Pane and Suffering

by Cheryl Hollon

  They drove in ever-larger circles searching the streets, driveways, and back alleys of the neighborhood, stopping frequently to shout, “Rooney, here boy!”

  Not a sign of him.

  The few neighbors out taking care of lawns and just chatting hadn’t seen a running gray streak either.

  They criss-crossed the major streets with Savannah slowing so that they could stop for a moment to look under and between cars and down along the alleyways. More than a few impatient drivers tooted their annoyance. She and Mrs. Webberly ignored them and continued to shout his name.

  No luck.

  After an hour, Savannah parked in front of her house again, feeling sick. “It doesn’t look good, Mrs. Webberly.”

  “No, dear. It’s not fair, I can’t bear another loss,” she pulled a lace bordered handkerchief from her skirt pocket and blew her nose. “I’m going to be alone here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you leave, I’ll have to move in with my oldest son. He and his wife will treat me like a dried-up old lady.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “They didn’t like it that Hugh and I were, well, intimate, but I think they felt confident that he would look out for me after John died.”

  Savannah’s eyes opened wide. “You and Hugh? I had no—”

  “Oh no, of course not. Hugh would have been embarrassed. He was very traditional and couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to get married again after my husband died. I love my independence, but I’ll have to fight them for it. Let’s move on, dear. What are we going to do about Rooney?”

  Clamping her mouth shut, it took Savannah a moment to think, “I’ll make up some flyers at the shop tomorrow and we’ll post them around.”

  “I just don’t understand why he would take off. It’s not like his true nature at all.” Mrs. Webberly got out of the car and went into her bungalow.

  Savannah pulled the van under the carport.

  She felt the heavy silence of the house as soon as she opened the door. Rooney had such a big presence. Why would he leave?

  The phone rang and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

  “Thank goodness you’re home.”

  “Edward? Honestly, I don’t want to talk to you at all right now. Rooney has run away and I’m just—” Savannah could hear the sorrow in her voice and took a deep breath.

  “Don’t worry, I—”

  “I’m just back from searching the whole neighborhood for him. He’s nowhere to be seen and I’ve really looked hard.”

  “Don’t worry, I—”

  “Of course, I’m worried. He’s still a fairly young dog and it’s my fault that he’s unhappy enough to run away.”

  “Savannah! Stop talking. Listen to me. Slow down for a second. He’s here at the pub with me. I heard him barking next door. He was waiting at the back door of your shop.”

  “Why in blazes would he go to the shop?”

  “Your dad used to take him in when he was working late on paperwork. Then they would stop over here for a drink. Rooney was just following the routine.”

  “Okay. Thank goodness. He seemed more anxious than usual today. Hold on to him. I’m on my way.”

  “No rush. The customers love him.”

  They wouldn’t love what he’s done with my left shoes. She clicked the handset switch and dialed Mrs. Webberly. As soon as she answered, Savannah said, “He’s been found.”

  “Oh thank the stars. I was so worried. Where was he?”

  “He’s been waiting at the back door of Webb’s. I guess he figured that Dad has been working there all this time so he went over to remind him to come home. It’s kinda sweet, really.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Edward has him. Rooney’s busy charming all the customers at Queen’s Head.”

  “That’s perfectly Rooney. Thanks for letting me know so I could stop fretting.”

  Savannah hung up and leaped into the van, concentrating on driving as fast and safely as she could. She parked behind the shop and went up the alleyway towards the front of the pub. When she got to the street, she noticed a white forensics police van parked in front of the shop.

  That’s strange. I thought they already finished with the forensics investigation. She looked into the storefront windows and saw a light shining from around the closed workshop door. Bristling, she unlocked the front door, making the bell shriek with the force she used to shake the door. “Is someone here?” she yelled over the jangling door bell. “Come out or I’m calling 911.”

