Swiped in Savannah: A Made in Savannah Cozy Mystery (Made in Savannah Mystery Series Book 12)

by Hope Callaghan

  “I have to agree, it’s not my favorite.”

  They continued wandering through the exhibit, pausing occasionally to admire or comment on a piece of art.

  “This is boooring,” Violet whined.

  “Stop, or we’ll leave,” her mother scolded. “You won’t get to see the gardens.”

  Violet began to pout.

  The trio picked up the pace and wandered through the next exhibit until they reached a sign with an arrow. Gardens Tour.

  “Hurry.” Violet darted down the steps and onto the paved path. She waited at the bottom for Tony and Shelby to catch up. “This is a magical garden.”

  “It’s lovely.” Shelby slowed to admire the flowers before they passed the herb garden. The herb garden abruptly ended when they reached a gravel path.

  Violet broke free from her mother’s grasp and ran ahead.

  “Wait for us.” Shelby ran after her and grabbed Violet’s arm.

  Tony caught up. “We need to stay together or you’ll get lost.”

  “What’s that?” Violet pointed to an arched arbor dotted with flowers. There was a white picket fence on each side of the arbor. Beyond the fence and lining the cobblestone path were pink and purple dahlias.

  “Mommy. It’s a princess cottage.” Violet climbed the single step. Before Shelby could stop her, she grabbed a dangling roped cord and rang the brass bell attached to the doorpost.

  “Violet Townsend Garlucci. Get back here!” Shelby scooped her daughter up. They made a quick retreat off the porch, but they weren’t quite quick enough.

  The door creaked open. An old man peered at them through the screen.

  “I’m so sorry,” Shelby apologized. “My daughter got away from me and rang your bell.”

  Violet wiggled out of her mother’s arms. “This is a fairy cottage. A princess lives here.”

  The old man chuckled. “She does, does she?”

  “Yes.” Violet’s head bobbed up and down. “Her name is fairy princess. She has a magic wand. She turns bad people into toads.”

  “And naughty little girls named Violet,” Shelby said.

  Tony joined them on the porch. “We’re sorry to bother you.”

  “No worries. I was getting ready to check on the gardens.” He joined them on the porch, the door slamming shut behind him.

  “Henry.” A woman’s angry voice echoed out. “I told you to fix that door.”

  “I will Mabel. I’ll get to it today,” the man hollered back. The smile never left his face as he peered at Violet. “You look like a princess. In fact, I believe the name Violet means princess.”

  “It does?” Violet’s eyes grew round as saucers. “When I grow up I’m going to live in a castle like Elsa and Anna.”

  “My name is Mr. Cagle. Would you like for me to show you the princesses’ favorite flowers?”

  Violet nodded.

  He reached for Violet’s hand, and his eyes met Shelby’s eyes. “May I?”

  Shelby smiled softly. “Yes.”

  The old man’s wrinkled hand clasped Violet’s small hand. They slowly made their way down the step while Shelby and Tony trailed behind.

  Violet and Mr. Cagle stopped along the way to admire the blooming flowers. While they chatted, he told her the tale of the young princess who ran off from her parents, the king and queen, and became hopelessly lost in the gardens.

  “I would never run off.”

  “Like you did a few minutes ago?” her mother asked.

  “You must never run off again because princesses are very special. You don’t want someone to take you away or for you to get lost.” Mr. Cagle and Violet stopped when they reached the end of the cobblestone walkway and the white picket fence. “This is where I return home.”

  He reluctantly released his grip. Deep crinkles lined his kind gray eyes. He turned to Shelby and Tony. “Thank you for allowing me to share the magic of Darbylane Gardens with your daughter.”

  “Thank you for taking the time to show her.” Shelby smiled warmly as their eyes met again, and she grabbed her daughter’s hand. “Let’s go have lunch in the café before we head home.”

  They began walking to the fence and gate. Violet slowed as she turned back to wave to Mr. Cagle. “He’s the magic keeper of the gardens.”

  “I believe he is,” Shelby agreed.

