Chapter 22
Thursday afternoon
Savannah drove downtown to Frank Lattimer’s glass shop with a sour feeling of indigestion in her stomach. Although he had been cooperative in the use of his kiln for her emergency firing, his moods were unpredictable. She looked in her rearview mirror at Jacob calmly petting Suzy in the backseat. He had better not upset Jacob.
The parking slots were all taken when she drove by, but they managed to find a two-hour time limited spot a block away.
They went into the shop and Frank waved them over from the doorway to the fusing room. “You’re early. I thought I said not to come by until six. Class will be over by then and you can unload.”
He hadn’t said anything about after six.
Savannah pressed her lips together. “Oh, I misunderstood. That’s why there’s no parking, then.”
“Of course. Come back then. After six.” He looked at her as if she were a simpleton.
Savannah, Jacob, and Suzy returned to the car. “I’m going to go talk to Mr. James Armstrong. Are you good with coming along? Do we need to make a pit stop for Suzy? Or yourself?”
Jacob looked down at Suzy and then at his shoes. “There’s the comfort station downtown. That would be good for both of us.”
Savannah smiled. Jacob was getting more and more independent over time. A couple months ago, he would have suffered in silence and then possibly had an anxiety attack, rather than simply say that he needed a restroom.
The comfort station at the corner of Bayshore Drive and Second Avenue NE was one of the first public restroom buildings in St. Petersburg and it still served beautifully. Built in 1927, it featured an octagonal shape capped with a red tile roof and a copper cupola and finial.
It was a pleasant fifteen-minute drive to the waterfront community of Gulfport. Savannah loved the quirkiness of the community. The City of Gulfport sponsored a First Friday and Third Saturday Art Walk all year. The slogan was “Keep Gulfport Weird,” accompanied by a stylized lizard. That pretty much covered it.
Mr. Armstrong’s condo was on the third floor of one of the gated mid-century condominiums facing the Gulf of Mexico. A short, wizened man with skin that looked like blotted tissue paper opened the aluminum screen door while holding on to a wheeled oxygen tank that provided air through a cannula. He waved them past his galley kitchen and through his sparsely furnished living-dining room to the screened-in balcony that had a ceiling fan cooling at top speed. It barely made a dent in the heat of the afternoon. He settled himself into a well-worn chair and offered them tall glasses of freshly brewed iced tea. He shakily poured the tea from a tray that held a pitcher, ice bucket, and glasses. “What can I do for you?”
“I have some questions about my dad’s apprenticeship program. I understand that you worked with him to establish the program.”
“Yes, that was about three years before I retired. He took over completely after that for a couple years. Then, I think it got too much for him and most of the value of the pilot program had been incorporated into all the high schools so he didn’t need to worry about the day to day anymore.”
“As I said on the phone, I’m interested in a student named Dennis Lansing. He was part of the program in 2004 or 2005. I think that was early in the program.”
“Dennis.” Mr. Armstrong smiled. “He was a character, all right.” The former social worker was silent for a bit. “He was the one they found dead, wasn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you asking?”
Jacob spoke quickly. “She’s investigating his murder. We need to know more about him so that we can find out who killed him. You would have known him well since he was one of the first apprentices in the program. Correct?”
“Yes, young man. That’s right. John and I worked closely with Dennis and his friend Chuck. The program got a rough start. Those two could start trouble just standing next to each other. We finally figured out we had to separate them completely.”
“By Chuck, do you mean Charles King, the politician?”
Mr. Armstrong nodded. “Yes, he started to build his public service career at the local level not long after graduation.”
“Did you have them share a job with Dennis working in the mornings and Chuck working in the afternoons?”
“That’s exactly what we had to do and that worked. Dennis helped out with the classroom instruction and Chuck helped with the business and administrative job at the Art Center downtown. They weren’t together either at work or at school. Separately, they each found their own footing and made great progress. How did you guess?”
“I’ve been analyzing the files for codes and some of the shifts were identified with a.m. and p.m. It was simple. How did the school accommodate for the afternoon shifts?”
Mr. Armstrong offered Jacob and Savannah more iced tea, which she gratefully accepted. She was sweltering. Old people seemed to tolerate the heat.
“We had to arrange for one of the teachers to shift their hours by one class period so that the afternoon apprentices could get enough hours in to qualify as full-time high school students. I remember that one of the teachers volunteered so that she could leave for school a little later in the morning. She didn’t mind the shift in her hours. The school was open for extracurricular clubs and sports practice so it worked out.”
