Down in Flames

Officer Williams knew Edward well. Not because he was Savannah’s fiancé, but because he was one of Savannah’s principle assistants in the past investigations they had solved with the help of Amanda and Jacob. He usually met with Savannah and the posse right here in his pub. Of late, their meetings were social, as Savannah was not currently acting as a consultant with the police.

“Good morning, Edward.” Joy smiled. “Nothing’s really wrong. It’s all part of the routine associated with a sudden death.”

“Sorry for that. Good morning, Joy.” Edward craned his head around to look back at the door of his large commercial refrigerator. “We’re not open yet.”

“I know. I’m here officially, so I’m Officer Williams. I’m sorry, I know you must feel that I’m intruding. But, Edward. I need to ask you some pointed questions about Nicole.”

He stood completely still for a long second, then took out a gallon carton of half-and-half. “Why would you need more information about Nicole? It was an accident. Have you caught the driver?” He spoke over his shoulder.

Officer Williams drew out her notepad and pen. “There are some curious aspects to this incident. It seems it might not have been an accident.”

Edward motioned for Officer Williams to follow him. “I need some coffee. What will you have? Oh, I remember. It’s a cappuccino.”

They both entered the main dining space and bar. Behind the bar was a white porcelain bust of Queen Elizabeth. Next to that was Edward’s pride and joy: A refurbished espresso machine stood gleaming and ready for action. He dumped some locally roasted Kahwa beans out of an airtight canister, flung them into the grinder, and threw the switch. The noise was deafening. He worked swiftly and smoothly to make her cappuccino and his double espresso.

He pointed to the table in the corner. “Let’s sit over there. We can talk without the whole kitchen hearing us.” He placed the white mugs on a tray, grabbed a plate and piled it up with almond biscotti. “Hey, Samuel. I’ll finish with setting up chairs. Start your prep work. I’ll be back in the kitchen in a few minutes.”

Officer Williams swallowed some coffee, then placed the notepad on the table. She scribbled a few notes. “Edward, I’m so sorry for your loss. Nicole was a friend and I know this is difficult, but you know I need to ask these questions. When was the last time you saw Nicole before the accident?”

“It was immediately before she was hit. She was leaving for the day and I walked into the built-in commercial cooler. It’s loud, so I didn’t hear anything.” He blew on his coffee, then took a small sip followed by a long drink. “By the time I got out to the street, she was unconscious. Then I ran back in here to let the rest of the staff know. I reassigned responsibility for closing up the pub, so by the time I got to the hospital, she was already in surgery.” He reached for a biscotti, opened his mouth as if to take a bite, but put in on his saucer untouched instead. “I didn’t see her again before she died. My last words to her were ‘See you in the morning.’ ”

Samuel poked his head out from around the kitchen door. “Sorry. Mr. Morris, do you want me to stay around to start prepping for dinner?”

“Yes. That would be great.” Edward turned back to Officer Williams. “I’m going to have a difficult time replacing Nicole. She was completely qualified and capable of opening her own restaurant. For some reason, she didn’t want that. She liked overseeing someone else’s. I think it was all the paperwork. Although she did a fair bit of it for me. Maybe it was the responsibility. Anyway, I’m going to miss her.”

“We are all going to miss Nicole.”

“Do you know who might have witnessed the accident?” asked Officer Williams.

“As far as I could tell, only Jacob. I was trying to come up with the next day’s special. I usually try to use whatever is coming close to its sell-by date or whatever I have too much of . . .” He paused and reflected. “I didn’t even hear the ambulances. When Savannah called me the first time, I was still in the walk-in cooler—no reception in there. Her second call went through and I dashed out front. By the time I reached the sidewalk in front of Webb’s Glass Shop, Savannah was in the street with Nicole and Jacob was standing on the sidewalk holding Suzy.”

“Anyone else? What about the shops across the street?”

“That’s certainly possible. I didn’t notice.”

“I’ll have to check with the owners. Who did you notice?”

“I think Amanda was there, but I’m not really sure. Then someone, I think it was just a passerby, called 911.” He looked down into his nearly empty cup.

“That’s right. Then what happened?”

“The ambulances had taken her away within a few minutes after that. A large crowd had gathered by that time, but I didn’t notice who was there. I wasn’t thinking properly from the start.”

“What a shame you didn’t see the vehicle or driver.”

“I wish I could help. All of that was well and done by the time I got out there.”

Officer Williams drained the last of her cappuccino, then scribbled in her notebook for a couple of minutes. She raised her head. “Just one more thing. Did you hear anyone talking about the tires screeching before Nicole was hit?”

Edward tilted his head and looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t think so. It was a circus.”

“What about any sounds of a vehicle peeling away?”

He reached for another biscotti but stopped when he noticed the one untouched on his saucer. “I don’t remember any sounds at all out on the street before Savannah phoned me.”

“Interesting.” Officer Williams frowned, then stood and gave Edward a quick pat on the shoulder. “Tell Savannah I said hi.”

Edward smiled. “I will, thanks.”

She continued canvassing the small businesses in the immediate area. She interviewed the owners of the art supply store, a yoga studio, and a nail salon. No one heard anything before Jacob’s scream and no one saw the car.

