Cracked to Death

by Cheryl Hollon

  “Well, no. We’re not interested in diving, actually.” Savannah coughed into her hand and then looked the captain straight in the eye. “We’re here to find out more about Martin Lane. I’m a consultant who is helping the St. Petersburg Police investigate his death, and we heard you frequently took him diving.”

  Collins sucked in a quick breath. “You tried to trick me. I don’t know anything about Martin’s death. You need to leave.” He backed away and quickly pulled the garage door down over the salvage bay and locked it. “You need to leave now, before I call the police and report you for harassment.” He turned to face them and put his hands on his hips. “Leave. Right. Now.”

  Chapter 20

  Thursday Afternoon

  Savannah dropped Edward off at Queen’s Head and parked behind Webb’s Glass Shop. She entered through the back door.

  “Amanda, I’m back. Where are you?”

  “I’m here in the supply room, loading the kiln.”

  “Good job.” Savannah peered into the large, deep fusing kiln. “It looks great. You’ve got enough kiln paper. You’ve placed blocks against the pieces so that nothing rolls during the fuse. You’ve even got a two-layer deal going with some small pieces.” She raised her head to look at Amanda. “Perfect. You’ve graduated to journeyman—no longer an amateur.”

  Amanda’s face flushed. “Thanks. That means a lot to me. I love this job.”

  “You’re good at this. I’m grateful to have you.”

  As Amanda lowered the large lid on the kiln, Savannah asked, “What did you find out about Martin’s sister?”

  After pressing the START button on the control panel, Amanda stood. “Oh, I wrote it all down in the office. Let’s sit down for a minute. I’m bushed. I had no clue teaching could be so draining. Really, why didn’t you warn me? Oh, wait . . .” She laughed. “You did warn me.”

  When they arrived in the back office, Amanda picked up from the center of the desk a manila folder with “Martin’s Sister” written on the tab. Savannah grinned at the childlike script, with hearts for dotting all the i’s and curlicues for crossing the t’s.

  Savannah sank into the creaky oak office chair and opened the folder. On yellow ruled paper, Amanda had compiled the information she had gleaned from her research. Martin’s sister lived in Tampa, near her job at the University of South Florida, where she was an associate professor of marine biology. A printout from USF’s staff Web site included a picture of Tracy Patterson and a brief description of her teaching qualifications. The family resemblance to Martin was strong. Amanda had researched the course catalog and had noted that Tracy taught a lab on Thursday nights.

  “Very thorough. I think we need to talk to her. Do you have any idea why Tracy and Martin didn’t talk to each other?”

  Amanda flushed at her pale neck. “I don’t have a clue. I’m as surprised as anyone that he had any family at all. He always said he was alone in the world.”

  Savannah stood up. “Well, anyway, we need to see her face-to-face. I’d like to pay her a visit right now. Are you able to come with me? If you need to see your mom instead, I’m good with that.”

  “Mom’s doing better physically, but she’s in a phase where she doesn’t know who I am. It helps me to stay away for a few days. I can go.”

  * * *

  It took about twenty minutes to close up Webb’s and get on the road to Tampa. When they pulled onto I-275 to cross the bridge over Tampa Bay, Amanda looked over. “It looks like we’ve timed this perfectly to be stuck in the rush-hour traffic.”

  The traffic inched along at about twenty miles an hour. Savannah moved over into the rightmost lane. “It’s been a long time since I drove over to USF, but let’s take North Dale Mabry to Fletcher and bypass all this. It will only get worse when we get to the I-Four turnoff. Agreed?”

  “Yep.”

  Nearly forty-five minutes later, Savannah pulled into a university parking spot clearly marked for visitors. They found the building that housed the biological sciences and the office number that was listed in the catalog. The door was closed, but there was a row of chairs in the hallway, with a student obviously waiting to talk to Professor Patterson.

