“Jack?”
He stopped, looking back at her.
“Are you all right? Is there anything I can help with?” She dropped the ugly orange apron over her head.
“No. I’ve just got to run. Thank you again!”
Savanna pulled her classroom door closed behind her, mentally resetting her expectations. By the time she finished after-school pick-up and hung the rest of the projects, she wouldn’t actually be on the scaffolding painting until at least five. Or five-thirty.
Which would be fine, she told herself, walk-running down the hall toward the pick-up circle at the front of the building. Jack really should have given her more notice. She was supposed to be out there by now.
After-school pick-up was controlled chaos.
Savanna waved three cars around two others that were clustered together because the parents were chatting through open windows, idling next to each other. From the looks of it, their respective children were already collected and buckled in.
She hated being the bad guy, but she’d have to remind them to keep the line moving. She approached the car closest to her. The woman in the car met her gaze, immediately put her car in gear, and pulled away, the other car following.
She smiled, happy not to have had to issue her gentle reminder. The school held around two hundred and forty-eight kids. All it took was one inconsiderate person in the pick-up line, and the whole thing fell apart.
Mollie came bounding down the sidewalk, holding hands with another little girl. “Bye, Ms. Shepherd!” she called as they skipped by Savanna.
Savanna lifted a hand in a wave as she watched Mollie pass the three cars closest to her and head toward the fourth in line: Aidan’s dark SUV. Aidan sat behind the wheel, and he had a hand raised in a return wave.
Oh, gosh. She hadn’t been waving at him—she’d been waving at his daughter. The cars in line nearest Savanna efficiently loaded their passengers and went along their way, smoothly bringing Aidan right up alongside Savanna.
Aidan rolled down his window, ducking down a little so he could see her. “Hey, there! How are you, Ms. Shepherd?” He smiled at her.
She grinned back at him. “Very well, thanks. How are you, Dr. Gallager?”
“I’m okay. A little worried about this pick-up procedure, you know. I’ve heard the people who run it are pretty strict. I wouldn’t want to end up in detention for not following procedure.”
Savanna laughed. “I think you’re well within standard protocol, Dr. Gallager.”
“Good to know!” Aidan winked at her. “Any news on the Caroline mystery?”
“Nothing since Tuesday, but I know the detectives are still checking out fingerprints and broken glass patterns.”
Aidan’s eyes widened. “Fingerprints and broken glass? What happened?”
Savanna glanced past him; the cars were stacking up, two deep, parents looking irritated. “Ah, shoot, Aidan, I can’t talk right now. I could call you later?” She straightened up, backing away and waving Aidan and the other three adjacent cars through. His vehicle moved away from the curbside spot, followed by a few others.
Savanna walked a few car lengths’ down, trying to get on top of the small-scale traffic jam. Ten minutes later, the circular drive in front of the school nearly empty and the line-up of cars looking pretty sparse, she finally took a deep breath. She glanced over her shoulder. Sometimes when the traffic circle was intense, Mr. Clay would come out and take over. He’d done this once when Savanna had been on duty, the second week of school, and it had made her feel terribly inadequate, even though she’d known that wasn’t his intention.
No Mr. Clay today. As she turned her attention back toward the circle, she spotted Aidan’s SUV in one of the short-term parking spaces. He’d exited and was walking toward her. He turned and gave Mollie a one-minute sign, and the girl nodded. Savanna could see just her little blond head. She was drinking a juice box; Aidan must bring her one when he picked her up from school.
Savanna looked back at the remaining cars she was responsible for.
“They’ll figure it out,” he told her. “Don’t worry.”
She laughed. “Okay. This whole process is taken so seriously. I try not to shirk my responsibility.”
“Trust me, you’re not a shirker. I’ve met some excellent shirkers, and none are as on top of things as you.”
“That’s good to know.”
“What did you say about detectives…and fingerprints?”
“Oh. Lauren said she was going to call you; she didn’t?”
