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Chapter One
Savanna Shepherd entered Fancy Tails & Treats backward, carrying three steaming coffees and a white bakery box of frosted cinnamon rolls. Her dog’s leash was looped over a wrist, and papers were sliding out of a folder sandwiched under one arm.
Savanna’s younger sister, Sydney, came around the display counter of the grooming salon, relieving Savanna of the food and coffee and taking everything over to the round red and chrome table in the corner.
“Thank you!” Savanna unclipped Fonzie’s leash and followed Sydney.
“What’s all that?” Sydney nodded at the papers now scattered on the tabletop just as her phone rang. “Wait, let me grab this first.” She zipped through the wide daisy-decorated archway that divided the establishment to her desk, flipping her long, loose red braid over one shoulder.
Savanna took a sip of her caramel macchiato, watching Fonzie dig through the toy basket for his favorite. The shop was strangely quiet, devoid of the usual yipping, barking patrons. Sydney didn’t take customers until nine a.m.
Fancy Tails & Treats doubled as a grooming salon and organic treat shop for Carson’s canine population. Sydney had hit a much-needed niche in their small town’s Main Street businesses; Fancy Tails had been successful from the day she’d opened. On this side of the shop, along with the gourmet treat-filled display case, Syd had created an inviting waiting area for her patrons in front of the windows, complete with overstuffed aqua couch and chair, café table, and mini-fridge stocked with complimentary drinks.
Sydney typed something into her computer, finishing the call, and then joined Savanna. “There’s only a week left of school. Don’t tell me you have all this paperwork?”
“No, though I do have papers at home waiting for me,” Savanna said. As Carson’s elementary art teacher, she still had a lot of grading to finish before summer break. “This is for the Art in the Park festival.”
Sydney clapped her hands together. “Ooh! I’m so excited for that. I’m so glad you won the event for Carson. So.” Syd poked through a few of the papers as Savanna put them in order. “Do you have all the details figured out?”
“I’ve got very little figured out. But with the planning banquet tonight, I arranged to meet with some of the committee this morning in the park to talk about logistics.”
“I can help. Let me know what I can do,” her sister offered. She popped a piece of icing-covered cinnamon roll in her mouth and closed her eyes. “Mmm, so good!”
“I’ll need to circulate tonight and chat with the business owners who haven’t volunteered goods or services yet. Maybe you can help with that?”
“That is a job I’m cut out for. I know everyone.”
“I’m not surprised,” Savanna said, smiling.
The bell over the door jingled and they looked up and Skylar Shepherd entered, out of breath. She tapped the smart watch on her wrist. She wore matching pink and navy workout gear and running shoes, her shiny blond hair pulled back into a short ponytail. Two years older than Savanna, four older than Sydney, Skylar was always perfectly coordinated, whether on a run or in a courtroom trying a case. She joined them at the table.
“You look cute today,” Savanna told her. “I’ve got to go. You’ll be at the banquet tonight, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Where are you running off to?” Skylar waved off the cinnamon roll box Sydney pushed over to her.
Savanna straightened the lightweight black blazer she’d worn today over a bright yellow shell and grabbed her coffee and notes. “I’m meeting a few folks from city council and the state committee in the park; we need to have the festival tables and thoroughfare mapped out before tonight. Can Fonzie stay, Syd?”
Sydney scratched Savanna’s little Boston Terrier behind the ears. “Does it look like he wants to go with you?” He was lying on Sydney’s feet, chewing on a stuffed green lizard.
“Not even a little.” She and Fonzie had returned home to Carson, Michigan, last fall from a decade spent in Chicago, after losing her fiancé and her job on the same day. Starting her life over at thirty wasn’t something she’d planned, but Savanna loved being here with her family as much as Fonzie did.
“Hey, hold on!”
Savanna glanced at her older sister and tapped her phone, checking the time. “Britt’s on their way, early as always. I should go.”
Skylar sighed. “Okay, but I wanted to hear how things went with Aidan yesterday. How was your dinner date?”
“Thank you,” Sydney said to Skylar. “Savanna never tells me things. How was your date with Dr. Gallager?” She drew out his name in a singsong voice, cocking an eyebrow at Savanna.
“I don’t tell you things because you do that,” Savanna said pointedly. “We had to reschedule.” She tried to keep the disappointment out of her tone.
“What? Why?” Syd’s voice carried enough disappointment for both of them. “That stinks.” Her expression was all pout and concern.
“He got stuck in New York. They had a trauma case come in and he had to stay.”
