Cracked to Death

“This conference room is much nicer than the office at Webb’s Glass Shop.” Jacob walked over to the far end of the conference table and stood behind one of the six worn dining-room chairs Savannah had salvaged for peanuts at the local thrift shop. He was holding Suzy.

“I think so, too.” Savannah looked around the large room. In addition to the long, well-used table, she had found a giant used whiteboard at an office furniture consignment shop, along with a good-sized corkboard for the large wall opposite the bank of windows. Savannah straightened the stack of pictures she had printed from her phone archive and placed them facedown at the head of the table. “We have more room here at the studio. This is going to work out well.”

“Can Suzy have a chair?”

“Absolutely. I didn’t know she liked being on a chair.”

“She doesn’t like it very much, but she’s getting used to not being in my lap quite so much.”

Savannah nodded. He is trying to grow up, but he also knows he needs Suzy’s help.

Jacob placed Suzy in the chair next to him and sat down at the end of the table.

Amanda arrived with a plate of cranberry scones, and Edward followed with a pitcher of iced tea and some plastic cups.

“Iced tea?” Savannah grabbed the first cup Edward poured. “Are you getting acclimated?”

“Sad as it may be.” Edward poured cups for the others and himself. “I’m finding that day after day of ninety-degree heat and ninety-five percent humidity lends itself to a demand for cool beverages.” He smiled. “Yes, I’m slowly turning into a Southerner, but at least it is not the dreaded sweet tea. Not yet.”

He sat down to Savannah’s right, and Amanda sat to her left, leaving Jacob at the end. He grinned and petted Suzy who sat in the chair next to Edward.

After everyone had settled, Savannah cleared her throat. “I’ve called you together to beg for your help with my first official police job. Detective Parker has asked for my help in providing information about the bottles Martin Lane brought into Amanda’s workshop. It also includes the broken bottle that was discovered with his body. This time I’m working as a consultant.”

“That’s new, isn’t it?” Edward mumbled through a bite of scone.

“Yes, and it comes at a perfect time.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jacob.

Savannah pressed her lips together. She shouldn’t be bringing up financial uncertainty with Jacob. He didn’t like change, and moving his work area from the glass shop to the studio had been more than enough. Bringing up the financial strain she felt would cause him even more stress on top of the move. She would avoid the topic with Jacob for now. She turned to look directly at him and lowered her voice. “It’s helpful to have a few extra commissions so soon after opening the studio.”

Savannah addressed the group. “We’re always such a great group when we brainstorm together. I wanted to get it going again. If you’re willing to help me. Are you?”

“Yes, Miss Savannah.” Jacob nodded his head. “My mother says analysis puzzles are excellent therapy for me.”

Edward grabbed the pitcher and poured another glass of iced tea. “Brilliant, Jacob’s spot on. We’re a good team, and if it helps bring in a little cash, even better.” He looked at Jacob and Amanda, and then at Savannah. “So, we’re willing. Now, how can we help?”

“Good. My friend Robin, the one who owns the antique mall and salvages discarded furniture, recommended that I take the bottles downtown, to Dr. Ruth Smithfield, for her expert opinion. I met with her today, and she thinks two of the bottles were manufactured in the late seventeen hundreds in Bristol, England. She’s contacting a glass expert over there to see if he can verify her opinion.”

“Bristol?” Edward perked up. “I have some friends that live near there, in Redland. They might also be helpful if you need local confirmation.”

“I don’t think so, but thanks.” Savannah looked over at Amanda, who was being quiet and very not like Amanda. “What’s wrong, Amanda? Is this because Martin was one of your first students?”

Amanda looked down into her lap and shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I’ve been trying to do too much this week, and now I’m paying the price for it.” She rubbed her eyes and then suppressed a yawn. “Worse, I’m not sleeping terribly well.”

Standing, Savannah reached over and rubbed Amanda’s arm. “Sorry. I hope your mom gets better soon. It is a great worry when someone is chronically ill.” Savannah walked over to the corkboard and plucked out a tack. “Amanda, you had better move to the other side of the table so you don’t get a crick in your neck. That wouldn’t help your sleeping problems at all.”

Amanda sat for a long moment and then sighed deeply. “Thanks.” She moved slowly around the large table and sat between Edward and Suzy. Suzy looked at her from across the table with her sympathetic big brown eyes. Amanda responded with a tiny smile.

Savannah continued. “I think another way to be helpful is to find out more about Martin.” She tacked an eight-by-ten color picture of Martin onto the corkboard. “Since we have this corkboard handy, I want to pin images as we go to help us make connections for more leads. I found this photo on the Internet, from one of his craft shows.” The picture showed Martin behind a table, along with a young woman, selling his artworks to passersby. “This looks like it was taken in stealth by one of his customers at the Saturday Morning Market downtown.”

