Cracked to Death (14 page)

Chapter 21

 

Savannah dropped Amanda off at Webb's and drove on home. She was exhausted and a little disturbed by Professor Patterson's chilly reaction to the news of Martin's murder. They didn't get even a normal question, like “Who killed him?” from her. What kind of childhood could explain such distance? Could it even be explained?

Rooney chased all those thoughts out of her head with an enthusiastic welcome. Although he was no longer puppy sized, given his actions, it was clear he thought he was a cuddly bundle. Savannah went straight to the kitchen and fixed his dinner and threw in a frozen dinner for herself.

While Rooney was wolfing down his meal, Savannah called Detective Parker's office from the wall-mounted kitchen phone.

He answered immediately. “Hi, Savannah. This is late for you to be calling.”

“Even so, it appears you're still there to take my call.”

“Fair point. Do you have a result from your glass expert?”

“Well, not so much results as I have a discovery to report. Martin Lane had a sister. She lives in Tampa and works as a professor at the University of South Florida.”

“Interesting. His public records don't show any relations. Well done. A sister, you say?”

“Yes. Her name is Professor Tracy Patterson. Amanda and I went to see her about Martin, and she didn't know he had died. I thought it was strange, since the discovery of his identity was all over the news yesterday.”

There was silence on the phone.

“Parker, are you there?”

“I'm going over my notes. Hold on a second.” There was another long pause. “Did Amanda behave differently with Professor Patterson?”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is . . .” He hesitated a moment. “Did you feel Amanda may have already known Professor Patterson?”

“No. She seemed surprised that Martin had a sister.”

“Are you certain?”

“Of course I'm certain. Amanda is my good friend. I know her. What are you suggesting?”

“Evidence is beginning to pile up that proves that you don't know Amanda as well as you think. Has she been absent more than usual in the past month?”

“Well, her mother's been sick lately. So she's been taking time to make sure everything is being taken care of at the nursing home. Amanda knows that being around the place frequently means that her mother gets better care. That's pretty normal, though.”

“What about mood swings? Anything out of the ordinary?”

“Mood swings? Honestly, this is Amanda we're talking about. The most cheerful person on the planet.”

“Right, but she might be more involved in this case than you know.”

“Are you trying to tell me Amanda is a suspect?”

Detective Parker's voice softened. “I am suggesting that you be careful.”

Before she could respond, the dial tone interrupted. After looking at the receiver for a moment, Savannah hung up the phone.

Why would he suggest that Amanda wasn't her friend? she wondered.

Rooney nudged her knee and looked up at her with pleading amber eyes. It was time for their evening run, but that was the last thing Savannah felt like doing.

“Okay, Rooney. Let me eat, and we'll go.”

She plopped down on the living-room couch to eat her meal and watch a bit of the news. Rooney stretched out his lean gray frame on the floor in front of her, put his head on his paws, and huffed. The reporter on the news stood in front of a large Mediterranean Revival mansion near the site where Martin's body was discovered.

“Why do they do that?”

Rooney's head came up.

“This whole crime scene has been bagged, tagged, and cataloged thoroughly. Everything has been taken away. There's nothing there at all.”

“There have been no new developments in the case of the murdered diver who washed up behind this house on Tuesday morning. Sources close to Detective Parker, who is leading the case, indicate several persons of interest are being investigated, and he expects an important development soon. More news at eleven,” the reporter finished.

Savannah clicked off the television, finished off the frozen meal, and cleared up the small mess in the kitchen. After changing into running clothes, she took Rooney out for some exercise. The first few blocks of any run were slow, since Rooney needed to smell all the new smells in his front yard and then relieve himself on each new sample.

Finally getting syncopated for a good run, Savannah realized the calming rhythm stimulated far too many thoughts in her head. Detective Parker's comments had her rethinking Amanda's strange behavior over the past few weeks. It looked suspicious to her now. There had been quite a few more visits to her mom than normal. During the same time frame, Savannah had been busy with buying the warehouse building, applying for all the permits, hiring the contractors for the electrical and plumbing improvements. It had been a distracting month.