“Until when?” Skylar asked.
“I didn’t want to ask. I mean, we only had a couple of dates before this whole flying-back-and-forth stuff started. He doesn’t owe me any explanations.”
Sydney huffed her breath out in frustration. “He can’t be the only doctor there. He couldn’t tell them no?”
Savanna was slowly backing toward the door. “He feels like he has to help. He says they’re still so shorthanded.” Aidan had called her from the airport yesterday when he’d learned he couldn’t come home yet.
His former employer in New York had tapped him a few months ago and begged him to lend them some time, as the hospital had just lost their chief of cardiothoracic surgery unexpectedly. Aidan had declined an offer to step into the position full-time, not wanting to uproot his seven-year-old daughter, but he’d agreed to help out while they looked for a replacement.
He’d explained to Savanna, over a delicious candlelight dinner at Giuseppe’s in town two months ago, that the hospital, and his mentor and boss specifically, had done a lot for him. He couldn’t let them down. Aidan’s in-laws were more than happy to care for Mollie the two or three days each week he was in New York.
Between Aidan’s absences, his family commitments, lengthened clinic hours when he was home, and Savanna’s own schedule, they’d had limited time to really get to know each other. Savanna cherished the friendship they’d struck up working together to save the town matriarch, Caroline Carson. And she was in no rush to fall into a new relationship, less than a year after Rob had left her to “find himself.”
But she missed Aidan. She sensed he missed her too…he’d sounded disappointed on the phone yesterday.
“Guys,” she said, noting both her sisters’ faces painted with sympathy. “It’s okay. Things will work out, or they won’t. I’m sure we’ll eventually get some time to catch up.”
Sydney’s brows rose. “That’s very chill of you, Savvy.”
She laughed. “Maybe you’re rubbing off on me. I’ve got to go,” she said, halfway through the door now. “I’ll see you both tonight!”
Savanna tried to push Aidan from her mind as she walked the three blocks to the park. She was still a few minutes early. Her friend Britt Nash, a colleague from Savanna’s former life as an art authenticator, would likely be the first person to arrive, but she couldn’t see anyone yet in the large, inviting community park that sat at the end of Main Street.
The park was lush and green now in June, with a decent stand of mature trees at the far end, a gazebo near the town statue at the other, and plenty of room to picnic, play on swings, or toss a ball in the middle. Savanna had always loved relaxing here. On quiet days, it was even possible to hear the waves of Lake Michigan through the trees. The beach was only a short walk down a sandy trail past the park.
As she approached, Savanna noticed something seemed off with the view, but she was still a block away. Her mind ran through her to-do list. She pulled a rough sketch of the park from her folder. The meeting this morning would involve herself, Britt, city councilman John Bellamy, and a liaison from the Art in the Park state committee that had awarded the event to Carson after Savanna’s months of campaigning. She’d been surprised at how much competition she’d been up against, and even more surprised when Carson had finally won.
Today, the four of them were tasked with assessing the space to come up with the best layout for each of the Art in the Park facets: artwork display tents, concessions, live music stage, judges table, and more. Savanna had a rough sketch, but she wanted it firmed up by the time the planning banquet kicked off tonight. Art submissions from all over the state had been coming into Carson’s parks and recreation department, which was really just an extension of Councilman Bellamy’s office. Savanna and John Bellamy had been meeting every Thursday to review submissions, and she’d recently enlisted Britt to help; there were so many aspiring artists in Michigan! The first place winner of Art in the Park would be awarded a nice monetary prize and a handsome scholarship to the prestigious Michigan Art Conservatory, as well as a round of a high-visibility interviews at local and state media outlets.
Now Savanna saw what was wrong with the view. As she walked around the gazebo into the park, she stared up at the twelve-foot-tall statue of Jessamina Carson on her pedestal. Jessamina wasn’t quite twelve feet tall any longer. Savanna gasped, covering her mouth in shock.
Jessamina Carson’s head was missing.
Savanna took an involuntary step back, away from the defaced century-old statue, taking in the scene. What in the world?
The head of the statue lay several yards away on the ground, scattered debris littering the grass between the base of the statue and the eerily severed concrete head. Across the base of the statue, from one side to the other, spanned large red spray-painted words, NEVER CARSON.
Savanna whirled around at a sound behind her, hands up defensively—a reflex, considering what she’d just stumbled onto. Her friend Britt was walking toward her, eyes wide and short white-blond hair making them look paler than Savanna felt.
