked into his eyes. “He looks bright and fit. It should be fun for him.”

  “As you suspected, he needed to do something very focused after my dad died. He’s been wonderful since we started these classes.”

  “Good.” Linda stood up. “This is his second month of beginner classes, isn’t it? He’s already accomplished weave-pole training and contact obstacle performance. This class reviews on jumps, tunnels, and chutes and will finish his schooling in the basics.”

  “That’s great to hear,” said Savannah.

  Linda ran her hands down Rooney’s back and felt his shoulders and haunches. “After formal class is over, I’d like to run him through the course a few times for a little extra tuning.”

  Savannah looked over at the structures built into a small enclosure. “He loves the course I made in the backyard, but it’s nowhere near the size of this one.”

  Linda smiled. “That’s good that he has constant reinforcement at home. He has lots of potential.”

  The routine training started with the class of eight dogs and eight owners running laps around the practice field. The first laps began with the dogs on leash; then Linda instructed them to begin running off leash. As usual, there was a bit of a rodeo with some dogs running to play with their classmates and owners shouting, pleading, and commanding obedience.

  Savannah proudly stood by the attentive Rooney, who stood tall but relaxed beside her. He is such a good dog. I wonder if he still remembers Dad. It’s been several months, but I’m so grateful for his company. He has recovered beautifully.

  Linda stood by the gate that led to the enclosed agility course. “Today we’re going to practice the final obstacle, the tunnel. For some dogs, this is where they wash out. Your dog has to trust that this tunnel is safe for him to dash through even when he can’t see the end. Your job is to send your dog into the entrance, then coax him from the exit.”

  “What if he gets stuck?” piped up the very large owner of a papillon terrier.

  “We’ll see some of that today,” said Linda. “I have several ways to coax a reluctant pet through the tunnel. Worst case, we crawl in there and lead them out.”

  “Yuk, that’s not good.”

  “So, line up from smallest dog to largest. We’ll start by leading your dog to the entrance of the tunnel. At the entrance, you command him to sit and stay; then you go to the other end of the tunnel and command him to come. Okay? Let’s try it.”

  The smallest dog with the largest owner attempted the instructions. The little white papillon, however, just couldn’t stay behind while her owner went to the other end of the tunnel. She kept trotting along behind him like a little white tufted caboose.

  “Okay, let me hold her while you get to the other end,” Linda offered and scooped up the little terrier. When the owner made it to the end of the tunnel, Linda let the terrier see her owner through the tunnel, but held fast. “Now call her.”

  When the owner said, “Come,” the little dickens shot through the tunnel like lightning and leapt up onto her owner’s chest licking his face like it was covered with cherry pie. Everyone laughed.

  The class progressed through the remaining dogs until the only pair left was Rooney and Savannah. She led him up to the entrance of the tunnel and commanded him to sit and stay. When she walked to the other end of the tunnel, Rooney trotted along behind her very much like the little terrier had earlier.

  Patiently, Savannah led him by pulling on his collar back to the tunnel entrance and repeated her command to sit and stay. Once again, he sat until she was at the other end and then he followed her before she could call him.

  “Savannah, does he have trust issues?” Linda put her hands on her hips and frowned at Rooney.

  “Possibly.” Savannah led Rooney back to the tunnel entrance and Linda stood next to Rooney. “He was completely devoted to my dad, and when he died I think Rooney felt abandoned.”

  “Okay, let me give you and Rooney a little after class instruction so as not to hold up everyone.” Savannah was relieved to be out of the spotlight and she and Rooney waited at the sidelines until the rest of the dogs and their owners had gone.

  After everyone had left, Linda motioned for them to return to the tube. “Thanks for waiting. Let’s try the same
trick.” Linda stooped in front of the entrance with her hand holding Rooney’s collar. As soon as Savannah was out of sight, Rooney tried to follow. “Stay, Rooney.” He tried again with calm persistence, dragging the sturdy Linda along.

  “Rooney!” Savannah scurried back and sat on the ground in front of him. He practically covered her face with licks and sat in her lap. She looked at Linda. “Any other ideas? We’re entered in the puppy agility competition the day after tomorrow. Do you think I should withdraw?”

  “Let me think a minute.” Linda struggled up and stood scratching the back of her neck.

  She looked at Savannah’s tall, slim frame. “Do you think you can crawl through the tunnel?”

  “Sure, it’s pretty big.” Savannah leaned over and peered through the tunnel. “Yeah, I can do this.”

  “Good, I want you to crawl through backward so that Rooney can follow and assure him that there’s nothing bad in there.”

  “That might work.” Savannah backed into the bright yellow hose and crept backward calling as she went, “Rooney, come on, Rooney boy.” He dropped down to his haunches and scooted Lassie style through the tunnel. “Good boy, good boy” was all that was heard from the tunnel.

  The first thing that appeared from the tunnel was Savannah’s feet and then her butt as she scuffled out. As soon as she cleared it, Rooney ran through the tunnel, jumped into her lap, and tumbled her onto her back. “So, now you’re happy. You’re pretty smart.” Savannah scratched him behind the ears with both hands.

  “Okay, let’s try again.” Linda walked around to the front of the tunnel. “Bring him around for a second trial.”

  Savannah called for Rooney and led him to the front of the tunnel. He looked down at the opening and then up at Savannah in a sorrowful tilt. “He’s acting as if I’m going to send him to Siberia.”

  “It could be that that is exactly what he’s thinking. Anyway, try it again.”

  Savannah signaled for Rooney to sit. He folded his rump under himself in the slowest possible way. Savannah then pointed to the entrance of the tunnel and said, “Go, Rooney!” as she ran around to the exit. Rooney got up on all four legs, made a yipping circle, and followed her to the end of the tunnel then just stared at her. “This is frustrating.”