Why was she letting Parker's insinuations get to her? Was he trying to glean more information from her before tackling Amanda? If that was his plan, it wasn't going to work. He wouldn't be able to erode her loyalty to a close friend who had seen her through many difficult times. Times when she had needed a friend and Amanda had been there.

The run finished, Savannah headed back home. Once there she gave Rooney his organic treat and started her bedtime routine. No matter how many times she pounded the pillow, turned over, and tried to relax, sleep didn't arrive until about 2:00 a.m. Over and over, she kept rehearsing the questions she had for Amanda the next morning.

Lots of questions.

Chapter 22

 

Savannah unlocked the back door of Webb's Glass Shop, stepped into the office, and dropped her backpack on the floor beside the old oak desk. She briefly thought about moving the desk over to the studio but quickly ditched the idea. Her great-grandfather's desk had been here as long as she could remember, and ever since her father's death, stability had been important to her. The desk was part of the fabric of the shop and wouldn't be moving anywhere.

The bell over the front door jingled. Amanda was struggling with multiple bags full of glass materials for today's final lesson in the workshop.

“Hey! Let me help.” Savannah rushed over and relieved Amanda of several plastic bags and led the way into the classroom. They piled everything on the two student worktables in the first row.

Amanda mimed a thank-you through her huffing and puffing and sat on the nearest student work stool, fanning her flushed face with her hand. “Whew! It's already Africa hot out there. I can't wait until October. Guess what I found on an online auction site last night?”

Savannah slouched onto the next work stool. “No clue.”

“Oh, come on. It's no fun if you don't guess. Please?”

“No. I didn't sleep much last night.” Savannah combed through her short curls with a quick hand. “Just tell me.”

“Spoilsport. I found a site that offered a bottle just like Martin's up for bid.”

“Is it like one of the bottles he brought into class?”

“It looks like it.”

“That's a great lead. Who's selling them?”

“I've got only the seller's online moniker so far, but I was thinking if we ordered the bottle, we might get the whole deal.”

“Deal?”

“Have you had any coffee yet?”

Savannah sighed and held her head. “No, I haven't. Being both sleep deprived and caffeine deprived is not a good thing. So you're suggesting we bid on the bottle. When does the auction end?”

“The bidding stops at noon on Monday but—”

“Noon on Monday? That's too long. Anything could happen.”

Amanda cocked her head sideways. “We could use the ‘buy it now' feature and pay the asking price. If we pull the trigger now, we might get more details on the seller within a few minutes, if he's monitoring the sale.”

“Good idea but—” Savannah ran her monthly budget numbers through her head. It would be stretching an already tight budget. She nodded her head slightly. “Let's do it. Use my business credit card. Great idea.”

They moved into the office and Amanda sat at the desk. With a few clicks at the computer, Amanda bought the bottle. She leaned back in the antique oak swivel chair. It squeaked a little louder than normal. “I'll leave my e-mail window open and turn up the volume for the incoming mail beep.”

Savannah eyed the distance to the lectern in the classroom through the open door. “Yep, you should be able to hear—”

“Already?” said Amanda. She turned to the computer and clicked open her new message. “It looks like he has an e-mail account specifically for the online auctions.” She scrolled down through the message. “Wait, wait. He's asking for an address for mailing out the bottle.”

“Perfect.” Savannah leaned over Amanda's shoulder. “Give him the shop address. It matches the one on the credit card, anyway.”

Amanda punched in a return e-mail, clicked on the SEND key, and relaxed back into the chair again. “If he's hovering, this will take only a minute.”

“Ha!” Amanda leaned forward to peer into the screen again. “He's asking if you want to pick it up and look at his other items up for auction.”

“Of course we want to pick it up, but also ask him to confirm the provenance of the bottle. Is it from José Gaspar's hidden treasure?”

The keys clicked a staccato beat and were followed by a mouse click. “Boy, he's hovering, all right. He says he has proof of the bottle's provenance back to Gaspar the Pirate. That's followed by the address where we can pick it up.”

Savannah looked at the screen. “Why is it familiar?” She wrinkled her brow. “Of course. It's the industrial park Edward and I visited yesterday. So this auction belongs to Captain Larry Collins? We didn't see any sign of blue bottles.”

