Pane and Suffering (9 page)

“Yes, Officer Boulli. We met yesterday.”

He made a small check on the form. “Humph.” He moved his pen down the form and read carefully. “Are you the owner of Webb's Stained Glass Shop?”

“Yes, sir. I'm taking over the shop from my dad. He died last week.”

He made another small check on the form. “Did you call in a suspicious death on Monday?”

“Yes, Officer. You took the call. Don't you remember?” She could hear the irritation in her voice, but couldn't dial it back.

He made a final check on the form, slipped the pen back onto the clip, tucked the clipboard back under his armpit, and held out his right hand. “I'm Officer Boulli of the Homicide Division for the St. Petersburg Police Department. I spoke with you yesterday and I'm here to verify your statements.”

She shook his outstretched hand. “What does that mean?”

“It means what I said. I was ordered to verify the statement you made yesterday at”—releasing the clipboard from his armpit, he drew a finger down to one of the filled-in slots—“fifteen thirty-five.”

“Do you want to go into my office?”

“Not necessary,” said Officer Boulli. “I would like for you to read this description for accuracy.” He pointed to a large white square on the form with his black BIC pen.

She leaned in to see the tiny handwritten statement and read the few sentences Officer Boulli had apparently written down after her phone call. “That looks accurate.”

“That's good.” He held out the pen. “Sign here.”

Savannah signed the form and handed the pen back to him. “I found a second coded message last night. This is very serious. I'm convinced my father believed he was in danger and that I'd be at risk as well.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Officer Boulli made a laborious effort to write a note at the bottom of the form. Then handing it back to her, he ordered, “Initial this last statement.”

Savannah complied with his instructions then pointed out, “I want to emphasize that I believe this to be a very serious threat.”

He slipped the pen back onto the clipboard. “I'll ensure the proper authorities are aware of the second”—he paused to make finger quotes—“coded message.”

Unable to resist, Savannah asked, “Is there anything I can do to”—she made finger quotes—“help?”

“That's all for now, ma'am.” He ensured that everything on the form had a response by running his finger down the list. “You've verified that you made the call and we'll let you know if anything further is required.” He tucked the clipboard again and pulled a business card from a fat stack in his top pocket. “Call this number if you have any questions.”

“You gave me a card yesterday.” She spoke to his wide retreating back and slipped the card into her pocket.

She spent the rest of the morning guiding the class, who were all still working on creating turtle sun catchers. As she was showing Arthur how to cut a gentle arc for one of the turtle legs, the shop phone rang. “Jacob, could you get the phone for me?”

With a pale face, he turned around to look at her feet. “I don't use the phone.”

Savannah's brow furrowed into multiple creases. “What? Of course. I understand. Don't worry at all. Amanda, can you get the phone for me? I'll be right there.” The phone continued to ring in the display room.

“Yes, ma'am.” Amanda launched herself into the display room and picked up the phone. “Webb's Stained Glass. How may I help you?” Silence was followed by, “Yes, sir. She's tied up teaching a class at the moment. Can I take a message?” More silence. “Of course, I'll bring her to the phone right away, sir.”

Amanda leaned into the classroom. “It's a police detective from the downtown station. They want to talk to you very, very urgently.”

Savannah placed Arthur's glass on the worktable and sped into the display room. Amanda handed her the phone and Savannah placed her hand over the phone receiver and mouthed
Keep things moving
, then nodded her back into the classroom.

“Good morning. This is Savannah Webb.”

“Miss Webb, this is Detective David Parker from the St. Petersburg Homicide Division. As a result of your call yesterday and your confirmation earlier, I'm sending Officer Boulli back to interview you and the students that were at Webb's Glass Shop yesterday. Is it possible to have them come back to the glass shop today?”

“But Officer Boulli was here this morning,” she said through a clenched jaw.

“Yes, he was. There was a . . . a miscommunication in the focus of that interview.” The detective sounded annoyed, though not, Savannah thought, at her. “He needs to complete the interviews as quickly as possible to make up for lost time. I apologize for any inconvenience.” His voice was soothing and Savannah reckoned that he was sincerely sorry.

“Sure. The class is continuing, so everyone is here who was in the shop yesterday when we found Hugh. Is that all right?”

“That's perfect, Miss Webb. Is this afternoon around two a good time?”

“Yes, sir. Fine.”

Savannah hung up the phone and just stood there.
Did my call make them pay attention? Did they find something?
She entered the classroom, cleared her throat, and waited until she had everyone's attention. “That was the St. Petersburg Homicide Division. They are sending Officer Boulli back. He wants to talk to all of us this afternoon.”

