With that job done, Richard checked again in the bedroom, but nothing else was here. Taking a few photographs, he headed back to the station. What he wanted to do was check with the artist and see if she knew who were these other five people in the will, and he wanted to have a talk with her about how she ended up being the main beneficiary.
He walked back to his vehicle with one final look at the loft standing prestigiously alone in the setting sun. He shook his head. “That’s a crapload of money for a body model.”
Chapter 5
Cayce stood back from the same large installation where she’d been working on the design for the last couple days. The background was about 85 percent there. Frankie’s work was improving as he helped her install the backdrops and did an initial layer of painting.
Anita walked in and said, “You haven’t taken a break, have you?”
Cayce looked over at her, smiled, and said, “You know what I’m like when I get in the zone.”
“You also booked your schedule way too tight,” she said. “And you’re getting stressed out.”
“Nothing to do with the painting though,” Cayce said with a sad smile. “I can’t stop thinking about Elena.”
“I know. Do you think what we’re hearing about souls and stuff was real?”
“No,” she said instantly. Of course some of it was, but she wasn’t in for a long-drawn-out conversation with someone who didn’t understand.
“Remember that weird guy who came to one of the shows a few months back, saying you shouldn’t be painting the models like that?”
“Yeah, but he was a whack job,” she said defensively. “A panhandler wanting the free food. Security got him handled pretty quickly.” The fact that this guy had been weirdly right on also bothered her.
“He said something about you stealing their souls.”
“And yet what I was doing was trying to enhance their bodies,” Cayce said with a smile. “How could I be stealing souls?” She smiled at her assistant. “It’s words from a nutcase.”
“I don’t know. It freaked me out.”
“But he said a lot of stuff,” she said. “We can’t let everything anybody says freak us out.”
Anita nodded, turning her attention to the painting. “You’re really talented,” she said in amazement, as she stared at the massive wall. “I couldn’t even begin to paint something like that on a small scale, and here you are doing these massive walls.”
“It’s not just me though.” She pointed to several laborers, who were doing the backdrop for her.
“I know they do a lot too, but, jeez, look at this.”
“Starting to look really good, isn’t it?”
“It really is.” She shook her head. “Good thing this installation isn’t for at least six months.”
“We were talking about two years maybe.”
Anita looked at her in delight.
She gave her a small smile. “See? Sometimes it does work out.”
“It’s not the models at all, is it?” Anita noted.
“Not really, no. Only for opening night,” she said absentmindedly. “It’s just what I’m known for.”
“Still though—”
“Still,” she said with a nod, “just because I lost Elena doesn’t mean I stop doing what makes me feel good.”
“Does what that guy said ever bother you?”
“No, not really. He was kind of weird.”
“Did you tell the police about him? They should probably know.”
Cayce was about to tell her not to worry about it, when a man spoke from behind them.
“Tell the police about what?”
Her shoulders sagged as she recognized Detective Henderson’s voice. The fact that she could already see his form in front of her as soon as their energy connected was yet another weird and wonderful fact of the way her mind worked. It wasn’t just her mind; it was her energy that reached out to these things that, to her, were incredible art objects that she desperately wanted to paint. With a heavy sigh, she turned to face the detective. “Good evening.”
He nodded, his gaze on the painting. “It’s come a long way since I saw it last.”
“When was that? This morning?” she asked in a caustic tone.
He turned slowly to look at her. “A lot has happened since then.”
Immediately hope surged. “Did you find Elena’s killer?”
“No,” he said quickly.
Her hopes dashed, she nodded mutely and turned back to the painting. He’d come for more questions, obviously, and that was something she didn’t really want to deal with. “I’m behind schedule,” she said, “so, if you have any questions, please direct them to my assistant.” She looked toward Anita, but her assistant was backing away, her hands up, as if to say, Don’t include me in this conversation.
“Well, I would,” he said, “but she can’t answer these.”
“Fine. What’s the question?” She turned to look up at him, surprised to find that he was taller than she remembered.
“Did you know that you were in Elena’s will?”
She felt a jolt to her heart, then sadness and tears. “That’s so like Elena,” she whispered.
“And how is that?”
“Elena felt that I was the reason she ended up doing so well as a model,” she said. “Plus we’ve been friends forever. She’s in my will too.” And that reminder depressed her.
“Did your work really put her on the map as a model?”
She shrugged. “In many ways, yes. So, if I’m in the will, I’m sure it’s just a token thank-you.”
“How about
