“I’m thinking of setting up two more workstations in the custom workshop so you could work on projects of your choosing. You could sign up for a month at a time.”
Rachel piped up, “That might fit us exactly, but would we be able to get instruction?”
“Not the same type of dedicated class instruction that you get with a workshop, but certainly we’d all be around for consultation and advice. What do you think?”
The twins looked at each other again. “That’s a great idea,” said Faith.
“But we need to think about it.” Rachel eyed a “keep this to ourselves” look at Faith.
“We need to discuss this at home,” said Faith.
“Fair enough.” Savannah helped herself to another donut. “I’ll get things set up and give you first refusal in about a week. Sound good?”
“That sounds like a great idea,” said Dale.
They all looked at Dale, who had quietly entered and was placing his materials on his workbench. He leaned in to look into the office. “If you two don’t take up the offer, I certainly will.”
Amanda raised her eyebrows and gently bit her lip.
Savannah nodded.“Okay, I’ll see if I can get three spaces fitted out.”
Dale walked over to Amanda. “I’m so sorry that I broke your platter yesterday. I can make you another one if you’ll help me.”
“No need for that. Savannah and I made a completely new one from the shards of the original. We’ll see it this morning when we unload the kiln. It should be gorgeous.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
Amanda pointed to the donut box on the small folding table. “It’s the last day of the workshop—help yourself.”
Dale smiled broadly at Amanda. “Delighted. My favorite is the custard-filled one.”
“That’s mine, too!”
Holding the chocolate-covered donut in his hand, Dale turned to Savannah and asked, “About how much would this open studio cost?”
“I’m thinking a hundred dollars a month. That’s about the same price as a workshop and I’d throw in a fifteen percent discount on supplies.”
The Canadian students filed in, followed by Helen. The donuts were a big hit and they disappeared in a flash.
“Now that we’ve had our treat”—Savannah removed the two empty boxes leaving the third box in the office and put them in the recycle bin—“it’s time for our last lesson.” She led the way back into the classroom.
After everyone had chatted and then settled she continued, “Our last topic is called coldworking. That means whatever you do to your glass piece after it comes out of the kiln. First, we need to see what our work looks like after being fired. Amanda, let’s take them over to the kiln.”
The class trooped into the custom workshop and gathered around the large kiln. Savannah waited until everyone settled down and had a good view of the front of the kiln. “This is what it looks like after the full cycle has been processed. The panel on the front flashes CMPLT along with the internal temperature. Once the temperature is under a hundred degrees, that means it’s safe to open the kiln to outside air.”
“This is quite heavy, so stand back.” With both hands, Savannah grabbed the long metal handle that ran the length of the front of the kiln and lifted it open with a grunt. Standing to the side, she said, “Now, you can see what Amanda and I look at every morning.”
The class peered down into the kiln.
“That doesn’t look at all like what I expected.” Nancy leaned over to look down into the kiln. “What a dusty mess.”
Amanda laughed. “Goodness, that’s what I said the first time Savannah showed it to me.”
“Yuk, so we have to wash this off every time?” Miss Carter wrinkled her nose.
“Right on target. This happens every morning after a fuse. I’m going to hand each of you your fired piece so you can take it over to the sink and rinse off the ash. You know the drill from Tuesday’s lesson. Amanda and I will clean the slumping molds later.”
Amanda sighed dramatically. “My pleasure, your majesty.”
“There’s another rinsing sink back in the office, so split up and get them clean and dry. Then take them to your worktables so we can evaluate our final steps.”
Each member of the class took a turn rinsing off the dust and ash from their fused pieces. They also made a huge dent in the stacks of old T-shirts to be used for drying them. Everyone finally made their way back to the classroom with a shiny new dish in front of them.
Savannah looked over the class. “Today, we’ll learn how to improve your glassworks by coldworking them. Coldworking is any process that changes glass in its room temperature state. This includes sandblasting, grinding, sanding, drilling, cutting, engraving, or polishing the glass. Usually this is done during the finishing stages of your glass fusing. Now, let’s see who needs to do what.”