“No.” Aidan shook his head.
“Oh, boy.” Savanna bit her lower lip. “There was a break-in yesterday. Caroline is fine,” she added quickly. “They took her television, an antique record player, some jewelry, and I’m not sure what else. Her family was over there yesterday cleaning everything up. Detective Jordan asked a lot of questions about who has the code to her door locks. They aren’t sure the broken window was how they actually got in.”
“So, whoever broke the window is trying to make it look like a random robbery,” Aidan said. “Why?”
Savanna shrugged, frowning. “I don’t know. I keep going through possibilities in my head, of everyone who comes in and out of her house.”
Aidan cocked an eyebrow at her. “I’m above suspicion, aren’t I? What about those Shepherd sisters? Do we trust them?”
Savanna grinned at him. “I think we’re all off my short list. But honestly, it’s got to be someone who has something to gain. Either by hurting Caroline, or by taking something she has in the house. Somehow, I don’t think they were after her electronics and gold.”
“You’re probably right. Too much has happened, especially if we go back to what happened with Eleanor. That’s someone trying hard to take Caroline out of the picture.”
“Or get rid of something incriminating in her house,” she added.
Like the paintings. But that made no sense. If someone was after those, they would’ve taken them in the robbery. And if there were fakes in her collection, then no one would even be interested in stealing them.
“Hey.” Aidan leaned closer to her. “Where did you go? I can see the wheels turning.”
She met his eyes. He seemed to peer right into her soul with that blue-eyed gaze. And why did boys always have the longest, blackest lashes? It wasn’t fair at all. Savanna shook her head to clear it.
“I…I still have some ideas,” she said vaguely. “I have to check something out tonight.”
He frowned. “You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”
“I have nothing to tell,” she said truthfully. “How about, if I learn anything else while I’m there, I’ll give you a call when I get home?”
Aidan tipped his head. “Will you, though?”
She smiled. “I will. I promise.”
Chapter Nineteen
Savanna met Lauren at the front door as she was leaving.
“Savanna! Grandmother said you might stop by. The mural is looking amazing.” Lauren smiled, trotting down the front steps. “I just set her up with dinner. You could join her. She’s so stubborn; I’ve spent the last two nights here but she’s sending me home tonight.”
Savanna asked, “How is she?”
“She’s discouraged that she still isn’t very mobile. I reminded her that Dr. Gallager is going to graduate her from her walking boot this weekend. She’ll be so happy to be back upstairs in her own bed.”
Savanna nodded. “I’m sure this has all been frustrating for her. She’s normally so independent. I’m happy to keep her company while I paint.”
“You look nice, today, by the way,” Lauren called over her shoulder.
Savanna laughed. Lauren only ever saw her in faded or stained painting clothes. Her polka dot dress and red sweater was nicer than that any day. She locked the door behind her in the foyer and
set her backpack, laptop case, and purse with her change of clothes on the entryway table.
In the parlor, Caroline had some kind of delicious-looking soup on the folding table in front of her, a piece of baguette, and a steaming cup of tea. “I was just imagining,” she said as Savanna took a seat in the other wingback chair, “that I was on that little boat, sailing out into the sunset.”
“It looks like Mr. Carson’s boat, doesn’t it?” She’d painted the sails exactly to match Caroline’s late husband’s favorite sailboat, down to the number imprint on the sail.
“It does. You’ve done such a beautiful job. I think it must be nearly finished, isn’t it?”
Savanna shook her head, sitting back and crossing her legs, studying the mural. “I have another few hours to do—maybe more. I’ve really enjoyed it, though, Caroline. I’m so happy you asked me to do it.”
“You’re not painting today, are you? Not in that lovely dress.”
“I did want to spend a little time on it, yes. If you don’t mind? I can have it finished by this weekend, a whole week ahead of schedule for your party.”
“Whatever you’d like, dear. I’m so looking forward to celebrating here, to seeing everyone I love. It’ll be almost like the parties we had when you were a child.”
