Still Life and Death

by Tracy Gardner

  “That’s a big leap. How did he say he got the black eye? Did he even know Libby?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I think I’m off base, anyway. The kids seem to love him. And you’re right, he might not have known Libby. For all we know, she could’ve been killed by her own husband.”

  “Anthony?”

  “You know him?”

  “We’re acquainted,” Aidan affirmed, which Savanna had learned usually meant the person he was talking about was a patient. “Isn’t that a cliché, though? The spouse as the likeliest murder suspect?”

  “I guess so...but there’s a reason it’s a cliché, isn’t there? I’m going to catch Skylar tomorrow and tag along as she’s on her way in to see Detective Jordan. One of the teachers at school was at the bank a few weeks ago, and she says Anthony Kent was there yelling and making a scene. There was something wrong with his account. She said he was ranting that it was his entire savings and supposed to help toward his daughter’s college tuition or something—he ended up being pulled into the office by Mr. Fivell. It is strange, the more I think about it. Anthony Kent is always calm, at least when I’ve seen him,” Savanna said.

  Aidan was frowning. “I think I already know the answer to this, but is it possible for you to sit this one out? Please?” His voice was thick with concern.

  They were nearing the channel. Savanna dropped the jib, and Aidan helped retract the mainsail as she started the inboard motor. “I’m just thinking aloud,” she said.

  He nodded. “That’s all? Because Libby’s killer is still on the loose, and I still remember last year when trying to expose John’s murderer almost got you killed.”

  She shifted her hand on the tiller and steered into the marina entrance, heading toward their slip. “I remember too, believe me. Nothing like that will happen again—don’t worry.”

  After they’d secured the craft with the dock lines and said goodnight to Gus, Aidan stood with Savanna at her car. Theirs were the last two left in the parking lot, besides the Sweetwater Boats truck. The nearly dark sky still held remnants of oranges and pinks. Every so often, the distant light from Carson’s lighthouse swept across them briefly and then left them in the gathering darkness.

  She rested her fingertips lightly on the gray cotton of his shirt, between his chest and abdomen. He was close enough that she could see the few faint freckles across his cheeks and the way his black eyelashes curved out at the corners. Aidan’s revelations tonight, the way he’d bared his vulnerabilities, made the constant magnetic draw she felt to him even stronger.

  “Thank you for the sail,” he said.

  “Thank you for telling me about you and Finn. You can tell me anything, Aidan. You know that, right?”

  “I do. Savanna, I don’t want you to get mixed up in Libby’s case.”

  “I’m not trying to,” she said, hearing the evasive sound to her own words. “Nothing’s going to happen. I’ll stay out of it.” She put her hands up in surrender. She’d try to stay out of it, after she had a chance to pass on what she’d seen and heard to Detective Jordan.

  Aidan frowned at her. “You’ll tell me if you decide to explore any of your suspicions further.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I will.” She meant it. She couldn’t lie to him. Her breath caught in her throat as he pulled her to him and kissed her.

  Chapter Eight

  Thursday morning before school, Savanna headed down Main Street from the coffee shop to Carson Village Police Station. Crossing the street, she noticed the yellow-and-black crime scene tape had yet to be removed from Libby’s store. Miss Priscilla must be fuming by now. She perched on the low brick wall outside the village office complex and checked the time on her phone; Skylar was always on time, and it was still three minutes before eight.

  Savanna looked up to find her younger sister crossing the street toward her. “Hey! How did you know I’d be here?”

  Sydney pointed kitty-corner across Main Street. “I saw you walk past my window, and I remembered you were going to crash her meeting with Nick. I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Sure! What is it?”

  “I know we sort of joked about it the other day, but should we invite the guys this Sunday? I’m sure Aidan would like to be there for your birthday dinner.”

  “Yes,” Savanna said firmly. “I’ve been thinking about it too. Let’s do it. It’s time, right?”