Working her way around the room, she held up each student’s glass piece and determined what the final finishing steps would be. Dale’s needed a bit of sanding on one edge while Helen’s needed some grinding to square up the edges. The Canadians didn’t need any coldworking at all, and the twins were arguing over the need for more work or could they count the imperfections as “artistic” effects.
She was in the middle of her “make it as good as you can make it” lecture to the twins when the front-door bell jangled. “Amanda, take over, please.”
In the display and retail room was Officer Boulli, tapping his foot with his arms folded across his generous, round belly. “Hey, I’ve got some more questions for you. Is here okay or do you want to go downtown?”
“You’re bluffing.” She walked up and stood in front of him with her arms folded. “Detective Parker doesn’t work that way.”
Crestfallen, Officer Boulli gulped and pulled a small brown paper bag from his back pocket. It had a printed label with bold red lettering proclaiming EVIDENCE as well as dates and signatures.
Savannah raised her eyebrows and relaxed her arms and shoulders.
“This is some glass evidence that the pathologist found in the victim. Detective Parker thought you might be able to help identify them.” He handed over the small packet.
“Why didn’t he give these to Frank Lattimer?”
Officer Boulli raised his shoulders up and down and replied, “He did.”
“So you’re checking Frank’s answers against mine.” She folded her arms across her chest. “That’s having your cake and eating it too.”
He nodded and let slip a sly little grin.
Savannah walked over to the light box by the glass shelves and turned it on. She opened the little brown bag and jiggled the tiny glass shards onto the surface. They were the same type of glass that she and Edward had collected at the park.
She looked up and found Officer Boulli wandering around looking at various student works that were offered for sale. “Are you waiting for an answer?”
He picked up one of the larger platters, making Savannah cringe. “Yep, I can’t let them out of my sight.”
So much for that. He hadn’t looked at them once since he handed over the bag. She put on her over-the-head magnifiers and confirmed that this was the same type of glass that she and Edward had found. Slipping off the glasses, she stood over the tiny shards.
Where did you come from? Did Megan make these locally?
“I’d like to call in another expert. Can you stay?”
“I don’t know.” He stood looking at her.
She lowered her head to give him her schoolteacher look. “Well, can you call Detective Parker and find out?”
He sighed deeply and pulled out his cell phone. “Wait until I check.” He turned his back to her and looked out at the street.
Savannah shook her head slowly. He’s not doing anything wrong, but it sure seems like it.
Amanda leaned through the classroom door. “Can you break away for a second? Helen has a question I can’t answer.”
“Sure.” She looked back at Offic
er Boulli, who, from the tapping of his toe, was apparently on hold.
Helen pounced as soon as Savannah walked through the door. “I’m not happy with this at all. I can’t really see a difference in the side that I’ve been grinding versus the side that is still untouched. What is wrong?”
Picking up the little dish, Savannah ran her fingers over the edges and could feel that one side had been ground, but only very finely. “I think you might be using the wrong grit. Which grinder are you using?”
Helen pointed to the smaller of the two grinders in the back of the classroom.
“Ah, that’s the one with a fine grit. That’s mostly for polishing and small imperfections. Try the bigger one and see what happens.”
Amanda mouthed Thank you from across the room as Helen calmed down and began to square up her dish using the right equipment.
Officer Boulli filled the doorway and blocked the afternoon sunlight. “Detective Parker says I can stay here another hour if it helps the investigation.”
Savannah moved deliberately toward the doorway and Officer Boulli stumbled over his feet getting out of the way. “I’ll see if Duncan, owner of the Duncan McCloud Gallery, can come over to look at this.”
She used the phone by the cash register and in a very few words sealed the deal. “He’s coming right over. He’s only five minutes away.”