  Forensics specialist Grey opened the workroom door. She was wearing an ordinary business suit in black with a white blouse and long pants, which made the white gloves on her hands look like Easter formal wear. “Don’t panic. It’s just me. You already gave me permission to search this room yesterday.”

  “Even if I’m not here?”

  “I needed to check out something for a moment.”

  “How did you get in?”

  “I checked Mr. Trevor’s keys out from the evidence department. I needed the keys to his house and car as well.” She shrugged.

  “What about the alarm.”

  She had the grace to blush. “Like many people, he had the access code written across a bit of tape on the key.”

  Savannah lowered her shaking head, then looked directly into Sandra Grey’s eyes. “But still, you could have called me. You have my wholehearted support.”

  “This is an on-going investigation. We will be continuing to gather evidence at the request of Detective Parker. Wherever—and unfortunately for my love life—whenever he wants us to gather evidence.” Sandra took a small breath. “That was the official doctrine. I was supposed to have called. It’s what I always do. I can’t think why I didn’t this time. I’m truly sorry. I can see you’re upset.”

  “Yes, it’s an uncomfortable situation, to say the least. A situation that I don’t think is at all possible to be prepared to handle.”

  Sandra smiled quietly and nodded. “Of course. I’m just doing my job, but I try not to make a terrible situation even worse for the victim’s family and friends. I failed this time. I can only apologize.”

  “Yes, I know that and appreciate your position, really,” said Savannah. “We’re on the same team. I want to know who killed Hugh and my dad. Is there anything I can do that will help you?”

  “You can’t really help.” Sandra turned to go back into the workroom. “On second thought, maybe you can. I don’t know much about stained glass, but I am surprised that so many chemicals are involved in creating them. Can you tell me which ones you use so I can keep a lookout for anything out of place?”

  “Chemicals? Sure, there are a few.” Savannah ticked them off on her fingers. “We use alcohol to clean the glass before soldering. We use etching compounds to prime the leaded panes. We apply chemical solvents to create specific finishing effects like a copper patina. We use a variety of glass enamels for the painted portions. I think there are more, but everything we use should also be for sale in the display room.”

  “Hmmmmm. Those I figured out and I did check them for a match with your inventory. Could you identify this one for me?” Sandra walked over to Jacob’s bench and picked up a baby food jar by the lid with her gloves. It was half-filled with a dried green herbal mixture. “What’s this used for?”

  Savannah instinctively reached for the jar.

  Sandra pulled it out of reach. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you touch it.”

  Savannah bent over to look at the jar’s contents and shook her head slowly. “I have no idea.”

  Chapter 20

  Late Thursday Evening

  Savannah knelt down and cooed sweet praise to Rooney. She found him lapping up attention from the patrons at Queen’s Head Pub and everyone wanted to pet him. Most of the regulars spoke to her about their favorite memories of her dad and it was a bit like a mini wake. In light of everything that was going on, it was nice to h
ear that the townspeople had such fond memories of her father.

  Edward took the leash from her hand, knelt, and clipped it to Rooney’s collar. He removed the temporary leash made of cooking twine and gave the puppy a rigorous scratching all the way down his back. “I’m glad to have you visit here, Rooney boy, but it’s time for you to go home. Next time, make sure your mum brings you.”

  Savannah stood. “I’m so relieved he’s okay. I was imagining him hit by a car, kidnapped by animal testing laboratories, underground puppy farms. Everything bad.”

  “He probably thought you should have some company.”

  “More likely that he thought Dad was still here and needed to come home. I can understand why Dad would bring him along when he worked late hours. He is a great watchdog. Have you heard his bark? For a puppy, it’s pretty scary.”

  “Yeah, it sounds aggressive, but he’s not particularly territorial. Listen, Savannah, I really want to explain to you the details of the loan. Amanda called right after class and spilled the beans about what you learned from Mrs. Lattimer.”

  “I don’t want to get into it now, Edward.”