  The trio passed the gardens again before circling back around. They stepped onto the patio leading to the museum’s small café.

  Once inside, they studied the limited menu before ordering two of the daily specials and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for Violet.

  During the meal, the young child chattered on about the enchanted garden, the fairy cottage and her princess status. They were finishing their lunch when Mr. Cagle appeared in the doorway.

  His eyes scanned the room. When he spotted the family, he slowly shuffled over.

  “Mr. Cagle.” Tony placed his napkin on the table.

  “I thought I heard you say you were having lunch here.” He held out a small bouquet of bright flowers. “I picked these for Miss Violet.”

  “For me?” Violet slid out of her chair.

  “These flowers are from the fairy garden. They’re magical.”

  “Oh.” Violet’s mouth dropped open as she reached for the bouquet. “Magic flowers.”

  “Yes.” The old man slowly nodded, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “When you get home, place them in a cup of water on the nightstand next to your bed. After you fall asleep tonight, the flowers will turn into fairies and sprinkle your room with magic fairy dust.”

  “Wow.” Violet reverently grasped the bouquet with her pudgy hands.

  “Now…you must be asleep for the fairies to appear.”

  “I will. I’ll go to sleep right away.”

  “When the flowers die, it means it was time for the fairies to return home until they visit another princess, so you mustn’t be sad.”

  “I won’t,” Violet solemnly promised. “I won’t be sad.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Cagle,” Tony said. “You made our afternoon here at the museum…”

  “Enchanting,” Shelby finished her husband’s sentence.

  “You’re welcome. Violet reminds me of my great-granddaughter, Molly.”

  “Does she live nearby?”

  “No. She lives in Atlanta. My wife and I will be moving there soon to be closer to her.”

  “And I’m sure she will love all of the wonderful stories you have to share,” Shelby said. “She’s one lucky little girl.”

  Mr. Cagle nodded. “Good-bye, Violet.”

  “Good-bye, Mr. Magical Man.”

  They all chuckled at Violet’s nickname. After he left, Violet refused to release her grip on the bouquet of fairy flowers. She hung onto them tightly all the way home.

  When they reached the apartment, Shelby and Violet went inside to place them in water while Tony returned to work.

  He found his mother working alone. There were several shoppers inside, and Mercedes was nowhere in sight. “Where’s Mercedes?”

  “Interviewing a potential tenant,” Carlita said. “I was beginning to worry about you. How did it go?”

  “The museum was boring…definitely not my thing,” Tony said. “The gardens were interesting. Violet made a new friend.”

  He told his mother how Violet ran off. “She rang the caretaker’s bell.”

  “The caretaker…Mr. Cagle?” Carlita asked.

  “Yes. He was a nice man. We apologized, and then he asked if he could show Violet the magical gardens. He’s quite the storyteller, weaving tales of princesses and fairies.”

  “It sounds enchanting.”

  “Violet loved every minute of it. Before we left, he brought her a bouquet of magic flowers from the gardens.”

  “Magic flowers?”

  “At night, the flowers turn into fairies and sprinkle the room with fairy dust,” Tony chuckled. “Violet heard that and hasn’t let go of those flowers.”

  “How adorable
. Mr. Cagle sounds like a nice man. Did you meet Mrs. Cagle?”

  “No, but we heard her. She was yelling at him from inside the cottage.”

  Carlita remembered the woman who stood glaring at Mercedes and her the previous night by the dumpster. “If it was the same woman Mercedes and I met, then I’m not surprised. You found nothing else?”

  “No. Except for this.” Tony handed his mother the map of the museum and gardens.

  She glanced at the map. “Why didn’t I get one of these the other day?”

  “Shelby thought you might want it.”

  “I do. Tell her I said thank you.”

  The pawnshop phone began to ring.

  “I’ll let you get back to work,” Carlita said. “Thank you for visiting the museum.”

  “I’m glad we went. We had fun,” Tony said.

