Etched in Tears

by Cheryl Hollon

  “I had some trouble with the information I found about Harriet. She acts as Dennis’s business manager and publicist. Her online presence is massive. She posts to Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest. She has a Pinterest page for every exhibition that Dennis has put on. It’s a wonderful record of his progression as an artist. It will be easy to create a catalog of his entire body of work from her pinned images.”

  “Did she use any social media for personal communications?” asked Savannah.

  Amanda nodded. “She apparently used her cell phone to text personal conversations. I found a couple requests for Facebook contacts to message her a phone number so that they could continue their conversation more privately. It’s not unreasonable for a public person to do that. I can’t get into phone records.”

  Savannah drew a hand through her curls. “So, if we want more information about her, we’ll have to ask. First, I’ll talk to Joy and see if she’s willing to share at least something. I know the department is overloaded right now with the St. Petersburg Arts and Culture Festival and the tragedy in Orlando.”

  The month-long celebration of St. Petersburg’s artistic creators and creations is often referred to as the SPF or SPFestival. It consists of fifty-seven events at 149 venues by 102 organizations and/or performers during the thirty days of September. It focused on events and activities produced by local and national artists, arts organizations, and arts-related businesses in and around the city’s unique arts districts including the Grand Central District, where Webb’s Glass Shop was located.

  Amanda spoke. “The last person I chased is Gina, the moody and erratic museum director. She’s a powerhouse on social media. She is active on Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Tumblr, Snapchat, GooglePlus, Pinterest, Instagram, and Reddit. I don’t see how she can keep up with the noise. She must have an assistant. Anyway, the one she uses the most is Twitter. There’s a tweet every ten minutes on her feed. They’re all public posts using the museum accounts. She uses them exclusively.”

  “Okay, but I want—,” said Savannah.

  Amanda held up a hand. “Let me finish. Because her feed is so active, it’s obvious when she’s off-line. She normally stops at about ten o’clock in the evening and then starts up again at about five a.m. That’s a regular pattern. What’s not so regular is that there are some unusual periods of no activity at all.”

  Edward frowned. “What does that tell us?”

  “One of those times was during and immediately after the reception at the museum. On that evening, all social media stopped after about ten o’clock. She was off-line until midnight when she posted a few pictures. All social activity normally ended at ten o’clock in the evening, so I noticed it. She resumed at four a.m., which is earlier than her normal time of five a.m.”

  “That’s something to consider. That means she was offline during the reception. But during the interval when Dennis was murdered,” Savannah paused, “she was working away.” She quickly pulled a tissue from her pocket and stemmed her running nose with a quick wipe. “Excuse me.”

  “Yes, I was disappointed about that, too.” Amanda looked at Savannah in concern, then reached for another cookie but pulled her hand back. “So, I looked back into her history and found a couple other three- or four-hour blocks of time in the preceding month where she was completely off-line.”

  “So, if we extrapolate a bit,” said Edward, “we can assume that she was spending that time with someone who was more interesting to her than Facebook. I wonder who?”

  Amanda shrugged her shoulders. “I haven’t checked out Dennis yet. I’ll be able to do that this evening.” She grabbed another cookie. “You said you wanted to learn a bit about social media. Tonight, after this meeting, would be a great time.”

  “I did say that.” Savannah rolled her eyes. “I’ll look over your shoulder this evening. I’m good with searching for information, but social media? Yuk!”

  Amanda rubbed her hands together. “Yay! Teaching the teacher. Oh, what did you find out from Dennis’s social worker?”

  “One thing I found out is that having Jacob along means that the questioning will take a couple drastic twists. Do you want to tell them about our discussion with him?” She nodded toward Jacob.

  He ducked his head and shook it. “No, you tell.”

  “Sure.” She sipped her iced tea. “Our social worker was helpful, but he wasn’t in the best of health. He uses an oxygen tank all the time. He certainly enjoyed talking about the program and his memory was clear. He confirmed that my dad kept all the records and that Dennis’s partner in the apprentice program was nicknamed Chuck.”

