The Bloody Canvas

by KJ Kalis

  Kat stood back, folding her arms over her chest, one hand on her face, a finger crooked over her lip. What was she seeing here? There wasn’t much of a story to tell, she realized, at least not based on the location. It was an open area. Literally anyone could have come up and stabbed Hailey and quickly disappeared in the crevices between the buildings that surrounded the area.

  Questions started to form in Kat’s mind. She started to walk, wanting to get a full sense of what the square looked like from all angles. As she moved from the scene, she glanced back, trying to get a better sense of where the bench was compared to the entry and exits from the square.

  A full lap of the square only took Kat five minutes. She walked slowly, looking for any ideas that might come to her. There weren’t any. It felt like a wild goose chase. Shaking her head, she walked back to the bench one more time, taking stock of what had been left there. Drooping flowers, a teddy bear, a few pictures of Hailey with people that must have been her friends. Kat picked one up, staring at it. Hailey was blonde, with long hair and brown eyes. In the picture, she had her arms around another girl, paint dabbed on their faces as though they had just finished an art class. Her smile was wide and genuine. There was no doubt she was a beautiful girl, fully of life and personality. Could that have been the motive for her murder? A jilted boyfriend? Could someone be wrong about the ten-year-old that was accused?

  Kat flipped the picture over. It was blank save for a strange mark down in the corner. Kat squinted at it, wondering what it was. A circle had been drawn with several different shapes in the center. It was so small that it was hard to make out what it was. Kat turned the picture back over and shoved it in the back pocket of her jeans. Seeing what Hailey looked like sent a surge of sadness through Kat as she walked back to the car. She wondered what Hailey’s life had been like, who her friends had been, what she thought of as the life left her body.

  The ring of the trolley bell broke through her thoughts. The announcer started her spiel, telling the passengers all about Calhoun Square. Kat was sure she would skip the part about Hailey’s murder. In some respects, she was surprised the city allowed the memorial to her. It would be interesting to see how long they let it stay.

  Kat left. There was nothing else she could do without information and she didn’t have any. She drove to the center of Savannah, feeling hungry. It was lunchtime and she hadn’t had anything since breakfast. She parked the car and left the air conditioning running, sending another quick text to Van letting him know about the memorial. She took a picture of the image of Hailey she had found at the memorial and sent it to him. “She looks so happy,” Kat typed. “No idea what happened yet.”

  “You’ll figure it out,” was the reply from Van.

  Kat decided instead of texting back to call. Jack answered Van’s phone. “Hi buddy, how are things?”

  “Good mama. Getting ready for school. When do you come home?”

  “In a couple of days, pal. How are the boys?”

  “The dogs? They are good. Tyrant ate the corner of my book. I think she misses you.”

  Kat laughed. “Sounds like it. Can I talk to Van?”

  “Sure, Mama.”

  A second later, Van’s voice broke through the silence. “How’s it going?”

  “Doing fine. Not sure why I’m here. Doesn’t seem to be much of a story yet.”

  “Thanks for checking on this one for me. What’s the plan for the rest of the day?”

  Kat shook her head, “I have no idea. I’ve got no leads and no contacts. Not sure I’m going to be able to make any progress.”

  “There any other media around?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that could be good news. At least you are the only one following up. They’ve probably played it out already.” There was a pause. “I miss you…”

  “Miss you, too. It’s just my horrible editor sent me to Savannah.”

  “Sounds like an awful guy. Come home soon, okay?”

  “I will.” Kat ended the call and decided to walk through the commercial district to see a little more of Savannah while she was there. Using the GPS on her phone, Kat found River Street and started walking. There were a couple of paddle boats docked to the side and a bank of buildings that had clubs and restaurants that were already open for the day. Kat walked up a hill and turned right onto East Broughton Street. Both sides of the road were filled with restaurants, stores — both local and national chains — and trinket stores. Above the stores were floors and floors of what Kat thought might be either offices or apartments. The ringing of wind chimes caught Kat’s attention, and she noticed there was a small cafe on the corner. Realizing how starved she was, she went in, hoping to get some lunch.

