Loving Again(47)
Amanda’s curiosity had gotten the better of her and she was inspecting the piece in the kiln. “If you need more proof that whoever did this doesn’t understand glass, look at this.” She pointed to marks on the surface of the glass. “That looks like fingerprints.” The manager pulled her glasses down from the top of her head, looked carefully at the glass and agreed.
“Fingerprints? You mean the glass shows fingerprints even after it’s fired?” Hartmann asked.
“It can. Don’t know if you could convict someone on the basis of what’s left but it’s clear enough to screw up a project. That’s part of the reason we clean pieces so carefully before we fire them. Whoever put this in here didn’t do that,” Felicia said as she reached to pull at the piece of glass.
“Don’t touch it,” Hartmann said. She pulled out her cell phone. “I’m calling the crime scene guys back to process it as evidence.” Inspecting the glass piece she asked, “How big would you say this sucker is?”
“The shelves measure twenty-six by fifty-two inches,” Felicia said. “How long will it take to get this kiln freed up? One of the techs will have to dig all that glass out of the bricks in the bottom before we can use it again.”
“Sorry, but don’t count on having access to it for a while.” When she finished the phone call, Hartmann turned to Amanda. “Let’s go back to your studio. We need to talk some more.”
• • •
After Danny Hartmann left the studio, Amanda went to the back office and shut the door, telling her studio mates she had to work on the books and asked them not to interrupt. But it wasn’t account books she pulled out of the desk drawer. It was the envelope left by the intruder. This time she carefully read both letters. The one she’d already read was a clear threat. But the other one, a copy of a letter from Tom Webster, seemed to explain why someone was trying to get into her house.
She had to think this through. Figure out what to do. She pulled out her phone to call Sam. He’d know.
Wait. That’s exactly what the first letter said not to do. If she called Sam, she put him in danger. Maybe she could just tell him about the second letter. But how would she explain how she got it? And why she didn’t tell his partner about it.
Until she decided what to do, she’d take them both home and lock them in her desk there. If she hadn’t figured it out by the time the police solved the murders, she’d turn the letters over to them. They wouldn’t be happy but surely they’d understand why she did it. Wouldn’t they?
Funny, last year, she didn’t trust the Police Bureau to detect their way out of a gunnysack. This year, she had to depend on them to find out who this guy was. And fast. Until they did, she had to protect Sam the way he’d protected her. She didn’t know how good she would be at lying to him. It was hard enough keeping what she knew from Danny Hartmann.
It had been a great relief when she realized Sam wasn’t around when she’d been at the precinct. If she’d had to go through that conversation with Detective Hartmann in front of him, she’d have never been able to keep anything secret.
Oh, God, it was last year all over again. The threat from Eubie Kane. Now his murder. Her prints on Leo’s gun. A gun found at the murder scene. Her wrecked studio. She was being set up for something she hadn’t done. And the next step was for no one to believe her and …
No, she wouldn’t go there. She’d just see how it unfolded. Maybe it would be different this time.