Still Life and Death

by Tracy Gardner

  Detective Jordan took the first stapled-together packet of documents she passed him.

  Savanna jumped in. “This is a purchase agreement. Mike at Carson Community Homes put it together”—she pointed to the signatures at the bottom—“two years ago. It’s signed by Dylan Blake and Anthony Kent, here. This is for the purchase of Libby’s Blooms.”

  He raised his gaze and stared at her.

  “But. This is where Libby’s signature belongs.” She pointed to the blank line underneath Anthony’s signature.

  “I’ll be darned.” Detective Jordan scrubbed a hand over his chin, frowning at the paper in his hand. “And we don’t know what happened? I don’t recall Libby’s ever being for sale.”

  “It wasn’t. Look.” She passed him another set of pages on Carson Community Homes letterhead. “Six years ago. Same thing. But this one doesn’t have Libby’s or Anthony’s signatures.”

  “Can I keep these?” Jordan’s usual intensely serious demeanor was dialed up even higher. “What else do you have?”

  “A couple other things. But first, I called Mike last night when I found these. He was my real estate agent. He remembers drafting the newest purchase agreement. The other one was under an agent who’s since quit. Mike says Dylan Blake and Anthony Kent seemed civil the one time he sat down with both of them; he says Anthony scheduled a follow-up meeting to go over the purchase with Libby there, but it never happened. He didn’t know anything beyond that.”

  “Thank you for checking with him. This is significant. It gives both Dylan Blake and Anthony Kent a motive.”

  She nodded. “I kind of thought so. The next thing I found is weird.” She passed it across the table to Detective Jordan. “I think it’s a complaint made to the IRS. The Kents’ statement is here.” Savanna pointed at the section of the form that allowed for narrative. “They’re alleging that the dance school was committing tax fraud. This is the confirmation letter Libby and Anthony received back, stating that the IRS takes incidences of tax fraud seriously and all reports will be investigated; it appears to be a form letter.”

  He scanned the pages while she talked, and she went on. “The next one is from Dylan Blake to Anthony and Libby.” She handed him a copy of a short legal warning on letterhead from Black, Jones, and Sydowski. She let him read before continuing. She couldn’t help viewing the Kents and the Blakes in a different light after all she’d learned last night. Most of what had snowballed into truly mean, vindictive measures had started with petty disagreements. What might’ve happened if they’d just found a way to work things out early on?

  “This is basically a cease and desist,” he said, glancing up from the document. “Saying the Blakes are going to sue the Kents for defamation—libel and slander against the dance school—unless they drop their tax fraud claim against them. All of this is from January this year.”

  She nodded. “I sent Skylar a picture of that; it was drafted by Jillian Black. Skylar didn’t know about Priscilla and Dylan threatening to sue the Kents, but she said she could have Jillian call you and fill you in on her meeting with the Blakes in January.”

  Nick Jordan placed the cease-and-desist letter on the thin stack of papers in front of him. “You have one more?”

  “I’m not so sure this last one is even important. I think you’ve already got the information from Skylar about the life insurance policy. This is a letter from Anthony Kent to his financial advisor—listed right there—and it pretty much details what he was so upset about at the bank that day. According to this, he’s angry about some bad investments that depleted his account. He used what was left of it toward the cost of doubling his life insurance.”

  Jordan took the paper. “I knew some of this, as far as the finance part, but not why. He’s telling his advisor why he needs to liquidate his account and close it. Daughter’s tuition, interest increase on the mortgage payments for the flower shop, commercial tax rate went up...that kind of thing. He’s concerned if something happened to himself or Libby, Rachel would be crushed by debt. It does explain his thought process with the life insurance policy increase, though his timing is wildly suspicious.”

  “Detective,” Savanna said. “Can you tell me—that policy, is it only the spouse who benefits? Is Anthony set to receive the entire amount, or does it get divided between him and Rachel?”

  “That all depends on how the policy is written and who the beneficiaries are. Rachel is a co-beneficiary on the policy, getting an equal share along with the surviving parent. That’s how Anthony set it up when he doubled the policy.”

  She shook her head. “Rachel doesn’t know there’s any money coming.”

  Jordan raised his brows. “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, the day I ran into her at the hospital. She just seemed so stressed about money for school. She said that’s why she hadn’t taken any bereavement days off.”

  He frowned. “Hmm.”

  Savanna knew there was more to his noncommittal response than it appeared. He’d head back to his office and dig into all this. “Do you think she was bluffing? Could she be involved somehow?”

  “Not sure.” He stood. “You’ve outdone yourself here. I assume Anthony Kent isn’t aware you and your uncle looked through his files?”

  “No, he isn’t aware.”

  “Good to know.”

  She packed up her wrappers and empty containers into her lunch box and walked with Jordan on the winding path around the school to the parking lot. “Detective, what about the gun? The ballistics report must be in by now. Is there a way to tell if the killer used a registered gun?”

  “The report is in and our investigation is ongoing,” he said.

  “What about the casing markings?”

  He frowned at her. “We’re working through a short list of registered firearms in the county that match the casing markings. But I’d be surprised if someone used a weapon registered in their own name to commit a murder.”

