Savanna sucked in her breath. Her mind spun. “What? What does that mean? Who do you think did it?” Her mind was racing. A yellow traffic light directly in front of her turned red and she slammed on her brakes too hard, eliciting a squeal of protest from the rubber on pavement and throwing her purse onto the floor of the passenger side. “Ugh!”
“It’s all right,” Detective Jordan replied. “We don’t know who did it, but confirming it wasn’t tied to Jessamina doesn’t automatically mean the killer slashed your tires. What would be the point of that? It’s possible it was random.”
“Random?” she scoffed.
“I’m not satisfied with that explanation, either, but we have no other leads. I’m still working on it, don’t worry. In the meantime, be careful, stay mindful of your surroundings, and keep your family updated on where you are. I promise to let you know the minute I have any updates. Now, what did you call me about?”
Chapter Nineteen
Nick Jordan held the door to the precinct open for Savanna. “Let’s talk in my office.”
Savanna set her purse on the detective’s desk and took out the brown paper bag. The wine glass had miraculously not shattered into pieces when her purse had hit the floor of her car.
Detective Jordan pulled on a purple latex glove and extracted the glass from the bag. “So you’re positive this is Mia James’ glass? And it’s from a dinner party at your house?”
“My mom’s house, yes.”
The muscle in his jaw worked and his brows furrowed as his gaze went from the wine glass to Savanna. “Your mom’s house. Is she aware you took it?”
“No. Does that matter? I read online that police can check ordinary objects used by someone, during a crime investigation, if they’re left in a public place.”
“Right. But your mother’s house isn’t a public place. And it’s not a residence owned by you. I can’t technically do anything with this without your parents signing off on the knowledge that you took it from their house and we’re testing it to rule out a suspect.”
“Oh.” She felt deflated. She wasn’t giving up, not if this glass could either prove that Mia never touched John Bellamy’s safe or that she did. “Okay. I’ll get their permission. How should I do that?”
Detective Jordan sat back, making his chair creak. “Why don’t you give your parents a heads up tonight that we’ll need to come by tomorrow morning so I can explain this to them. Is your mother going to have a problem with it? I assume she and Mia James are friends.”
“I think she’ll be all right with it. I’ll explain it’s a way of hopefully showing Mia wasn’t involved in John’s death; maybe it’ll help clear Remy somehow too. Who knows.”
The detective opened a drawer at the bottom right side of his desk. He placed the wine glass in a large, plastic evidence bag, wrote on it with black Sharpie, and then used a key on his key ring to lock the glass in the drawer. “That can’t be checked into evidence until after we talk to your parents. Will one of them be home tomorrow morning around nine?”
“My mom should be. I’ll make sure she is—I’ll call them tonight.”
He stood, and she followed him out of his office. He locked the door and ushered her out to the parking lot, talking half to himself and half to Savanna on the way. “If those prints match one of the sets from the safe and the painting, but not from the cellar door, it’ll show that she, likely with her son, attempted to get something from Bellamy’s safe after the night of his murder. You’re still sure about that?” He looked at her.
“I’m very sure. The painting was perfectly straight the night he was killed.”
The detective nodded. “And if the prints match nothing, it means Remy acted on his own.”
“My mother says there was some longstanding dispute between Mia and John, after their divorce, over property or her parents’ estate or something. Isn’t it possible she or Remy were just trying to retrieve something that already belonged to them? What was in the safe?”
“Nothing at all,” Nick Jordan said. “It was completely bare.”
“Hmm.” Savanna didn’t know what to think of that. They were now standing outside her car. “Detective, do you know anything yet about John’s assistant Yvonne? Your people were at her house yesterday, checking things out after her sister found her at the bottom of her basement stairs. You think she was pushed?”
“We’re sure she was. We found fibers under her fingernails, and there are bruises that can’t be explained otherwise. She either let whoever did it in, meaning she knew them, or else she just leaves her front door unlocked all the time.”