  “Please, love,” he took her hand and bent down to press a kiss onto her palm, “I’m begging for an audience. Let me explain.”

  The pleading in his smile ruined her resolve to be stern. She removed her hand, “This better be good.”

  “It’s good. Your dad was my biggest supporter in the neighborhood. He ate here every day when I first opened. He recommended it to his students, vendors, and clients. I believe he thought of me like a son.”

  Savannah folded her arms across her chest, “Some son you are. Betraying his trust so quickly. And with Frank, for heaven’s sake. That’s disgusting. You know how Dad felt about him.”

  “It wasn’t that way. Your dad made me a loan so that I could expand the outdoor seating to increase my cash flow. I was just barely getting by and I needed to do something quick.”

  “You should have told me.”

  “But, from my viewpoint, I thought you were selling it to Hugh then returning to Seattle. Hugh and I were good with your plan to turn it over to him and then I would pay him back as soon as I received my inheritance from my uncle.”

  “Why did you deal with Frank?”

  “After Hugh died, Frank stopped by the shop and offered to forgive the loan if I could persuade you to sell Webb’s to him.” He looked down at the floor. “I’m ashamed of that, but I didn’t know you then. I shouldn’t have done that anyway—I was close to John and you’re his daughter. It was just Frank’s offer was so very, very attractive to a strapped new business owner.”

  She stood and looked at him.

  “Say something,” he pleaded. “I can’t stand it.”

  “I’m disappointed, to say the least, but I can’t ignore the fact that my dad seemed to trust you absolutely. Let me think about this.”

  “Fair enough. I just need a chance to prove myself to you. I’ll tell Frank that the deal is off and he is on his own to try to persuade you to sell it to him.”

  “I don’t really know what to do at this point,” Savannah’s shoulders drooped with the weight of the decisions she would need to make shortly. Her mood was interrupted by Rooney’s nose nudge. She took a deep breath and rubbed his head.

  “I would not have believed how many friends Rooney has here.”

  “Would you like a drink?” Edward asked. “Rooney will be happy to have you stay.”

  “No thanks. I’m exhausted. Today had too many ups and downs. But, I’ll take a rain check. Good night and thanks for the explanation.”

  She smiled at the happy crowd. She wouldn’t have any trouble finding a new owner for him. Looking around at some of her prospects, she felt a twinge of sadness. She might not stay, and Rooney certainly wasn’t comfortable with her yet, but she had gotten attached all the same.

  She led him around to the passenger side of the van. He hopped onto the front seat and sat upright like an adult. He had obviously ridden shotgun before. He turned his golden eyes to her.

  “What’s going on with you, Rooney boy? If you’re trying to drive me crazy, you’ve got it down pat.”

  He let out a mournful howl that turned into a puppy whine.

  “Okay, okay. I get it. You’re done with being home alone all the time.”

  Driving home, she thought about the small jar that the forensic specialist had found at Jacob’s worktable. Sandra said the jar would go to her lab for analysis to determine what the substance was. If it was a poison, who could have placed it there among Jacob’s painting supplies. Why? Who was threatened?

  At home, she settled Rooney with a vigorous back rub, some race-track puppy running in the backyard, and finally a treat. He sat perfectly still after the treat, willing her to provide another. When he determined that no more was coming, he walked slowly down the hallway, plopped down next to her dad’s bed, and looked up at her.

  “Yes, Rooney, I know he’s still gone. We both have to learn to live without him. We have no choice.”

  Her treat for the evening was a cold Spencer Trappist Ale that she opened and poured into a goblet, then plopped down on the couch for some mindless television. Flipping through the channels, she paused on a show that unsettled her. It was one of those time-limited archaeological-type investigations about an ancient scroll so old it had pieces missing from the brittle document. The technology portion of the program demonstrated how the restorers used a software application to fill in the holes with likely letters to reveal the original meaning of the ancient scroll.

