Still Life and Death

by Tracy Gardner

  Savanna frowned at the phone. The usual lilt in Sydney’s voice was glaringly absent. “I could bring over brownie sundae stuff later,” she offered. “We don’t even have to watch Columbo. I’ll let you pick.”

  Her sister sighed heavily into the phone. “No, not those.”

  “What?”

  “Mrs. Sims, the basket to your right has the sale items,” Sydney said, clearly not speaking to Savanna. “Not tonight.”

  “Um. Was that last part meant for me?” Savanna asked. “I can let you go, Syd.”

  “Yeah, sorry. I can’t. I’m closing up in a minute. I just want to go home and crawl into bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Savanna started to speak, but the line went dead. The silence that filled her car was thick with her own worry. Of the three of them, her younger sister was the open book. Her thoughts and feelings were always on display. She knew she’d caught Sydney in a rush at work, but she’d sounded terrible.

  Savanna drove home on autopilot. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to lose a precious friend in such an awful way. The best way to help Sydney might be to untangle the truth about who killed Libby. She couldn’t wait to hash things over tomorrow with her sisters and try to find a way to help with the investigation. She decided as she pulled into her driveway that she’d bring dinner over to Sydney’s later. Her sister shouldn’t be alone. She was not okay.

  Sydney turned off her phone. She’d heard the concern in Savanna’s voice, but she just couldn’t deal with any of this right now. Her phone had kept dinging with unanswered text messages, and she’d known better than to take Savanna’s call. There was no time. She rang up Mrs. Sims, putting on her best proprietor’s smile, and glanced at the clock. She could lock up in ten minutes, but with Willow out sick, she was a long way from getting out of here. She hurried back to the grooming area and scooped the little Schnauzer mix up from his holding pen. She’d been almost finished with him when that irksome bell over her shop’s front door had jingled for what had seemed like the hundredth time that day.

  She tied one of her signature handmade bandanas around the sweet pup’s neck and smoothed an errant bit of fur back into place on his newly trimmed scruff. “There. Very handsome, Fritz. I’m not locking you back up again—you can come out here with me.” She set him back on the floor and headed out to the shop at the sound of the bell.

  Fritz’s owner had arrived with three more customers. Sydney gritted her teeth. Her mood had been foul since exactly 11:37 this morning, and it was just getting fouler. The back room looked like a tornado had struck, since she’d been running all day between grooming and selling and had done zero cleanup. And she’d never get to at this rate if people didn’t stop showing up.

  When the bell jingled once more as she was packaging bright yellow tennis ball cookies for one of her three patrons, her head snapped up. She’d tear that thing down with her bare hands before she let it ring one more time. “We’re closed,” she said, before looking over to find it was Finn. “Oh!”

  His grin hit her right in the knees, making them feel like noodles for a second. “Hey there, Miss Fancy Tails. Business is booming, huh?”

  “You could say that.” She handed the dog cookie package to her customer, and the woman behind him stepped up the counter.

  Finn went into the grooming area without another word, and she heard the vacuum kick on. God bless that man.

  When she’d finally packaged the last treat and cashed out the last customer, she followed the man to the door and turned the key in the lock, flipping the sign to Closed. She dragged a chair over from the waiting area, stood on it, and used a screwdriver to take the bell down. She thought she was home free until the last screw wouldn’t come out. The thing had been hanging over her door since she’d opened the shop years ago; it was probably frozen in the threads. She wrestled with it, grunting and putting her weight into it. She caught movement from the corner of her eye and turned to find Finn leaning against her desk, watching her.

  “What?” Sydney could feel the sweat at the back of her neck and knew she must look a sight after the day’s trials.

  Finn put his hands up, palms toward her. “Nothing at all. Need any help?”

  “No! Yes,” she amended. He started to come toward her, and she stopped him. “There’s a hammer in the left middle drawer of my desk. Can you hand it to me?”

  Finn did as she asked and stepped back.