“I can’t wait.” Savanna stood and gave Caroline a quick hug. “I hope I’m just like you when I’m ninety. I’ll be back. I’m going to go change clothes.”
She wound her way through the house, fetching her things from the foyer and crossing through the living room to the small half bath. When she glanced into Caroline’s office, she gasped.
As crowded as it had been last week when Savanna was snooping, it had been impeccably neat and organized, everything quite obviously in its place. Now, open boxes along one wall held stacks of papers and binders; two of the drawers from Caroline’s desk sat on top of the large coffee table in the center of the room, the wood splintered and broken, the drawers no longer usable; a broken floor lamp was dissembled and in a stack of other debris obviously meant for the trash. The framed mirror behind Caroline’s desk was pulled out from the wall on one side, and Savanna saw it was on a hinge, with a wall safe behind it. The lock on the safe was broken but still attached, hanging by three wire cables.
She took two steps into the room, turning in a circle, stunned at the damage. Her gaze found the spot over the mantel where Caroline’s largest Julian Rothman painting had been. The void the piece had left was darker than the surrounding wall.
Savanna was speechless. So they had stolen some of her collection. The empty, bare area over the fireplace was more visually disturbing to Savanna than all the rest of the damage in the room.
She backed out of the office. As she hastily changed into painting clothes in the little bathroom next door, her mind was reeling. Poor Caroline. She dug around in her backpack and pulled out the case with her Firefly. Then she went to the dining room, setting the Firefly and her laptop on the buffet below the still-present Minkov. Who in their right mind would steal a Rothman over a Minkov or even a Monet? Leaving her equipment there to use later, she cut through the butler’s pantry and kitchen to get back to the parlor and Caroline.
She hated to ask, but she had to know. “Um, Caroline?”
The woman looked up from her book.
“I saw your office. Accidentally,” she added, “when I went to change. I can’t believe they stole your Rothman. I’m so sorry.”
Caroline looked surprised. “The Rothman? Oh, the big one, over my mantel? No, no. That one sold. Don’t worry, I got a nice deal on that one. Felix sent his assistant this morning to pick it up.”
“Oh! Oh, that’s so great. So none of your artwork was taken with the break-in?”
“No, it’s all accounted for. You’re such a sweet girl to be concerned.”
She was flooded with relief. For goodness’ sake, the woman had enough to worry about without losing part of her valuable collection. “I’m so glad to hear it’s all still here. I’m sorry about your office—it’s awful how they tore it apart. I hope Detective Jordan finds out who did this.”
“I’m sure he will. It’s all right,” she said earnestly, leaning forward in her chair. “I don’t want you to worry so. No one was hurt, especially not my babies.” She patted Princess on her furry white head, the poodle alongside her in the wingback chair. “It’s all just things, and things are replaceable.”
“You’re right. As you always are.” Savanna leaned in and gave her hand a quick squeeze. She was so wise.
She was high up on the scaffolding, reworking the pinkish evening sky near the ceiling, when barking startled her, making her jump. Her paintbrush flipped out of her hand and hit the grate under her feet; she snapped it up before it could fall through. Princess and Duke tore out of the parlor down the hall, toward the front door.
“They heard the doorbell,” Caroline said. “I have an excellent canine alarm system.”
“I can go get it,” Savanna said, starting to climb down. The outside sky through the parlor windows was now a darker pink than in the mural. She always lost track of time when she was painting.
“Don’t bother, I’m not expecting anyone. If they belong here, they’ll just come in, and if not, then they won’t.”
Savanna laughed. There was a weird kind of logic to her reasoning.
That was confirmed when Sydney’s voice called out from the foyer. “Hello? Caroline? Savanna?”
Savanna continued down the ladder on the side of the scaffolding, stooping to catch Fonzie when he came skittering through the parlor, his whole body wagging. She laughed, hugging him and letting him say his hellos, first to her and then to the poodles and Caroline.