  Unlike some more touristy parts of Savannah she had seen, the cafe looked to be one that was used by locals. A small bell on the door rang when she entered. At the far end of the cafe was an order counter, the menu displayed on the wall above it. She stepped to the counter, a woman with dry wrinkles saying hello. “What can I get for you, darlin’?”

  “I’ll have the turkey sandwich and an order of hummus. And a coffee, too, please.”

  “I’ll bring it to you as soon as it’s done. You just go have a seat. Want some water?”

  Kat nodded and walked away, choosing a booth toward the back of the cafe. The waitress came over with silverware and a napkin. “What brings you to Savannah?” she said, setting the items down on the table.

  “Work.”

  “What kind of work?”

  “I’m a journalist.”

  “Really? You lookin’ for a story or you already have one?”

  Kat sized up the waitress before answering. Though her face was wrinkled, her eyes had a sparkle to them, her black hair tied up on the top of her head. “I’m here about the art student that was murdered yesterday.”

  “Really? That’s interesting.” The waitress glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll be back in a minute with your order.”

  Kat was grateful the waitress had moved off. She pulled the picture out of her back pocket and looked at it again. Some people might have thought she was insensitive to take Hailey’s picture from the memorial, but Kat needed to see who she was writing about. Pictures like the one she had found were more helpful than the sterilized ones that the media usually put out. Kat flipped the picture over again, looking at the mark on the back of it. She tilted her head. It looked to be a tangle of letters, but she couldn’t be sure. It was probably something one of the art students had done.

  Just as she put the picture back in her pocket, the waitress came with her food, the sandwich so big it tilted precariously toward the edge of the plate. “I still gotta get your coffee. Be back in a minute.”

  Kat dug into the hummus and the sandwich, feeling better almost immediately. When the waitress brought the coffee back, she set it down in front of Kat, dropping a couple of creamers next to it. “So, which paper are you with?”

  “The Hot Sheet. It’s an online paper.”

  “Seriously? I read that all the time!”

  Kat looked up from her sandwich, chewing. She wiped her mouth. “You do?”

  “Absolutely. It’s fresh. The reporting is to the point. No messing around.”

  Kat shook her head, “I’m glad you like it.”

  “They’ve had some good stories over the last few years. There was one about how the journalist got blackmailed for the cure for cancer. Can you believe that? Was so glad they got that guy… There was another about a church that had burned down in England.”

  “Yeah, I know something about those stories,” Kat said, watching the woman, a surge of amusement running through her. “I wrote them.”

  “You’re Kat Beckman? What? Right here in Savannah?”

  Kat held up her hands. “Listen, it’s no big deal.”

  “Are you kidding me? It’s a huge deal. You do great work!”

  “Thanks.” Kat started to feel uncomfortable, as though someone had swung a giant spotligh
t onto her. It wasn’t something she enjoyed.

  The waitress, who didn’t seem to be leaving any time soon, pursed her lips. “You said you are here following up on Hailey’s death?”

  The change in her tone caught Kat’s attention. “Yeah, my editor sent me here to check it out. You know something?”

  “Naw, I don’t know her, but I have something better.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My brother is running the investigation. Carson Martino. If you go to the police department tell him we met. My name’s Anita. He’ll help you out. I’ll shoot him a text to tell him to keep an eye out for you.”

  “Thanks, Anita. I really appreciate your help.”

  “No problem, sweetie. You just keep doing what you do best.” Anita sauntered away, her apron swinging in front of her.

  The frustration that had been dogging Kat since she landed lifted a little. At least she had a lead. It was only one, but it was better than nothing.

