“To work,” she snapped. “Remember? I do have a job.”
“As a lot of people have spoken about, if your reputation is anything to go by.”
She frowned. “You want to explain that?”
“No,” he said. “I’ve just been doing a lot of research, and people sing your praises all over town.”
She shrugged. “Good. I put value into my work, and I put my heart and soul and energy into it,” she said briskly, using the same word that he had questioned her about.
“And you still won’t tell me what you went to Dr. Maddy for?”
She stiffened slightly, forced out a smile, and said, “Not more than I did already. It’s personal.”
“If it had anything to do with why Elena was murdered, it definitely is my business.”
“I can tell you clearly that it didn’t. I told you why before. It’s personal. I have no hidden agenda about this.”
“What about Elena’s husband?”
“He passed away. You should check your records,” she said. She took a step, expecting him to move out of the way, but he didn’t. She sighed and said, “Could you please let me go? I’m late.”
“Maybe. I need a list of everybody else who’s worked on the installations with you over the last year.”
Her mouth dropped open slowly. “Oh, shit,” she said. She rubbed the back of her neck, slowly turning her head to release some tension bottled up in the back. “Talk to Anita. She should have that information.” She looked at him with a cold glare. “Did you find out anything new?”
He shook his head. “No, but obviously it’s somebody connected to you.”
“Not necessarily me,” she said. “I was thinking about that. It could just as easily have been connected to the art world. It’s small but not that small.”
He looked at her in surprise.
She shook her head. “Why does that surprise you? Elena’s a model. She needed more work than I could give her.”
“She was rich,” he said bluntly.
She looked at him in surprise. “Elena?” Then she shrugged. “I guess she was. It wasn’t part of our relationship, so it’s not something I think about.”
He nodded. “Do you have no idea how big the estate is that you’re inheriting half of?”
She shook her head. “No. Why would I?”
“Well, because you were friends,” he said, emphasizing the word friends.
It gave her a queasy feeling in her stomach. “Yes, we were friends,” she said slowly. “Not lovers, and we weren’t necessarily the girls’-night-out-to-catch-up kind of friends either. There was a bond between us that went across time and distance.”
On that note, she brushed past him and stepped outside of her gallery and onto the street. She needed her car for this next job, and she was grateful because she really wanted to run away. From him and her thoughts. And especially from that way-too-attractive energy of his.
*
Richard stepped outside and watched her retreat, but it was obvious that she was grateful for an escape. He called out, “Where are you going?”
She turned and frowned at him. “I told you. I have to go to another job.”
“Address?” He made sure his tone of voice gave her no chance to argue.
Her shoulders sagged, but she gave him the address.
He recognized it. Close enough to walk from here, which as he had no wheels right now was perfect. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” There was no doubting the heat in the glare she shot him before she stormed off.
He stood there with a smile on his face, watching her long legs eat up the sidewalk. She was gorgeous, and she was so … alive, and that was something he couldn’t quite get his mind past. Something was just so mobile, so action-oriented about her.
“Do you always stare at her like that?” asked a twentysomething man standing beside Richard.
Richard looked at him, frowned, and asked, “Who are you?”
“One of the backdrop artists who works for her,” he said. “Name is Frankie.” He held out his hand.
Richard reached over and said, “Detective Henderson.”
“Ah,” Frankie said. “You’re barking up the wrong tree if you think she had anything to do with Elena’s murder.”
“And why is that?” He studied the tall, lean man, wondering if maybe this was yet another suspect. Or a possible victim. Because Frankie worked with Cayce, that automatically put him in both categories.
“Because the two of them were inseparable when they were together.”
“And yet they didn’t spend much time together except at work?”
“Some people are like that,” he said. “If you ever saw them together, you’d realize that something between them went well past what words would describe.”
“And yet not lovers.”
“No, not in any possible way,” Frankie said. “Elena was good people. Cayce is even better people,” he said. “I would not be happy if anything happened to her.”
“Well, we’ve discovered somebody else who worked on one of the installations who has also been murdered,” he said. “Have you heard about him?”
“Thorne, yes,” Frankie said with a grimace. “He was a good worker. I’d say that was more copycat than anything.”
“That’s only if you know the details.” He glanced at the back of the room, then looked at Anita’s guilty face.
“I heard the details already,” Anita said. “So Frankie knows them too.”
Richard pinched the bridge of his nose. “I get that you all think this is something to gossip about,” he said, “but we’re really trying to keep the details out of the media.”
“Got it,” Frankie said. “Interesting that Thorne was the next victim though.”
“Aren’t you afraid for yourself?”
Frankie looked at him in surprise. “Why? I’m not a body model, and I haven’t pissed off anybody,” he said. “It’s not my style.” He waved at Anita and said, “Thanks for the check.” Then he looked over at Richard. “Anytime you need to talk to me or to ask questions, feel free. I’ve worked with Cayce for a couple years now.”
“In what capacity?”
“I help her do some structures, set up scaffolding, paint lots of the background stuff with her, for her, generally in
