Behind the Frame Page 5

  The hour flew by. The students were still chatty but seemed calmer when she returned them to Ms. Jenson; she hoped she’d helped them expend a little of that pent-up energy.

  She was walking down the sidewalk outside school, on her way to Fancy Tails to meet her sisters for lunch, when Aidan’s car pulled into the drop-off circle. He spotted her and turned around, pulling up alongside her.

  “Twice in two days!” She smiled at him through the window of his SUV.

  “I’m on my way to the airport, but I was coming to check you out first,” he said.

  Savanna raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

  “Oh, no,” he said with a sheepish grin. “That’s not what I meant. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I heard you passed out.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” she said. “I did not. Who told you that?”

  “One of the paramedics in the E.R. this morning. What happened?”

  She sighed. “You heard about the councilman, I take it? I shouldn’t have gone inside the house. I just wasn’t expecting— Detective Jordan picked up the murder weapon, and it kind of freaked me out. I only stopped by to bring John the forms from the banquet. And then, when I saw him on the floor, I thought at first maybe he’d fallen or something. I can’t believe he’s dead.”

  “It sounds awful.” Aidan frowned. “I’m sorry you were the one to find him.”

  She came over and rested her elbows on the edge of the open passenger window. “I’m fine. Someone was exaggerating. I’m grabbing a quick lunch with my sisters—would you like to come? When does your flight leave?”

  “Two hours,” he said, looking genuinely disappointed. “With the drive to Lansing, there’s no time.” His phone rang over Bluetooth, and he glanced at the dash. The call screen read simply Finn. He tapped the red button to send the call to voicemail.

  Savanna must’ve looked curious when he met her eyes again.

  “My brother,” he explained. “I’ll call him back. He’s been talking about coming for a visit.”

  “Oh! That’s so exciting!” Savanna figured losing their parents as young teens must’ve made Aidan and his brother close, although it didn’t seem as though they saw each other often. Finn was a med flight paramedic. He worked temporary assignments all over the country.

  He nodded. “I miss him.”

  “Do you know when he’s coming?”

  “No. It might not even happen. He’s tough to pin down.”

  “I’d love to meet him,” Savanna said, smiling at Aidan.

  “He’d like you.” He returned her smile, but there were twin frown lines between his eyebrows, lending him a conflicted look. “He’s a little…different. You’ll have to keep that in mind. If he comes.”

  Savanna tipped her head. “Different how?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Forget I said that. Finn’s great—everyone loves him. I’ll call him on the way to the airport and see if he actually has a plan this time.”

  She nodded. She was sort of dying to meet Aidan’s brother. Aidan, as Carson’s favorite family physician, had known her whole entire family for years before he’d even met Savanna.

  “I should go,” he said, adjusting his seatbelt, and Savanna caught just a glimpse of blue-and-purple polka dot suspenders under his serious dark suit. “I’m using up your whole lunch break. But I’ll see you Friday. Right?”

  “Friday for sure. Safe flight, Aidan.” It was something she said almost weekly to her mom, and to any of her people about to catch a plane. Was Aidan her people?

  “Thank you, Savanna.”

  A ridiculous little thrill shot up her spine. She loved the way he said her name.

  She spent the rest of the five-minute walk to Fancy Tails replaying the conversation in her mind. She’d never worked up the nerve to ask him what the deal was with his odd accessories. Sometimes it was outrageous suspenders, sometimes rainbow-colored socks. It was rarely an article of clothing as visible as a tie. Unless you happened to be looking at the right moment, Aidan’s look was impeccably professional and classic.

  And she was so excited at the idea of meeting his brother. She really hoped Finn came to visit, for Aidan’s sake.

  Skylar and Sydney were already seated at the red-and-chrome table in the corner when Savanna pushed through the door to the grooming salon. She flipped the St. Bernard sign on the glass door to the side that read: Never trust a dog to watch your food! We don’t! Closed for lunch. Crossing to the shop side of the space, she noticed rows of delicious-looking mini-cupcakes sitting on top of the long display counter that held Sydney’s homemade gourmet pet treats. Each one was decorated with a different-colored icing flower.

  “Ooh, these look good! Dessert?” She picked one up.

  “Only if your coat’s been dull and lifeless lately. Or you’re dog-tired and need a pick-me-up,” Sydney deadpanned.

  “I should know better.” Savanna joined them at the table. Skylar had supplied lunch today: turkey club wraps and Mary Ann’s sodas from the deli next to her office. “I’m sorry I’m late. I’m starving!”

  “Tell us what happened last night,” Skylar demanded. “You were there when the councilman was murdered? You didn’t think maybe you should’ve let one of us know you were okay?”

  “What? Who told you that? I wasn’t there, I just found him afterward.” Savanna shook her head at her older sister. “Wait a second. Are you feeling better? Travis said you were pretty sick yesterday.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Savanna scrutinized her. She did look fine. If anything, she looked better than fine. Her cheeks seemed pinker than usual. New makeup, maybe? “So it was just a bug?”