 

 

Right at noon, as the rest of the class left for lunch, Savannah motioned Jacob into the office and Amanda followed. Savannah had a sinking suspicion that Amanda would not be kept out of this. She pulled the onion skin sheet out of the notebook and laid it on the clear center of the desk and smoothed it out with her hands. “This is the second cipher.”

Amanda bristled. “What do you mean second cipher? What's going on?”

Savannah sighed and reluctantly nodded to Jacob. She didn't want more people involved in this situation, but Amanda's curiosity was relentless. She would keep asking until she had answers—and she might unwittingly ask the wrong people. “You can tell her now.”

“Miss Savannah got a frightening note from Mr. Webb. The note said, ‘Savannah, if you find this, I've been murdered and you are in danger.' That is scary.”

“Murdered? Mr. Webb told you he was murdered?” Amanda's voice pitched high as she looked from Savannah to Jacob and back to Savannah. Amanda was suddenly unusually pale. “I told you something was not right.”

“Yes, you did. Given the stellar performance of our clueless Officer Boulli, I'm going to follow along with Dad's clues to see if they reveal why he was killed . . . at least until the police start listening.”

Amanda harrumphed and crossed her arms. “I wouldn't count on Officer Boulli being able to find his own backside with a flashlight and a map. If there was ever a clear case for Robocop, he would be the example that could completely cinch the deal. What does Officer Bumble think about the note?”

“Amanda, honestly, don't make me regret telling you about this. Officer Boulli's boss is a Detective David Parker. He's the one who called and apologized and is making Boulli return to finish the interviews later this afternoon. Detective Parker seems to be sensible but appears to be waiting for evidence before he launches an investigation that would require more resources than our current Officer Boulli.”

“Does anyone else know? Is it just us three?” Amanda whispered, conspiratorially turning her head in all directions.

“I told Edward last night after I found the note and had already called the police. He thinks the city is so critically short of funds and staff, we would need clear and undeniable proof of foul play.”

Jacob had been intently pouring over the sheet and turning his head one way and then the other. “I don't see a pattern.”

“I was afraid of that. Amanda?” Savannah asked hopefully.

“Beats me. It looks like bugs have gotten into it and had a random snack.”

Savannah's shoulders sank.

Chapter 9

 

S
avannah stretched out her hand to greet Officer Boulli who was sweating rivers under his armpits and down the back of his white uniform shirt. It couldn't be merely a result of the short walk from the patrol car into the shop. He wiped his hand on the side of his forest green trousers and shook her hand quickly. She bit off an impatient protest that he was obstructing vital access to a small business by leaving the squad car diagonally blocking the entrance to the small parking lot.

“I'm Officer Boulli. I'm investigating the death that occurred here yesterday.”

“Yes, you were here that morning
and
earlier this morning. Detective Parker called to say you would be back. Would you like to see the workroom where Hugh was murdered?”

“Not right now. Don't get ahead of me, missy. This is just a routine investigation into an unattended death.
I
don't think it's a murder.” There was a not so subtle emphasis on
I
. “What I need first is a private space to conduct the interviews.” He pulled a notebook from his shirt pocket and started flipping through multiple pages until he found something. “I was the officer on the scene”—he glanced up at Savannah—“of course, and my notes show that there is an office back that way.” He pointed his pen toward the back of Webb's. “I'll use it for interviews.”

“Okay”—Savannah stretched to her full height—“but first we need to pull Suzy out of there.”

“Yep, that's true. Your secretary will have to work somewhere else for the next hour or so. If I can't have total privacy, we'll all have to make a trip downtown,” he said, his chest inflating with a sense of his own importance.

“Suzy is one of my students' service dog.” She turned toward Jacob. “Do you think you can hold her until the interviews are done or do you want to take her home?”

Jacob looked up with cheerful eyes. “I would rather hold her, Miss Savannah. I won't let her feet touch the floor.” He dashed back to the office and in a wink returned to his work stool with Suzy cuddled in his arms.

Officer Boulli searched through more pages of his notebook, peering at the print and obviously searching for the list of interviews he should conduct. He finally found a list, and called, “Amanda Black.”

Amanda's full lips pulled back to smile with her perfectly white beautiful teeth. “It's Amanda
Blake
.
B-L-A-K-E
.” She walked back to the office without a glance to see if he was following.

Officer Boulli made his way behind her with a slightly dazed look.