  4

  Kat finished her lunch and gave Anita a wave before she left. The Savannah Police Department was her next stop. The building was low, heavily landscaped, and clearly designed to look like part of the community. It was barely noticeable nestled into the trees except for the modest sign that was close to the corner it stood on. Kat parked the sedan in the lot and went to the front desk. “I was wondering if Detective Martino is available?”

  The officer behind the desk, a tall woman with a tight bun at the back of her neck, looked her way. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Kat Beckman. His sister, Anita, sent me.”

  The woman nodded, her long fingers pushing buttons on the phone. Kat heard her mutter a few words but couldn’t make out what she said. The woman stood up, her birdlike features unfolding, “Come with me.”

  The door in front of Kat buzzed and Kat followed the woman, who hadn’t introduced herself, toward the back of the building. Kat looked around as they walked. Like everywhere else in Savannah, the design of the department was hospitable and friendly. Warm wood desks arranged neatly in small groups flanked by pictures of historical sites in Savannah on all the walls hardly made it look like a police department.

  The woman opened a door to an office. “He’ll be with you in just a moment. Wait here.”

  Kat walked in and stood at the back of what was Carson Martino’s office. It was the neatest office she had ever seen. She chuckled to herself for a moment, remembering Henry Nash’s office at Scotland Yard. There were so many things jammed in it, she couldn’t even sit. Detective Martino’s office was exactly the opposite. The adage “everything has a place, and every place has a thing” rattled in her head. She smirked and sat down in an upholstered chair in front of Carson’s desk. There was only one pile of files, a box of tissues, and a cup of pens and pencils on the surface. Kat guessed that he cleaned his own office each week, though she hadn’t even met him yet. There was a two-drawer lateral file behind where his chair had been pulled in, three pictures sitting at attractive angles to each other on it. On the wall was a picture of downtown Savannah at night. Kat guessed the department had put it up long before Carson ever got the office.

  “My sister said you might stop in,” a low voice said, entering the room.

  “Hi, yes, she said it would be okay.” Kat stood up and offered her hand, “I’m Kat Beckman.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Carson sat down at his desk, adding a file to the top of the pile. “Anita said you are following up on the death of Hailey Park.”

  “That’s right. I’m a journalist.” Kat took a moment to look at Carson. He was of average height with a stocky build. His dark hair was the same color as Anita’s, though he looked to be more tan than she was. He had large square hands that took up much of the space on the desk and sharp brown eyes.

  “Anita made me fully aware of your work when she called. Impressive.”

  Kat could hear the sarcasm in his voice. “Just doing my job. I wanted to see what’s going on with the Park case.”

  Carson shifted in his chair. “It’s an ongoing investigation. I can’t really discuss it.”

  “Can you at least confirm that the suspect is a ten-year-old boy?”

  “Listen, Ms. Beckman, I understand that you are doing your job. I invited you back to my office because of my sister, but I really can’t discuss the leads we are following. You are welcome to talk to the information officer. She might be able to give you the details that you are looking for.”

  “Yes, I understand that you can’t tell me much about what’s going on. I was just hoping you could tell me a little about the scene, maybe something that you saw.”

  Carson stood up, “Ms. Beckman, I’m afraid this discussion is a waste of both of our times.” His phone buzzed, a scowl on his face. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go. Please see yourself out.”

  Kat walked out of his office, not feeling any better than she did when she entered. She knew nothing more than she did when she arrived. She stopped at the desk for the information officer, but he was out for the afternoon. Kat left her name and number.

  Frustration filled her. Kat was ready to text Van to tell him to get her on the next plane home. She should have stayed at the conference. As she wove her way through the desks back and went out the front entrance, the humid Savannah air washing over her, she saw a couple coming out the back entrance, their arms around each other, faces pale. Carson was escorting them. Kat wheeled around, realizing they were probably Hailey Park’s parents. From the reporting that had already been done, she knew that the family was from Bloomington, Illinois. Could they just be arriving now? Is that why Carson got her out of his office so fast? It was possible, she realized, depending on the flights that were available and if they had anything they had to take care of at home before they could come down. Should she wait?

