Cracked to Death Read Online Free Page B

experience, Savannah knew he was uncomfortable about something, or else he wouldn’t have picked Suzy up.
    She inhaled a deep breath and released it. “Let’s try this again. I want the exact truth this time. Were there any issues when you arrived at the studio this morning?”
    He looked down at his adorable dog. “It was Suzy. Suzy was not comfortable when we got out of Mom’s car.”
    â€œI don’t understand, Jacob. How did she behave?”
    A long moment passed in silence; then he put Suzy down on the floor. Savannah was patient. She knew Jacob had something to tell her, something he found embarrassing, since there was a rosy flush around his collar that was slowly creeping up to his chin. She knew that Jacob needed to arrange the words just right. Rushing him would not help.
    â€œThere was a man.”
    â€œOkay. Where was he?”
    Jacob looked down at his feet and then apparently made up his mind that showing her was better than telling her. He picked up Suzy again and left the workshop. Savannah scrambled to follow them. He walked to the front door and pointed to the corner of the warehouse closest to the street. “He was there. He was—”
    â€œJacob, tell me. I won’t be mad. I promise.”
    â€œHe was going to the bathroom on our new studio.”
    Savannah’s shoulders dropped, and she released a tight breath of relief. She suppressed her grin and controlled her voice. “Yes, that was wrong, but there are many people who don’t have homes. You didn’t say anything, did you?”
    Jacob shook his head. “It was disgusting, but at least he didn’t pee on my side of the studio.” He went back inside to his workshop.
    She shook her head slowly. Jacob had been a key contributor in her investigations. His razor-sharp observation skills had been useful in her detective adventures. That kind of attention to detail gave him the potential to grow into an amazing stained glass restoration expert.
    Savannah walked out of the studio and over to the corner of the building that Jacob had pointed to. Sure enough, her nose and eyes were assaulted by direct evidence of recent urination. The scraggly bushes hugging the foundation provided enough cover to shelter a behavior she wanted to discourage. She turned at the sound of a motorcycle pulling into the gravel parking lot.
    She walked over to stand by the lovingly restored Indian motorcycle and waited until the driver had removed his helmet. She held his face and kissed him and enjoyed the bright look in his eyes. “Did you bring scones?”
    Edward Morris laughed. Laughter came easy these days. As his British fusion pub, Queen’s Head, had begun to gain traction as a Grand Central District favorite restaurant, he had become more relaxed and more confident in a financially secure future.
    Savannah realized that Edward was becoming a significant part of her new life in St. Petersburg. He had been at her side through the puzzling and life-threatening investigation of her father’s murder, and he continued to support her efforts to fill her dad’s shoes as an influential leader in the community. She felt more and more certain that their close friendship was moving to another level.
    â€œHungry, as usual, I see.” He dismounted with a practiced grace and was a bare two inches taller than Savannah’s six feet. He unsnapped one of the leather-fringed saddlebags on his motorcycle and pulled out a brown paper bag, which he handed over. “Have you made coffee?”
    â€œNot yet. I just got here. Amanda was a little nervous teaching her first class.”
    Edward fastened his helmet to the cream and tan motorcycle. “She’s a natural teacher. She’ll be fine. What were you looking at over by the street?”
    â€œI’ve got to have those bushes cleared away. Apparently, my warehouse is the local outdoor relief station.”
    â€œWell, if you Americans