  “Then we’ll have to do it again soon…hold down the fort so you and your family can enjoy some time together.” Carlita exited through the back of the pawnshop. The door to Tony’s old efficiency was ajar. She could hear Mercedes chatting with the man they’d met earlier, so she headed home.

  Upstairs, she grabbed her reading glasses and unfolded the map. At first, nothing caught her attention. She started to fold it back up when something caught her eye.

  Chapter 19

  The front door flew open. Mercedes waltzed into the apartment. “We found the perfect tenant,” she sing-songed.

  “The writer?”

  “Yep. Angelica’s rep, Gary, said she’ll take the apartment. She’s moving in next week.” Mercedes waved a check in the air. “He wrote a check for an entire month’s rent along with a security deposit.”

  “You’re sure this famous writer will be a good fit?”

  “She’ll be perfect.” Mercedes set the check and rental application on the desk.

  “Take a look at this.” Carlita handed her daughter the map.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s the layout of the museum and grounds. Tony and Shelby picked it up during their visit today. I noticed something very interesting.”

  “A clue?” Mercedes held the map toward the light. “I see the museum and the parking lot. There’s a caretaker’s cottage in the far right-hand corner.”

  “And the alley where the dumpster is located is directly behind the caretaker’s cottage,” Carlita pointed out.

  “Right.”

  “Look in the left-hand corner, directly across from the gardens and the cottage.”

  Mercedes squinted her eyes. “It looks like a cluster of storage buildings.”

  “I thought the same thing, although I don’t remember seeing them the other night.”

  “Because we were too focused on following Astrid to see what she was up to,” Mercedes said.

  “Let’s start with the theory that Astrid, a homeless person, was camping out in the storage buildings near the edge of the property. Someone at the museum discovered her and told her she had to leave.”

  “Which was around the same time Elvira spotted her digging through the dumpster, felt sorry for her and offered her a job.”

  “And a place to pitch her tent,” Carlita added. “When someone who worked at the museum discovered Elvira had hired Astrid, they saw a perfect opportunity to slip her some cash in exchange for stealing the painting, or helping them make sure the painting left the property undetected.”

  “You think Astrid is an accomplice?” Mercedes carefully folded the map. “A museum employee would be familiar with the surveillance cameras, would possibly even be able to plan the ideal moment to steal the painting without getting caught.”

  “If they found a way to create a power outage and someone, in this case possibly Astrid, was covering their back,” Carlita said. “My money is on Spelling, the curator. Astrid’s been telling everyone how she’s saving money to buy a plane ticket to Paris and that she’s finally come up with the money because…”

  “Because someone paid her,” Mercedes finished her mother’s sentence. “Which means she could be close to flying the coop. What if she has the painting? What if it’s just Astrid?”

  “It’s possible,” Carlita admitted. “Although I don’t think she had the means to pull it off without an accomplice. Besides, I think it was planned ahead of time. This was in the works before Astrid appeared. She just happened to be in the right…or should I say wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “But how do we prove it?” Mercedes asked. “This is all merely speculation.”

  “There’s something to Astrid’s connection with the museum and the fact she doesn’t let her backpack out of her sight. We know she’s going back to the museum. She told Elvira today is her last day in Savannah and she had something to take care of. She’s packing up and heading out tomorrow. That means if something is going to happen, it’s going to happen today.”

  “So you want to follow Astrid again to try to figure out who else may be behind the theft.”

  “I do. If Astrid is involved, I believe she’s going to make contact with her connection one last time,” Carlita said. “Tonight will be her last chance.”

  Beep. Beep. Beep. The outer doorbell chimed. Carlita popped out of the chair and hurried to the living room window. “It’s Elvira.”

  The doorbell began beeping again, this time nonstop. “Hold your horses,” Carlita hollered as she ran down the steps. “Give me time to get to the door.” She flung the door open.

  “We don’t have time. Follow me.” Elvira didn’t wait for Carlita to reply and marched down the alley.

  Carlita hurried to keep up. “Where’s the fire?”

  “You’ll see.”

  The women reached the parking area, walking between the vehicles until they reached Astrid’s tent.