“Did you keep in touch with Dennis after he left the program?”
“I heard about him in the art world from time to time. You know, press releases and publicity events and such.”
“What about his wife? Did you know her?”
Mr. Armstrong frowned for an instant and reached over to check a setting on his oxygen tank. “No, I didn’t know her.”
“May I have some water for Suzy?” said Jacob.
“It’s warm today and she wears a fur coat all the time.”
“Of course. I should have thought of that.” Mr. Armstrong rose slowly from his seat and went into the kitchen, pulling his oxygen trolley after him.
As soon as the screen door snapped shut, Jacob turned to Savannah. “Suzy is fine. I made that up because I wanted to talk to you.”
Savannah smiled. “Clever. What is it?”
“If Mr. Armstrong knew Dennis as well as your dad, why didn’t he get invited to the reception, too? You were there. You should ask him.”
“Great idea. I didn’t think of that.”
Mr. Armstrong brought back a stainless-steel mixing bowl sloshing with water. “Watch out. I’m not as steady as I used to be.” He placed the bowl on the concrete patio in front of Jacob’s chair.
“Thank you.” Jacob placed Suzy on the floor and she lapped delicately.
Savannah leaned forward. “Mr. Armstrong, did Dennis invite you to his Dali Museum reception? I don’t remember seeing you, but it was a large crowd.”
He chuckled. “No, the truth is that John and I disagreed over Dennis. I thought he should have been removed from the program.” His voice weakened to a raspy whisper.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Armstrong,” said Savannah. “I didn’t catch that.”
He gulped in some air. “I’m sorry. I get out of breath easily.” He swallowed and started again. “John and I disagreed over Dennis. I complained to him rather strongly more than once about Dennis’s connections with drugs. In my opinion, he gave Dennis too much attention. He had him apprentice with the glassblowing shop downtown at the Arts Center. I wanted to give that job to Chuck. Instead John gave Chuck an administrative assistant role.”
“And Dennis knew about your opinion?” asked Savannah.
Mr. Armstrong nodded. “It wasn’t a secret.”
Jacob lifted Suzy back onto his lap and stared at the top of her head. “Mr. Armstrong, did you keep records of the students?”
“No, I let John take care of that. He was obsessively careful with their personal information. I was happy to receive his reports. They were full of graphs and pie charts along with a lengthy analysis of progress in improving the high school dropout rate in the city.”
“Did you know of any other members of the gang that Dennis ran around with?” Savannah asked.
“There was one other boy. I can’t remember his name, but I think John placed him in a restaurant. I think he was the only other member of that same gang. We didn’t take them on after that.”
“Why?” said Jacob.
Mr. Armstrong chuckled. “That was where John and I finally found common ground. Since we had struggled so much over those young men, we felt it was better to concentrate on more students with family issues, discrimination problems, or financial hardships. Those students were easier to support and we could make a bigger difference to the community. Those gang members nearly sank the entire program before it had a chance to prove itself.”
“What happened to Chuck?” Jacob asked.
“Chuck is now known as Charles King, our state representative in Tallahassee.”
* * *
Jacob and Savannah returned to Lattimer’s shop. They easily backed into one of the vacant parking spots. Obviously, the shop was empty of students.
They opened the door and Frank was standing in the doorway to the kiln room in Superman pose. “What took so long? I’ve got to get the kiln loaded so that the class projects will be ready for tomorrow’s class.”
“Sorry, Frank. We’re only a few minutes late. We’ll get unloaded and out of your way in a jiffy.”
Without a word, Jacob handed Suzy to Frank. “Hold her while I work.” He turned to Savannah. “I can load the car fast. Just bring me the plates.”
Frank stood statue still with his eyes wide in abject fear. He whispered, “Dogs don’t like me. Take her back.”
Jacob raised the lid to the kiln, lifted the first layer of plates out, and took off for the car. Passing Frank, he said, “She’s a service dog, not a pet. She’s fine. We’ll wash these at our shop.”
Savannah followed Jacob’s lead, grabbed the next layer of plates, and hustled to her car. She waited while Jacob packed the car, then returned for the last layer and finally all the support blocks. In less than ten minutes, the kiln was empty and the car was packed. She and Jacob cleaned the kiln for the upcoming load and washed their hands in the rinsing sink.
“We’re done,” said Savannah to a still frozen, shocked Frank.
Jacob lifted Suzy and smiled. “Thanks for watching Suzy. She likes you.”