Pane and Suffering (4 page)

She stowed the cleaner back in the storage cupboard in the office and returned to the custom workshop, staring at the large double-sized worktable. She lifted the corner of the sheet of white cotton that completely covered the large panel.

She hesitated.
Why didn't he tell me about this?

She pulled the sheet completely away from the project. It was the central panel of
The Last Supper
. It was nearly complete, but Jesus had no face.

Chapter 3

 

L
eaning over the large stained glass panel, Savannah reached up and switched on the overhead work lamp. Its beam focused on Christ's missing face.

After folding the sheet into a tidy square to store under the table, she found several smaller areas in the panel that were missing, as well. From the look of it, the pieces were areas of the panel that were hand painted, then fired repeatedly in a kiln to achieve a three-dimensional illustration effect.

She leaned down to peer at the craftsmanship and admired the clean lines of the design, the perfect color choices. She ran her finger down the soldered joins that held the glass pieces together. Their velvety smoothness was the hallmark of a true craftsman. It was a stunning work of art. “There must be more written down somewhere. Dad was meticulous about documenting the progress of an important work.”

Savannah went back to the desk and repeated her search through each drawer and storage space, sorting, filing, and straightening as she went. Nothing.

Where could the paperwork be? Why isn't it here with his other project notebooks? Is this another secret?
She pushed back the chair and studied the desk. If he were going to hide something, where would it be?

She pulled out one of the two small drawers nestled in the cubbyhole section and emptied its contents onto the desk. The underside of the drawer was clean and there was no sign of a compartment inside the cavity. She tidied the contents as she was putting them back, then dumped the contents of the second drawer onto the desk.

A small brown envelope had been taped to the underside of the second drawer. There was something small inside. She removed the tape and turned the envelope over. A cold chill zipped down her spine. Her dad's spiky writing scrawled across the front.

She dropped the envelope like a hot potato and stood up.
He's been murdered!
Her hands were shaking, but she clasped them together and tried to think clearly.
I should call the police—that officer that came today.

In her front pocket, Savannah found the card that the police officer had given her that morning. The name on the card jumped out. “He said to call.” She dialed the number, listened to the directions, and punched in the extension number.

“Officer Boulli.”

“Hello, my name is Savannah Webb. I met you this morning at the glass shop in the Grand Central District. We had a man who had died in our workshop. You said I could call you if I had any questions.”

“Yeah, I remember the EMTs were saying that he died of a heart attack, right?”

“Yes, but I've found something in my dad's office that might change that.”

“Found what?”

“I found an envelope from my dad. The writing on the outside said he had been murdered and that I was in danger.” Savannah knew she was making a terrible impression, but she couldn't calm her nervous voice into behaving like a rational adult.

“An envelope?”

“Well, so far. I haven't opened it just in case you wanted it as evidence. I'm reporting this to make sure that you know that Hugh's death might not be a heart attack. My dad's death might not be a heart attack, either.” Hearing the shrill shake in her voice, she swallowed and took a short breath. “My dad used to work for the government and I think he found some information that got him killed.”

“Wow, little lady. That's a huge leap. So, you think that because your dad left you a note, we should open a murder investigation?”

Savannah reacted as if freezing water had been thrown in her face.
Little lady?
“My father was a senior cryptographer specializing in cold war ciphers and surveillance. There must be some basis behind his suspicions. I don't know why else he would have tried to warn me.” She stood up and began to pace as far as the phone cord would permit.

“I think you've got your Nancy Drew imagination working overtime. I don't think you've got any reason to feel threatened.” The officer sounded bored and annoyed.

She formed a fist and waved it at the phone. “Is there anyone else I can talk to?”

“Whoa. No need to get snippy. I'll report this up the chain and see what happens . . . but I seriously think you need to dial back your imagination and just accept that old guys die of heart attacks.”

“I'm not imagining this. There's an actual envelope in my hands! Doesn't that warrant an investigation?”

“We'll get back to you if we have any questions.” A solid
click
was followed by the dial tone.

Savannah replaced the phone handset.
Dad, I tried. I really tried
.

After plopping back into the chair, frustrated with her trembling fingers, she picked up the small brown envelope, turned it over, and pried open the brass clasp on the back. She drew out a thin tan Moleskine notebook. The cover was neatly labeled THE LAST SUPPER—SPLENDOR.

Savannah had been holding her breath. Exhaling in a short huff, she drew in a calming breath then opened the notebook.

She felt a familiar fury. He was playing yet another code game.
Why can't he play it straight and just tell me what I need to know? What is wrong with that?
She clapped her hand to cover her open mouth.

Savannah cleared a space on the desk by taking the piles of paper and making neat stacks off to the side.
Ugh!
She frowned as she shuffled and sorted
. At least I don't see late notices in the piles.
She pulled out a lined tablet and grabbed a pencil.

At the jangle of the front door, she dropped the pencil and held her head in both hands.
Now what?

A low professional voice called from the front. “Miss Webb? Hello. Are you here, Miss Savannah Webb?”

She took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together. A quick glance in the mirror over the sink confirmed that she looked reasonably neat and not at all frantic. She walked to the front of the shop to find Jacob standing outside in front of the door with a smartly suited woman at his side holding the door open.

“Hello, Savannah. I'm Frances Underwood. I thought it was time for us to meet. Especially after Jacob's alarming experience this morning.” She held out her hand.

Savannah was surprised at the firmness of the grip. “Oh, you're the judge. Hi. It's nice to finally meet you, as well. I've heard a lot about Jacob from my dad. He believed that working in glass would be helpful for his . . .” She looked over to Jacob.