  “I guess so. Now tell us what happened. My paralegal was in the coffee shop this morning, and he overheard that the whole Carson Village police department was at Bellamy’s house last night. The barista told him a Shepherd sister interrupted the murder, but not soon enough to save the councilman. What on earth happened?”

  “I took the pineapple cake over to John’s, along with the banquet paperwork. He knew I was coming. I’d just spoken to him yesterday afternoon. But he didn’t answer the front door, and then when I peeked inside, I saw him lying on the floor.”

  Sydney gasped, gripping Savanna’s arm across the table. “Oh my gosh. How awful! Was he already dead? Did you see the killer at all? Like, fleeing?”

  Savanna shook her head. “No. Sheesh, this town. I only saw part of John’s leg, on the floor with his shoe falling off. I called 911 and ran around to the back to see if I could get in and help him. But he locks his doors—who does that in Carson?”

  “And then Jordan and the paramedics showed up? They probably had to break the door down. I’m sure he called for backup once he saw John had been murdered,” Skylar said, ticking off the details.

  “Yes. Pretty much everyone was there. Plus all the neighbors. No one seemed to have heard or seen a thing. I feel so terrible for John—nobody deserves to die like that.” She thought of something. “His poor family. I assume he has family? Does he have anyone in Carson?”

  “Just Mia,” Sydney answered. “His ex-wife. Oh, and I think there was a brother who lived out of state. John’s been here forever, though. I really thought everyone in town liked him…this is so strange.”

  Savanna had stopped listening at “ex-wife.” “Mia who?”

  “You know, Mia. Mitten Inn Mia? She’s in Mom’s euchre group. I’ve seen her at the house. Mia James.”

  “Oh, right,” Skylar agreed. “Mia James. They’ve been divorced since—” She looked at the ceiling, calculating. “I’m not exactly sure. A long time. One of the partners in my firm was handling Mitten Inn’s lease paperwork when I first came on, and Bellamy’s name had to be taken off the contract. Something with so many years of alimony and the financ
ials.”

  Savanna frowned. “I guess I didn’t realize they were ever married. She reverted back to her maiden name, then?”

  “Must have,” Sydney said. “I wonder if they’ve told her about John yet.”

  “I don’t know.” Savanna sighed. “The whole thing is awful. And I’m a horrible person for even thinking about this, but I’m not sure now what to do about Art in the Park.”

  “What do you mean?” Sydney polished off the last bite of her sandwich and reached for another chip.

  “He was my planning partner. And he was taking care of the permit and zoning stuff for the week of the festival. Ugh!” She scowled. “And all the art submissions are still at his house, where we were going through them—there was no room in his township office for everything. Some artists actually sent full-sized copies of their work. Do you think Detective Jordan will give me access so I can collect the submissions? I’ll have to get Britt’s help. We were supposed to finish the acceptance notifications this week. This week, only the craziest week of the year at school.” She groaned, resting her forehead on her palms.

  “Hey.” Skylar elbowed her. “It’s going to be fine. You have us. We can help.”

  Sydney came around the table and gave her a sideways hug. “We’ll help, and Britt will be more than happy to pitch in, and it’ll work out. We promise.”

  “Thank you. Hopefully, John already took care of the permit stuff.” She felt selfish even worrying about it. Poor John.

  “Do you want me to email the planning director and check?” Skylar asked. “We play golf sometimes—I don’t mind asking him.”

  “Yes, that’d be great.”

  “Give me a job too,” Sydney said, straightening up.

  Savanna bit her lip, thinking. “I will. Let me think about it. And I’ll call Britt today. After I make my statement at the police station. I told Detective Jordan I’d come in after work.”

  “Does he have any idea who could’ve done it?” Sydney sat back down.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. He seemed confident they had enough evidence to figure it out—they have the murder weapon. And they know whoever it was came in and left through the door to the basement. Maybe they’ll find fingerprints or something.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” Skylar said.

  “It made me wonder though,” Savanna said. “What if there’s a connection to the statue? What if smashing Jessamina was some kind of warning?”

  Skylar sat back in her chair. “I never thought of that.”

  “I thought that was just kids?” Sydney frowned. “What was spray-painted, again, Savvy? Carson something?”

  “Never Carson.” The statue had been power-washed Saturday right after Detective Jordan and his forensics tech had finished with the scene. Poor Jessamina was still headless, but the huge red words were gone.

  “It’s a little vague,” Skylar said.

  “You’re right,” Savanna agreed. “It probably doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Well,” Sydney said, “you’ll be talking to Detective Jordan today. See what he thinks.”

  “I’ll try. He isn’t the best at letting me in on his theories. And he’ll probably think it’s dumb, the idea that what happened to Jessamina is connected to the councilman.”

  “Don’t let that stop you,” Skylar advised, beginning to gather up the papers and empty containers on the table. “He comes off a little gruff, but he knows you have a sharp eye.”

  Savanna checked the clock over the display counter—shaped like a beagle with moving eyes and tail. “Oh boy, I’ve got to run.” She helped Skylar scoop up the rest of their lunch debris and deposited it in the garbage can by the display case, and then bent to give Fonzie a quick hug and ear scratch. “Can I pick him up after I stop by the police station today?” She looked up at Sydney, who was pulling her smock back on to prepare for the next customer.

