Officer Williams swallowed some coffee, then placed the notepad on the table. She scribbled a few notes. “Edward, I’m so sorry for your loss. Nicole was a friend and I know this is difficult, but you know I need to ask these questions. When was the last time you saw Nicole before the accident?”
“It was immediately before she was hit. She was leaving for the day and I walked into the built-in commercial cooler. It’s loud, so I didn’t hear anything.” He blew on his coffee, then took a small sip followed by a long drink. “By the time I got out to the street, she was unconscious. Then I ran back in here to let the rest of the staff know. I reassigned responsibility for closing up the pub, so by the time I got to the hospital, she was already in surgery.” He reached for a biscotti, opened his mouth as if to take a bite, but put in on his saucer untouched instead. “I didn’t see her again before she died. My last words to her were ‘See you in the morning.’ ”
Samuel poked his head out from around the kitchen door. “Sorry. Mr. Morris, do you want me to stay around to start prepping for dinner?”
“Yes. That would be great.” Edward turned back to Officer Williams. “I’m going to have a difficult time replacing Nicole. She was completely qualified and capable of opening her own restaurant. For some reason, she didn’t want that. She liked overseeing someone else’s. I think it was all the paperwork. Although she did a fair bit of it for me. Maybe it was the responsibility. Anyway, I’m going to miss her.”
“We are all going to miss Nicole.”
“Do you know who might have witnessed the accident?” asked Officer Williams.
“As far as I could tell, only Jacob. I was trying to come up with the next day’s special. I usually try to use whatever is coming close to its sell-by date or whatever I have too much of . . .” He paused and reflected. “I didn’t even hear the ambulances. When Savannah called me the first time, I was still in the walk-in cooler—no reception in there. Her second call went through and I dashed out front. By the time I reached the sidewalk in front of Webb’s Glass Shop, Savannah was in the street with Nicole and Jacob was standing on the sidewalk holding Suzy.”
“Anyone else? What about the shops across the street?”
“That’s certainly possible. I didn’t notice.”
“I’ll have to check with the owners. Who did you notice?”
“I think Amanda was there, but I’m not really sure. Then someone, I think it was just a passerby, called 911.” He looked down into his nearly empty cup.
“That’s right. Then what happened?”
“The ambulances had taken her away within a few minutes after that. A large crowd had gathered by that time, but I didn’t notice who was there. I wasn’t thinking properly from the start.”
“What a shame you didn’t see the vehicle or driver.”
“I wish I could help. All of that was well and done by the time I got out there.”
Officer Williams drained the last of her cappuccino, then scribbled in her notebook for a couple of minutes. She raised her head. “Just one more thing. Did you hear anyone talking about the tires screeching before Nicole was hit?”
Edward tilted his head and looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t think so. It was a circus.”
“What about any sounds of a vehicle peeling away?”
He reached for another biscotti but stopped when he noticed the one untouched on his saucer. “I don’t remember any sounds at all out on the street before Savannah phoned me.”
“Interesting.” Officer Williams frowned, then stood and gave Edward a quick pat on the shoulder. “Tell Savannah I said hi.”
Edward smiled. “I will, thanks.”
She continued canvassing the small businesses in the immediate area. She interviewed the owners of the art supply store, a yoga studio, and a nail salon. No one heard anything before Jacob’s scream and no one saw the car.
The next building offered a possible source of witnesses. The Mustard Seed Inn provided transitional housing to homeless adults who have begun their recovery from alcohol, drug abuse, and/or mental illness. Some of the windows of the three-story former hotel looked out over the street where Nicole was hit.
Officer Williams entered the aged and worn lobby. It was deserted. She walked over to the reception counter and tapped the bell. It echoed loudly in the quiet building.
A minute passed. Officer Williams tapped the bell several times, stronger and louder. Immediately, a small, sandy-haired woman in a tan dress with a flowered work apron came huffing down the hallway. “Hello, Officer. Sorry . . . I was in the back . . . I’m the only one here . . . at this time of day.” She slipped behind the reception counter, still panting. “Sorry . . . my COPD is giving me fits today.” She pulled out an inhaler and administered three shots of its mediation.
“Take your time, ma’am. I’m here to ask a few questions about the hit-and-run that occurred on Monday night in the street in front of this place.”
“Oh, I had already gone for the day.” Her voice was thin and squeaky. “I have the early morning shift here. It’s the quietest shift—other than the third shift, of course.” She glanced at her inhaler. “I don’t like crowds.”
“Who was on duty?”
“Our normal receptionist has the flu, so corporate sent over a substitute.”
Officer Williams raised her eyebrows. “Did you get their name?”
“No, I was on my way out the door. She just said that she was the replacement and I scooted home.”
“Will she be here tonight?”
“No, our regular will be back. He’s been out for over a week, but I heard that he’ll be back today.” She inhaled shakily. “I’m sorry to be so little help.”
“What about the residents? Were any of them looking out their windows and maybe saw something?”
“There was some chatter at breakfast the next morning, but nothing that I would feel comfortable repeating.”
“Fine. Let me have the phone number of your managing organization. A card if you have it.”