“What is this? What happened?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea.” She turned in a circle, searching the park for any sign of the person who’d done this. No one. The park was deserted.
Britt looked the statue up and down, gaze coming to rest on the ugly words. “Well, I’d say someone has a problem with your town.”
Savanna nodded in agreement. This made no sense at all. She moved closer to the statue, reaching out and gingerly touching the top of the red C with one finger. “It’s dry. Whoever did this is long gone—look how thick the paint is. I have to call the police.”
She paused, phone in hand. If she called 911, this wouldn’t be considered an emergency. She guessed they’d send someone to check things out whenever they had a chance. But this was a threat. Against Carson. And on the morning of the Art in the Park planning banquet. Ugh. She groaned.
“Savanna?” Britt was looking at her, concerned.
She frowned up at her friend. “Mrs. Kingsley is on her way here now. She’s sure to tell the rest of the committee about this. What if they cancel the whole event? Award it instead to the runner-up?”
“I see your point. But what can we do?”
“We need help. Now,” she said. “I’m calling Detective Jordan.”
“Sure, good idea. Call Detective Jordan. Who is Detective Jordan?”
“I know him through Skylar,” she whispered, phone to her ear. “He handled the case last year at the Carson mansion.”
Nick Jordan finally picked up. “Savanna?”
“Hi, Detective. I’m so sorry to bother you at home. On a weekend,” she added, cringing.
“Don’t worry about it. What’s up?” His voice came through her phone, his tone dry. She never could tell if he was irritated or if this was always just him.
Britt motioned to her, pointing toward the parking area. “John’s here, I’ll go tell him.” They headed toward the councilman just getting out of his car.
Savanna groaned inwardly. John Bellamy was here now, and Mrs. Kingsley would arrive any minute. She had to find a way to redirect attention from the statue. She followed Britt, not keeping up at all with their long-legged stride as she spoke into the phone. “I’m in the park. Someone has vandalized the statue. It’s bad. And the banquet is tonight, to kick things off for the Art in the Park event, and the state committee is coming, and I really think you need to see Jessamina. This wasn’t random. It’s awful. Will you please come?”
She heard Nick Jordan sigh heavily. She supposed he was at home with his wife, enjoying a leisurely Saturday morning. Or maybe she’d woken him up. Savanna had a pang of guilt.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Jordan hung up.
Savanna stared at the phone in her hand before dropping it into her purse. She jogged a little to join the councilman and Britt. Councilman Bellamy wore a suit, as he did every single time she’d ever seen him. It seemed out of place today, a seventy-degree day in the park, but Bellamy had just announced his candidacy for Carson mayor against longtime incumbent Mayor Greenwood. Midterm elections were only three months away. John Bellamy was obviously intent on making good impressions no matter where he went.
“Let’s sit for a moment while we wait for Mrs. Kingsley.” Savanna directed her little group to a row of park benches under a large maple tree. Each bench back bore a colorful ad for a local business or service, something Savanna had just started noticing around town. She chose a pink and yellow bench that declared Let us pamper you, depicting a woman relaxing with cucumber slices over her eyes, for Carson’s day spa. The adjacent few benches advertised Skylar’s law office, a property development company called Better Living, and a fishing charter company, Lake Michigan Expeditions.
John Bellamy stared toward the statue. “Oh, no. What happened?”
“We don’t know. We found her like that. I’d really like to avoid Mrs. Kingsley seeing the vandalism up close, if possible. We need to keep this festival in Carson. I don’t want her to get spooked.”
Bellamy shook his head. “We can’t hide this. Believe me, Carson needs the event. I want everything to proceed as planned as much as you do. But she’s going to see the statue.”
As if on cue, a shiny black Cadillac pulled into the parking space next to Bellamy’s car. A tall, thin woman with enormous dark glasses exited and made her way slowly toward them, picking through the lawn in heels.
“You’re right.” Savanna cleared her throat and fidgeted with a button on her jacket. “We have to address it. It’ll be fine,” she said, more to herself than to the two men. She met Mrs. Kingsley halfway and shook her hand. “I’m Savanna Shepherd, Mrs. Kingsley. I’m so pleased to finally meet you in person.”
The older woman took off her sunglasses and parked them atop her head. “Pleased to meet you, Savanna.” She smiled. “What a lovely setting for the event!” She glanced around, obviously not yet spotting the remains of Jessamina Carson.