  She attacked the stubborn last screw with both the screwdriver and hammer, and the thin metal holding the bell in place abruptly snapped, releasing it and throwing her backward out of the chair.

  Finn caught her unceremoniously around the waist, her legs flying.

  Sydney burst out laughing. “Thank you. You have no idea the day I’ve had.” She waited for him to let go of her, but he didn’t.

  “It must’ve been bad. You ignored all my texts.” He fake-scowled at her. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it.”

  She kissed him and pushed gently against his chest, making him let go. They’d be here all night if she didn’t get to work. She dropped the bell into the trash can next to her desk, feeling his gaze on her. “I hate that thing,” she said simply.

  He nodded. “I get it.”

  “Why are you here, though? Did I forget we had plans?”

  “I picked up on your distress call,” Finn said. One side of his mouth went up. “So I came.”

  Sydney knew he was kidding, but holy cats, his timing was perfect. It was probably just coincidence, his wanting to see her. Or the result of his string of unanswered messages. Either way, he was exactly what she needed. She moved back into his arms, hugging him and resting her head on his chest. She could afford the time it took for a hug. “Thank you, Finn.” She was exhausted.

  He kissed the top of her head. “What else needs to be done?”

  She moved to the grooming area doorway and gasped. He’d not only vacuumed, he’d done everything. The holding pens were swept out; the scent of lemon disinfectant hung in the air. Her stainless steel table gleamed, and her grooming implements were all in the drying rack. She turned and stared at him.

  “Because I’ve got pizza being delivered to your house in about...” He checked his watch. “Eleven minutes.”

  “I think you’re my favorite person ever,” Sydney said, smiling at him. Her dark mood was gray now instead of black, and getting better. She felt like she could finally exhale after a day of holding it all in.

  Over veggie pizza in her living room, she told Finn what had happened. She hadn’t woken up feeling like this. Granted, she’d been having bad dreams since Libby’s death. She wasn’t sleeping well, but she was handling it. Knowing Nick Jordan had some leads helped.

  “I found a placemat from Jake’s Shakes,” she told Finn.

  He gazed into her eyes, waiting for the rest, not asking any questions.

  “I sat down for a minute to grab a granola bar before the noon appointment showed up. The placemat was folded in a little square behind the granola bar box in my desk. Libby and I had played hangman and tic-tac-toe on the back using crayons while we ate. It was from a few months ago. I remember folding the thing up and putting it in my purse, but I thought I’d lost it after that.” She pulled the placemat from her back pocket and smoothed it out between them.

  Finn took her hand and turned it palm up, covering it with his own. He leaned forward and scanned the doodles and notes scrawled with different crayon shades.

  She got through the rest of the story without breaking down. “Libby wrote these five words to describe me, here. She had me do the same for her,” Sydney pointed. Libby had written of Sydney:

  Fun

  Smart

  Tough

  Kind

  Sassy

  “She knew you well,” Finn commented. “I know she was a good friend.”

  “I thin
k our age difference gave us a stronger sense of how lucky we were to have become friends. Anyway, this right here is the date we picked for the next time we’d meet at Jake’s—we tried to sit down over dinner and drinks every couple of months so we could brainstorm cross-promotion ideas for the shops.” Sydney looked down at their linked hands.

  “It was today.” Finn’s voice was quiet.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m so sorry.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm.

  “I’m just—” She hesitated.

  He looked at her through black lashes, still holding her hand.

  “How are Anthony and Rachel ever supposed to get over this? What if Rachel can’t keep up with school after this? It meant everything to Libby that her daughter was going to be a nurse. And what if her flower shop has to close? And...what if she didn’t even know how much I loved her?” Sydney sharply drew in her breath, her eyes burning. “What if she didn’t? I canceled our morning tea the time before last,” she confessed. “You know why? Because I wanted to sleep in. How selfish is that?” One tear overflowed and she frowned, swiping it away.

  Finn pulled her into his arms. She curled herself into his embrace, tucking her face into the side of his neck, and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. Her chest was tight and her throat was full. She needed to cry. She knew she’d feel better if she could. But no more tears came.