“Certainly.” She opened a drawer and gave Officer Williams a pamphlet with a business card stapled to the front. “I keep these for folks who walk in wanting to use our facility.”
Officer Williams handed over one of her cards. “Please call me if anything occurs to you or if one of the residents mentions something.” She left the lobby and shook her head. This was probably a case where Savannah would be more effective than a uniformed police officer. She made a mental note to ask if Savannah could stop by and interview the second shift receptionist and any observant residents. With one more shop to go, Officer Williams was tempted to skip it and report that no one had witnessed the hit-and-run. But her strong desire for justice kicked in and she walked into Buster’s Antiques. If this one interview cracked the case, she would crucify herself for skipping it.
She found the owner in the back of the store behind a huge wooden desk covered in stacks of papers, knickknacks, a full cup of black coffee, and the smaller half of a chocolate croissant. A beautiful black-and-white French bulldog balanced on two scrawny human knees in perfect comfort.
“Good morning. Are you looking for something in particular?” he said without looking up from the tiny laptop teetering on a stack of school exam notebooks.
“Good morning, sir. I’m Officer Williams and I’m investigating the hit-and-run accident that occurred in front of your store yesterday afternoon.”
“So?”
Officer Williams inhaled deeply and stood as tall as she could. He was very tall, or had a very tall chair, as she felt like she was asking a school teacher for a hall pass to use the bathroom.
“So, did you witness the accident?”
“Ah, well now. I was wondering if anyone would ask about that.”
Officer Williams frowned, then drew out her notebook and pen. “Well, I’m here to do that right now. Your name, address, and phone number, please?”
“Keith Gilbert. My store is named after this little French bulldog,
Buster.” He scratched the dog’s ears and received a lick on his hand in return. “I’m the owner and I live in the apartment upstairs. So that’s 2536 Central Avenue, St. Petersburg, Florida, 33712. My phone number and address are on this card.” He plucked out a business card from the disorganized mess and handed it to her.
“What did you see?”
“Well, Officer, it’s like this. I was out on the sidewalk sweeping up the trash that the lazy good-for-nothing folks around here can’t be bothered to put in a trash can that’s only five feet away.”
Officer Williams frowned and cleared her throat. “Sir, get to the point.”
“Anyway, I was leaning on my broom, taking a little rest, when I saw a white car speeding down Central Avenue. Folks don’t speed so much down here after the city police set up that speed trap earlier this month. That trap really slowed everyone down—yes, it did. Maybe they should do that again.”
“The accident?” prompted Officer Williams.
“Oh, yeah. The white car plowed right into that lady who runs the Queen’s Head Pub. I heard it—it was an awful sound.”
“Then what?”
“Well, then the idiot just kept on going and I saw the car turn to the right at the end of the block. That’s all I saw.”
“Was there anything noticeable about the white car? A make or model? Maybe a bit of the license plate?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that. It was an ordinary small white car, not big like a van or SUV. By that time, young Jacob had started to scream and then his dog added her howling. I didn’t notice anything after that. I went over to see if there was anything I could do to help, but Savannah Webb from the glass shop had it handled.”
Officer Williams made some notes and then looked into Samuel’s eyes. “One more thing. When did you hear the brakes screech?”
“Brakes? I didn’t hear brakes. I heard tires.”
Chapter 10
Tuesday afternoon,
Webb’s Glass Shop
Savannah felt wooden from the shock of Nicole’s death and the aftereffects of Jacob’s diagnosis. A heavy sensation in her stomach seemed to have moved in as a permanent resident. Jacob mute? He didn’t speak much, but she would miss his teenage cracking voice. She hoped he would recover quickly.
But even if Jacob returned to normal, Nicole would always be dead. Grief had become Savannah’s unwanted companion with the death of her father. Now it felt wrong to try to ignore loss.
In the meantime, life lurched on and she would be scrambling to staff both locations properly. Arthur could be counted on to interact with the studio clients and Amanda was now a pro at the beginning stained-glass class. The main issue remained a gap in restoration work. The most profitable segment of her business.
Amanda’s morning stained-glass class had gone well, and she had not yet returned from visiting with her mother. Savannah had told her to spend a little extra time with her today. Suncoast Hospice was less than ten blocks away on First Avenue South, so if Savannah needed her she could be back in minutes.
The hospice center’s bungalow-style design reflected the many homes that surround it, creating a comfortable setting. Amanda would be able to spend a lot of time with her mother in a supportive environment. Her mother wasn’t eating well, but having Amanda there encouraging her appeared to make a significant difference in her food intake.
Savannah spent a few minutes checking the individual workstations, making sure each of them had the right tools for today’s lesson. She had taken out yesterday’s cured medallions and placed them in the center of each student’s work space. The warming oven wasn’t quite up to temperature but was rising quickly and would be fine by the time it was needed.
Just as she closed the oven cover and replaced the protective glove back on its hook, the doorbell jangled, and the Rosenberg twins arrived in a blaze of autumn colors. They had mixed things up by wearing opposite parts of identical yellow and orange pantsuits. Their multicolored scarves tied the look together, with dangling orange leaves for earrings.