“Like practically everyone in Carson,” Savanna added, recalling how much trouble that had caused last fall in trying to save Caroline Carson’s life.
“Except you,” he said sternly.
“Except me,” she agreed. “Don’t worry. I broke that habit the minute I moved away.”
“Good. We can’t talk to Yvonne yet, as she’s still unconscious, but we did get ahold of the other assistant at the village offices. She’s coming in tomorrow morning to give a statement. Apparently she resigned her job with the mayor just last week, and in light of Yvonne’s situation, we want to be sure no one else is in danger.”
“Janice,” Savanna said. “She told us she quit because the mayor asked her to lie. Well, that among other reasons.”
Detective Jordan stared at her, saying nothing.
“I’d planned to let you know about that. I’m not sure it’s important?” She felt herself shrinking under the detective’s sharp gaze. “I mean, maybe it is important. Janice said it was over a real estate deal through Better Living. The mayor wanted her to say zoning or something had already been approved, but it hasn’t yet.”
“Interesting. Anything else?”
“No. Really, no. Nothing I can think of.” She opened her car door and got in.
The detective pulled out his keys. “I’ll meet you at your parents’ house at nine a.m.”
“Got it,” Savanna said, pulling her door closed. She had the distinct feeling that she and the detective were both going to be doing research tonight on the same thing: Better Living Properties.
By the time she’d hung up the phone with her mom, trying hard to explain why it was a good idea to let the police compare Mia’s fingerprints to those found at John’s house, she was exhausted. She hoped Nick Jordan did a better job than she had. She was pretty sure all she’d accomplished was making her mother mad. No, not mad. Disappointed.
“I’m not angry with you, Savanna,” Charlotte had said over the phone. “I’m disappointed. You should’ve trusted me enough to tell me what you wanted to do and why. We’ll discuss this in the morning.”
Savanna carried her laptop into Sydney’s bedroom, she and Fonzie settling onto her sister’s fluffy, canopied double bed to wait for her. Fancy Tails was closed, and yoga classes didn’t run this late. Had Sydney perhaps met someone? She dismissed the thought. Syd was such an open book; if she’d started seeing someone new, she’d be shouting about it. She was probably just out with friends.
After a few false starts, Savanna found useful information on the Allegan County newspaper mobile site. A search for Better Living at first brought up decorating tips from the Home and Garden section. When she changed her search to Better Living Properties, several articles came up over the last year. She scrolled through, absorbing as much as she could about the company and its plans for Carson’s lakefront.
By the time she heard Sydney’s key in the front door, Savanna had learned a lot. Better Living Properties was a relatively new commercial property company that was growing fast. They’d been eyeing a large piece of land at the north end of Carson’s waterfront since last year. A few months ago, back in February, they’d submitted plans for a proposed boardwalk development on Lake Michigan that would house an eighteen-story luxury hotel, rows of shops, and a
handful of restaurants, all targeted at the tourist crowd.
“Watcha doing?” Sydney appeared in the bedroom doorway.
“Research.” She groaned, rolling her eyes. “Where were you?”
“Oh. Um, out. I feel so gross—I’m jumping in the shower. Stay there, I want to hear what you’re researching.” She spun and headed toward the bathroom and Savanna saw that the ends of her hair were damp, twisting themselves into red ringlets while drying. Her khaki shorts were splotchy shades of darker and lighter color tan, as if they’d also been wet.
Interesting. Had she been swimming somewhere? Savanna refocused her attention on the screen. From what she could gather in these articles, the proposed development was thought to be a sound, lucrative plan from all angles. It’d boost tourism, bringing revenue into Carson. The high-end eateries and shops would raise property values. She tried to imagine the plot of land in question and couldn’t. She might need to go take a look tomorrow. Where was it in relation to Mitten Inn, which was also on the lake?
