Still Life and Death

by Tracy Gardner

  Savanna’s gaze darted to the closed mayor’s door, and then the door to the Parks and Recreation offices. Sheesh! What had she gotten herself into? She fervently hoped no one would come through either of those doors until Yvonne was back. Her friend had taken a huge risk. She’d better make good use of it.

  She scrolled through, clicking each complaint one by one. They varied widely, but mud was slung from both sides. After she’d quickly read through the first several, she started printing. She needed something concrete to help fill in the gaps of what she’d heard, and also to give Detective Jordan. Once she’d sent everything she needed to the printer, she closed the window with the list of files. She’d just turned off the monitor for good measure and swiveled in the chair to face Yvonne’s desk phone when the door behind her opened, making her jump. The printer was still making its whizz-clack sound as it worked through several pages.

  She recognized the young man staring at her with a confused look on his face, a clipboard in hand. Jason Patterson had been helpful last year when Savanna had stopped by to talk to Yvonne and found her out sick. He’d told her Yvonne’s no-call, no-show absence was completely out of character for her and he was worried, prompting Savanna to check on her.

  “Jason! How are you?” she asked, her tone bright and cheerful. “I’m Savanna—we met last year.”

  “Oh, right! Savanna. Is Yvonne around somewhere?” He glanced around the large, empty lobby.

  “She had to run and pick up a prescription. She asked if I could just sit here for a minute in case the phone rang. She ran across the street; I guess Bob called to remind her.” Bob was the pharmacist over at Carson Apothecary, not exactly right across the street, and Savanna was a bad liar. She should stop talking before she made it obvious.

  “Okay,” Jason said, “no big deal. When she gets back, could you ask her to find me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He crossed to the offices beyond. Savanna held her breath, watching him through the window until he turned a corner, and then bolted out of the chair to grab her papers from the printer.

  Yvonne came through the doors. “Are you good? Did I give you enough time?”

  Savanna hugged her impulsively. “Thank you. Jason Patterson almost busted me. I think he believed my story. Oh, and he wants you to find him about something.”

  Yvonne laughed. “What story? That you were watching the phones for me?”

  “Yes, sort of. I may have added something about Bob calling and bugging you to pick up your prescription. I talk too much when I’m nervous!”

  “Don’t worry about it. I hope it all helps. I don’t care what kind of grudges the Kents and Blakes had going on—nothing was worth Libby’s life.”

  “Exactly,” Savanna agreed. “This might be a wild goose chase on my part. But they sure had a lot of issues with each other.”

  In her car, Savanna rifled through the stack of complaints, eleven in all. Both parties had reported the other at different times for lack of snow and ice clearing at the back entrances. The documents detailed grievances about an illegal sign, a noise disturbance, and a fire hazard complaint. There were others, but she was out of time; she’d have to go through these more closely tonight after her still life class.

  She parked in one of the several empty spaces at Libby’s Blooms and was on her way in when Libby’s daughter pulled up outside the dance school. Savanna slowed her pace and raised a hand in greeting. Rachel waved back as Marcus Valentine came out of Miss Priscilla’s and got in the passenger side of her car.

  The young woman pulled up alongside Savanna on her way out of the parking lot. “Hi, Ms. Shepherd!”

  “Hi, Rachel.” She ducked down to peer into the car and say hello to the tap instructor as well.

  Rachel looked uncomfortable. “I hate to ask you this, but could you please not mention seeing me to my dad?”

  “Oh. Sure, no problem.”

  “Sorry. I know it’s weird of me to ask. He’s just...it’s better for everyone if he doesn’t know you saw us.” She turned and glanced at Marcus beside her, whose expression was stony and unreadable.

  Savanna nodded. “That’s fine; don’t worry. None of my business,” she said, feeling uncomfortable herself. Anthony certainly did dislike Marcus Valentine.

  “Thank you, Ms. Shepherd.”

