Etched in Tears

by Cheryl Hollon

  She stood inside the conference room door with her hands on her hips. Jacob walked in with Suzy in his arms and placed her in a seat before settling into the one next to her.

  “Thanks for showing up, Jacob. I think I’m going to need you.”

  Jacob lifted his head and looked at Savannah, “Good. I’m excellent at your puzzles.” He quickly looked back at Suzy and petted her in one long stroke from head to tail.

  Savannah heard a key in the front door and both Edward and Amanda made their way through the bright studio. Edward was balancing a large tray with a large traditional brown betty teapot with floral cups and saucers while Amanda held a large serving platter covered with a kitchen towel.

  “We’re here. Even better, we’re here with treats,” she said as she placed the platter in the center of the table. She whipped off the towel. “It’s Edward’s famous cranberry scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam.”

  “Finally,” said Savannah, eyeing the heaping stack of scones. “You haven’t made them in a long time.”

  “I also brought afternoon tea.” Edward doled out cups and saucers to each of them and placed a small dish of cut lemons on the table.

  Jacob reached for his and lined up the flowers on the cup with the matching flowers on the saucer. “The tea is Earl Gray, correct? It is afternoon and it is also my favorite.”

  Edward smiled and then he high-fived with Jacob. “Spot on. I know very well that you like it.” He picked up the squat brown teapot and poured all around.

  Everyone ate at least one scone. Jacob had already gone through two, but at eighteen, his appetite flipped erratically between voracious or non-existent. He liked some foods obsessively and others he avoided. He was the only one who knew the ever-changing rules.

  Savannah cleared her throat and waited until the other three looked at her. “I have a situation and I need your help.”

  Jacob talked through a mouthful of scone. “Is there a puzzle for me?”

  “I think so, Jacob. But I am worried about our order for the Vinoy Hotel. They need those three hundred glass charger plates on Saturday. I’m not sure we can spare you from the process of loading and unloading the kilns.”

  Jacob picked up Suzy and hugged her close. “We can share the task of unloading. I’m the best at loading. That’s what you said.”

  Savannah nodded slightly and smiled. “Good thinking. Your ability to load the kiln is incredible, but any of us can unload. Well done!”

  “He’s right,” said Amanda. “I can take over the unloading and that will free up Jacob to help you with—”

  “Just one more thing.” Savannah looked directly at Edward. “I also need some help with my paperwork. I don’t see how I can take on an investigation and still manage the payroll, social security deposits, retail taxes, employee insurance, workman’s comp, and everything else that has to be done this week.”

  “You lookin’ at me?” Edward smirked. “You lookin’ at me?” He reared back his head and pointed to the middle of his chest.

  Savannah laughed. “Yes, I know this is a busy time for you, but I’m hoping you will volunteer to take on some of them at least during this week so I can assist Detective Parker.”

  Edward paused. “Nicole is the best bartender cum manager I’ve ever met. She’s got everything running so well that she’s politely pretending that I’m sometimes needed. Except for the paperwork of course. She feels the same way that you do on that front.”

  “What if I make a few more of these Vinoy Hotel chargers for your tables at the pub? Would that be a good trade? We can do them right after we deliver our order.”

  Edward nodded. “I’m good with that. Our basic paperwork processes are similar. It also helps that we use the same horrible cash register application. The only thing I need is to meet your accountant to catch me up on your business categories. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  “I am so grateful. You actually enjoy that part. I sincerely don’t.”

  “And my other secret super power is that I have Nicole the wonder bartender. She really runs Queen’s Head Pub. I only have to show up now and again for her to tell me what she needs me to do.”

  “Enough already.” Amanda clipped her words. “What’s the job?”

  Savannah waited until each of them was looking at her. “Let me explain.” She propped her elbows on the table and wrapped her hands around the hot cup of tea. “I was called to the Dali Museum this morning by Detective Parker to help gather information on a young man they found dead in the museum’s garden. His name was Dennis Lansing.”