  “Chuck? You mean, short for Charles?” said Edward.

  “Yes, our very own state representative. Dennis and Chuck were members in the same gang that caused a lot of trouble around town. His records have got to be in the file cabinet somewhere. So Jacob, if you can work out which one it is . . . that would be helpful. Maybe there’s more information about their activities that we can investigate.

  “Sorry, Amanda, there’s another name to add to your list of social media investigations—Florida State Representative Charles King.”

  “You mean our list of social media investigations.” Amanda rolled her hands over each other. “Mwu ha ha ha. This is going to be fun.”

  “Okay, I walked into that one. That’s all for now, guys. Jacob, you and Suzy need to get going.” She turned to help Edward gather the glasses on his tray. “I’ll meet you next door for dinner. That is, if our Thursday dinner is still on.”

  Edward smiled. “Brilliant.”

  * * *

  After they left, Amanda put the work stools back in the classroom and pulled up the guest chair close behind Savannah. “Now, the first thing we need to do is create accounts for you. You need to do that anyway for Webb’s Glass Shop.”

  Savannah faced the PC display screen that sat on the oak desk surface. It had been her father’s and his PC system was a powerful hand-built tower with custom boards that provided extra processing power and additional security checks.

  “Okay, which social media sites will be most useful? You know I don’t have a lot of spare time, so I want to get the most bang for my buck.”

  “That’s easy. Facebook and Twitter are the largest and most popular, but because your clients are interested in crafting, Pinterest should also be one of your sites.” Amanda pointed to the mouse. “Click on that little icon in the corner.”

  “The blue one with the f ?”

  “Yes, now press the ENTER key and the Facebook application opens. Now, let’s sign you up for a profile page so we can visit Gina’s site.”

  After more than an hour, Savannah finally had a page with a profile picture, a cover picture, and she had filled out most of the information needed to put up a bare account.

  “While we’re here, let’s set up a fan page for Webb’s Glass Shop. We can actually start doing some real promotion after this.” Amanda quickly filled out the information needed and inserted a cover photo and profile picture.

  Setting up that page didn’t take as long. The next social media site they tackled was Twitter.

  “You might actually like this one better than Facebook. Tweets are limited to a hundred and forty characters. So, it’s short and sweet for interacting quickly and there are already a jillion people on it. After you get used to using the hashtags you can interact real time with people who are interested in the same things you like. I think the best path is just to set one up for Webb’s Glass Shop and you can use that for everything.” Amanda took a few minutes to walk Savannah through creating a Twitter account called @WebbsGlassShop and they pulled in the same profile picture they had used for Savannah’s Facebook page.

  “Now let me show you around a little bit. Do you mind if I type? Your two-finger hunt-and-peck is driving me crazy.”

  Savannah stood up. “Well, excuse me. I grew up in a glass shop, not a tech lab, so I never learned to touch type . . . but I am pretty quick with th
ose two fingers.”

  “Come on. Don’t get huffy. I don’t want to be here all night. Tomorrow’s a busy day for both of us. It’s the last day of class. I not only look forward to the last day, but I also dread it. Busy, busy, busy.”

  Savannah moved to the guest chair while Amanda took over the typing. “You’re right. I’ll watch.

  “I want to show you what Gina’s normal Facebook posting patterns look like and when she was silent a couple weeks ago.” Amanda’s rapid-fire typing brought up Gina’s Dali Museum Facebook page and they scrolled through both the normal activity and the silence.

  “What does it look like on Twitter?”

  Amanda unloosed her flying fingers on the keyboard and Gina’s twitter feed was displayed on the PC screen. She scrolled down the multiple-times-per-hour Twitter messages, called tweets, to a gap one evening. “That’s the only one I found and that wasn’t repeated except for the evening of the exhibit reception. Let me show you that section.” Amanda scrolled the display. “Then Gina started up again in her normal pattern at five a.m.”