  She watched Rachel drive away. Ugh, she didn’t envy either of them. Or Anthony. She’d only ever dated one guy her parents had truly disliked, but by then she’d been away at college in Chicago, which made it easier to avoid this type of problem. She still hadn’t loved the feeling of knowing her parents were unhappy with her boyfriend. She couldn’t blame Rachel for trying to be discreet.

  The door to the florist office was closed; Anthony didn’t even seem to be here today. Rachel had worried for nothing. Uncle Max stood behind the counter of the flower shop and for once, he didn’t come around to greet her. He motioned her over, pointing down, and she leaned over the countertop to find Lady Bella looking up at her with her cute little Corgi grin.

  “Puppy!” Savanna came around the side of the counter and kneeled, giving Lady Bella plenty of ear scratches and belly rubs. “How come you got to bring her to work?”

  “She’s not handling my longer hours well,” Max said, making a sad face. “I got Anthony’s permission to bring her with me some of the time, especially with Freddie’s crazy schedule lately.”

  “Good. Poor baby.” She kissed the top of the Corgi’s head and stood, taking the large bouquet of tulips from her uncle. “These are gorgeous. The class will love painting them.”

  “You’ve a few students already up there, all thrilled your class is back in session.” He walked with her through the shop to the stairway access door and unlocked it, opening it for her. “Don’t lose any more earrings now.”

  She stared at him.

  Uncle Max looked past her up the steps. “It’s a smart idea, figuring who all has access to this stairwell. What isn’t smart is getting mixed up in anything dangerous, love. Your Detective Jordan seems quite competent.”

  She should’ve known she couldn’t outsmart him. She kissed him on the cheek. “He is, and I’m fine. Don’t worry, Uncle Max.”

  In the rooftop greenhouse, Jack Carson arrived just before Savanna started the class. Elaina Jenson was with him. “I convinced her to give it a try,” Jack said, smiling at his girlfriend.

  Savanna had worried people might not return to the rooftop greenhouse where Libby had died. It did give her the willies, standing a few yards away from where Max had discovered her friend’s body. But her students all came, and class ended up being overfull when Sydney showed up.

  “I told you I’d make it over here eventually,” she said. “Willow’s watching the shop and Fonzie. You can’t make fun of whatever mess I make of this canvas, okay?”

  Elaina spoke up. “Your sister promised she won’t make fun of mine, either. I try, but even my third graders know how little artistic talent I have.”

  “Not true,” Jack said. “I’ve seen the posters you make for your classroom. And Savanna’s a good teacher. You might be surprised what you can do.”

  By the end of the class, all thirteen of Savanna’s students had created the beginnings of lovely, colorful tulip bouquet renderings. The flowers would keep well enough in the refrigerator downstairs until Friday’s class.

  Savanna finally had a chance to talk with Sydney as everyone was cleaning up. She’d stopped by to check on her Monday evening and had found Sydney curled up on her couch under a blanket in her pajamas at eight p.m. Syd worked long hours and was entitled to have an early night, but Savanna had never seen her ready for bed so early. She hadn’t been her usual bubbly, lighthearted self since Libby’s death. Savanna had an idea of something that could help, if it panned out. She needed to hear from Kate next door before she said anything. But the fact that she’d come to
class was encouraging.

  “How are you doing?” Savanna asked, keeping her voice low.

  Sydney shrugged. “Not great. I’m better when I’m busy. Sitting around feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to bring Libby back or stop my boyfriend from running away from me.”

  “Syd, you know that isn’t what he did. He—” She didn’t have a good justification for Finn’s adding a month on to his commitment and leaving abruptly. She recalled the look on his face, his whole attitude, in the ambulance bay. “He didn’t do it right. He could’ve talked to you about it first. But he’s kind of married to his job, you know? He really loves it.”

  “I know. I’m glad he loves it. That’s the rational side of my brain talking. If I could get the rational side to communicate with the emotional side, all my sides would be perfect.” She gave Savanna a wry smile.

  “Has he been in touch since he left?”

  “Every day, before and after work. And sometimes when he has a break. He says he couldn’t let down his team. The guy he replaced has filled in for him before, and Finn felt obligated; that paramedic left the same day Finn flew out. His new baby was okay, but his wife had complications. I do get it now.”