  “Ah.” Savanna sighed. “So I guess unless you find the weapon at an actual suspect’s residence or the killer uses it again and is caught with it, the gun’s a dead end?”

  “Cripes, Savanna. Maybe you should’ve gone into law enforcement instead of art.”

  She chuckled. “That’s sweet of you.” She had a feeling he hadn’t said it to be sweet. She was irritating him now, she could tell. Well, she was almost done. “One last question, if you don’t mind.”

  “Shoot.”

  “What do you think happened at Libby’s this morning? Nobody seems to have seen or heard anything at all. It doesn’t seem random. Was it a robbery? Because if someone wanted money, they’d be smarter to break into Lakeview Fine Jewelry down the street instead. Plus, it’s farther away from you—from the police station.”

  “It wasn’t a robbery. We’re still looking into it.”

  That was about as specific as she was going to get from him.

  He stopped before getting into his car. “I’ve always said you’ve got a good eye for detail. I appreciate all the work that went into this, Savanna. Thank you. I’ll keep you in the loop on where it leads us.”

  She walked back into the school, still puzzling through everything she’d learned between last night and today. The shattered flower shop window was throwing her off. Was it possible it wasn’t connected to Libby’s death? However unlikely, that would help explain a lot. Anthony Kent wouldn’t destroy his own window, would he? That’d just cost him money, or at least a renter’s insurance claim. It didn’t make sense to think Dylan Blake had done it, either. He was the one who’d discovered it and called the police. Plus, she’d seen him on his coffee run—how would he have had time to do it? Marcus Valentine and Rachel Kent popped into Savanna’s head. She still wasn’t certain if Rachel could have had anything to do with Libby’s death, or if it might’ve been Marcus acting alone. Rachel should be in Grand Rapids at the flower
show today, so she couldn’t have done it. What about Valentine? Living in the building, it’d be quick and easy for him to throw something through the window and run back upstairs. But for what purpose?

  Savanna dove into the projects her afternoon classes were working on, happy to think about nothing else but the large, colorful versions of friendly monsters her students were finishing up.

  Handling the pick-up line after the last bell Friday afternoon seemed to take forever. As soon as she was done, she dropped the compulsory yellow-and-orange vest on her desk and headed for Fancy Tails. She showered Fonzie with pats and scratches and praise when she arrived and poked her head into the grooming area. Sydney had their uncles’ Lady Bella on the grooming table. The Corgi spotted Savanna and attempted to leap off the platform, her stout, furry body wagging along with her tail.

  Sydney laughed. “Now you have to come back here and calm her down.”

  Savanna went through the half door and stood petting the sweet dog’s head while Sydney continued trimming her. “Has there been any action across the street since I left this morning?”

  “I know it looks like I just play with dogs all day,” Syd joked, “but I almost never get time to go stare out the window and spy on everyone.”

  “Hey, don’t judge me. I have my reasons for spying.” Savanna smiled back at the smiling Corgi. “You’re so cute!”

  “She’s seriously the cutest,” Sydney agreed. “Don’t tell Fonzie. And to answer your question, I do know there’s been a whole lot of action across the street since this morning. Willow was grooming today until she left, so I was at the treat counter.”

  Savanna chuckled, parroting Sydney from a minute ago. “‘I never have time to look out the window!’”

  “So, you don’t want an update then?”

  “Come on, tell me what you saw!”

  “Well, I had the first grooming appointment, so I’m not sure what happened right after we left. But Willow got here an hour later, and Jordan and his partner were inside the flower shop, along with Callie from their evidence team—she’s got the biggest, goofiest Great Dane mix,” Sydney interrupted herself with dog facts.

  Savanna was used to it. She nodded as her younger sister continued.

  “Anthony Kent showed up in the middle of them, checking everything over. There was a lot of arm-waving and pointing and shouting. It was kind of like a silent movie on this side,” Sydney noted.

  “Who was doing the yelling? Pointing where?”

  “Anthony Kent appeared to be yelling at Jordan and Taylor. He kept pointing toward Miss Priscilla’s. I’m sure he probably thinks they did it. The detectives left, but Callie stayed to finish up; she was snapping photos and measuring things with that red string you see on crime shows. Then Uncle Max came in, even though we texted him about what had happened. It’s probably good he did. It was a plant massacre over there.” She stopped, looking slightly nauseated. “So uncalled for. Uncle Max tried to scoop up and save as many as possible. Anthony just stood there watching and getting in Callie’s way. Trade ends with me—I have to do her ears.”

  It took Savanna a second to separate the silent movie narrative from Sydney’s grooming command. She swapped places with Sydney for the dog’s back end, which wasn’t as much fun as seeing her smiling face.

  “Okay, and then after Callie left, a utility truck pulled up and started working on the glass. The cleanup took a really long time. Once they got it all, those guys took their own measurements, left, and came back with the plywood you can now see covering almost the whole entire store front where the glass is missing. I’m guessing they have to special order the replacement window. That’s all I know. You’re gorgeous, Lady Bella!” She unclipped the short leash and hugged the dog, lifting her and setting her down on the tiled floor, where Fonzie instantly began prancing in circles around her.