  Savannah squinted at the screen. “These messages, I mean tweets, is there a way to get more information about how they were broadcast? I know you can use a Twitter app on your smartphone. Is that different?”

  “We can look closer into her account by clicking on her Twitter handle, then we can click on the clock symbol. It tells what posting mechanism she used.”

  Savannah got up and leaned over Amanda’s shoulder. “These here look different from the rest of them. See, this bit of wording here says they were scheduled via Hootsuite. What does that mean?”

  Amanda put both hands over her mouth. “Oh my goodness. I hadn’t noticed that. She doesn’t do that, ever. I mean I checked over the last month and all her tweets were written either from a PC or from her phone app. This means that she planned ahead of time to make sure that block of time was covered.”

  Savannah sat back in the chair. “That means she has no alibi for the time that Dennis was killed. I’ll call Officer Williams.”

  Chapter 25

  Thursday evening

  “Why did you choose this place for dinner? I love the meals at Queen’s Head Pub.” Savannah and Edward stood on the sidewalk in front of Ricky P’s Orleans Bistro about ten blocks east of Webb’s Glass Shop on Central Avenue.

  “I thought we should meet on neutral ground.” Edward opened the door to the spicy smell of simmering Jambalaya, sugary sweet beignets, and sizzling Andouille sausage. “We have some serious issues that need discussion.”

  Savannah frowned a bit, but said nothing. She hated difficult discussions. She was an expert in avoiding difficult discussions. She inherited that from her dad and it didn’t look like a trait that would be easily overcome, certainly not in the next few minutes.

  The inside décor of Ricky P’s Orleans Bistro was an homage to the French Quarter in New Orleans. It was decorated with beads in Mardi Gras colors of gold, green, and purple dripping from every available surface and scattered hooks. The walls were hung with fantastical masks from the various costumes that the owner had collected when he lived in NOLA.

  Edward spoke before their server had even handed them the menus. “We’ll start with a tower of onion rings to go along with a pint of Beach Blonde Ale for her and a pint of Summer Storm Stout for me.”

  “Yes, sir. I put that in right now.”

  Savannah glanced around. The restaurant was busy since Thursday night during the late autumn was the new Friday as many companies had offered employees a four-day week. “What is the bad news?”

  “How did you know?” Edward tilted his head. “I haven’t said anything.”

  “Exactly.” She tilted her head in the same direction. “You usually have critiqued a restaurant nine ways from sunshine before we even get a menu. What’s the trouble?”

  Edward cleared his throat. “I have been looking through the accounts and I think you might be in trouble with the State of Florida.”

  “What? How could that be? I had everything arranged with Burkart in setting up Webb’s Studio. Are you sure?”

  The server placed their beers on coasters. “Would you like to hear our specials?”

  Edward looked up. “No, thank you. I’ll have an order of the shrimp étouffée with a side order of creole slaw and Savannah will have the combo platter with fresh tomato salad.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Savannah’s face was pale. “I’m not sure I can eat. My stomach just hit the floor.”

  “I found a letter from the State of Florida which indicated that you are more than thirty days past due in submitting your quarterly sales taxes for Webb’s Studio.”

  Savannah shook her head violently. “I don’t sell products out of the Studio. I sell services and Florida doesn’t have a sales tax on services. At least not yet. All my supply sales are run through Webb’s Glass Shop. This is insane.”

  “Insane or not, it only takes one slip of the cash register to alert the powers that be for tax collection. Your dad was my hero when I was setting up Queen’s Head Pub’s accounts. I would have stumbled into serious trouble if he hadn’t been there to explain what I needed to do to resolve my tax issues.”

  “How much money are we talking about?”

  “Six thousand two hundred and forty-three dollars.”