  Sydney pursed her lips. “Yes. I think it’ll be good they’re both coming. Finn’s next Med Flight assignment is in Colorado, but he’ll be here for almost a whole month until he goes. I hope he—” She cut herself off. “Never mind. I just hope it goes well.”

  Savanna touched her sister’s arm. “I’m sure it will! Don’t worry. Mom and Dad will be excited.”

  “I don’t know how excited Finn will be. He’s got this thing about parents. He says they never like him.”

  Savanna frowned. “That’s crazy. He’s a good guy. And really, I’ve seen how he looks at you. That’s all they’ll need to see.”

  “Oh, there is no way. Nope,” Skylar said, approaching from her law office next door. “It was already going to be weird bringing one of you in there with me. This is too much. Mine?” She took the black coffee from Savanna.

  Savanna nodded. “Syd’s not staying.”

  “Keep me updated.” Sydney jogged back across the street to Fancy Tails.

  “She seems to be doing a little better,” Skylar said of Sydney when she’d gone.

  Inside the police station, Savanna followed her sister past the desk sergeant down the hall to Nick Jordan’s office. “Wait,” she said, stopping her outside his door. She dug a wet nap from Giuseppe’s restaurant out of her purse, tore it open, and carefully dabbed at Skylar’s lapel.

  “What is it? I didn’t even have breakfast yet—it can’t be food.” Skylar looked down, trying to see.

  “It might be Hannah’s breakfast,” Savanna said. “There, all gone.”

  “Thank you.” Her sister laughed. “You can dress me up, but you can’t take me anywhere.”

  Seated across the desk from the detective, as Skylar opened her briefcase and pulled out a manila file folder, Savanna suddenly felt much more intrusive than she’d thought she would. “Should I step out and let you go over your thing first?”

  The detective shook his head. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” Skylar handed the file to him, and he perused the documents inside. “Mm-hmm. All right, so there’s a life insurance policy; not unusual.”

  Skylar waited, not answering.

  “Well.” He looked up at Skylar. “This is dated the end of April—not even three weeks ago.”

  “Yes. My office received the copies about a week before Libby died.”

  The suspense was killing Savanna. She scrutinized Skylar, her gaze then moving to Detective Jordan.

  “He may regret the timing of this, even best-case scenario.”

  “Oh, no,” Savanna said, unable to remain quiet. “Did Anthony, like, just take out life insurance on Libby? Right before this happened? That’s crazy. Sorry.” She put a hand up as they both frowned at her.

  “I included the phone numbers and email addresses for his contact people there and at the bank, just in case you need them,” Skylar said.

  Detective Jordan closed the folder. “Thank you. I appreciate all of this.”

  “We appreciate you taking care of getting Max cleared,” Savanna said. She was frustrated neither her sister or Jordan could tell her what was up, but she’d known that was how this would go. “Do you know yet when Libby’s Blooms will reopen? Or even if it will reopen? I see Miss Priscilla hasn’t torn your crime scene tape down yet.”

  Jordan lifted an eyebrow. “I’m a little surprised she hasn’t gotten her husband to remove it. We’ll be taking it down today. My evidence team is finished over there, and we had
the cleaners handle the greenhouse yesterday. My partner already let Anthony Kent know he can reopen whenever he’s ready.”

  Savanna shuddered. “Cleaners...that’s something I’ve never thought about. Can I ask if there are any leads yet?”

  “You can ask. But I can’t tell you anything while we’re still working the case.”

  “Okay. I wanted to talk to you about a few things I’ve noticed. It won’t take long. First, did your team check out the whole building for break-ins? Or just Libby’s shop?”

  “We checked the building, since the stairwell to the greenhouse where Libby was found is a common access area.”

  “Oh, good! Was there any sign someone forced their way in somehow? Like, through the dance school or even the door for the tenants?”

  “You know I can’t release that information, Savanna.”

