Officer Williams hastily plowed on. “So, I contacted the officer who investigated the scene and asked him if he had updated his findings. The lead investigator insists that he filed all the paperwork later that day, but he couldn’t find it either. He’s going to enter the report again from my hard copy.”
Detective Parker folded his hands tightly and placed them on the surface of the conference table. “It’s got to be because of the move. Malfunctioning servers strike fear into my very core. This won’t be the only report lost.”
“Yes, sir. Anyway, he says that his report indicated that there had been no skid marks to indicate braking prior to hitting Nicole. In fact, he thinks the car was traveling at high speed, since it looks like Nicole was thrown quite a distance from the front of the pub where she worked.”
“And your conclusion, Officer Williams?”
“I also interviewed the students who attended Savannah Webb’s class, but none of them saw anything. I’ll confirm what they told me with other witnesses, of course. But when I was interviewing the nearby businesses, I had a gut feeling that a resident from the Mustard Seed Inn looking out onto the street would have had a bird’s-eye view of the incident.”
“And?”
“Well, the desk clerk was the only one there and she indicated that her residents were not likely to be very forthcoming to a police officer, even if they had important information.”
“And?”
Officer Williams let a crack of a smile break her poise. “And so I asked Savannah if she would make a few inquiries as a favor. I figured she would have a better chance, since it’s just right across the street and she would be known to the residents as a local.”
This time Detective Parker cracked a smile. “And?”
“Well, here’s the fly in the ointment. One of the residents called in to our TIPS line and reported that the white car had deliberately aimed for Nicole and then sped away.”
“Did you look for the tip?”
“Yes, sir. It’s not in the system.”
Detective Parker narrowed his eyes.
“Sir, I think it’s obviously more than a hit-and-run and we should revise the report.”
“There is no report.” Detective Parker slapped his open hand on the conference table. “Darn!” The smack made Officer Williams jump straight out of her seat.
She stood for a second, then sat again and took a calming breath. “I wonder how many other vital reports are being lost because of the move.
“This is a serious problem. I’ll report it to the captain. We’ll have to be extra diligent and double check everything that happens for the next few weeks. Thanks for bringing this to my attention. Have you interviewed the victim’s family?”
“Some of them, yes. I talked to Elizabeth Hartford on Monday night when I went to the hospital. That’s Nicole’s wife, sir. She was obviously distraught, so I need to interview her again.”
“How was their relationship?”
“They’ve only been married a little over a year, but I’ll ask Nicole’s coworkers about them.”
“Good.”
“I’ve also left a message for her brother, Phillip. He was also at the hospital, but he hadn’t been at the scene of the hit-and-run, so I didn’t finish interviewing him then, but I’ll follow up with him. He should be a good source for the marriage as well.”
“Any other family?”
“Yes.” Officer Williams flipped back a few pages in her notepad. “Nicole’s parents are here in St. Petersburg along with an uncle. I’ve made appointments with them for later this afternoon. She has a younger brother who lives nearby, and the eldest brother lives in Switzerland with his wife and two children.”
“Lucky guy.” Detective Parker scowled. “Everything runs smoothly there.”
“There’s more, sir. Savannah Webb called me late last night. After talking to the Mustard Seed Inn witness, she has the same suspicions that I have about Nicole’s death.”
“Not surprising. It was right in front of her shop. She would notice that there were no skid marks even before she found a witness.”
“I think she’s also concerned about Jacob.”
“Why?”
“He was front and center for the whole incident and has stopped speaking since it occurred. I interviewed him at his home with his mother present. He only remembers a flash of red and his service dog howling. Luckily, he’s fast at texting.”
“He’s not talking?”
“No, he’s been diagnosed with mutism along with a short-term memory loss. So, although he doesn’t remember anything right now, he could recall every detail, Jacob-style.”
“Any prognosis for a quick recovery?”
“Not yet. His mother is on top of it, of course. I expect Judge Underwood will let us know the minute that Jacob has recovered his speech.”
“She will.” Detective Parker was silent for a moment. “So, our driver might or might not know that he has been seen. Correct?”
“Yes. Also interesting is that Savannah’s store manager, Amanda Blake, reported that Nicole was obsessed with a graffiti artist named SNARK, who keeps his identity a secret. Nicole was determined to expose him. Given that connection to the art community, Savannah is proposing that we reinstate her consultant status.”
Detective Parker steepled his hands and pressed them against his lips. He dropped his hands flat onto the surface of the conference table and heaved a huge sigh. “Given the holy mess our records are in now, let’s do that. I don’t want to leave any investigative thread dangling for lack of accurate information from our data servers. Tell her that she’s authorized for a total of ten hours of work and to report to you every day.”
“Anything else?”
“As I said, I interviewed the students in Savannah’s flameworking class that ended right before the accident. Of the six students, only two are not able to verify their movements. The Rosenberg twins used an Uber to get home, so they’re in the clear.”
“Not that they were ever suspected.” Detective Parker’s grin signaled the return of his usual good humor.