Absolutely nothing got done in class after he shut the office door.

“Well, I'm not going in alone,” said Faith, idly fingering her cork-backed metal ruler. She looked to Rachel. “We should go in together. We'll both feel better.”

“You'll feel better. I'm not sure that I will.” Rachel rotated the glass square on her table ninety degrees, then another ninety degrees. “But if it will make you feel better, let's go together.”

“Arthur, we should go separately, but you need to just say what you saw plainly and simply.” Nancy pulled a lipstick and small mirror from her purse and quickly refreshed her perfectly painted lips.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but didn't.

“Don't complicate things with what classes we've attended in other studios or how happy we were to start a new class,” said Nancy.

Arthur nodded at nearly every word.

Nancy continued. “Don't even mention that Jacob seemed nervous. That's not for us to say.”

Savannah looked at them sharply. Did Nancy think that
Jacob
had killed Hugh and her father?

The office door opened and Amanda flounced out. “He wants Arthur Young next.”

“Remember what I told you.” Nancy turned back to her glass cutting.

Arthur knocked over his stool, bumped into the worktable, and made his way into the office. A moment later, he reappeared to close the door on his finger. He let out a whispered yelp, put his finger in his mouth, and closed the door behind him.

Nancy fussed with her materials and tools, constantly glancing back to the office door. The rest of the class pretended to continue with their projects while straining to hear the conversation behind the closed door. When the office door opened, Nancy dropped her pliers onto her square of green glass and it split in two. Oblivious, she hopped off her stool and nearly ran Arthur over in her headlong rush to get into the office.

Arthur stood by the swiftly closed door and turned his head sideways like a puppy. He shrugged his shoulders, displayed a goofy grin, happily returned to his workstation, and sat down on his stool.

After the longest time so far, the door opened quickly and Nancy flounced out of the office, firmly shut the door, walked over to her workstation, and sat on her stool. She huffed expressively and glared around the room so furiously no one dared to speak to her.

Arthur leaned over and whispered something in her ear. She flushed bright red from her throat to the tops of her ears.

Several minutes crawled by in complete silence. No one was talking or even attempting to work, everyone just waited to see what would happen next.

The office door opened and a red-faced Officer Boulli poked his head out. “Um, excuse me. Miss Faith Rosenberg is next. Is she here?”

Faith stood up. “Come on Rachel. Let's go.”

They bustled into the office and backed Officer Boulli right out of the office doorway. The door closed behind Faith.

Savannah almost felt sorry for him, but not quite. On one hand, she wanted the police to investigate. On the other hand, he had been so unpleasant, he deserved the twins' full point-blank arsenal of rehearsed and long practiced style of bickering and expertly delivered misinformation. She smiled.

After what seemed like ten years, the twins emerged with a very satisfied look, chatting conspiratorially. They walked towards their desks, took their seats, and picked up their tools as if nothing had happened.

Officer Boulli again leaned out to call, “Savannah Webb?”

She followed him into the office and he motioned her to sit in the rickety guest chair. After she sat, he plunked himself down in her dad's chair and she grimaced at the probable strain on the hundred-year-old antique, though it had probably endured worse.

Officer Boulli flipped to a new page in his notebook and slowly wrote the date and her name at the top. “Miss Webb, could you describe in your own words what happened yesterday morning?”

Thinking that it was only possible for her to describe things in her own words, she offered, “It was supposed to be the day I handed over the running of Webb's Glass Shop to Hugh Trevor. My dad, John Webb, the owner for more than twenty years, died last week.” She stopped and felt the tears beginning. She grabbed a tissue from her pocket. “Hugh could have handled the whole deal. Buying the shop, staying on top of the paperwork, and calming current customers to ensure a smooth transition. He would have been the new owner. I thought that would be the best way to tie things up here so I could get back to Seattle.”

“I just need to know about the guy who died here.” He wrote down her statement using a unique shorthand that she didn't recognize.

Must be his personal version
.

“That's what I'm telling you. Hugh had been working for my dad for a long time and he was supposed to teach this week's workshop. I couldn't understand why he wasn't already in the shop preparing for the new class. He loved teaching.”

“That's not important. Just start from the discovery.”

Savannah twisted the tissue and realized she was going to have to exercise a massive amount of control to keep from throttling the still sweating Officer Boulli. “Okay. I was teaching in the classroom out there and Jacob needed to get his tools from the custom workshop. It was locked, so he used his shop keys to get inside the workshop and the next thing I heard was that Hugh wouldn't wake up.”