  “Isn’t he the chap with the exhibit opening we attended last evening?” Edward asked.

  “Yes.” Savannah felt her cheeks get warm. She looked at Amanda. “Although it was great to be invited, it was such a madhouse and he was so popular, we didn’t get to speak to him for more than an introduction when the museum director pulled him away. Dennis and I had been exchanging e-mails over the past few weeks. He had agreed to narrate a tour through his exhibit for my etching students and hold a demonstration here at the studio. He was a generous artist.” She turned her cup around to hold another spot. “Anyway, Detective Parker found a decade-old letter from my dad in Dennis’s jacket pocket and wanted to know what I knew about him and the letter.”

  “You told him everything, right?” Amanda sat up straight.

  “Yes, of course.” Savannah stood up and added more tea to her cup and Edward’s as well.

  “So why are we here?” asked Amanda. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not sure anything is wrong, but I knew Dennis pretty well.” She looked at Edward. “He was my first ever boyfriend when I was a freshman at St. Petersburg High School.”

  “First serious boyfriend? As in, you know, first kiss?” Amanda’s voice stumbled over the word kiss, then she gulped behind her hand. She looked directly at Edward.

  “Yes, he was,” said Savannah, also looking at Edward “We were quite close for a few months during his senior year, which was my freshman year.”

  “This is tragic.” Amanda rose, walked around the table, and gave Savannah a giant hug that lasted for at least ten seconds. “You must feel awful.” She returned to her seat and grabbed another scone.

  “Thanks, but I’m not really sure how I feel about it. Yet, anyway. I mean, it was a long time ago and we hadn’t kept in touch after he dumped me, but I do remember him as a charmer. I was looking forward to catching up with his successes.”

  “How much of a charmer was he?” asked Edward in a gentle low voice.

  “Like a very close funny friend. Nothing more.” She grinned. “When we went to the opening launch last night, I got a chance to see him and his wife. He did the right thing by breaking up with me. He seemed to be happy with his wife.”

  “He broke up with you?” Amanda put her hands on her hips. “No way.”

  “Way,” said Savannah. “He was sensitive about my age and thought he was a bad influence. Turns out he was right.”

  “How was he a bad influence?” asked Jacob.

  “He was in quite a bit of trouble as a member of a neighborhood gang. In fact, he was one of my dad’s first apprentices. Dad started a program with a social worker to rescue high-risk students. The dropout rate at school was rising quickly so he met with a social worker to create a work-school program that assigned them to work in art-related businesses as apprentices.”

  Edward poured himself more tea and snagged an extra lemon. “So why do you need our help? Wouldn’t the information all be in your dad’s files? I don’t see what the problem is.”

  “There are at least two,” said Savannah. “First, Detective Parker wants me to research Dad’s old records and see what I can find out about Dennis’s past, based on the letter that was found in his pocket. The problem with that is that Dad’s record identifiers are all encrypted and I’ll need Jacob to help to decipher the filing system. There are also some old files in the attic.”

  “I can help with tha
t when I come over tonight.” Edward raised his eyebrows.

  “Absolutely. Second, Detective Parker doesn’t have a cause of death yet. But he thought it was possible that Dennis might have died of an overdose and is basically thinking it was a result of the very successful opening of his exhibit at the Dali.”

  “Is that unreasonable?” asked Edward.

  “Well, the body was moved after his death. That needs explaining. It’s not the behavior of the Dennis that I knew. He was not a drug user. He was seriously opposed to drug use.”

  “He could have changed his tune.”

  “That’s entirely possible. One of the stressors back in high school was that Dennis was casually selling drugs, but not actually taking them. He was doing it for spending cash. It seemed so innocent and harmless at the time.”

  Jacob looked at Savannah. “What happened?” “His older brother died of an overdose and Dennis had sold him the drugs. Dennis was there when it happened.”