“No.” Officer Williams returned the grin. “A student named Myla Katherine Nedra was walking to a nearby rental home. No one saw her, so that’s a problem.” She got out her notepad and flipped the pages. “A tourist student, Lonnie McCarthy, was driving toward the condo he and his wife are renting downtown. Patricia Karn met her parents at the Cupcake Spot and the clerk there remembers them. Finally, Herbert Klug left immediately after class. His red SUV was parked right outside the shop and was gone for a only few minutes before the accident.”
“So, you have eliminated Patricia Karn and the Rosenberg twins with verifiable alibis,” said Detective Parker. “Check with Savannah, she may have already eliminated the rest of them for you.”
Officer Williams rose and stood in the doorway. “You knew she was going to investigate anyway.”
Detective Parker rolled he eyes. “Oh yes, but at least this way we can officially keep tabs on what she discovers. Although I appreciate that she’s energetic and cooperative, sometimes she lets her enthusiasm overcome good sense.”
As Officer Williams left Detective Parker’s office, two men, each rolling a furniture-moving skid, entered. She heard the irritation in Detective Parker’s voice as he barked, “What now?”
Officer Williams hustled down the hall. I wouldn’t want to be either of them right now.
Chapter 15
Wednesday lunch,
Queen’s Head Pub
Savannah left Webb’s Glass Shop by the back door and walked the few yards down the alley to the back door of Queen’s Head Pub. Edward was using a wooden paddle to mix a giant kettle of ground meat at a stainless-steel worktable.
“Hi, honey. Something new?” She smelled an aroma of sweet honey mixed with a spice she couldn’t quite identify. “Ground ginger?”
“Good guess. I’ll make a cook out of you yet.”
“Not likely. What are you experimenti
ng with now?”
Edward tilted his head at her with fake-glowering eyes.
“Oh, of course,” she said. This is the last weekend of the Best Burger in the Burg competition. I’m so sorry, but I completely forgot. With everything else going on, it slipped my mind. What can I do to help?”
Edward pointed to a box of latex gloves. “Put on a pair and you can help me measure out today’s supply. I’m running late, but if you help I can get each burger the same weight, then I’ll form them and put them all in the chiller.”
Savannah pulled the hamburger mixture from the kettle and placed the meat on a small scale. “How much for each?”
“Six ounces.”
In a few minutes, she and Edward had an assembly line going where she weighed the meat, and he formed them into patties and placed them on a large aluminum tray. When a tray filled up, Edward used a self-sealing wrap to keep them individually fresh.
“Do you think you’re going to win again this year?”
“No, not a chance. I would love that, but Nicole’s death changes everything. She handled so much of the everyday details, I won’t be able to concentrate on each hamburger like we did last year.”
“But the secret is in the meat, isn’t it?”
“Not really, the secret is in everything. The freshness and quality of the meat. The seasoning and cooking skills of the grill chef. The perfect pairing of the condiments. A toasted bun, perfect fries, and, of course, perfect service. I had all of those going for me last year. This year?” He turned his hands out, palms up. “I’ll be lucky to place in the top ten.”
They worked quietly but quickly until every burger was formed and stored.
“Thanks for that. You saved about half the normal time it takes me.” He frowned. You usually don’t come over here during the day. What’s up? Who’s minding the shop?”
“I closed it up for a bit. Wednesday is a slow day, anyway. But I wondered if there could be any information about Nicole’s private life in her employee locker. She has one, right?”
“Of course.” Edward whipped off his gloves and signaled for Savannah to do the same. They washed their hands and Edward removed the long apron tied around his waist. “I didn’t even think about that. The lockers are in the utility room. I normally do that as soon as someone gives notice.”
“That makes sense,” said Savannah.
“I need to ask Elizabeth if she wants Nicole’s things. There’s usually not much personal stuff in a work locker, but you never know.”
“Yep, I’ll text her now.” Savannah tapped in a text message and got an instant reply. “She says yes, absolutely she would like Nicole’s locker stuff. She’ll be right over.” Savannah returned her phone to her back pocket. “She must be at home. I forgot that she would get compassionate leave from work.”
Edward opened a gray steel door at the back of the pub and led Savannah into the small space crammed with electrical panels on one wall and a row of six lockers on the other. “There are twelve lockers, and almost everyone uses them. Most of the waitstaff at other places lock up their valuables in their cars. We’re so short of parking slots, my employees have to park at least a block away.”
“So, did she use a locker?”
“Yes. This one.” Edward pointed to the top compartment of the locker farthest from the door. It had a shiny new Yale lock fastened to the hasp.
Savannah pulled on the lock. “Yep, that’s locked. Do you have bolt cutters, by any chance?”
Edward pulled his keys out of his pocket and selected a tiny key. He unlocked the first locker nearest the door. The only thing inside the locker tucked into a dark corner was a bolt cutter. “Say hello to Liberator.”
“You’ve named it?”
Edward chuckled and quickly snipped Nicole’s lock. It clattered to the floor, and he replaced the bolt cutter and relocked the compartment. “I hadn’t owned Queen’s Head for more than a week when two employees quit and left their stuff locked up. That’s when I bought my buddy, Liberator. The guy from Ace Hardware recommended him and I’ve used him a lot.”