“Why was Mr. Trevor asleep in there?”

“Hugh wasn't asleep. It was Jacob who thought he was asleep. His parents didn't take him to my dad's funeral. Jacob had never seen a dead person.”

“And you have?” Boulli's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Of course I have.” She folded her arms across her chest. “My mother died when I was nine and I just buried my father on Sunday.”

“Oh, that's right.” Officer Boulli shifted in the chair. “Anyway, what happened next?”

“I shouted for Amanda to dial 911 and then I started CPR on Hugh, but it was clear he was gone. I am fully certified to perform CPR.”

“Then the paramedics responded, right?”

“Yes. Once they arrived, we left the custom workshop and waited in the display room.”

He scribbled a few notes. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Trevor alive?”

She dabbed a pinkie in the corner of her eyes. “It was at my dad's funeral on Sunday. He was one of the pallbearers. He left right after the burial.”

“And now describe your movements on where you were from that point until Jacob discovered the body.”

Her heart began to race.
He thinks of me as a suspect? That's insane. Well, maybe not for Officer Boulli.

“I had a small supper buffet at my house following the graveside service until about eight that evening.”

“After that?”

“After that I was alone until I opened the shop on Monday morning.”

“Did Mr. Trevor have any enemies?”

“Not that I know about. He and my dad worked together on classified projects for the government during the cold war, but that was many years ago. It was something that involved the Russians, because he was still interested in any news from there.”

Lots more scribbling, a deliberate turn of a page, and more scribbling. “Thanks. That's all for you. Send in the boy.”

Sitting as tall as she could, Savannah objected. “I'm not comfortable having an almost eighteen-year-old with special needs fending for himself in a formal interview.”

“Your comfort has nothing to do with it.”

“I understand that, but you do understand that his parents are fiercely protective of him and will most certainly file a complaint if you ask Jacob a single question without their presence. I will personally direct them to Detective Parker.”

“There's no reason for that attitude.” Boulli stood.

Savannah stood as well, pleased that she looked down on him from at least six inches above. She folded her arms and gave him her best school teacher look.

He gathered up his notebook and pen. “This is a waste of time. That old man died of a heart attack. But if you think it was murder, then Jacob will have to be interviewed because in my opinion he is the prime suspect,
missy.
”

Savannah shouted, “What? How did you come up with that?”

“He has a set of keys and he discovered the body. Does he have an alibi? I don't know. If not, he's at the top of my list.”

She left the office gritting her teeth.

Boulli stood in the office door. “Jacob. You're the last one.”

Jacob turned around on his work stool, facing the office still holding Suzy. He said in a clear loud voice, “I am not required to answer your questions. I request that my mother be present for any interviews.”

Savannah raised her eyebrows.

“No skin off my nose, young man,” Boulli made a production of writing something in his notebook. “We have plenty of interrogation rooms downtown. I'm sure Detective Parker will be in touch with your parents.”

After that, Officer Boulli spent about two minutes in the custom workroom where Hugh died before walking out the door as if he had a million more important things to do. He didn't even say good-bye, as if the irritating case wasn't worth his notice.

Savannah called Frances Underwood to tell her about what just transpired and how Jacob prevented Officer Boulli from proceeding with an unplanned interview. Being questioned by an annoyed police officer was as far from a good experience for Jacob as it was possible to be. His mother understood the situation, and firmly stated that she was going to insist that their family lawyer be present for all interviews. Smart lady.

When she returned to the classroom, Rachel was holding court, “He had the audacity to ask if I had a relationship with Hugh. Can you imagine?”

“That's not what he asked you,” Faith looked over the top of her glasses and pursed her lips. “He very reasonably asked how long we had known Hugh and if we had keys to the shop.”

Rachel huffed, “I thought he was trying to pin it on me by hinting that it was a crime of passion.”

Faith shook her head and turned to Nancy, “What did he ask you?”

“Not very much—he practically asked me those same questions. He spent more time trying to get his pen to work than actually talking to me. He finally just grabbed one from the desk and wrote with that.”

“He what?” Savannah ran into the office at full tilt. She verified that her dad's favorite wooden pen was missing. It was a gift from one of his first students. He had valued that pen. What does one do when a police officer steals? Jacob's mother will know.

 

 

The afternoon settled down after Savannah gave her overview lecture and she switched to individual instruction based on the issue or skill level of each student. As expected, Arthur and Nancy needed the most help while Amanda and Jacob were essentially completely independent.