Biting the inside of her cheek to keep a straight face, she said, “Today is the last day of our workshop so we have donuts. They’re in the office if you’d like one.”
Boulli’s eyes widened and he immediately walked into the office and snagged one. Through his munching, he asked, “Have you got an extra cup for coffee?”
“Sure.” Savannah pulled a spare cup from the bottom drawer of her desk. As she handed it over to Boulli, she noted that there were only two of the six donuts left. “There’s no milk left, but you’re welcome to the sugar.” About fifteen minutes later, Savannah was pleased to see McCloud nearly shake the door bell off its hook as he plunged into the display and retail room. “Hey! Is this real? Am I really going to help in a murder investigation?”
“Yes you are. I need some help identifying a few shards of glass. They’re here on the light table.” She handed him the over-the-head magnifiers.
He put them on and selected one of the tweezers that were on the light table and used them to move the shards around. “Oh, this is such beautiful glass. This is exactly like the shards you showed me on Wednesday. I’ve done my research and I remember seeing something like this in Italy when I was a student there.”
“When was that?”
He looked up and removed the magnifiers. “That was way back in the seventies. This was a new process that held great promise for easy to create reds—but it was abandoned.”
“Why?”
“It had two major problems. It was very expensive to create because it required so much copper.”
“And the second reason?”
“It was incredibly toxic. The inventor inhaled deadly fumes and died a painful, horrible death.”
“Why didn’t he wear a mask?” Officer Boulli asked.
“They didn’t know.” Savannah shuddered at the thought of an artist poisoned by his medium and was frustrated by Boulli’s complete lack of knowledge about the birthplace of glassmaking.
Chapter 25
Friday Evening
The funky décor in the Queen’s Head Pub always provoked Savannah to smile at the dry, British tongue-in-cheek humor. The walls were a modern slate color and supported multiple plaster-cast architectural shelves mounted near the ceiling. They were painted white and overflowing with British symbolic icons: a head of the queen statue, a porcelain bulldog, milk glass vases filled with white plastic flowers, and tons of books. It was hard to explain but a pleasure to experience.
Keith, Amanda, Edward, and Jacob had chosen a table outside at the far end of the patio. It was the one area avoided by regular customers until all other seating had been claimed. Suzy was lying under Jacob’s chair and raised her head as Savannah led Rooney to the table.
“Hi, guys. I thought it was about time for Suzy and Rooney to meet.”
“Yes, Miss Savannah.” Jacob led Suzy around the table. The size difference was enormous, but Suzy took charge immediately and let Rooney know she was the lead dog. Rooney stood still for the introductory sniffing, then lay flat on the ground to keep his head lower than Suzy’s.
“Wow,” said Amanda, “I thought that might have gone the other way.”
“Suzy is a trained working dog,” said Jacob. “She has responsibilities. Her job is to warn me if I’m having an anxiety attack.”
After the dogs settled the dominance chain, Suzy went back under Jacob’s chair and Rooney barely squeezed under Savannah’s chair. He at least rested his head on his paws. His wagging tail was a definite trip hazard, so she pulled him out and had him lay under the table.
Finally, Savannah looked up as the waitress was standing over her with a patient smile.
“Nicole, it’s great to see you back.” Savannah stood and gave her a hug. “How are your niece and nephew in Switzerland?”
“They are rock stars. They’re seven and nine now and such great fun.” Nicole smiled with loving eyes bright and gooey. “We all went to Disneyland Paris. My brother-in-law is delightfully rich so I wallowed in luxury the whole time.”
“Family is good; rich family is even better.” Savannah sat and looked down at Rooney, then across at Edward.
“Is that a new tattoo? It’s gorgeous,” said Amanda, peering at the morning glory vine wrapping its way up Nicole’s left arm. “The hummingbird is perfect at the shoulder. It looks like it could fly away any moment.”