  “That makes sense. These Gallager men and their sense of obligation.” She couldn’t help smiling. Finn’s leaving town right away to help out a coworker reminded her of Aidan’s abrupt departure last summer when he’d learned his former boss and mentor had had a heart attack and his wife would only let Aidan operate. Despite Aidan’s reservations about his brother, Finn seemed to have the same commitment to doing what was right, even when it meant taking the harder path.

  Sydney nodded. “I know.”

  Jodie Vonkowski approached them. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

  “You aren’t,” Sydney said. “Thank you for the class, Savvy. Lunch at Fancy Tails tomorrow, right?”

  “For sure. I’ll text you later.”

  Jodie hung back while Sydney and the rest of the class filtered out. “I didn’t want to bother you during class, but I wondered if I might be able to see Libby’s Cry Violet. The Flower and Garden Show starts this Thursday. I’m so excited Libby’s daughter is still submitting it. I just know it’s going to wow the panel.”

  “Oh! Sure, it’s in the back.” Savanna headed toward the far corner of the greenhouse, Jodie following her. “It’s such a pretty plant. I still think it’s amazing she was able to grow it.”

  “Your uncle was probably close to Libby...did she ever let him in on her secret? I mean, I’ve been into gardening for years, I’m an active member of the Carson Horticulture Society, and I have no idea how she cultivated an extinct plant.”

  “He doesn’t know, either. Libby never told him how she did it. And he doubted Rachel knew. It’s a shame to think her secret is gone with her.”

  “It really is. I hope the violet gets the accolades it deserves. It’s an incredible accomplishment.”

  They’d reached the Cry Violet’s special mesh screenhouse. Savanna bent and unzipped it and held it open, letting Jodie enter. She heard the woman’s gasp before she saw what had caused it: the pedestal in the center of the screenhouse was bare.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Someone stole it!” Jodie exclaimed, her eyes wide and her voice frantic.

  “Wait,” Savanna said. “We don’t know that for certain.” She pulled out her cell phone and called Max on speaker, downstairs in the flower shop.

  He picked up on the first ring. “Hello there! Shall I come up and help carry things down?”

  “No. Uncle Max, the Cry Violet. It’s missing. It’s just completely gone. Did you...maybe you brought it down there to keep a closer eye on it?” Savanna held her breath.

  “No, I’m so sorry you’ve worried. Rachel picked up the violet this morning. She’s taking it to Grand Rapids later this week for the Flower and Garden Show. She’s so hoping the judging panel will be awestruck; I’m sure they will.”

  “Oh, good. Wonderful. Thank you, Uncle Max. We’re on our way down.”

  “Whew,” Jodie said. “I’m glad it’s okay.”

  Savanna and Jodie parted outside in the parking lot, promising to update each other if either of them heard any news about the violet’s standing in the show. Savanna was nearly home when she glanced over at Fonzie hanging his head out the passenger side window and saw Mollie’s stuffed bunny Mrs. Flopsy on the back seat. The little girl must’ve left it in her car before dance yesterday. Ugh. She’d probably been looking for it all over! The toy went everywhere with her and she slept with it every night.

  Savanna turned the car around and a few minutes later, she was pulling into Aidan’s driveway. The sound of piano music drifted through the air from the open front door when she got out of her car, bunny in hand. She’d never heard Aidan play the pretty Steinway piano that sat in his living room. On his porch, she was about to knock on the screened door but drew her hand back as the music stopped. Aidan’s low voice and then Mollie saying something came through to her, followed by the tentative single notes that must be Mollie playing. Savanna recognized the strains of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” Abrupt silence, then voices again before Mollie resumed, continuing all the way through this time to the second verse.

  How she’d love to watch the two of them, Aidan teaching his daughter to play piano. She reached out again to knock, but her hand froze before touching the door. Images flashed in her mind: she and her dad on his boat when she was a few years older than Mollie, him explaining to her how to read the sails to find the direction of the wind.