  Chapter 7

  Monday afternoon

  Detective Parker knocked on the door of a large multistory house in the elite neighborhood called the Historic Old Northeast neighborhood. He glanced over at Officer Williams who accompanied him. This was her first experience with a death notification. She stood stiffly with her eyes wide and a hint of paleness around her full lips. This was a part of the job that he found uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t let anyone else on the team take over. Giving a family member the bad news about a loved one took an emotional toll on everyone associated with the investigation.

  Officer Williams needed to learn about this part of the job.

  The door was answered by a stout woman of mature age and wearing a flowing caftan printed with birds-of-paradise along with matching orange sandals. Her voice was hesitant. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Mrs. Granger. My name is Detective David Parker and this is Officer Joy Williams. May we speak to Mrs. Harriet Lansing? I understand she is your guest. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, that’s right, Officers. Dennis and Harriet are staying here for the next few weeks. Is there some sort of trouble at the museum? I haven’t seen either Dennis or Harriet yet this morning, but they have the run of the cottage, so that’s not a big deal. It has a private entrance along with a dedicated parking place. Parking is such a problem here.”

  Detective Parker interrupted her obviously rehearsed speech about the problems of parking in their neighborhood. “It is urgent that we speak to Mrs. Lansing immediately. May we come in?”

  Mrs. Granger appeared to grasp that she had two police officers standing in front of the door for all her neighbors to see. “Certainly. Pardon me. Of course, please come in.”

  They were led through a formal entry into a palatial living room with at least six separate sitting areas and into a sunroom. The floors were tiled with twelve-by-twelve-inch rustic red tiles. The sunroom looked out onto the red brick street. It was furnished in classic white wicker with overstuffed floral printed cushions and vases of tropical flowers on every flat surface. Mrs. Granger waved them into the room. “I’ll just pop out back to get Harriet, but first may I offer you some iced tea or coffee?”

  Detective Parker glanced at Officer Williams. “We’re good, thank you, but if you know what Mrs. Lansing drinks, having something for her would be appreciated. After you tell her we need to see her, of course.”

  “Is something wrong?” asked Mrs. Granger. She looked from Detective Parker to Officer Williams and back again. “It’s something terrible, isn’t it?”

  “Please, if you could, ma’am, tell Mrs. Lansing that we’re here to talk with her.”

  In a few minutes, Harriet Lansing entered the sunroom dressed in black yoga pants and a multicolored crop top. She wore a white hand towel draped around her neck. Her hair was held in a ponytail and a slight sheen of perspiration glistened on her forehead. “What’s this all about? Why have you come to see me?”

  Detective Parker stood and glanced over to be sure that Officer Williams stood as well. “Please sit down, Mrs. Lansing. I have some very bad news.”

  Harriet stiffened and pulled the towel from around her neck. “Are my parents okay? Have they been in an accident?” Her face tightened along her jaw and she wiped her forehead with the towel. “I just spoke to them last night.”

  “Please sit down, Mrs. Lansing.”

  “No, I’ll stand. Would you just tell me straight out?”

  Detective Parker cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to tell you that your husband died early this morning.”

  Harriet stiffened, then released a fast bark of laughter. “Dennis? Are you sure?”

  Officer Williams stepped forward and extended her hand a few inches under Harriet’s arm and stood ready with a hand behind her back. When Harriet didn’t appear ready to collapse, Joy took her by the arm and gently led her to the chair next to the sofa. They all sat without a word.

  “I didn’t expect that you would be telling me about Dennis. You see, my father has been in and out of the hospital with a heart condition, but he still insists on driving. That’s what I thought. I thought you were here to tell me that Dad had been killed in a car accident.” A row of furrows appeared on her forehead and she pulled the elastic band out of her hair. “I didn’t think about Dennis.”

  “Is there anyone I can call to be with you now, Mrs. Lansing?” asked Joy.

  “We have some friends here, but no, I don’t want anyone.” She looked at the floor while pulling a hand through her long hair. “No one.”