“Yeah, I found a new guy. He’s great. Expensive, because his shop is close to downtown, but he’s really talented.” Nicole pulled out an order pad. “We’ve got some crispy chickpeas and artichoke hummus coming. Drinks are on Edward, so what’s your poison?”
“I don’t want poison. I want a root beer,” said Jacob clearly, and he even looked directly at Nicole.
“Got it.” Nicole looked at Amanda. “Your regular?” Amanda nodded and Nicole wrote on her pad. Looking at Savannah, she asked, “Beach Blonde Ale?” Savannah nodded. Then to Keith, she prompted, “And you, sir?”
“I’ll have the house red.”
Nicole made a note, then looked up and said, “Boss?”
Edward leaned back in his chair. “Let me try that new amber ale we got from Brewer’s Tap Room. It’s been getting good reviews. What’s it called?”
“Tropic Thunder.”
“Yep, that’s it.”
Nicole left and Savannah turned in her chair and reached down to help Rooney get more comfortable. As she leaned over, the chair leg scraped, startling Rooney, who bolted up, his toenails desperately scrambling for a quick escape from the angry chair. The chair lost the gravity battle and tipped over with Savannah grabbing air. With a plop, she landed on her scraped leg and let out a screech.
The whole gang gasped, then scrambled, but Edward was the first to reach her. “Are you hurt?”
Keith came around from the other side. “Let me help you up.” He grabbed her upper arms and pulled her upright in a jiffy.
“I’m fine,” she panted. “Rooney got startled.”
Amanda pointed down at Savannah’s leg. “Look, you’re bleeding.”
The fall had broken open the scrape and blood soaked through the gauze as well as her pale blue jeans. “Damn, I’ll have to dress it again.”
“Again?” Edward’s voice lowered an octave. “When did you get this?”
Jacob handed Savannah a stack of napkins he had quietly taken from one of the server’s stations. “Thanks.” She pressed the stack against her soaked jeans. “I was attacked yesterday morning on our run. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to worry you guys. Edward, do you have a first aid kit?”
“It’s in the kitchen. Amanda, help her into the ladies’ loo and I
’ll hand it in to you.”
Amanda circled an arm around Savannah’s shoulders to hold her up so she could hop through the pub into the ladies’ room. Before they could even get the door closed, Edward handed Amanda the first aid kit.
He looked fiercely at Savannah. “We’ll be wanting to know everything in detail. Everything. In. Detail.” He closed the door.
Amanda helped Savannah sit down on the small stool in the restroom, then rolled up her jeans and lifted the blood-soaked gauze bandage. “Oh boy, that looks angry.” Amanda pulled away the gauze, rummaged in the first aid kit, and found a compress. “Now be still so the bleeding will stop.” She held the pad on the scrape for a few minutes, lifted it, and changed pads. “There, it’s stopped.”
Savannah fidgeted. “I can finish it.”
“Yes, you can, but I’m your friend and I’m going to do it. I change lots of dressings at my mother’s nursing home. I’m the best you have right now.”
Savannah pressed her lips closed and sat back and relaxed.
Amanda cleaned the scrape with a wipe and applied an antiseptic cream. She efficiently bandaged the wound in gauze and tape. Methodically replacing the supplies in the first aid kit, she said, “This should be good until tomorrow morning. Do you have enough supplies?”
“Yes, I’ve got plenty, but, I have to admit, I’m nowhere as good as you are with bandaging.” She watched as Amanda carefully unrolled the leg of her jeans back down over the bandage. “That will give it more protection. It’s not a very good look, but I think you can carry it off.”
“I’m not worried about my look. I’m worried about the look Edward gave me. He was furious.”
As they left the ladies’ room, Savannah let Amanda lead to delay even a few more seconds the reaction she knew was coming from Edward. She walked to her chair carefully, suppressing the instinct to favor the newly bandaged leg.
“Precisely when were you going to tell us about the attack?” Edward spoke so quietly it sent a nervous ripple down Savannah’s spine. He was using every inch of his British accent to its fully cultured effect.
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