  Savannah scrunched her brow in concentration at the image of the suggested letters showing up in the small holes. Missing letters? How about if you wanted to reveal letters in an ancient book. She went over to the bookcase on one wall of the dining room and pulled down the family Bible. Placing it on the round oak table that was as old as the house, she carefully opened the leather-bound holy book.

  Rooney followed her footsteps from the bookshelf to the dining table and then sat, looking up at her with his ears perked as cute as he could manage.

  “What?” She scratched him behind the ears. “What do you want? Another treat?” He wiggled his short tail and trotted to the treat jar in the kitchen. “Okay, big guy. You need a reward for not sulking.” She gave Rooney his treat and spied the backpack on one of the kitchen chairs. She pulled out the onion skin sheet that had been hidden in the Hello Kitty pencil box and spread it flat on the kitchen worktable. It was a new type of cipher to solve and spoke loudly to the seriousness of the situation. Dad must have felt he needed this level of security.

  Working on the idea of revealing letters that the TV program had sparked, she felt that the onion skin sheet would need to be placed on a page of an ancient book. Since her mother’s Bible was the oldest book in the house, it was a slim possibility that it could reveal the next message through the little holes. The fly in the ointment was that it was a large edition with more than seven hundred pages. Rooney looked up at her with his head cocked, trying to understand.

  “You’re right. This looks crazy, but I’ve nothing better to do and I want to find out what Dad meant for me to discover sooner rather than later.” She sat in front of the Bible and turned to Genesis. The onion skin sheet was slightly smaller than the text of Bible pages, and the holes revealed a string of nonsense letters. If she was right, the visible letters should form words.

  Looking down at Rooney, she said, “So, how long do you think this will take me? Forever, right?”

  She looked down at Rooney. He had stretched out on the floor with his head resting on his paws. “You’re right. This is the wrong way to do this. Dad must have left another clue for me.”

  A book he knew I would handle. Something hidden in the Bible?

  She went to the kitchen and rummaged through the junk drawer to find a large magnifying glass. She examined the front and back covers and spent extra time with the edges in case he had made another hiding space. Probably not
. He wouldn’t dare mess with her mom’s Bible, and he wasn’t likely to use the same trick twice. After scanning the inside front and back pages, she put the magnifier down and propped her head in her hands.

  Back to the kitchen she went and pulled a soft pure white dish towel from one of the drawers and spread it out on the dining room table. She gently placed the onion skin paper on top of it. Using the magnifier, she slowly scanned every square inch of the delicate document and finally, in the lower right-hand corner she found three tiny numbers—3 3 7.

  She leaned back in the chair. “You were right, Rooney. This has got to be the next clue. If these numbers are references within the Bible, then these numbers would represent the third book, chapter three, verse seven. Let’s check.”

  Using the indented thumb marks of her mother’s Bible, she turned to the third book of The Holy Bible, Leviticus. She flipped over a few pages to chapter three and then ran her finger down the page to discover that verse seven was at the top of the next page.

  She remembered studying with her catechism instructor before she was permitted to be a full member of the church. It was basically about offering a lamb for peace offerings and sprinkling blood around on the altar.

  Carefully fitting the onion skin over the seventh verse, Savannah tried to read the letters highlighted by the holes, but some holes didn’t line up with a letter. She flipped the onion skin upside down with no luck and finally noticed that one of the holes fell into the margin down the middle of the book. She confirmed that no matter how she turned the sheet, one of the holes would never reveal a letter. “Well, Rooney, looks like we’re back to square one. The key book is not Mom’s Bible.”

  She put the Bible back in the dining room bookcase and scanned the shelves for another title that might make some sort of connection. Nothing grabbed her.

  Going back to the living room, she remembered the collection of Dan Brown first editions and grabbed the one that had been protruding out from the bookcase a little from the others. Returning to the dining room table, she flipped to page 337 and the onion skin fit the page perfectly. After turning it twice, it lined up so that each hole revealed a letter.