Sydney entered the bedroom wearing a fuzzy pink robe, her hair wrapped up in a towel on top of her head. She peered at the laptop as she removed the towel and shook out her now completely wet hair. “Ew.”
“What?” Savanna looked at her curiously.
“Those Better Living weasels. They’re never going to get approval for that. It’ll totally block the view of the lake. Did you read about how many tons of sand they’ll have to take off the dunes just for the boardwalk? Actual tons. Which’ll lead to beach erosion up and down the coast, not to mention the traffic volume through town. Their proposal would mean no more Main Street! They’d have to add three more lanes, and the road goes right through the middle of Carson Park. Why are you reading about it?”
Savanna stared at Sydney, stunned. “That’s crazy! Why would it even be on the table, and why would Mayor Greenwood be meeting with the developers? I haven’t read anything yet about what you’re saying. But wow.” She bit her bottom lip. “It makes sense. You’re right. How else would all that tourist traffic get through to the development? I mean, they could go through the forest north of town, I guess,” she mused.
“No they can’t. Manistee Forest is protected. The only route is right through town.”
“No.” She scrolled through to the next article. “It can’t happen. Wait! So is that why Mayor Greenwood wanted Janice to lie? Is he trying to push their proposal through?”
“He’d better not be! He wouldn’t do that to Carson.” Sydney sat next to Savanna and finger-combed through her curls, detangling them.
“Were you at the lake?”
“What?”
“Just now. Your hair and shorts were damp when you came in. I wondered if you went for a late swim.”
“Oh!” She leaned over, bumping her shoulder against Savanna’s. “You can’t help it, can you? Always picking up details, even if you aren’t trying.”
Savanna shrugged. “I don’t know, I don’t think I do that. So were you?”
“Yes, I went for a swim. You should try it sometime at night. It’s so peaceful, especially with the full moon tonight. It’s still almost eighty degrees out there right now.”
“You went alone?” Savanna chastised. It’d been drilled into them as girls to never, under any circumstances, swim alone. Ever.
“I didn’t go alone. I went with a friend.”
Savanna closed her laptop and leaned back against Sydney’s mountain of throw pillows. “A friend?”
“Oh my God! Yes, a friend. We went for a spur-of-the-moment swim. It was fun!”
“So is this a new friend? Did you go for a moonlight swim with a guy?”
Sydney sighed, leaning on one elbow and peering at Savanna wide-eyed. “Yes I did, Mom. If I end up seeing him again, I promise I’ll clear it with you first, okay?”
Savanna laughed. “Sorry. I’m happy for you, Syd. I’m glad you’re moving on. Will I get to meet him?”
“It’s not even a thing. I had dinner with a cute guy, we went for a walk on the beach and decided to jump in the lake. It was a lot of fun. That’s all,” she emphasized.
“Okay! Then I’m happy you had a good evening. I’m going to bed. I have to meet Detective Jordan at Mom and Dad’s early tomorrow morning.” She changed the subject and filled Sydney in on her covert operation at Charlotte’s game night.
“Dang, look at you! Ooh, Mom is going to be so mad when she finds out. Are you going to let Nick Jordan tell her what you did?”
“She already knows. I told her. And she isn’t mad, she’s just disappointed.”
Sydney laughed. “That’s perfect. I love it. Good luck tomorrow—better you than me.”
Friday morning at Harlan and Charlotte’s went better than Savanna had hoped, until they were about to leave. Detective Jordan explained that even if it backfired and it turned out Mia’s fingerprints matched those on the cellar door, Mia would be able to explain herself, and the police would’ve learned about that eventually once Remy was questioned—as he was scheduled to be today, based on his own prints on the safe.
Charlotte stopped the detective at that point. “It wouldn’t have been Mia going in through the Michigan basement access door though. I’m sure of that.”
“How do you know that?”
“They used a key.”
“There was a key?” Detective Jordan and Savanna echoed each other in Charlotte’s sunny kitchen nook.