  Kat had just started the car and turned the air conditioning onto full blast when she saw the couple walk toward her to get to their car. She got out, her heart beating in her chest. She trotted over to them as they made their way to their waiting vehicle. “Excuse me? I’m sorry, are you the Parks?”

  The man was helping his wife in the car. He looked at her with sunken eyes and said, “Yes. Can I help you?”

  “My name is Kat Beckman. I’m a journalist. I’m sorry for the loss of your daughter.”

  Mr. Park pursed thin lips, “I’m sorry. This is an awful time for us. I don’t really want to speak to a reporter.”

  “I can imagine. I’m a mom, too. I can’t begin to know what you are going through. Listen, I left a conference in New York City because my editor thinks this is an important story. We want to get the information out so this doesn’t happen again.” Kat knew she was on slippery ground, “Can you at least tell me the name of your daughter’s roommate? Is there anything you’d want people to know about Hailey?”

  The woman spoke, her voice soft. “Sam, it’s okay. Why don’t you talk to her for a minute? I'll just wait here.” She pulled the door closed. Kat could see her dab at her eyes with a tissue.

  Sam Park held up his hands. “Just for a minute. My wife is fragile right now. We wanted to come down yesterday — we’re from Illinois — but she was so fraught the doctor had to give her medication to calm her down. I can’t believe Hailey is gone.”

  “Was she your only child?”

  Sam nodded. “She was an amazing artist. Was since the time she was a little girl.” He leaned against the car. “We’ve got no one else. The rest of our family is gone. Losing Hailey may just kill my wife…”

  Kat swallowed. The line between being a journalist and a human was blurry sometimes. “Have some faith. I know this is a horrible time for you, but you may be stronger than you think. I’ve had to learn that myself.”

  Sam Park looked at Kat, “You seem like a nice person.”

  “Nice for a journalist?”

  He offered a weak smile. “You could say that. What would you like to know?”

  “I just have two questions: what did t
he police tell you and where was Hailey living?”

  Sam shook his head, a scowl on his face. “Apparently, they have someone in custody. A boy. They’ve got no idea why he’d do this. Can’t tell us anything, other than Hailey died of massive blood loss.” He looked away for a moment, “We are on our way to the coroner’s office now. As for where Hailey was living, she had a roommate in an apartment somewhere near here. Missy Langford is the girl’s name. I can give you the address.”

  Kat pulled a notebook out of her pocket and wrote it down. “Thank you, Mr. Park. Did you want me to follow up with you to tell you what I’ve found?”

  “No need. Just let the police know, okay?” He turned to open the car door and doubled over, his hands on his knees, choking sobs coming from inside of him. Kat instinctively put her arm over his shoulder, sadness welling up inside of her. Her mind focused on Jack. She couldn’t imagine the pain of walking in the house knowing he wouldn’t be coming home ever again. The loss, the fear. It was palpable, hanging over her and Sam as he wept. “I’m sorry,” he said, straightening up. “We were supposed to go to Hawaii this week for our anniversary. Now we are planning a funeral for our daughter.”

  Kat could barely swallow. “I can’t imagine.”

  Sam pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. “You said you are a mom. Please do what you can to find out what happened to our Hailey. My wife, Nora, she’s never going to be the same, I’m afraid.”

  Kat put her hand on his shoulder, looking him square in the eye. “I will. I’ll do what I can. I promise.” She pulled a business card out of the back of her notebook. “Here. If you need anything, let me know.”

  Sam nodded and got in the car. Kat stood off to the side, her arms folded over her chest. She gave them a small wave as they pulled away.

  5

  Why Anita had sent a journalist over to his office, Carson had no idea. He didn’t have time to deal with reporters. He scowled. What could he say to her anyway? That his only lead was a prepubescent tween they spent all night trying to find? Carson got up from his desk. It was time to try to question the child.