The next building offered a possible source of witnesses. The Mustard Seed Inn provided transitional housing to homeless adults who have begun their recovery from alcohol, drug abuse, and/or mental illness. Some of the windows of the three-story former hotel looked out over the street where Nicole was hit.

Officer Williams entered the aged and worn lobby. It was deserted. She walked over to the reception counter and tapped the bell. It echoed loudly in the quiet building.

A minute passed. Officer Williams tapped the bell several times, stronger and louder. Immediately, a small, sandy-haired woman in a tan dress with a flowered work apron came huffing down the hallway. “Hello, Officer. Sorry . . . I was in the back . . . I’m the only one here . . . at this time of day.” She slipped behind the reception counter, still panting. “Sorry . . . my COPD is giving me fits today.” She pulled out an inhaler and administered three shots of its mediation.

“Take your time, ma’am. I’m here to ask a few questions about the hit-and-run that occurred on Monday night in the street in front of this place.”

“Oh, I had already gone for the day.” Her voice was thin and squeaky. “I have the early morning shift here. It’s the quietest shift—other than the third shift, of course.” She glanced at her inhaler. “I don’t like crowds.”

“Who was on duty?”

“Our normal receptionist has the flu, so corporate sent over a substitute.”

Officer Williams raised her eyebrows. “Did you get their name?”

“No, I was on my way out the door. She just said that she was the replacement and I scooted home.”

“Will she be here tonight?”

“No, our regular will be back. He’s been out for over a week, but I heard that he’ll be back today.” She inhaled shakily. “I’m sorry to be so little help.”

“What about the residents? Were any of them looking out their windows and maybe saw something?”

“There was some chatter at breakfast the next morning, but nothing that I would feel comfortable repeating.”

“Fine. Let me have the phone number of your managing organization. A card if you have it.”

“Certainly.” She opened a drawer and gave Officer Williams a pamphlet with a business card stapled to the front. “I keep these for folks who walk in wanting to use our facility.”

Officer Williams handed over one of her cards. “Please call me if anything occurs to you or if one of the residents mentions something.” She left the lobby and shook her head. This was probably a case where Savannah would be more effective than a uniformed police officer. She made a mental note to ask if Savannah could stop by and interview the second shift receptionist and any observant residents. With one more shop to go, Officer Williams was tempted to skip it and report that no one had witnessed the hit-and-run. But her strong desire for justice kicked in and she walked into Buster’s Antiques. If this one interview cracked the case, she would crucify herself for skipping it.

She found the owner in the back of the store behind a huge wooden desk covered in stacks of papers, knickknacks, a full cup of black coffee, and the smaller half of a chocolate croissant. A beautiful black-and-white French bulldog balanced on two scrawny human knees in perfect comfort.

“Good morning. Are you looking for something in particular?” he said without looking up from the tiny laptop teetering on a stack of school exam notebooks.

“Good morning, sir. I’m Officer Williams and I’m investigating the hit-and-run accident that occurred in front of your store yesterday afternoon.”

“So?”

Officer Williams inhaled deeply and stood as tall as she could. He was very tall, or had a very tall chair, as she felt like she was asking a school teacher for a hall pass to use the bathroom.

“So, did you witness the accident?”

“Ah, well now. I was wondering if anyone would ask about that.”

Officer Williams frowned, then drew out her notebook and pen. “Well, I’m here to do that right now. Your name, address, and phone number, please?”

“Keith Gilbert. My store is named after this little French bulldog, Buster.” He scratched the dog’s ears and received a lick on his hand in return. “I’m the owner and I live in the apartment upstairs. So that’s 2536 Central Avenue, St. Petersburg, Florida, 33712. My phone number and address are on this card.” He plucked out a business card from the disorganized mess and handed it to her.

“What did you see?”

“Well, Officer, it’s like this. I was out on the sidewalk sweeping up the trash that the lazy good-for-nothing folks around here can’t be bothered to put in a trash can that’s only five feet away.”

Officer Williams frowned and cleared her throat. “Sir, get to the point.”

“Anyway, I was leaning on my broom, taking a little rest, when I saw a white car speeding down Central Avenue. Folks don’t speed so much down here after the city police set up that speed trap earlier this month. That trap really slowed everyone down—yes, it did. Maybe they should do that again.”

“The accident?” prompted Officer Williams.

“Oh, yeah. The white car plowed right into that lady who runs the Queen’s Head Pub. I heard it—it was an awful sound.”

“Then what?”

“Well, then the idiot just kept on going and I saw the car turn to the right at the end of the block. That’s all I saw.”

“Was there anything noticeable about the white car? A make or model? Maybe a bit of the license plate?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. It was an ordinary small white car, not big like a van or SUV. By that time, young Jacob had started to scream and then his dog added her howling. I didn’t notice anything after that. I went over to see if there was anything I could do to help, but Savannah Webb from the glass shop had it handled.”

Officer Williams made some notes and then looked into Samuel’s eyes. “One more thing. When did you hear the brakes screech?”

“Brakes? I didn’t hear brakes. I heard tires.”