  As one, Savannah and Amanda sat down and tried to look like students. It was a failure. Compared to the waiting student, who was wearing shorts, sandals, and a tank top, they appeared to be modestly covered up like religious initiates.

  Savannah whispered, “When did tiny, short shorts come back into style?”

  “Forever ago. You’ve been buried in glassmaking.”

  “I guess I have.”

  They had barely settled when the office door opened to release a tall young man, who headed down the hallway at a fast clip. Without waiting to be called, the student waiting to see Professor Patterson slipped through the open door and closed it behind her. They got the briefest glimpse of the cluttered office, which had a couple of chairs ready for student counseling.

  “This seems to be a practiced ritual,” Savannah whispered. “What time does class actually start?”

  Amanda opened the manila folder and flipped through the research material. “We have about forty-five minutes.”

  “Be ready when this student leaves.”

  They sat quietly for a few minutes, and when the door opened, they barely let the student squeeze by before entering Professor Patterson’s office. Amanda sat against the wall near the door, and Savannah sat in the chair in front of the piled-up desk. In fact, everything had piles of papers and stacks of books on it, and only a space large enough for a table was clear in front of Professor Patterson.

  The professor wore a starched white lab coat over black polyester trousers and sensible black tie-up shoes. Her salt-and-pepper hair was cut in a short chop, and her reading glasses hung in a ring on a small chain around her thin neck.

  The professor wrinkled her brows at them. “What are you doing here? You’re not students.”

  Savannah leaned forward. “We’re not students. My name is Savannah Webb, and this is Amanda Blake. We’re here to—”

  “Sorry, ladies. I don’t need any more interns or lab assistants. You’re a bit too late for this semester, but I’ll happily give you an application for this fall.” She turned in her chair toward the large table behind her and snatched two application forms from a neat stack next to the wall.

  “No. We’re not here for enrollment.” Savannah waved her hand to prevent Professor Patterson from handing the forms to her. “Let me explain. I’m a consultant for the St. Petersburg Police Department, and I need information about your brother, Martin Lane.”

  “My brother? We don’t see each other. I haven’t seen him face-to-face in years. Not since our parents’ funeral. What’s this about?”

  Amanda cleared her throat. “How long ago?”

  Professor Patterson leaned back in her chair and looked at the ceiling. “Let me think. That was the year I was accepted as a doctoral candidate here at USF. I used my inheritance to pay off my student loans and buy a condo near the university. Why do you want to know this?”

  Savannah hesitated. “Do you know where Martin is now?”

  “No. I told you. We haven’t seen each other in more than three years. Look, I need to know why you’re here. What is your connection with the police?”

  Oh no. She doesn’t know about Martin’s death. How can that be? Why hasn’t Parker been here?

  “Have you heard anything from the St. Petersburg Police Department?”

  “No, but I was out of touch for the past few days at a yoga retreat, and I came straight to campus for my student consults an hour ago. I haven’t even checked my messages yet. What are you trying to say?”

  Realizing there was no way they could not tell her, Savannah cleared her throat and spoke in a low, soft tone. “Professor Patterson, I’m very sad to tell you that your brother, Martin, was found washed ashore Tuesday morning. It appears he was murdered.”

  There was a long silence. Professor Patterson sat beh
ind the desk with her eyes down, looking at the cleared spot on the surface before her. Finally, she lifted her head. “You’re right. That is incredibly sad.”

  Savannah waited for some sort of emotional reaction, but the professor sat quietly for a few more moments and then looked at both of them in turn. “Do you have any questions? I need to prepare for my class.”

  Amanda and Savannah looked at each other with eyebrows raised at the complete lack of emotion.

  Savannah recovered and replied, “Yes, please. Could you tell us if there are any other relations?”

  “No close relations. Our parents were killed in a boating accident when we were living in Key West. That was about twenty years ago. My mother’s aunt raised us, but she died last year, and she was a childless widow.” Professor Patterson recited these facts as a well-rehearsed spiel. “I left to study for my master’s degree here in Tampa as soon as I graduated from college, and I’ve been here since.”