  “Right, okay. Sorry. Well, I’m sure you know the flower shop was locked up tight when Libby was in the greenhouse Saturday morning. Which must mean whoever killed her got to her some other way.” She paused. His face gave nothing away. Had he already deduced that? Probably. “So, I know I don’t know what exactly is in that file, but a teacher at work happened to be in line at the bank behind Anthony Kent a few weeks ago. She said he completely lost it—he was yelling at the teller because he thought they were giving him incorrect details on his finances. According to her, Anthony was upset and saying the account was for his retirement and his daughter’s tuition.”

  “What was the outcome? Did the bank straighten it out?”

  Savanna shook her head. “She didn’t know. He went into Mr. Fivell’s office, and that was it. But it’s more than that. Did you notice he came in through the front entrance Saturday morning? He and Libby always parked out back, in the parking lot. Why would he park on Main Street and come in the front way, on that particular day?”

  Jordan sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “Who knows? You don’t know that Anthony never goes in the front. And as for the bank incident, they’ve screwed up my accounts before too.”

  “It’d be interesting to know whether the bank did make an error, or if he actually did lose his money. And honestly, with Anthony switching things up with where he parked the morning Libby was murdered, what better way for your officers to know he’d just arrived than for him to come in the front? What if he’d already been inside?”

  “Savanna, I appreciate your concern. And you’re great at noticing details. But none of this is helpful.” He stood.

  She and Skylar stood as well. She didn’t want to argue, but she disagreed. “I understand. Those things just seemed odd, especially when you put them together. I’m acquainted with Anthony; he’s always seemed calm to me. The scene Rosa described at the bank sounds—”

  Detective Jordan interrupted her. “Hold on. Rosa, as in Rosa Taylor?”

  “Yes.” Oh, boy. She didn’t want to get Rosa or Detective Taylor in trouble. In spite of how she’d started the conversation, Rosa hadn’t known any details. She’d just been speculating.

  “Why was George Taylor’s wife talking to you about the case?”

  “She wasn’t really,” Savanna said. “I ran into her in the teachers’ lounge and we chatted a little; most people know about my art class at Libby’s. Rosa thought I might’ve been the one who found her. Then she told me about what she’d seen at the bank. I think it’s natural in a small town. You know, to wonder about details. Another teacher that same day asked me whether anyone was taking care of Libby’s plants. She thought I worked there because she knew her sister was in my art class in the greenhouse. People are just curious.”

  “Hmm.” He held his office door open for them. “Why didn’t the sister in your class just ask you who’s handling the plants?”

  “Oh. Because classes have been on hold. I haven’t talked to her. But Jodie—the one in my still life class—probably knew about the special plant Libby was planning to submit to the Flower and Garden Show next week. I’m sure she was worried it might die while the shop was closed. I assumed that was why Mrs. Vonkowski stopped to ask about who was watering the plants.”

  Jordan stopped just outside his office, and Skylar and Savanna did the same. “Back up. This special plant—let me check something.” He went back to his desk and pulled out a yellow legal pad, flipping through the pages before rejoining them. “That’s the plant your uncle mentioned during his interview? Libby had come in early to tend to it, he said.”

  Savanna nodded. “Yes. Jodie is the Carson Horticulture Society treasurer. They used Libby’s Blooms for all of their seedlings and supplies, so I’m sure she knew Libby was submitting something to the show.”

  The detective pressed his lips into a thin line. “All right. Thank you for that.”

  Savanna had meant to tell Jordan about Marcus Valentine’s black eye and his building access. She started to speak, then thought better of it. It was going to come out sounding like a whole lot of nothing, just like her concerns about Anthony. She needed to find out first why the tap instructor had a key to the building—whether because he was a tenant or because he worked for Miss Priscilla.

  “I think we’re all set then?” Skylar asked Savanna.

  “Yes, thank you for listening,” she told the detective. “I’ve got to get to school.”

  The sisters parted ways at Skylar’s law office. At the next building over, a police officer was removing the crime scene tape from Libby’s storefront. Miss Priscilla and her husband stood outside in front of the dance school, watching him.