  She didn’t know how long she sat that way, on Finn’s lap and molded against him, his strong arms holding her.

  His lips moved against her hair as he spoke. “Missing one morning with your friend to catch some sleep isn’t selfish, it’s human. And she knew you loved her, Syd. Your heart is always on your sleeve.” He gave the sleeve of her shirt a little tug. “Libby knew.”

  “I hope so,” she said.

  Savanna arrived ahead of schedule at Fancy Tails for lunch on Wednesday.

  “I’ll be right out! I’m just washing up.” Sydney called from the grooming area in the back of the salon.

  Savanna was relieved to hear Syd’s voice sounding lighter than it had yesterday. She’d driven fettucine Alfredo over to her sister’s house last night, but had turned around and gone home upon seeing Finn’s car in the driveway. Whatever he’d done, it seemed to have helped. She eyed the deli sandwiches on the table and turned her chair so she had good view out the front window up and down the street. The vantage point from Fancy Tails offered visibility of pretty much all the storefronts on Main Street. She’d bet if she sat here long enough, she’d learn something new about every store owner and patron.

  “Who are we spying on?” Sydney whispered by her ear, making her jump.

  “For Pete’s sake, don’t creep up on people like that! I’m not spying, just looking.”

  The bell jingled as Skylar came through the door. “Shall I flip the sign?” When Sydney nodded, Skylar turned the sign with the drooling cartoon St. Bernard to the side that read: Never trust a dog to watch your food! We don’t! Closed for lunch. “So,” Skylar said, unwrapping her sandwich, “Nick has cleared Uncle Max.”

  “Finally!” Sydney exclaimed. “What took so long?”

  “It was only a few days. He had to get a statement from the waitress at the diner who handled Mom and Uncle Max’s breakfast order. I called to let Max and Freddie know.”

  “Well, I’m glad that’s taken care of,” Savanna said. “I know Max wasn’t concerned, but Uncle Freddie was miffed.”

  “Have you heard if they’ve made any progress on his leads?” Sydney asked.

  “Nick didn’t say anything. But I’ve got to stop by and see him tomorrow. I can ask. I found something interesting that he needs to know.” Skylar cocked one eyebrow at them and took a bite of her sandwich.

  “Oh, you can’t do that,” Sydney said. “Drop the bait like that and then walk away. What did you find? Is it about Libby?”

  She shrugged as she chewed.

  Syd looked at Savanna. “I hate when she does that.”

  “She does it on purpose,” Savanna said. “Come on, Skylar. There must be some detail you can share without breaking your lawyer-code thing.”

  Their older sister laughed. “My lawyer-code thing? You know I can’t give you actual privileged information. But. I can tell you I’m the Kents’ estate attorney. I represent both Libby and Anthony. And listen,” she said, leaning in toward them with elbows on the table, eyes wide. “Nick is going to flip when I show him what I found.”

  Savanna tipped her head back, looking at the ceiling. “Ugh! Just tell us! Does it implicate Anthony?”

  “The truth will come out eventually. But this might give the police a good lead. That’s all I can say.”

  The three of them ate in silence for a few minutes. Across the street, Kate exited her yoga studio and jogged across Main Street, going into the coffee shop down the block. Chef Joe Fratelli left the coffee shop and crossed at the light, heading back to his restaurant, Giuseppe’s.

  “You’ve got the best view in Carson,” Savanna said. “What jacket did Chef Joe wear to work yesterday? Better yet, who is Mike at the real estate office secretly dating?”

  “You’re crazy. Like I have time to sit here and monitor everyone all day.”

  “What if Miss Priscilla is monitoring you?” Savanna pointed across the street. The dance school proprietor stood staring out the front window of one of the studios, hands on her hips, unmoving. Even from here, the woman looked lost in thought. She didn’t appear to be monitoring anyone.

