Etched in Tears

by Cheryl Hollon

  Joy removed the paper wrapper on her straw and put it in her water. She smoothed and folded the wrapper until it was shaped like an accordion stack and continued to fiddle with it. “I’m counting on you to save me a massive amount of work by finding those records for Dennis Lansing’s high school years. Things are pretty much stalled until we get some more information about his past. I think the motive for Dennis’s murder is tied to his past here in St. Pete.”

  Savannah paused until their server had delivered the green beans and the satay chicken.

  “I believe that, too.” Savannah smiled. “Anyway, Jacob is working on breaking the Enigma machine code, but it may take some time. The good news is that you can’t possibly sort through the files until the labels make sense and once Jacob decodes the labels, I’ll know which file it is.”

  “How long did you say?” asked Joy around a mouthful of satay chicken.

  “It shouldn’t be more than a couple days. Dad had given Jacob some lessons on the machine, so we’ve got a huge familiarization advantage. Plus, Jacob is brilliant with code.”

  “That’s good because the museum director is giving us fits. She has delayed handing over the video camera records and been difficult to contact by phone. She is, in general, being a pain in the neck. I’m frustrated.”

  “Is she a suspect?”

  “I’m not sure at this point if we have any suspects at all other than the wife. We always suspect the spouse. Oh, also the mother, but only because she told us she doesn’t have an alibi. But what normal person plans for an alibi? I don’t have one for early Monday morning, do you?”

  “Yes, I do,” Savannah mumbled through a huge bite of one of the roast duck steamed buns. She covered her full mouth. “Edward stayed over.”

  “Detective Parker is still categorizing it as a suspicious death, mostly because of the location. We’re now trying to find Lansing’s phone. He didn’t have it on him. There is evidence that he was moved after he died so I’m working on trying to find the location where he was killed.” Joy shook her head from side to side. “I’m hoping I can find it. That would be a feather in my cap.”

  Savannah frowned. “I’m not sure where I would start, but you know that Jacob has an amazing eye for detail, right? Well, last night I took him over to the Dali Museum to scan the whole garden area. I’ve known him to find a pattern or clue that hundreds have overlooked.”

  “I wish I had thought of that. I mean, I’m glad you did because that kind of evidence disappears quickly after the site is released back to the public.

  “The idea was triggered by a discovery I made during the exhibit reception. I literally stumbled and tripped on a hamburger wrapper in the maze. I didn’t think two cents about it at the time, of course, so I picked up the wrapper and threw it away. That’s why I wanted Jacob to look.”

  “Did the security manager help you? His name is Lucas Brown. He’s been helpful despite the reluctance of the director. In fact, he’s beginning to creep me out. He calls every few hours to see if we need his help. It seems fishy to me, but Detective Parker doesn’t appear concerned.”

  “I understand what you mean. He hovered over me and Jacob the entire time we were there.” Savannah took a knife and split the last duck bun in two and transferred half of it to her plate. “Anyway, in the outside space, Jacob found evidence of night visitors that sleep in the maze every night. Whoever they are, someone might have seen something. I think it’s worth following up, don’t you?

  “Yes. That’s great. I’ll put it up on the board in the Murder Room.”

  The rest of their order arrived and Savannah dived into the basil fried rice.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. “How are things going at Webb’s?” asked Joy.

  Savannah scowled and put her chopsticks down. “My kiln broke yesterday so even though I fixed it last night, I’m renting time with Frank Lattimer. He owns the only glass shop near me and is gloating in his beer that I need his help. Jacob and I will be downtown to load up his largest kiln and program it for an overnight firing.”

  “And with the new place, Webb’s Studio? You were concerned that it might stretch you too much financially and take too long to earn its keep.”

  “Well, it’s not setting any earnings records, but I think I’m holding on. As soon as the Canadian and British visitors make their appearance in a few weeks, the number of students that want private studio space will increase and that will make all the difference. St. Petersburg is still a city subject to the fluctuation of the tourist industry. I’m going to see my accountant this afternoon so we can make things work better on such a weird pattern of feast and famine.”

  Joy sipped her iced tea. “I also want to know more about this gang that Dennis was associated with when he was a teen. What happened?”

  “I never heard anything, but his mom might know. She seems to think something from the past raised its ugly head and caused Dennis’s death.”

  “What do you think?”

  Savannah shrugged her shoulders. “It sounds right to me. Everyone has past secrets.”

  After splitting the bill and getting a firm promise from Joy to meet for lunch at least once a month, Savannah drove west down Central Avenue for her meeting with Kevin Burkart. His firm was thriving among the many new businesses in the area. The growth was entirely due to word-of-mouth recommendation—the best way to grow. She pulled into the newly bricked parking lot to the side of the 1924 two-story Craftsman style house that he bought for his financial consulting business. It had recently been refreshed with a new coat of smoky gray paint accented by white trim. The preparation process of pressure washing and scraping off the old paint had, as in any old building, revealed a few extensive repair issues.