  “So you’re his only relation?” Savannah asked.

  “I’ve been on my own for a long time now.”

  “Did you know that he was a talented artist?” Amanda asked, piping up. “He made some amazing works out of found materials from the beaches and from salvage diving.”

  “It doesn’t sound lucrative to me. Did he have a house or property? I’ll have to deal with it all again. I did my parents’ place with my aunt. This time I’ll be alone.”

  “Um, not that we know of,” said Savannah. “But I’m sure the investigating detective will want to get in touch with you. His name is Detective Parker.”

  Professor Patterson wrinkled her brow. “Oh, great. He should have been here already. This will cause more interruptions. I’ll have to reschedule my Ph.D. dissertation defense. Well, anyway, I want to thank you for letting me know. We were not close, but it is sad to know I have no family now. I should have made an effort.” She stood up. “If you’ll excuse me now. I have a class to teach in a few minutes, and I have to review the lecture before it starts.” She came out from behind her desk and gestured with her arm that they needed to leave.

  As soon as Savannah and Amanda were out in the hallway, the door closed behind them with a sharp click, and then they heard the lock turn.

  Amanda puffed out a pent-up breath. “That’s the coldest woman I have ever met.”

  Chapter 21

  Thursday Evening

  Savannah dropped Amanda off at Webb’s and drove on home. She was exhausted and a little disturbed by Professor Patterson’s chilly reaction to the news of Martin’s murder. They didn’t get even a normal question, like “Who killed him?” from her. What kind of childhood could explain such distance? Could it even be explained?

  Rooney chased all those thoughts out of her head with an enthusiastic welcome. Although he was no longer puppy sized, given his actions, it was clear he thought he was a cuddly bundle. Savannah went straight to the kitchen and fixed his dinner and threw in a frozen dinner for herself.

  While Rooney was wolfing down his meal, Savannah called Detective Parker’s office from the wall-mounted kitchen phone.

  He answered immediately. “Hi, Savannah. This is late for you to be calling.”

  “Even so, it appears you’re still there to take my call.”

  “Fair point. Do you have a result from your glass expert?”

  “Well, not so much results as I have a discovery to report. Martin Lane had a sister. She lives in Tampa and works as a professor at the University of South Florida.”

  “Interesting. His public records don’t show any relations. Well done. A sister, you say?”

  “Yes. Her name is Professor Tracy Patterson. Amanda and I went to see her about Martin, and she didn’t know he had died. I thought it was strange, since the discovery of his identity was all over the news yesterday.”

  There was silence on the phone.

  “Parker, are you there?”

  “I’m going over my notes. Hold on a second.” There was another long pause. “Did Amanda behave differently with Professor Patterson?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean is . . .” He hesitated a moment. “Did you feel Amanda may have already known Professor Patterson?”

  “No. She seemed surprised that Martin had a sister.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Of course I’m certain. Amanda is my good friend. I know her. What are you suggesting?”

  “Evidence is beginning to pile up that proves that you don’t know Amanda as well as you think. Has she been absent more than usual in the past month?”

  “Well, her mother’s been sick lately. So she’s been taking time to make sure everything is being taken care of at the nursing home. Amanda knows that being around the place frequently means that her mother gets better care. That’s pretty normal, though.”

  “What about mood swings? Anything out of the ordinary?”

  “Mood swings? Honestly, this is Amanda we’re talking about. The most cheerful person on the planet.”

  “Right, but she might be more involved in this case than you know.”

  “Are you trying to tell me Amanda is a suspect?”

  Detective Parker’s voice softened. “I am suggesting that you be careful.”

  Before she could respond, the dial tone interrupted. After looking at the receiver for a moment, Savannah hung up the phone.

  Why would he suggest that Amanda wasn’t her friend? she wondered.