“I'm thinking he uses the online auction to attract gullible buyers for his Gaspar the Pirate bottle copies. He must have made the copy of the bottle Martin brought in here. Because you and Edward wandered in off the street, he didn't offer one to you. He hadn't vetted you with a credit card and an address.”

“I think you're right, but it means that you and Jacob will have to go and pick up the bottle. He's already seen Edward and me, so we're out of the picture for a new lead.”

“I can do it after class today. Work up a list of questions, and I'll pick up Jacob and work this lead for all its worth.”

Savannah said, “Speaking of questions, when I talked to Detective Parker last night to tell him about Professor Patterson, he had more questions about you than about Martin's sister.”

“Last night?”

“Yes. I told you I was going to tell him what we learned. He insinuated that maybe there might be more information closer to home.”

Amanda stood up, and the color drained out of her face. “What did he mean?”

“Precisely. What
did
he mean?”

“What did he ask?”

“He suggested that perhaps you knew a lot more about Martin than you have shared so far.”

“Savannah! Please!” Amanda stretched herself so that she was as tall as possible. “I'm the innocent one here. Detective Parker is trying to get more information out of you by accusing me—and it appears to be working.”

“Calm down. You haven't been quite yourself for some time now.”

Amanda stood even straighter. “You know my mother has been critically ill. You know what that does to me. I can't believe you believe him.”

“I didn't say I believed him. I merely told you what he hinted.”

“I'm going to be sick.” Amanda bolted into the bathroom and slammed the door.

“Amanda, don't be upset,” Savannah pleaded in front of the bathroom door.

“Go away,” came from inside, followed by retching sounds.

Savannah hung her head.
What a mess!
She had raised her hand to knock on the bathroom door when she heard a loud knock on the front door.

When she looked through the shop, she could see it was Parker's new officer, persistently rapping on the glass with one hand and holding a folded piece of paper with the other.

After she dug the keys out of her backpack, Savannah walked quickly through the entire shop to the front and unlocked the door. “Good morning, Officer. What's the problem?”

Officer Williams looked up at Savannah. “I have a search warrant to serve to Amanda Blake. Is she here?”

“Search warrant? For Amanda?”

“Yes, Amanda Blake. She is here, isn't she? She wasn't at her home.” Officer Williams turned and pointed to the vintage Cadillac parked next to the shop. “That is her car, isn't it?”

“Yes, of course.” Savannah stepped back so Officer Williams could enter the shop. “Sorry, sorry. Amanda is ill . . . really more like upset. It'll be a few minutes before she is ready to come out.”

“Thank you, ma'am, but I need to give this to her right now.”

“Sure. Let's go back to the office, and you can give it to her when she comes out of the restroom. She might be a few minutes.”

“I'll wait.”

Savannah led the way back to the office. They stood there, listening to the sound of running water from the sink in the bathroom.

“Have a seat.” Savannah waved a hand at the side chair, while she sat down with a plop on the oak swivel chair in front of the desk. “I'm sure she'll be out in a minute.”

“No, thanks. I'll stand.”

The silence between them was strained, and the young officer fiddled with the warrant and constantly adjusted her new uniform.

Finally, Officer Williams cocked her head. “The sound of the water running in there hasn't changed at all. Are you sure she's in there?”

“Yes. I saw her go inside and heard her throwing up.”

Officer Williams approached the bathroom and gave a sharp rap on the door. “Amanda Blake. This is Officer Joy Williams. Please come out immediately.”

Silence.

Officer Williams followed with another rap on the bathroom door. “Amanda Blake? Are you in there?” She grabbed the door handle and pulled the door open wide.

The bathroom was empty, with the water still running in the sink.

“What!” Officer Williams flew out the back door just in time to see Amanda's old Cadillac turn down the street.

Officer Williams used the radio clipped to her uniform. She held the
PRESS TO TALK
button. “This is Officer Williams reporting that Amanda Blake has fled from Webb's Glass Shop. I was unable to serve the warrant.”

The radio speaker crackled a message. “Officer Williams, this is Detective Parker. Meet me at the nursing home where Amanda's mother is living. We've got a warrant to search there, as well.”

Officer Williams released the PTT button and clipped the radio back to her uniform. “Amanda shouldn't have run away. Detective Parker is going to be angry—very angry.”