Savannah opened the door to Nicole’s locker. It was completely packed to the gills with various bags and sacks shoved into the small space. “This needs to be sorted out for Elizabeth anyway, right?”
Edward was staring into the locker and nodded. “Yeah, right, for Elizabeth.” He turned away. “I’ll get a box. We can fill it up as we sort through things.” He returned with a large box that had held the day’s delivery of cauliflower. He pulled out a stray leaf and threw it into the garbage. “This should hold everything.”
Savannah gently tugged on the scrapbook at the top while holding everything else in place. She set it aside. “Why would she keep all of this here?”
“Looks like she didn’t want to trek back home to get this stuff. It seems a bit weird since the pub is close to the graffiti action. Or maybe she wanted this stuff kept a secret from Elizabeth. I’m absolutely guessing.”
Savannah picked up a bundle of dark clothing which turned out to be a black hoodie wrapped around a black canvas bag. She handed the hoodie to Edward and opened the bag. It was filled with a dozen spray paint cans of black and bubble-gum pink along with stencils, brushes, markers, latex gloves, a sketchbook, and several small pots of neon paint. There was also an opened package of face masks with two remaining.
They looked at each other.
Edward spoke first. “She was a graffiti artist. Well, you can knock me over with a feather.”
“Let’s look at the album.” Savannah flipped it open. The first group of pages contained photographs of last year’s mural festival. There was a gap of blank pages, and then there were images of true graffiti on abandoned buildings, railroad cars, and billboards in dodgy locations around town. “She took these at night, probably after closing up the pub.” Savannah peered closely at the bright pink-colored images. “The signatures on this page are all the same.”
“Would that be the SNARK guy?”
“No, his signature is unique and world renowned. This set of initials must be Nicole’s. See the stylized letter N intertwined with a letter B inside a small triangle. That must be her mark.”
On the last page of the scrapbook was a stapled five-page printout of an article about fake Vermeer paintings. It outlined the inclination for forgers to prefer anonymity and therefore were rarely remembered.
Savannah skimmed the pages. “This features a painter who became famous for his Vermeer forgeries.”
Edward leaned over her shoulder and read, “Han van Meegeren (1889-1947). After World War II, he was arrested and charged with collaborating with the enemy and imprisoned.’ ” He pointed to a paragraph. “Look! He sold a fake Vermeer to Nazi political leader Hermann Goering. So that was the collaboration charge?”
“Weird,” said Savannah. “His defense—wildly original, by the way—was that the Goering painting was created by his own hand. He painted it alone and in absolute secret. There was no collaboration.”
Edward frowned. “Painting alone meant no collaboration?”
“He still died in prison.”
“But why would Nicole keep this in an album of SNARK’s images?”
Edward shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, but this indicates that Nicole was obsessed with SNARK.”
“Enough to start up graffiti as a hobby. That connects with her interest in SNARK. But what does the article about the forger mean?”
They looked at one another.
“Why would Nicole keep information about a particular kind of forgery?”
“It’s not clear right now, but this must have meant something to her. Why hide it from Elizabeth?”
“So, we just give all this to Elizabeth?” asked Edward.
“We don’t have a clear reason for keeping it.” Savannah raised her eyebrows. “Maybe Elizabeth will know what this all means.”
“First, I want to make copies and then . . . Wait, there’s something else back here.” Savannah rea
ched into the back of the locker. Crushed against the back stood a bundle of black envelopes tied with a red ribbon. The envelopes were addressed to “Darling Nicky.”
They stared at the packet for a long moment, then Edward grabbed them and shut the locker door. “No one we know would ever call Nicole anything but Nicole.”
“We obviously don’t know this person.”
Savannah slipped one of them out of the bundle. Edward reached over and grabbed her hand. “Wait. You can’t do that. They’re private.”
“We’re going to give them to Elizabeth, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“We need to make sure they have nothing to do with Nicole’s death.” Savannah opened the black envelope. “We need a chance at every lead that we can find. Let’s start with the first one.”
Dearest Nicky,
I know you are married, but I can’t help but observe how conflicted you seem.
It shows up in the violent passion of your street art. What is causing you such pain?
This truly breaks my heart. You deserve more. You deserve to be the center of someone’s universe.
I would like to do that for you.
SNARK
Just as Savannah started to open the next letter, she heard Elizabeth’s voice.
“Hey, what’s going on? I thought you would wait.” Elizabeth was pale, with two pink spots on her cheekbones. She stood just outside the utility room with her hands on her hips. “Where did you get that?” She snatched the letter from Savannah’s hand. “You have no right to read that. That belonged to Nicole. It’s private.”
Savannah recovered first. “Elizabeth, exactly as I texted, we were cleaning out Nicole’s locker. As her employer, Edward has every right to examine everything on his property.”
Elizabeth stepped back. “But—”
Savannah spoke up in a rush. “We also hoped it would help us figure out if anyone might have had issues with her. I’m uncomfortable about how callously she was run down in the street. That’s not what a normal person would do. You want to know, don’t you?”
“No. It was a terrible accident.” Elizabeth looked down at the large cauliflower box. “Her death was not deliberate.”
Down in Flames Page 10