  Rooney nudged her knee and looked up at her with pleading amber eyes. It was time for their evening run, but that was the last thing Savannah felt like doing.

  “Okay, Rooney. Let me eat, and we’ll go.”

  She plopped down on the living-room couch to eat her meal and watch a bit of the news. Rooney stretched out his lean gray frame on the floor in front of her, put his head on his paws, and huffed. The reporter on the news stood in front of a large Mediterranean Revival mansion near the site where Martin’s body was discovered.

  “Why do they do that?”

  Rooney’s head came up.

  “This whole crime scene has been bagged, tagged, and cataloged thoroughly. Everything has been taken away. There’s nothing there at all.”

  “There have been no new developments in the case of the murdered diver who washed up behind this house on Tuesday morning. Sources close to Detective Parker, who is leading the case, indicate several persons of interest are being investigated, and he expects an important development soon. More news at eleven,” the reporter finished.

  Savannah clicked off the television, finished off the frozen meal, and cleared up the small mess in the kitchen. After changing into running clothes, she took Rooney out for some exercise. The first few blocks of any run were slow, since Rooney needed to smell all the new smells in his front yard and then relieve himself on each new sample.

  Finally getting syncopated for a good run, Savannah realized the calming rhythm stimulated far too many thoughts in her head. Detective Parker’s comments had her rethinking Amanda’s strange behavior over the past few weeks. It looked suspicious to her now. There had been quite a few more visits to her mom than normal. During the same time frame, Savannah had been busy with buying the warehouse building, applying for all the permits, hiring the contractors for the electrical and plumbing improvements. It had been a distracting month.

  Why was she letting Parker’s insinuations get to her? Was he trying to glean more information from her before tackling Amanda? If that was his plan, it wasn’t going to work. He wouldn’t be able to erode her loyalty to a close friend who had seen her through many difficult times. Times when she had needed a friend and Amanda had been there.

  The run finished, Savannah headed back home. Once there she gave Rooney his organic treat and started her bedtime routine. No matter how many times she pounded the pillow, turned over, and tried to relax, sleep didn’t arrive until about 2:00 a.m. Over and over, she kept rehearsing the questions she had for Amanda the next morning.

  Lots
of questions.

  Chapter 22

  Friday Morning

  Savannah unlocked the back door of Webb’s Glass Shop, stepped into the office, and dropped her backpack on the floor beside the old oak desk. She briefly thought about moving the desk over to the studio but quickly ditched the idea. Her great-grandfather’s desk had been here as long as she could remember, and ever since her father’s death, stability had been important to her. The desk was part of the fabric of the shop and wouldn’t be moving anywhere.

  The bell over the front door jingled. Amanda was struggling with multiple bags full of glass materials for today’s final lesson in the workshop.

  “Hey! Let me help.” Savannah rushed over and relieved Amanda of several plastic bags and led the way into the classroom. They piled everything on the two student worktables in the first row.

  Amanda mimed a thank-you through her huffing and puffing and sat on the nearest student work stool, fanning her flushed face with her hand. “Whew! It’s already Africa hot out there. I can’t wait until October. Guess what I found on an online auction site last night?”

  Savannah slouched onto the next work stool. “No clue.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s no fun if you don’t guess. Please?”

  “No. I didn’t sleep much last night.” Savannah combed through her short curls with a quick hand. “Just tell me.”

  “Spoilsport. I found a site that offered a bottle just like Martin’s up for bid.”

  “Is it like one of the bottles he brought into class?”

  “It looks like it.”

  “That’s a great lead. Who’s selling them?”

  “I’ve got only the seller’s online moniker so far, but I was thinking if we ordered the bottle, we might get the whole deal.”

  “Deal?”

  “Have you had any coffee yet?”

  Savannah sighed and held her head. “No, I haven’t. Being both sleep deprived and caffeine deprived is not a good thing. So you’re suggesting we bid on the bottle. When does the auction end?”