“He kind of missed you,” Sydney said.
“Thank you for bringing him. I miss him when I’m at work all day,” She said as Fonzie bounded back over to her, Princess and Duke clamoring to be part of the fun as she sat down on the huge round rug in the center of the room.
“Well, I guess he misses you too,” Syd said, “though he doesn’t act like it at the shop. He spends all day greeting my customers; he thinks he owns the place.” Sydney greeted Caroline, bending to give her a hug. “You look gorgeous,” she said to the woman. “Did you get your hair done?”
“I did. You look stunning as always,” Caroline said. “How’s business?”
“It’s good. You were right. I had to allow for a dip in revenue in the first two quarters, but reinvesting my…”
Savanna was already tuning out the conversation. She knew Caroline had helped Sydney immeasurably with her business model when she’d opened Fancy Tails and Treats, but finances were so not Savanna’s strong suit. Besides, this was just the opportunity she’d hoped for. She stood, spilling Fonzie off her lap, and made a quiet exit, cutting back through the butler’s pantry into the dining room. Then she pulled out her phone and texted her sister.
Keep her busy, I need like 10 minutes, please!
Savanna set her phone on the buffet and opened her laptop, pressing the power button. Working fast, she unzipped the case for her Firefly microscope and plugged it into the port on her laptop. She tapped the mousepad; the screen remained black. Her battery was dead.
She crouched down, peering behind the buffet for an outlet. Nothing. She moved around to the other side. Still nothing.
Savanna groaned. She scanned the room for an outlet and found one on the other side of the dining room table. She grabbed her laptop and microscope and carried them around. Once she had the computer plugged in, she hit the power button again and let out her breath when she heard the whir of the laptop powering on. She touched the “On” button on the microscope, and the green LED on the side blinked on.
“Okay,” she whispered, moving back to the buffet and the wall over it with the Sergei Minkov painting. She’d tried to work up the nerve to just ask Caroline if she could
check it out; she’d been thinking of how to phrase it all evening. But every version led to Caroline asking why. And then Savanna explaining that she thought maybe…possibly…Caroline’s piece of art valued at over a million dollars might be a fake.
No version of the conversation ended with Caroline remaining calm and relaxed, book in her lap, blood pressure perfect. Not even after hearing the woman declare that her belongings were just things, and things could be replaced.
Savanna’s phone on the buffet buzzed and made her jump—again. She was a little on edge tonight. Sydney had replied.
Ooh, why, what are you doing? Where are you?
Savanna picked up her phone.
Dining room. I brought my microscope, checking out the Minkov. Just keep her occupied!
She stared at the phone for a moment, but there was no response. Good.
Savanna took a deep breath and carefully, carefully took the Minkov off the wall. She carried it over and set it on the dining room table gingerly. Same as being at work, she told herself. No different. This isn’t even the highest-valued piece you’ve handled. Stay calm.
Savanna ran her Firefly slowly over the canvas, starting with girls’ dresses, the discrepancy she’d sworn she’d seen in the work. She stopped and clicked through the settings on the scope, choosing the capture option; this way, she’d have a record of what she was viewing. The computer screen populated with a closely magnified image of the Minkov, section by section. The green of the smaller girl’s dress varied from one side to the other, in and of itself not necessarily significant, but it wasn’t so much the pigment as the sheen. The darker sheen, under the Firefly, stood out slightly from the canvas. An area Minkov had amended in the creation of the work? Savanna wasn’t sure.
But. The brushstrokes were wrong.
Sergei Minkov used what was commonly known as broken brushwork, a technique some artists employed to show movement in still work, whether in cloud formations, water, or grass, as in this piece. The long grass in the field surrounding the two girls on the trail was similar in appearance to winter wheat— thick, lush, and tall. It would have moved in the breeze or as the girls brushed against it as they walked. In Minkov’s other works, his signature brush strokes contributed to the viewer feeling as if movement in the scene was nearly detectable.
Out of the Picture Page 18