  Savannah climbed the front stairs and entered through the large double doors directly into a formal living room that featured a large brick fireplace. To the right side of the fireplace, a pair of glass French doors led to Kevin Burkart’s office. The doors were not completely shut so they did very little to dampen the heated conversation he was having with an upset woman. Savannah sat in the settee by the fireplace and concentrated on trying to make out what Kevin and his client were talking about.

  “I come of age next month. My trust fund will be totally under my control after that. Totally mine.”

  This was followed by Kevin coming to the French doors and clicking them completely closed. He saw Savannah and mouthed Sorry, then returned to his client.

  After about fifteen minutes, Kevin, tanned and frowning, opened the doors to his office and guided out a petite young woman who appeared upset. Her cheeks were flushed and she alternated holding a tissue to the corner of each eye to keep from spoiling her eye makeup.

  Kevin looked up. “Savannah, I knew you would be right on time. Let me introduce you to Harriet Lansing. You two may know each other. Her late husband attended St. Petersburg High School at about the same time you were a student there.”

  Savannah stepped forward. “Yes, we spoke very briefly at the exhibit opening on Sunday.”

  Harriet looked puzzled but said nothing.

  Savannah continued. “I knew Dennis in high school so he invited me to the exhibit’s opening reception. You two were taken away by the museum director just as we reached the front of the reception line. I’m so sorry. May I offer my sincere condolences? This must be a difficult time.” Savannah extended her hand.

  Harriet transferred the tissue to her left hand and shook Savannah’s hand using a slack grip. “Dennis was a fine artist, but not at all good with accounting. We were considering moving here permanently, but now I’m not so sure what I’m going to do. The city is a great place and I still love it.” The tissue went to her eyes again. “I am grateful for one thing.” She looked directly at Burkart. “He won’t be able to spend me into the poor house, now. That bit of nonsense is done forever.”

  Kevin stepped back a half step and a shocked look swept his face, then disappeared as he recovered. “You have my n
umber, so if you decide to use my services, make an appointment with my administrator, Stephanie, and I’ll be happy to help you manage your affairs.”

  Harriet looked over to Savannah. “I come of age next month,” she explained. “My trust fund will be totally under my control after that. Totally mine.” She dabbed her eyes once again and then left through the front door, leaving Kevin and Savannah staring at her rapidly disappearing back.

  Through the large living room windows, they watched her drive down Central Avenue toward downtown in a car that looked like it had been on its last legs for a long time.

  Kevin spread his hands wide. “I’m sorry about that. Our meeting went way over the scheduled time. I hope this doesn’t wreck your day. I know you have a lot on your plate right now.”

  “She seemed upset for an initial consultation.” Savannah walked with Kevin into his corner office. It was full of windows and had obviously been a sun porch or more likely a summer sleeping room before the days of air conditioning. “She certainly shared a large chunk of personal information with me. Why would she do that?’

  “I think she’s obsessive about controlling everything around her. If I agree to take her on, she’s going to be a high-maintenance client.”

  “How on earth did she find you? I didn’t think you were accepting new clients.”

  “I’m not, but she was incredibly persuasive. She said unless she could find someone she liked to manage her trust fund, she wouldn’t be moving here at all. I don’t like emotional blackmail.”

  “But after Dennis’s death, I wonder why she is still considering St. Petersburg at all.” Savannah sat in one of the guest chairs in front of Kevin’s desk. “I’m consulting with Detective Parker again so I’m going to have to tell him about this chance meeting.”

  Kevin’s eyes grew large and he cocked his head to one side. “But you overheard all that by accident. Do you have to report it?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  “Did I say anything that would jeopardize the reputation of my business? I was shocked into revealing more than I should after she blurted out such private information to a total stranger.”

  Savannah smiled. “No, you were trying to stop her. She didn’t even seem to recognize my name or consider who I was.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. My business is my reputation and my reputation is how I got the businesses that I have in my portfolio.” Kevin huffed, then pulled up Webb’s Glass Shop on his computer.

  “I’m not relieved at all,” said Savannah. “She blabbed the perfect motive for wanting Dennis out of the picture. Acute negative cash flow is usually the best way to describe a starving artist’s financial status.”

  Chapter 17

  Wednesday afternoon

  Detective Parker walked out into the open seating area of the Homicide Department and stood in front of Officer Williams’s desk. “Have you got a minute?”

  “Yes, sir.” Officer Williams grabbed a pen and her notepad and stood up from her seat.

  “Let’s talk about the Lansing case for a few minutes.” He turned and walked into the conference room that held the information about Dennis’s investigation.

  Detective Parker pointed to a picture of a young woman that was enlarged from a driver’s license. The image had pixilated and was blurry. Underneath was written “Harriet Lansing, Wife” with a magic marker. “I got a call from Savannah Webb. She said that she ran into Dennis’s wife as she was arriving for an appointment with her accountant. Savannah overheard that Mrs. Lansing is about to come into control of a large trust fund and she was apparently relieved that Dennis wouldn’t be able to waste it to support his artistic endeavors.”

  Officer Williams frowned. “That doesn’t seem appropriate for a grieving widow.”

  “No, it doesn’t. She and Dennis were staying in a private home on a side street off Beach Drive. When we spoke to her about Dennis’s death, she seemed stunned into silence. She hasn’t called me back to even ask about the progress of our investigation. That’s not the normal reaction. What do we have on her?”