Savannah looked at their feet and was relieved to see closed-toe yellow flats. “Good footwear, ladies. You certainly look festive.”
“We take your safety instructions seriously, dear,” said Rachel as she hung her orange Prada handbag on the back of her work stool.
“We love to shop, and your requirements give us the opportunity to spend without guilt,” said Faith as she hung a matching yellow Prada on the back of her work stool.
“I wouldn’t exactly say that we shop,” said Rachel.
“No, we’re too busy,” said Faith.
Savannah smiled. “But you two must have a huge wardrobe. I’ve never seen you wear anything twice.”
“We have rules,” said Rachel.
“After we have worn an outfit three times . . .” Faith pulled back her stool a little and scooted onto it.
“. . . we donate them to CASA,” finished Rachel. “It’s a charity.”
“I gathered that.” Savannah hid a big grin with her hand.
“It stands for Community Action Stops Abuse,” said Faith.
“Their vision is a community without domestic violence so that home is a safe place.” Rachel sat in her work stool.
“They’ve been around for over forty years now,” said Faith.
The bell dinged as Herbert walked in. “I donate to CASA as well.” He set his ice-water-filled container on his work space. “No clothes, of course. I donate the toiletries that I’ve picked up from hotel rooms. Oh, and those sample packets my dentist hands me. Women who have fled with only the clothes they’re standing in need a toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, and soap.”
After the remaining students arrived, Savannah lit her torch. “Today we’re going to make a larger medallion using four colors. In addition, we’re going to attach a glass loop. So this will be multiple steps, but some of them you already know. First, watch again as I punty my four colors.”
The bell over the entry door jingled, and Savannah saw Officer Williams walk into the shop and wave to her. “Miss Webb, I need a few minutes of your time.”
“Of course.” She turned to the class. “Just a moment, everyone. I’m sorry for the delay.” Savannah turned off her torch, placed her glass rods on a metal rest and walked over to meet Officer Williams in front of the check-out counter. Savannah whispered, “What’s up with the Miss Webb?” Normally she and Joy were on a first-name basis.
Joy whispered in return. “I’m here in an official capacity. Detective Parker has given me the lead in the hit-and-run investigation. He’s monitoring closely, but still it’s a firm step toward promotion.”
Savannah nodded. “How can I help you, Officer Williams?”
“I’m here to gather information from your students. They may have seen something that could help.”
“Sure thing,” said Savannah. “Would you like to use the office?”
“No, this is just a preliminary interview to see if there is any need to investigate further. I’ll just speak to them in the classroom. Does this wreck your schedule?”
Savannah smiled. “We’ll run over a bit. Don’t worry, I’ve put plenty of slack time into this class.” She led Officer Williams into the flameworking classroom.
“Good afternoon. My name is Officer Joy Williams. I’m here to gather any information you might have on the accident that occurred on Monday at around five o’clock just in front of this business. First, does anyone have any objections to answering questions in this open setting? If you do, I can interview you separately.”
Everyone shook their head in the negative.
Officer Williams smiled as Savannah pushed over a tall bar stool. “Thanks, my feet do get a workout in the door-to-door questioning process.” She perched on the stool and brought out her pad and pen. “Now all I need at this point is your name, and where you were at the time of the accident. To save classroom time, I’ll get your addresses from Miss Webb’s records, if that’s all right with everyone. Is it?”
>
Everyone agreed.
“Excellent, let’s start with you on the end.” Officer Williams pointed to the far-left position.
“Hi, I’m Myla Katherine Nedra.” She hopped up from the stool, but lost her balance for a moment and grabbed at the workbench. “Whoops, I got up too quick. I’m on a new pain medication and I haven’t fully adjusted to it. It gives me vertigo for a few days.”
Officer Williams raised her eyebrows as she was writing that down.
“Where was I? Oh my, everyone calls me Myla Kay.” Myla Kay’s smile was almost as broad as her Southern accent.
“I thought you were from Michigan?” Savannah wrinkled her brow.
“I am, my late husband was a Michigander, but all my folks are from Alabama.” Myla Kay sighed. “My accent comes back when I’m loopy”—she paused for a second—“or upset.”
“Okay.” Savannah shrugged.
“Anyway, I was walking back to my house. It’s just a few blocks to the north of here.” She looked at Savannah. “Right near our instructor here. I didn’t know anything about the hit-and-run until I saw it on the evening news.”
Officer Williams wrote in her pad then looked at the next student.
He cleared his throat. “I’m Lonnie McCarthy. I was driving toward the condo my wife and I are renting downtown. We don’t watch the news when we’re on vacation, so I didn’t know anything until I got to class.”
“And next?”
“My name is Patricia Karn.” Her voice sounded scratchy and very near to tears. “I met my parents over at the cupcake store and then we returned to our hotel on the beach.”
Before Officer Williams could signal her readiness for the next student, she heard, “My name is Herbert Klug. I left immediately after class. I was lucky enough to be parked right outside the shop. I was long gone before the accident.”
Down in Flames Page 7