  “Chef Joe wore his Detroit Tigers jacket yesterday,” Sydney said, getting the attention of both her sisters. She laughed. “I wasn’t peering out the window at him. He came in for dog treats.”

  “Skylar,” Savanna said, “could I tag along when you see Nick tomorrow? There are some things I want to ask him about the case.”

  “I can’t bring you with me, but I can’t stop you running into me as I’m heading in to see him, right? What are you thinking?”

  Savanna shared her thoughts on Anthony Kent, wondering aloud why he’d come in the front entrance the day Libby’s body was found. She brought both her sisters up to date on the information provided through the teachers’ lounge, and then filled them in about the extraordinary Cry Violet. “Now that Uncle Max is cleared, maybe he can get me up to the greenhouse so I can check it out.”

  “It hadn’t bloomed yet the last time I saw it. She was tending to it like it was her baby, but she was worried it might not flower. I hope it did before she died,” Syd said softly.

  “You saw it?” Savanna asked. “How did she even grow an extinct flower?”

  Sydney shook her head. “No idea. I asked, but she went into something about germination and cleisto...clestog...some kind of science-y florist lingo and she lost me.”

  “She would’ve lost me there too,” Skylar said, chuckling.

  Savanna spoke. “There’s one more thing. I realized something after talking with Uncle Max.”

  “What’s that?” Skylar asked.

  “Libby’s killer didn’t come in through the flower shop. They couldn’t have.”

  “What? Why?” Sydney finished her sandwich in one large bite and uncapped her raspberry Mary Ann’s soda.

  “Because the shop was locked up tight. Uncle Max says all the doors were locked and Libby even turned the key in the deadbolt lock from outside the shop, in the building stairwell, when she went through to go up to the greenhouse. Only Libby, Uncle Max, and Anthony and Rachel Kent have keys to that access door.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not following,” Skylar said.

  “If the killer came through the flower shop into the stairwell, he’d have had to lock the door behind him with a key. So, unless the killer was someone with the key, whoever killed Libby came from inside the building somehow,” Savanna said.

  “But it was so early,” Sydney said. “The dance scho
ol, Libby’s, Kate’s Yoga...none of those places were even open yet.”

  Savanna’s gaze was on Libby’s Blooms, in the middle between Kate’s and Miss Priscilla’s. “I wonder if Detective Jordan found any signs of a break-in. Did they check out the whole building, or just Libby’s shop?”

  “We can ask him tomorrow. Not sure he’ll tell us, but it doesn’t hurt to try,” Skylar said.

  “Good,” Savanna said. “If they confirmed for sure there was no sign of someone breaking into the flower shop to get to Libby, they should’ve checked out the rest of the building.”

  As they watched, Mollie’s tap instructor Marcus Valentine got out of the red convertible he’d just parallel parked in front of the dance studio. She expected him to go into Miss Priscilla’s, but instead, he unlocked the plain door she’d noticed the other day and went in. Through the door’s glass window, she watched him taking the stairs two at a time until he was out of sight.

  Chapter Seven

  “Who was that?” Syd asked. “I’ve seen that car there before.”

  Savanna turned and looked at her sisters. “Marcus Valentine. Miss Priscilla’s new tap instructor. But why would he go in that way? The dance school’s open right now, isn’t it?”

  Now all three of them narrowed their eyes, looking across the street at the front door to Priscilla’s Dance Academy.

  “Maybe it isn’t,” Skylar said. “It’s the middle of a weekday. Kids are in school.”

  Sydney tapped her phone screen. “It’s closed right now,” she confirmed.

  “Maybe he’s getting costumes or props or something from the storage space? Does that mean all of Miss Priscilla’s instructors have a key to that door?” Savanna mused. “Or maybe he lives up there. Uncle Max said something about tenants living upstairs. I wonder how many there are? It’s not a huge space.” All she could think of was Marcus Valentine’s shocking appearance Monday when he’d shown up for classes. “This might not have anything to do with Libby, but Marcus Valentine came to work on Monday with a pretty intense black eye.”