  “Sure. I’m teaching a class for Kate later.” Sydney gathered her long red hair into a messy bun on top of her head and nodded toward the yoga studio across Main Street. “But my assistant will be here to close up.”

  “Perfect. Tell Willow I’ll be here by five.”

  Sydney handed Savanna a bright orange-flowered cupcake to give Fonzie. “Here, he’s my best taste-tester.”

  The little Boston terrier gobbled it in one bite. He’d adjusted quickly to life in Carson. She was so grateful Sydney allowed him to be the Fancy Tails greeter. He was well occupied when Savanna was away during the day.

  The thought cheered her as she walked back to work. When she rounded the corner at the end of Main Street and the school came into sight, she checked her watch. She’d made good time; she needn’t have rushed.

  “Savanna!”

  She turned to find Jack Carson jogging to catch up with her. “Where are you coming from?” she asked. She hadn’t seen him near the shops as she walked.

  “Grandmother’s,” he said, breathing hard and slowing down to match her stride. Jack wore his standard khakis and a light-blue button-down with pens and a pair of glasses poking out the top of the chest pocket. “I wanted to bring her some photos of the progress in the theatre. She says she remembers when it first opened, back in 1962. The very first movie shown was a black-and-white Alfred Hitchcock—can you believe that?”

  “Wow! That’s so cool. I’ll incorporate some of the theatre’s early classics into the mural. Oh!” She stopped walking and stared at him.

  “What?”

  “That’s what you should do! Your inaugural movie at Carson Theatre should be a classic Hitchcock. To pay homage to the theatre’s history. Ask Caroline if she remembers which movie played, and show that one on opening day.”

  “Great idea! I’ll ask her. I’ve got plenty of time to track it down.” Jack smiled at her. “So…she wanted me to make sure you’re okay. She told me about John Bellamy; she heard you’re the one who found him. She’s worried about you.”

  Savanna wasn’t surprised Jack had only just now learned about Bellamy’s murder, from his grandmother. He typically avoided the teacher’s lounge gossip. “She is so sweet. Tell her I’m okay. Or I can tell her myself this week—Sydney and I owe her a visit. I just can’t believe John’s gone. And like that.” She shuddered.

  “It must’ve been awful.”

  She nodded. “I can’t imagine why this happened. I’ve only recently gotten to know him, but everyone seemed to like him.”

  “Not everyone.” They were at the front entrance to the school now, and he pulled the door open for her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he was a politician. I mean, sure, small town, but it’s still politics. There was no love lost between him and Mayor Greenwood. John was pretty vocal about his platform and beliefs. You lose friends that way.”

  They stopped outside the door to Jack’s library. He had a point. “Of course there was a rivalry between John and the Mayor,” she said. “John was hoping to take his office. But, again, that’s politics. Just business. And we both know Roger Greenwood. What I saw last night was…personal. Maybe John rubbed a few people the wrong way, but there’s no way what happened to him was over politics.”

  Chapter Six

  Savanna went over every detail with Detective Jordan. After explaining it all to her sisters and Aidan, she couldn’t wait for her part in the awful discovery to be over. But Detective Jordan was good; he asked astute questions.

  “What made you look in through the window?”

  “He knew I was coming. It didn’t make sense that he wouldn’t be home.”

  “When you went around to the back door, did you hear anything?”

  “No, nothing.”

  “Think hard. No rustling, door creaking, no sounds at all?”

  “I…don’t…think so.”

  “Why did you step into the foyer during our
investigation?” he asked.

  “I wanted to get away from the neighbors.”

  “What exactly were you looking for?”

  Savanna looked at him blankly. “I wasn’t looking for anything. I wanted to get away from the neighbors,” she repeated.

  “Officer Marsh said you were snooping around.”

  “I was not!” She was indignant. “I just stood in the foyer! I think I…I was trying to find somewhere to look that wasn’t directly at John. Or what I could see of John.”

  “How many times have you been in Bellamy’s house?”

  “A few. My colleague and I were going through all the art submissions with John. We had a few more days’ worth of work to do still. I’d been at his house three or four times, I guess. Not counting Sunday night.”

  “What parts of his house have you seen?”

  “The downstairs, mainly. The front rooms, kitchen, dining room, bathroom.”

  “So you were familiar with the main floor. To your knowledge, was anything missing, anything out of place last night?”

  “I only saw the foyer and his office. You know that. And no. And by the way, Detective Jordan, your interrogation style could use some work.”

  Nick Jordan sat back, surprise painting his features. “What? You’re not being interrogated, Savanna.”

  “You bark question after question, without giving a thought to the actual person sitting in this chair.” Savanna patted the armrests of her chair. “Did you ever stop to think you might get more elaborate answers if you didn’t make the person feel immediately guilty? Even if they aren’t?”

  He was very still, focused on her, his expression unreadable. “No.”

  “Well, you should.” She set her jaw and stared back at him.

  He folded his hands in front of him, elbows resting on the desk. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”