“His Asperger's? We don't mince words around his condition. Jacob is an expert about his syndrome and is comfortable hearing it discussed. John explained what positive effects a creative art might have on Jacob's behavior, and I've noticed an increase in his self-calming abilities. I will do anything you need to make sure that he can continue studying here.” She looked up at her son and a tiny smile wavered on her perfectly glossed lips.

Savannah followed her glance to Jacob.

He held his head down, looking at a small beagle on a bright red leash wearing a blue service animal pack with a pocket on the side. He shifted his feet from side to side. “This is Suzy. She's my service animal.” He looked over to his mom. “I think the service she is providing is peace of mind for Mom. I have a severe form of asthma and Suzy has my asthma inhaler in her pack, so she'll stay with me all the time.”

Savannah bent down. “Got it, Jacob. Suzy is absolutely adorable.” She presented the back of her hand to Suzy for sniffing and scratched the little dog behind the ears. “Mrs. Underwood, I'm not sure this is a good idea. We're not set up for a service dog.”

“Please call me Frances. We were lucky that Suzy was available earlier than we planned. Jacob is nervous because I've insisted that she must be with him at all times and that if you aren't able to accommodate her, he will not be able to return to his glass studies.”

Jacob continued to focus his gaze on Suzy. “You said I could return to be apprentice, but I can't work by myself.” He patted Suzy, then lifted his eyes to look at one of Savannah's earrings. “I am just starting and there is more to learn.”

Resisting the impulse to hug him, Savannah replied, “I'm not going to work on the Last Supper panel for a while, but more important, we have to find somewhere for Suzy to stay. She can't walk on the floor because there might be glass shards. Pick her up and follow me.”

Jacob took Suzy into his arms and his fidgeting stopped immediately. He calmly stepped into the display room and waited patiently for his mother to enter and for Savannah to close the front door.

Savannah raised her eyebrows in appreciation of Suzy's immediate calming influence. “I will make this work. I'll do whatever it takes.”

“That's just what I was expecting to hear from John's daughter.” Frances glanced at her understated Rolex and pulled a set of keys from her bag, “Thank you, but I can't come in. I'm due in juvenile court for a hearing in just under half an hour.” She shook Savannah's hand once more. “Thanks for helping Jacob through this.” She blew a kiss to Jacob. “I'll see you at dinner.”

Shaking her head slowly, Savannah led Jacob and Suzy back to the office and pulled some old T-shirt rags out of a basket. “Let's put these down here by the back door. Will she stay here?”

Jacob gently placed Suzy on the pile and extended a hand, palm out. “Suzy, stay.”

Suzy circled twice, then lay down in a sphinx pose looking at Jacob with her head tilted and eyes alert.

He looked to Savannah. “Is that good?”

“That's perfect. Every time you come to the shop, this will be Suzy's place.”

He nodded solemnly, then glanced sideways at the desk, noticing the open notebook with the scrawled scrambled letters. “The offset is thirteen.”

“What did you say?”

He pointed to the nonsense letters. “That's a Caesar cipher. To solve the code, you write out the cipher alphabet as a plain alphabet rotated by thirteen positions.”

“How do you know that?”

Jacob looked over at Suzy. “Mr. Webb liked to work puzzles and he showed them to me. He said because I notice things, I was a cipher wizard.”

Rubbing the furrows that had exploded between her eyes, she grabbed the pencil and sat at the desk. “That makes perfect sense. My lucky number is thirteen.”

Pointing to the brown envelope laying next to the notebook, Jacob frowned. “That's from Mr. Webb.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Why would he say that he was murdered? He never lied. This is bad for you. Very bad.” He started breathing rapidly and looked over to Suzy.

Savannah nearly told him not to worry, but felt that would be wrong for him. Only the exact and precise truth would mean anything to him. Otherwise, he would never trust her. “It's definitely a message from Mr. Webb.”

“It's a warning.”

“Jacob, I don't know what he meant by leaving this cypher. I think if I solve this it will tell me what Mr. Webb wants me to know. It may be nothing but a game. Remember, he liked to play code games.”

Jacob looked at Suzy again and his breathing returned to normal. “Can I help?”

Savannah grinned. “You know, I think that was the plan.”

Below the coded message, she wrote out the alphabet in one continuous line. Then she wrote an
N
under the
A
, an
O
under the
B
, a
P
under the
C
and continued until each letter had a letter beneath it. “This is good, Jacob. Each letter is accounted for.”

Jacob looked at Suzy and started shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Savannah put a new letter under each one in the message as she referred to the key. She propped her chin in her palm and studied the result.

Jacob piped up. “The spaces are not in the right places.”

“Okay. Let's have them make sense.” Savannah regrouped them to reveal her dad's intended message.

“This makes no sense at all.”

“You made a mistake. The code letter
P
means
C
.” Jacob took the pencil from her hand and changed her decoded letter
B
in
BACHED
to a
C
. “Now, it is correct.”

“The next? Oh, he must mean the next clue. So, this is going to be a Dan Brown's
The Da Vinci Code
adventure?” She read it aloud. “The next is cached in our first.”

Jacob walked over to Suzy. “Can I hold her? I won't let her feet touch the floor.”

“Yes, of course.” Savannah's head was still bent over the translation.

He picked up Suzy. She licked his chin and his manner magically transformed from nervous little fidgets to standing perfectly calm and composed. “First what?”

She stared at the cipher. “First cache.”