She then pinned to the corkboard images of each of the three bottles involved. “This first bottle is one of the two that Martin brought to class. It is most likely an original Bristol blue artifact made in the late seventeen hundreds. As I said, I’ve got Dr. Ruth Smithfield tracking down a friend in Bristol. So let’s get these labeled up here.” She stepped over to the whiteboard and grabbed a marker from the shelf. “Let’s label this one Bottle number one.” She wrote that on the first picture, and then on the second picture she wrote “Bottle #2.” “This is the copy bottle that he brought to the class.” On the final picture, she wrote “Bottle #3.” “Last, we have a picture of the bottle that was found with his body. This is the one that Jacob noticed was also a copy.”

“What about trying to figure out where Martin found the bottles?” asked Edward.

Savannah pointed at him. “Great thinking. I think we should start with a few calls to the local salvage ship captains.” She stepped back, with the marker poised in her hand. “Also, I think we need to know a bit more about Martin.”

Jacob raised his hand. “Miss Savannah, I thought Detective Parker wanted you to investigate only the bottles.”

Savannah could feel the flush rising from her neck. “That’s perfectly correct, but Martin brought those bottles in for some reason. I would like to know why, so I’m willing to go the extra mile—or even two.”

“But won’t Detective Parker get annoyed?” Edward raised his eyebrows. “He’s not likely to be tolerant of interference in an active case. You’ve been warned before.”

“I know, I know, but this is only a little stretch. Martin was a student in our workshop, so I have already e-mailed the information from his registration. I won’t be stretching my authority by much.” She took another look at the picture of Martin. “Amanda, I think you can get us a good start on his background. You can look up his address from his application, right?”

Amanda looked up at Savannah with a weary expression. She pressed her lips together tightly. “Yes, of course.”

“I know you’re busy with your mother, but would you mind doing the social media crawl to find out about his connections and how he was selling his creations? You won’t need to go anywhere if you can do that on your smartphone. I think the more we know about his crafting business, the better we’ll look in reporting our findings. Good?”

Amanda nodded.

Edward frowned and placed a hand on Amanda’s shoulder. “If you’re uncomfortable with taking time away from your mother, you’ll have to say it out loud. You know Savannah gets manic when she’s on the hunt.”

“No. It’s not too much trouble.” Amanda’s voice went soft. “I can do this in my sleep. And since I’m not sleeping, this is perfect.”

“What else can we do?” said Edward.

Savannah looked at the group around the table. “I’m going to meet my friend Robin for some catchup, and maybe she’ll have some more ideas about the bottles. I haven’t checked the library yet for books on old glass. When I went to Haslam’s for their used books, their only volume was gone—either it had been sold or it was missing—but there are other used bookstores in town.”

Savannah put her hands on her hips. “I think that’s plenty for now. I want to do a thorough job, but I don’t want to featherbed the task. I’ll let you know when we’ll need to meet again, but for now I think this is fine. Thanks a bunch.”

* * *

Three Birds Tavern was nearly empty after its usual midweek lunch frenzy but before the happy hour crowd arrived. The hostess greeted Savannah by name and led her to a small black wrought-iron table overlooking the patio where the musicians played in the evenings. Savannah had barely managed to order her usual appetizer when Robin approached and flopped down into the opposite chair.

“Hey, girl. I’ve got some great news.” Robin plopped her enormous electric-blue purse on the edge of the table and looked at Savannah with barely suppressed excitement. “Those bottles could actually be part of Gaspar the pirate’s long-lost treasure.”

“What? No way!”

“Absolutely possible. Shush!” Robin covered her mouth when the server brought them a large bowl of hot sweet potato fries, accompanied by a side serving of cinnamon-flavored honey butter.

Robin ordered a glass of pinot grigio and a Caesar salad, while Savannah ordered the house specialty, the Kenz Salad, and a Blue Point Brewing Company Toasted Lager draft.

As soon as the server left, Robin leaned over the table. “I’m dying to tell you about those lovely blue bottles. It’s so exciting.” She leaned back, dipped a fry into the honey butter, and waved it at Savannah. “I’m convinced, absolutely convinced, that they are part of Gaspar’s buried treasure. It’s in the right location.” She gulped down the fry and grabbed a few more.

“But treasure hunters have been searching for it for decades—longer even.”

“I know. Honestly, why do you think that community is called Treasure Island?”

“Yes, yes. I’ve heard the stories since I was a small child. Hang on,” Savannah whispered while their server placed their drinks and salads on the table.

When she started to clear the bowl of fries, Robin waved her hand. “No, way. Leave those lovely beasties right there. They’re delicious.”

“And addictive.” Savannah grabbed one of the last few.

After the server had gone, Robin continued. “I’m telling you, Savannah. This is the big one.”

“But—”

“No, I feel certain that the bottles are from one of his buried treasure sites.”

“Well, I agree that it’s certainly a strong possibility.” Savannah sat back in her chair. “What are the odds that after all these years one of his treasure troves would be found by a starving artist?”

“Apparently, for Martin, the odds were one hundred percent. Luck is luck.”

“But, on the other hand”—Savannah lowered her voice—“it would be a very powerful motive for murder.”