  “I was on my way out to run some errands. Something told me to take a quick look inside Astrid’s tent.” Elvira unzipped the tent door. “I always go with my gut. It never steers me wrong.” She reached inside and pulled out a dingy gray backpack.

  “Astrid’s backpack,” Carlita said breathlessly. “She left it behind.”

  “She was running late for her job this morning and must’ve forgotten it.”

  “Did you look inside?”

  “Not yet. I figured I owed you one, what with everything I put you through lately.”

  “You mean always,” Carlita said.

  “Do you want to criticize me or do you want to see what’s inside?”

  “I want to see what’s inside.”

  Elvira shoved her hand in the small front pocket. “Empty.”

  She unzipped the next section and pulled out a hairbrush. She set it on the welcome mat and reached inside again. There was a Ziploc bag containing a travel size tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush. “That’s all for this section. Let’s try the next one.”

  Elvira balanced the bag on the mat as she unzipped the main compartment. She reached inside and pulled out a plastic grocery bag. Crammed inside the bag were two pairs of shorts, two faded t-shirts, three pair of threadbare underwear and a cheap pair of dime store flip-flops.

  “Poor thing,” Carlita’s throat clogged as she gazed at the woman’s meager belongings.

  “At least she doesn’t have to pay checked bag fees on the plane. There’s something else in here.” Elvira gingerly pulled out a small, rectangular wrapped box. “It’s a present.”

  “We should open it.”

  “No way.” Elvira snatched it back. “This is a gift.”

  Carlita ran a light hand over the top. “It’s hard. Maybe she bought you a thank-you gift which is why she didn’t want you peeking inside her backpack.”

  “You’re right, which means we don’t open it.” Elvira eased the wrapped package back inside.

  “C’mon. If you can’t bring yourself to open it, I will.”

  “Fine.” Elvira pulled a small pocketknife from her pants pocket and flicked it open. “I’ll open one end. That’s it.” She ran the blade of the small knife under the strip of tape and prie
d it off. “Ha!”

  “What is it?” Carlita leaned forward, eager to catch a glimpse of the contents.

  Elvira turned it so she could see. “It’s a telescope. Astrid must’ve read my mind. I’ve always wanted one for stargazing.”

  “Or spying on your neighbors,” Carlita muttered. “Fine. She’s giving you a telescope as a parting gift, which explains why she didn’t want you snooping around her stuff.”

  “She probably dug it out of a dumpster.” Elvira carefully folded the wrapping paper and pressed on the piece of tape. “The end of the box is a little beat up. It’s the thought that counts.”

  She returned the bag of clothes before zipping the backpack and setting it in the tent. “This entire time we thought she was hiding something and all she was doing was hiding a surprise gift.” Elvira turned accusing eyes on Carlita. “Do you always have to believe the worst about people?”

  “Me?” Carlita could feel her face grow warm. “Elvira Cobb, you are the most trying person I have ever met. You do one kind thing for a person, and now you think you’re a saint.”

  “I didn’t say I was a saint, but you’ve been suspicious of poor Astrid from the moment you met her.”

  “You’re the one who told me she’s using a fake name.”

  “People lie all of the time. It doesn’t make them a criminal,” Elvira argued.

  “But it usually means they have something to hide.”

  “Well, I hope this settles your suspicion of Astrid. Besides, after tomorrow, she’ll be long gone.”

  “And we’re still under suspicion for the painting’s theft,” Carlita pointed out. “We’re back to square one.”

  “I’ve got some leads I’m working on. I think I might have a break in the case soon.”

  Carlita followed Elvira to the alley. “What kinds of leads?”

  “Uh-uh. I’m sorry, Carlita. I’m working alone from here on out.”

  “Don’t you want me to help clear my name?”

  “No. It’s just that…” Elvira’s voice trailed off.

  “What?”

  “You kind of screwed up on the intel mission by getting caught on camera inside the museum’s storage area. I can’t take that chance again. I’ve decided it’s best for you to leave this one to the experts.”