  Mrs. Granger entered the sunroom with a tray crowded with a carafe of coffee, four china mugs, along with a pitcher of cream and a container of sugar packets. She placed the tray on the coffee table. She poured coffee in one of the cups and added three yellow packets of sweetener. “Harriet, take this.” She took Harriet’s hand and wrapped it around the mug. “Drink it.”

  Harriet looked down, put her other hand around the mug, and took a sip. She looked up at Mrs. Granger. “Thank you.”

  Mrs. Granger smiled and poured coffee for Detective Parker, Officer Williams, and herself. “Please help yourselves to cream and sugar,” she said in a loud whisper, then sat down next to Harriet.

  Detective Parker leaned forward. “Mrs. Lansing, do you feel up to talking about what happened last night?”

  Harriet took a deep breath and looked directly at Detective Parker. “How did he die? Was it an asthma attack?”

  “Our investigation has just begun, Mrs. Lansing. Could you tell me when you last saw your husband?”

  “He was terrible about keeping up with his medication and treatments. He had three different types of inhalers and prescriptions, too.”

  “When did you last see your husband?” Detective Parker used a slightly louder voice.

  She looked down into the coffee. “He didn’t come to our cottage last night after the exhibit opening.” She pressed her lips into a thin line. “That wasn’t unusual. He was always very keyed up after an opening. He probably went for late night drinks with some of his fans.”

  “So, the last time you saw him was at the museum.”

  Harriet stood up so quickly that her coffee sloshed out onto the tile floor. “I’m upset. I’m going to my room.” She placed the cup on the coffee table, turned, and left.

  Silence filled the sunroom until Detective Parker cleared his throat. He stood and pulled out his billfold. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Granger. Here is my card. Please give it to Mrs. Lansing as soon as you can. Tell her to call me as soon as possible.”

  Mrs. Granger took the business card and looked at the details. “Homicide? You’re from the Homicide Division?”

  “Yes, ma’am. We suspect Dennis was murdered.”

  Chapter 8

  Monday evening

  Savannah answered the doorbell wearing a floral cotton dress of peach and tan with a pair of tan kitten heels. “Hi.” She led Edward into her living room and gave him a deep kiss. Savannah’s one-year-old Weimaraner puppy woofed, w
iggled, and wedged his way between them. At over seventy-five pounds, he was innocently effective in cutting their greeting much shorter than either one of them wanted.

  “Rooney! Stop that.” Savannah pulled her way out of Edward’s strong embrace before everyone lost their balance.

  “Mmmm. You taste good.” Edward looked down. “Hey, Rooney.” He bent and scratched Rooney behind the ear. “You know I wouldn’t forget you, boy” Reaching into a pocket of his worn black motorcycle jacket, he pulled out a small resealable pouch and shook the contents at eye level over Rooney. “Look here. I brought the organic snacks you like.” He went into the kitchen and placed the bag on the kitchen counter, slipped his jacket off, and hung it on a hook by the back door, then opened the dog treat package. He took one and held it up. “Now, do your stuff. Sit!”

  Rooney hustled around in front of Edward and performed a textbook sit with his eyes on the snack.

  “Good boy,” said Edward as he gave Rooney his reward.

  “You’re spoiling him.” Savannah crossed her arms. “He expects a treat every time you arrive, now. Rooney is loyal once he makes up his mind. He reminds me of my dad—tough to get to know, but a forever friend when you managed. I’m pretty much like that, too.”

  Edward raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

  “I know, I know,” said Savannah. “I know very well that I’m having a tough time making room for someone in my life.” She looked at the floor. “I’m struggling, but I don’t even know why I’m dragging my feet.”

  “I’m having trouble understanding. You cleared out your dad’s bedroom and bought new furniture when you moved in there. You’ve replaced his recliner that was in the living room. You’ve painted the kitchen and reorganized the cupboards. What’s left?”

  “His office.”

  “What about his office?” Edward’s voice rose ever so slightly. “Have you sorted through that?”

  “No. Every time I open the door, I get overwhelmed and close it again.”