  “You know everything,” Savanna said. “Thanks for the rundown. Can she come play, or do you have to put her in a pen?”

  “She knows the owner, so she’s allowed to come out and play,” Sydney said, opening the half door and following Savanna and the Corgi through.

  Sydney crossed through the wide daisy archway to the treat side of the salon, grabbed two waters from the mini fridge, and flounced into the chair by the window. Savanna sat at the table. Across the street, Anthony had flipped the CLOSED sign on the flower shop door. She’d already called her students and canceled tonight’s still life class. She was starting to wonder if she should cancel for good. But the people in her class seemed to really enjoy it.

  They gazed out the window for a while in silence.

  “Have you heard from Finn? How’s Boulder?” Savanna asked.

  “He says it’s beautiful. He can see the Rocky Mountains from his sublease—the company puts him up in temporary housing, and it sounds like they try to find good places. He went rock climbing last night,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to try that outside a gym.”

  “Y’know, do you think you’d ever want to take, like, a long weekend and go meet him on one of his assignments? It could be a lot of fun. I’d help Willow with the shop.”

  Sydney nodded. “I’ve thought about it. He wanted me to come to Phoenix. Thank you for the offer, but the shop isn’t stopping me. Willow would be fine; I could schedule light for a day or two. Kate would help out too.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  Sydney pulled her legs up and sat with them crisscrossed in the comfy chair, elbows propped on the armrests. “I don’t know. I know I’m super late to the party realizing this, but I think the reality of his job is hitting me. Hard. I can feel myself pulling back.” She met Savanna’s gaze, her forehead crinkled with worry.

  “Oh, Syd. Don’t do that.”

  “I don’t want to!” Anguish filled her tone. “I’m trying not to. You and Skylar were right when you had your mini-intervention last year and made me see I have a habit of bailing before things get too serious. I do that. I know that now. But you know what? You were also right when you said this thing with me and Finn wouldn’t end well. It can’t. He’s never in one place long enough, and I’m the definition of staying in one place.” She spread her arms out, encompassing the salon. “I love it here. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have opened a dog salon.”

  “I know,” Savanna said. Her poor sister. Savanna had wished for Sydney to truly connect with someone someday, but she sure didn’t envy her this dilemma. The issues with Finn were tough.

  “Part of me is head over heels in love with him, and part of me wants him to stay in Boulder for good and never come back. Because I can’t think straight when he’s around, and I hate this feeling” —she clutched her stomach, grasping the cotton of her shirt—“when he’s gone.”

  Savanna’s eyes abruptly welled up. She covered her mouth with one hand, but it couldn’t conceal her smile.

  “What? What is wrong with you?”

  She took her hand away and swallowed hard. She’d never seen Sydney like this. “Do you hear yourself?” Her voice was soft. She had no solutions, no words to help her figure out what to do. It was an odd feeling, her heart simultaneously swelling and breaking for her sister.

  Sydney held Savanna’s gaze. Her expression shifted with tangled emotions as she realized what she’d said. Sydney put her head in her hands. “Oh my God. What did I get myself into?”

  Sydney was in love with Finn. No wonder she hadn’t recognized it—she’d never before felt this horrible and wonderful at once. All she knew was that she constantly wanted to be near him when he was here, and she had this crushing, hollowed-out feeling when he was gone.

  After Savanna left, Uncle Freddie came to pick up Lady Bella and accidentally threw salt in her Finn-related wounds by innocently asking when the family would get to meet her boyfriend. He didn’t mean to upset her, but it highlighted the problem. When, indeed? How had she fallen so hard and fast for som
eone she’d been warned about? Aidan had cautioned her, and so had Savanna: Finn was impulsive, unpredictable, never stayed anywhere long. Her boyfriend had come with a huge warning label, and she’d totally ignored it.

  That night when she crawled under her fluffy comforter, she checked her phone one last time before she went to sleep. No call or text from Finn. He’d been calling every day after work, but tonight there’d been nothing.

  Sydney believed in energy. She didn’t believe in magic, exactly, but she strongly believed in energy and connections and signs. Maybe, hundreds of miles away in Boulder, Colorado, Finn was picking up on whatever energy she was emitting into the universe, and on some level he sensed her confusion and was allowing her space to process. She knew this was the kind of thing Skylar would probably laugh at, and Savanna might be curious about at first but would ultimately decide was just Sydney doing her woo-woo thing.

  She set her phone on her bedside table, switched off her lamp, and tucked her arm back under the bedding. She was just floating off to sleep when her phone buzzed. She fumbled with it and saw it was a video call from the man in question. She should decline it and go to sleep. Her head would be clearer tomorrow morning. But she answered it, staying where she was under the blankets. “Hi.”

  “Hi, baby. I’m sorry I woke you up.” His eyes were extra green in the dark of her bedroom.

  “You didn’t. How are you?”

  He frowned, his face moving closer to the screen. “Are you sick?”

  She laughed. Nice. “No. I was almost asleep. Do I look sick?”