Savanna made introductions. “Mrs. Kingsley is the head of the state committee, out of Traverse City,” she told Britt and John Bellamy. “Mrs. Kingsley, this is Carson’s city councilman, John Bellamy, who runs our parks and rec department, and my colleague from the Lansing Museum of Fine Art, Britt Nash. You’ll be happy to hear we’ve gotten hundreds of excellent submissions so far.”
Mrs. Kingsley had spotted the statue at the east end of the park. It was hard to miss, adjacent to the large ribbon-and-light-adorned gazebo that Carson used for all town gatherings.
“My goodness!” She glanced at Savanna and began moving toward the statue.
Savanna matched the woman’s pace, followed by Bellamy and Britt.
“Our town statue went through an unexpected, um, trauma sometime last night or early this morning,” Savanna told her. “We’ve already reported it to the police. I’m sure they’ll find the responsible party. We can begin on the other end of the park,” she said, attempting to steer the woman away from the area.
Even in heels, Mrs. Kingsley had no trouble staying her course. They were now close enough to read those large scrawled bloodred words: NEVER CARSON. “Oh my goodness,” the woman said again, stopping in her tracks. “What happened? Is this about the Art in the Park festival?”
“We aren’t sure,” Savanna admitted, at the same time John Bellamy said, “Of course not.”
Mrs. Kingsley stared at the pair of them, her face painted with skepticism. “It certainly appears to be, with your planning banquet scheduled for this evening.”
“I can see how you’d worry it’s related,” Savanna said. “But I really don’t think so, Mrs. Kingsley. Carson is, as a community, so excited to host the event. It’ll be good for the local businesses, and it’s bringing in a lot of outside interest. Hotel and B&B reservations are way up—right, John?”
The councilman nodded. “Absolutely. And Carson’s finest are right on top of this.” John pointed now to a sheriff’s department patrol car pulling up. “There isn’t anything to be concerned about. I can promise you the city council will coordinate with our police force to make sure of that.”
Nick Jordan and a deputy approached the statue. Mrs. Kingsley was quiet, watching them. She finally turned to Savanna. “I was the swing vote that secured the festival for Carson this year, Savanna. I’ll trust this will be handled, but I do have an obligation to inform the committee.”
Savanna’s stomach lurched. She didn’t want Carson to lose this event. “I understand. Thank you. Please don’t worry.”
“Let’s take a look at the rest of the area,” the older woman suggested.
Savanna handed her folder to Britt. “Councilman Bellamy and my colleague Britt will walk you through our thoughts on the setup,” she said, pleading silently with Britt. They could manage while she had a quick chat with Detective Jordan; he and the young woman in uniform with him were already checking out Jessamina and her disconnected head.
Detective Jordan greeted Savanna when she joined them, and introduced the woman as his forensics tech. The tech placed numbered yellow evidence markers in a series of spots and moved between the debris on the ground and statue, snapping photos.
“What do you think it means?” Savanna asked the detective.
Nick Jordan was great at his job. When Savanna was sure she’d figured out who was trying to kill Caroline Carson last fall, Jordan had actually listened to her, explored the leads she’d uncovered, and had ultimately arrested the person responsible. Savanna’s sharp eye as a former art authenticator, with Sydney and Skylar pitching in and Dr. Gallager working to keep Caroline safe, all helped Jordan close the case. Since then, they’d struck up a friendly acquaintanceship, but Savanna always had trouble reading him; he was a master of the poker face.
“I don’t know what it means,” he said. “It could be a reference to John Bellamy announcing he’s running against Greenwood for mayor. That was a front-page story in yesterday’s paper; it’s possible someone isn’t happy about the news.”
Savanna hadn’t thought of that. But she couldn’t imagine anyone hating Councilman Bellamy so much they’d go to these lengths.
“Or,” Jordan continued, “it could be a protest of your art festival; didn’t you say there’s something going on tonight for that?”
“The planning banquet,” Savanna said.
“Or it could just be teenagers, messing around and causing trouble.”
“This seems kind of…specific. It doesn’t seem like something bored kids would do. I mean, not with the ‘Never Carson’ thing. Right?”
Jordan shrugged. “Nothing surprises me anymore. I’m glad you called me.”
Savanna was surprised. “Really? I wasn’t sure. It isn’t life or death, after all.”
“No, but it’s Jessamina Carson, Everett Carson’s grandmother. She was instrumental in shaping our town, and the legacy Caroline Carson carries on. Jessamina has stood here, untouched, since 1902. This is not okay with me. We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Detective Jordan promised.
End of Excerpt