  Savannah dropped her head. “That’s a lot of money.” She slowly looked up. “Perfect timing.”

  Edward reached across the table and placed his warm hand over Savannah’s. “Don’t look so worried. I think I figured out what happened.”

  “What do I have to do?” Savannah asked.

  “I have a plan to fix this.”

  The server placed a golden pile of crispy onion rings on the table. Edward grabbed one. “These are brilliant. It’s every man for himself. I’m not going to be polite until they’re gone.”

  Savannah laughed and grabbed two.

  “Savannah, I’m running into you every time I turn around.” Charles King stood over their table rocking slightly on his heels. He was wearing his signature casual look of white dress shirt buttoned to the top, navy trousers, and a colorful vest. “I hear that you’re working as a subject matter expert with the St. Petersburg Police Department. Is that true?”

  Savannah craned her neck to look up at him. “Yes, I’ve been lucky to be able to help them in a small way.”

  King grabbed an unused chair from the next table, turned the back to face the table, and straddled it. “Good to see you again, Edward. How’s Queen’s Head Pub faring?” He extended a hand.

  Edward wiped his mouth and hands on his bright purple napkin and shook hands. “Very well, indeed. We have a large local following . . . not only tourists for my place.”

  King smiled and turned to Savannah. “I have inside information that you’ve been more than a little helpful. You’ve solved a couple murders. Who would have thought that you, me, and Dennis would have come so far from our underprivileged beginnings?”

  “Pardon me. I-I—” Savannah stuttered.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I meant that as a compliment. You were a motherless girl being raised by a more than slightly paranoid father who was an ex-government agent not only running a stained-glass business, but spearheading a revolutionary program to salvage gang members from certain doom.”

  Savannah narrowed her eyes. “It was an effective program. You’ve done particularly well, haven’t you?”

  “Dennis and I were so much alike, I’m not sure why my assigned apprenticeship at the Art Center was in the administrative office and Dennis went directly to teaching. It could easily have been the reverse. How are you helping the police with Dennis’s death?”

  “That’s confidential.”

  “Of course.” He stood. “I’ll let you get back to your dinner. If there’s anyway that I can help, give me a call. I would like to be as informed of what happened as soon as possible, since Dennis was an old friend and I am the state representative for this district
.” He gave her a business card and left the restaurant.

  Edward stood and replaced the chair back at the adjoining table. “I think you should take him up on that offer. He knew Dennis.”

  “Yes, but he’s a politician.”

  “Yes, but he’s a successful politician.” Edward returned to his seat and grabbed another onion ring.

  Savannah snagged the last one. “The only time a politician lies is when his lips are moving.”

  Chapter 26

  Friday morning

  “With a dose of good luck today, you should be going home with your final project in your hands.” Savannah walked around the large table in the conference room. All four students had a piece of artwork taped to a small oval piece of glass with a hole in the top to make a key chain.

  They went outside to do the etching for their projects.

  Faith tapped Savannah on the arm. “We saw in the paper this morning that there’s going to be a candlelight celebration for Dennis Lansing.”

  Rachel frowned and elbowed Faith. “She already knows about that, silly goose. Tell her what we talked about this morning.”

  “Hold your horses. I was just about to do that.” Faith pursed her lips and put one hand on her hip. “We would like to go to the ceremony, but we don’t drive at night anymore. Could you take us?”

  The twins simultaneously planted an artificial smile on their faces and begged. “Please?”

  Savannah ran down her mental list of everything that needed to happen before the ceremony. Check on the last loading of the kiln that would make up the order for the Vinoy Hotel. Feed and exercise Rooney. Edward was coming to the house. Amanda was picking up Jacob. She could feel herself getting tense and exhaled a breath she didn’t know she was holding. I need to relax and spend time with my family. These ladies are my family. Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.

  “I’d be delighted. Write down your address before class ends.”

  Jacob arrived with Suzy and walked straight into his workroom.