“Well, it’s walking distance almost.” He pointed in that direction. “Or do you want me to drop you off?”
Richard turned and looked that way, saying, “Go on. I’ll walk.” He started in that direction. He didn’t really want to piss on her day any more than he had already, but they were well past the point of being polite. He would just rip her world apart until they found out who was killing the people in it.
*
He should have known they would find the body so fast. It was disappointing in a way because, if it had been any other body, they wouldn’t have. He could have dumped it any place, and nobody would have given a shit. But because it was his body, they were all over it. Not that he was concerned about the police, but he was concerned about not having enough time to solve the problem currently vexing him.
He turned to look at the new sample that he had stretched out. The hair was an interesting quandary. He hadn’t really thought about it, until he started cutting. A rookie mistake. Cayce never would have made it. He was green compared to her.
He wasn’t even sure what the hell he was doing with this canvas right now, but it fascinated him. He ran his hand over the hair and smiled. It was still soft.
He expected it to go hard and bristly. But then, why would it? It did appear to be slightly longer though, and that concerned him, until he’d looked online and realized that it wasn’t so much that the hair was longer but that the skin had shrunk back in, and the hair follicles were out more. And, as he worked on the backside with the softening moisturizer that he was putting on both sides, it pushed the hair out farther and farther.
How would paint look on it?
Instinctively he knew he should have stuck with females. But something had been really appealing about the young man, and having spent the night with him, the opportunity had presented itself, and he couldn’t refuse. His young lover had no idea how his night would end. He’d hoped, and he’d certainly worked the angles enough that his lover had gotten what he wanted, and lots of it, so he certainly didn’t feel bad about taking a young life after giving him such a pleasurable evening.
He heard something in the other room. “I’m coming, Mom. Hold on. I need just another minute to finish this.”
Damn, she needed him, but that need was pissing him off.
Another sound came again from the next room.
He turned to face the door, then groaned as he returned to his creation.
The fact remained that this was not the morning-after that young Thorne had hoped for. But it also alerted him to the fact that he had allowed his own personal issues to interfere or to get in the way of what he should have been doing. If it was business, it should be just business. If it was pleasure, it should be just pleasure. Now having crossed that line, he had to make sure he had alibis set up so he wouldn’t be on any suspect list, at least not for long.
He looked at the canvas in front of him and reached for the moisturizer once again. He had tried several different kinds of treatments for the underside, but, so far, the oil seemed to be preserving it the best. The moisturizer on the top and different oils on the bottom were a good mix. He had tried a lot of oils, from coconut to olive to walnut even. He’d gone to a tannery supply house and gotten an odd mix as well. Because he hadn’t been such a fool as to get it from the tannery house in person, he’d ordered it online. Have to love that. Everything was available for a price, and, in today’s world, that price was too damn cheap.
*
“How did it go last night?”
“It went wonderfully. Of course it went wonderfully,” she snapped. She groaned, cradled her head, and said, “Sorry. I appear to be a little more hungover than I thought I’d be.”
“I thought alcohol was something you weren’t supposed to have,” Derek said.
She glared at him. “Really? You’ll lecture me?”
He just shrugged. They were sitting inside a coffee shop. He was eating breakfast; she was having coffee.
“On the other hand, the installation was a wonderful success,” she said. “I was brilliant.”
“I did show up, but I didn’t stay for long,” he added apologetically.
She shrugged.
“You probably couldn’t have given me any more connections than I made for myself anyway.”
“And I suppose you came with him too.” She knew that the bitchy side of her was coming out more because of the alcohol and her lack of sleep and a little bit of disappointment because she had really planned on going home with somebody last night. Instead she’d ended up alone. Like how did that happen? She never slept alone, if she didn’t want to. But then she’d been a little too drunk, too upset, with too many choices. Maybe she hadn’t made a decision fast enough and had lost the two who were on the hook.
She shrugged, looked over at the toast, picked up a piece, and took a bite. But the melted butter on the top made her stomach curdle and her throat gag. She hurriedly threw down the toast, reached for her coffee, swallowing the thick black brew several times, forcing down the butter and toast.
“That bad?” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
She glared at him. “Yeah, that bad.”
“When is your next job?” he asked, as he worked away on his crab omelet.
He was the only person she knew who ate seafood with eggs. The thought just made her sicker, but he loved the good life, and he had the money to afford it. She, on the other hand, didn’t, and it pissed her off. “I think I have another one next week, but