  “What now?” Miss Priscilla called, the sharpness in her tone catching Savanna’s attention and making her hesitate on her way across the street.

  Startled, the officer looked over his shoulder at the Blakes. “What’s that?”

  “We’ve got a busy week coming up—lots of families in and out for recital prep. Is your investigation wrapped up? The shop’s staying closed?” Dylan Blake asked.

  The officer finished removing the last length, bundling it with the rest. “They’ve been cleared to reopen, but I have no idea what the owner’s plan is.”

  Miss Priscilla spun and yanked the door to the dance school open, her husband behind her. She whipped her head back toward him and spoke vehemently. “I told you.”

  Dylan stopped in his tracks, giving her space before following her in. “It’ll be fine, sweetheart.” He nodded at the officer as he passed. “Listen, Pris, we’re both hungry. Let’s finish here and go grab breakfast.” The door swung shut after him.

  Savanna shook her head and resumed walking. Those two...she hoped they weren’t as unhappy as they’d seemed to her the few times she’d been unfortunate enough to observe their interactions.

  Why were they at the dance school so early on a weekday morning, anyway? She glanced back again and saw the answer right away. Both of the large front windows now bore bright, colorful banners bearing information about the upcoming dance recital. A whistling Dylan Blake came back through the door, carrying a ladder and the large vinyl banner that was strung over the door each year before the recital. Savanna smiled, picking up her pace in the last block to school. The whistling settled her worry about the Blakes. Miss Priscilla’s husband was clearly not rattled; what looked like an argument to her was probably just stress over the upcoming recital in the face of a murder right next door.

  She still wasn’t sure what that little overheard exchange was about. Savanna couldn’t see how whatever happened with Libby’s would affect Miss Priscilla’s. The dance school had thrived for two decades. It’d be fine.

  Savanna forgot she wasn’t taking Mollie to her Thursday dance classes until Aidan showed up in her classroom after the last bell. She was wiping the desks down and stacking chairs when he spoke from her doorway, making her jump.

  “Ah, the less glamorous side of being a schoolteacher.”

  An embarrassing little yelp
escaped her as she turned and saw him. “Ugh! Don’t do that!” She went over to him, smiling, but stopped abruptly several feet from him.

  “I thought I’d say hello. I told Mollie I’d pick her up today, but I think she forgot.” He bent and caught Mollie as she threw herself at him in a wild hug.

  The little girl giggled and squirmed out of his embrace, returning to her task at the whiteboard. “I have to do my job, Daddy.” Her admonishment was stern and matched her expression. She used the dry eraser to continue clearing the marker on the surface.

  “I’m so sorry. It’s good you’ve put her to work,” he told Savanna, winking.

  “She begged,” Savanna said quietly. “That’s the only fun afterschool job in this room. She gets paid in stickers.”

  Aidan grinned. “Sounds fair. Can I help with anything?”

  “I’m almost done, but thank you.” Though they’d been steadily dating almost a year, she still had to work to quell the fluttery, excited sensation in her chest every time she was in his space. She’d almost run over and hugged him just like Mollie, before the thought of one of the teachers passing her door and catching them had popped into her head. It was exasperating sometimes, having to think about who might spot them and fire up the rumor mill.

  Aidan and Mollie walked out with her. Her car was in the teacher’s lot, adjacent to the parent parking lot. The after-school pick-up circle in front of the school was slowing down, ten or twelve cars still in line and the crowd of kids thinning out. Tricia Williams wore the orange vest today, directing the sparse traffic. Of course, Savanna thought. Why not literally any other teacher? But since the encounter at the movie theater, Savanna had crossed paths with Tricia a couple of times in the hallways, and the woman had been nothing but pleasant.

  Savanna looked up at Aidan. “I’ll say goodbye now. My car’s in the faculty lot. Have fun in class, Mollie. I can’t wait to see your recital!”