“Remy had a housekey from when he was a teenager.”
Savanna looked at Detective Jordan.
“I don’t know that John even remembered Remy had that key. I only know about it because Mia mentioned once that she should just have Remy let her in the house so she could get her things he was keeping from her. But she seemed afraid to cross John. He’d have known instantly that they’d broken into the safe. Once he was gone, maybe Mia felt differently,” Charlotte said carefully, her gaze going to Detective Jordan and then back to Savanna. “I’m not sure I should have said anything.” She pressed her lips together.
Outside as Nick Jordan and Savanna parted, he paused, climbing into his patrol car. “This just opens a whole new can of worms,” he said, shaking his head.
She imagined he was right. “But hopefully, Mia’s wine glass prints won’t match a thing in John’s house, right? Then, poof, no can of worms at all.”
He groaned. “Let’s hope.”
Savanna spent the rest of her day working through an errand list a mile long. With kickoff for Art in the Park just days away, by late afternoon, she’d been to Grand Rapids to finalize plans with the concessions company, to the bank handling the funds for the festival, and to Parties Are Us for all the odds and ends she needed for decorating that weren’t being supplied as part of the event. She even remembered to stop by Carson Lock and Key to check out the display cases for all the submitted artwork and make the final payment to the proprietor.
She edited the to-do list in her phone; she still needed to speak with Remy at Giuseppe’s one last time about the catered items and make the last payment, and she and Skylar had talked about popping in on Chef Joe, just to let him know they were making progress. And she really needed to stop by Carson’s library; she had an idea she wanted to check out. And she really needed to make an appointment with Mike to see that house. She’d probably have to delay the last few items until tomorrow or later.
Savanna dragged her feet into Fancy Tails, dropping heavily into one of the overstuffed aqua chairs.
“Be right with you!” Sydney called out from the back of the salon as the bell over the door jangled.
“No need, it’s just me!” She was tired and starving. On impulse, before she could lose her nerve, she scrolled through her contacts and called Aidan.
He picked up on the second ring. “Your timing couldn’t be better. My last patient just left. How are you?”
“I’m great! Hey, are you hungry?”
Savanna crossed the street and walked down a block to Giuseppe’s after letting Sydney know she’d see her later at home. She got a table, and the waitress brought her iced tea just as Aidan joined her.
“I’m glad you called,” he said, taking the seat across from her. He ordered a coffee, waiting until the waitress left and then leaning across the table and lowering his voice. “How did your covert operation go?”
Savanna laughed. “Pretty well, all things considered. My intensive online research was a little off. Detective Jordan still had to get permission from my mother to run the tests, since I took the wine glass from her home without her knowing. I don’t know anything yet.”
Aidan stood briefly and shed his suit jacket, folding it and draping it over the chair next to him. Blue suspenders with purple polka dots matched the blue-and-purple tie Savanna had already noticed. He sat back down, turning his cuffs up twice. “Better. I’m so glad it’s Friday and the clinic is closed tomorrow. This first full week back has been intense.”
“Aidan. I just have to know. You have so many fun…accessories to your wardrobe. Are men’s wardrobe items called accessories?” Savanna mused. “I’ve been wanting to ask you about them. I love the suspenders and tie, by the way. Do you do it for your younger patients? I imagine seeing rainbow-colored socks on their doctor would put them at ease.”
Aidan shocked her. For the first time ever, Savanna saw a hint of red flush his cheekbones and he looked down for a moment, not meeting her eyes. When he did, his expression was unreadable. “It’s for Mollie,” he said. “I started it when—” He broke off as their server appeared with his coffee, asking if they were ready to order. “Sure,” Aidan said, glancing at the menu briefly and then up at Savanna. “Have you decided?”
“Yes, I’ll have the chicken limoncello, please, with a side of brussels sprouts. They’re amazing here,” she told Aidan. “Get the brussels sprouts.”
Behind the Frame Page 20