  “Not much.” Officer Williams flipped a few pages backwards in her notebook. “They have been living with her parents in Corning, New York. They got married immediately after she graduated with a master’s degree in marketing. They apparently lived in an old RV while he traveled the country visiting craft shows, art exhibitions, and building up a reputation. It was where he taught himself the skills he needed for producing those large etched vases and mixed media glass pieces. Apparently, she oversaw publicity, marketing, and the promotion for his events.”

  “Interview her and let’s see if there’s any chance that she doesn’t have an alibi for the time of Dennis’s death. Find out why she didn’t wonder where he was. Also, make double sure we didn’t get a missing person’s report.”

  “Yes, sir.” Joy was making notes. “I’ll follow up with Savannah as well.”

  “Good. On the other hand, take her with you. She’ll understand the art festival component of their traveling. I’m beginning to think that we’re looking at something more than merely shock at her husband’s death.”

  Joy left the Murder Room and dialed Savannah’s cell. “Detective Parker wants me to conduct a follow-up interview with Harriet Lansing based on the information you provided. Are you available to go along?”

  There was a long pause. “Let me see how I can squeeze that in. I’m on my way to Frank Lattimer’s shop to load up his kiln. His place is right downtown. Can you wait until I’m on my way back from there?”

  “Sure, I’ll meet you where she’s staying. How about 4:30 p.m.?”

  “That works out great. Let me have the address of her hotel.”

  “She’s not staying at a hotel,” said Officer Williams. “She and Dennis were staying with an arts patron. I didn’t know, but that’s how some of the higher profile artists manage to travel without spending tons of money at fancy hotels. Anyway, here’s the address.” She read off the number and street.

  “That’s in an exclusive part of town. It looks like Dennis really was a rising star.” Savannah’s voice sounded heavy. “That makes it even more sad.”

  Chapter 18

  Wednesday afternoon

  Savannah drove the heavily loaded Mini downtown. The back was stacked with sheets of glass, charger plate molds, kiln spacer blocks, kiln paper, and release spray. Although she was grateful for the one-time use of Frank’s kiln, she didn’t want to borrow any materials from him. She knew that he cut corners when teaching his classes by stocking second- and even third-rate supplies. She wasn’t willing to risk scrapping a single charger plate due to substandard materials.

  Jacob was sitting in the backseat with Suzy buckled into the seat behind Savannah. Driving smoothly turned out to be impossible. Even the painted stripes on the road seemed to give her cargo of glass a nerve-wracking jiggle. She was also doing everything she could to provide a calming environment for Jacob. She’d let him stack all the supplies, not only to make him feel a part of the process, but honestly, no one could pack more into a limited space than Jacob. His natural skill with spatial challenges was astounding.

  “How is the decoding coming along? Have you had a chance to make some progress?”

  Jacob reached over to give Suzy a scratch behind the ears. Savannah knew the answer was troubling him, but she also knew to give him all the time he needed to answer an uncomfortable question. Perversely, it was the fastest way to get an answer. It did require patience, though. Not her strong suit now.

  She drove another cautious couple minutes and avoided a large double pothole on Beach Drive. That maneuver prompted a toot of the horn from the driver behind her. She made an apology wave into the rearview mirror and shrugged her shoulders.

  Jacob cleared his throat. “I haven’t started the decoding process, yet. There is still much I need to learn about how the machine functions. There are three rotary cogs that give the machine a unique code, so I first tried to use the combinatio
n that the machine was set on just in case Mr. Webb left the rotary cogs in place after he created the cipher.”

  “And . . .”

  “That wasn’t the setting. I was certain he wouldn’t leave the machine in the coded configuration, but it was an easy setting to eliminate. I am now familiar with how the machine works and I am working on an approach for eliminating most of the combinations.”

  “If you need help with the code elimination algorithms, make sure you let me know. The rest of us can set up trials with the actual machine while you are generating more combinations.”

  Jacob scratched Suzy’s ears again followed by another long silence. “Thanks, that’s a good idea.”

  She continued to avoid bumps in the road and turned in a block off Beach Drive. She parked in front of Frank Lattimer’s Glass Shop. The mid-century, flat-topped single story building looked like it was in sore need of some attention. The paint was faded and peeling and one of the downspouts wasn’t even connected to the gutter. It was an eyesore.

  Savannah thought it was possible that Frank could be having some financial difficulties. It would be typical of him to hide the real state of his business under the guise of continually offering to buy Webb’s Glass Shop. No wonder he was annoyed with me when he lost the banquet order from the Vinoy Hotel.

  She carefully backed the Mini into one of the five parking spots out front. She recognized Lattimer’s red BMW as the only car there. Each parking spot had a large sign in front threatening towing if anyone other than a student used one of the parking spaces.

  Where on earth do his students park? His classes are large.

  “Let me get the door propped open first,” said Savannah

  She knocked on the front door and Frank immediately opened it and stood in the doorway blocking it completely. His comb-over was still plastered with who knows what kind of hair glue and he was wearing lifts in his shoes to augment his height. It didn’t help much.