  She quietly opened the screened door and set Mrs. Flopsy on the entryway table just inside. As she pulled out of the driveway, Fonzie barked once, likely putting in his two cents at not seeing his pal Jersey. “It’s okay, buddy.” Savanna patted his head. “Not this time.”

  She dreamed that night of the three of them—she and Aidan and Mollie—out on the lake, wide white sails overhead against a pink sky.

  Nick Jordan stared at Savanna Wednesday morning, incredulous, his eyes wider than she’d ever seen them. “And you didn’t think this was important to mention to me, why?”

  Sydney leaned toward him across the desk. “Nick.” She spoke his name sharply, frowning at him. “You’ve literally told Savanna you wanted her input and then you pooh-pooh everything she tries to tell you. Even though it’s very likely she’s come across something you’ve missed. It’s happened before.”

  Savanna turned a shocked stare on her little sister. Well, dang. Nobody spoke to Detective Jordan that way. Except apparently Sydney.

  “What? You know I’m right.” Sydney sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. She focused on Jordan. “And so do you. Go ahead, Savanna.”

  Oof. She’d sensed Sydney’s sour mood when she’d stopped by Fancy Tails to grab her for the meeting she’d arranged. But she’d never seen her sister this abrupt with anyone before. One more thing to add to Savanna’s Reasons to Worry About Sydney list. She and Skylar planned to sit down and talk with Sydney at lunch today.

  Nick Jordan arranged his features into something closer to his usual poker face and folded his hands in front of him on his desk, eyes on Savanna.

  “Detective,” Savanna said, “when I mentioned Anthony Kent’s tantrum at the bank, and how odd it was that he came in the front entrance the morning of Libby’s murder, you brushed it all off as insignificant, and—”

  He interrupted her. “Right. But a dance instructor coming in to work next door with a black eye two days after Libby was killed, after missing work the day she was killed, would fall into the significant category, especially if he’s dating the daughter of the victim.”

  Savanna gritted her teeth, growing more irritated by the second. “I only just learned about Rachel dating him. And seriously, how am I supposed to know when I should tell you about things, when you act like it’s all trivial? If I c
ome talk to you, I obviously must think I have significant information.”

  The detective pressed his lips into a thin line. Savanna squelched her urge to apologize. She didn’t mean to be disrespectful, but he was difficult to communicate with. He opened a drawer and set his yellow legal pad on the desk calendar. His expression softened. “You’re right. Both of you. I’m sorry. The details you spot have always been helpful. You know I know that.” He smiled, and it was the most forced, awkward thing she’d ever seen.

  She laughed in spite of herself. “Okay. Yes, I do know that.” Now she just wanted him to stop with the smile.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Would you go through what you told me again?” He rested his penpoint on the paper in front of him.

  “I was at the dance studio last Monday—a week ago—when he came in. He was running late for class.”

  “Marcus Valentine, the tap instructor at Priscilla’s,” he clarified.

  “Yes, Marcus Valentine. He had sunglasses on, and Miss Priscilla told him to take them off. When he did, and she saw his eye, she told him to put them back on.”

  “So he did, and did he say anything at all about it?”

  She frowned, scouring her memory of that moment. “No. When he rushed into the studio, he said something to the kids about it being costume day, and then Miss Priscilla yelled at him—”

  “Yelled?”

  “No, sorry. She spoke to him, you know. Then he went in with the kids and shut the door, and that was it. He comes off as kind of jovial, charming. He wasn’t ruffled by Miss Priscilla.”

  “Nobody there asked him how he got the black eye?”

  “Well, no. The whole thing took, like, thirty seconds. I didn’t see him after that. Oh—until the next day. No, wait, Wednesday. The three of us saw him from across the street. He pulled up in front of the building around lunchtime and went in through the tenants’ door. So, when Libby’s reopened, I was able to go up to the second floor and I found out Marcus Valentine lives in the building. He has an apartment over the dance school. He has access to that stairwell and the roof. And then I learned he and Libby’s daughter are dating, and Anthony Kent is not happy about it.” She stopped and took a breath.