“Right,” she said. “So, pick one for this next job, pick one for the job after that, and see how I like them.” She brought up the folders, quickly flipped through them, pulled out two, and said, “We’ll start with these two.” She called out to Anita. “Here.”
Anita walked in and said, “Did you make a decision?”
“These two,” she said, and she wrote something on a sticky note and stuck it on the top folder. “This is for the ice installation, and this other one will work for next week’s forest scene.”
“Does she look like a wood sprite?” Anita asked with a smile.
“No, but I think I could turn her into one,” Cayce said seriously.
“Do you want to put out the call for more?”
“No,” she said. “I have another one on my screen. I’ll bring her in too.”
“Oh.” Anita looked down at the folders in her hand. “Not one of these?”
Cayce shook her head. “No, this is another one.” But she didn’t elaborate.
Richard watched the byplay and noted Anita’s irritation at not knowing anything about the third model. As soon as she left, he leaned forward and said, “What was that all about?”
“Just a little bit of a problem between Anita and Frankie,” she said with a smile. “Even artists have to deal with other people. It’d be nice if I didn’t, but I do,” she said. She pulled out her phone and called Frankie. As soon as he answered, she said, “Can you come in here for a minute, please?”
Richard sat back and watched and waited. As soon as Frankie walked in, she said, “Tell your friend I want to see her.”
His face lit up with joy. “She’ll be thrilled!”
Cayce looked at her watch and said, “As soon as possible. She probably won’t be for either of the next two jobs, but I would like to see about maybe giving her a try. But I want to see her first.”
“I’m on it,” he said, beaming.
But, at that time, something caught her attention right behind him.
“What’s going on?” Anita asked, poking her nose into the room.
Cayce gave her a look. “I’m having a private conversation.”
Anita looked quite disgruntled, but she backed out. And it gave rise to the first inclination that all was not well in Cayce’s world.
Richard stood, waved at her, and said, “I’ll just do a walk around.”
She nodded and kept on talking to Frankie.
He left her inner office, stepping into the gallery, but, after another step, he stopped, pissed to see at least a dozen people milled around. He didn’t look at Anita before he asked, “What are all these people doing?”
“Could be anything,” she said. “It’s a bloody open-door policy around here.”
Richard nodded and decided to go check that out for himself.
*
He wanted to see the model lineup. To see Cayce’s choices. He knew good ones. Had been around beautiful women all his life. His sister, for example. She’d been a model in her prime time. Unfortunately she had breast cancer, and those beautiful boobs had disappeared, along with the rest of her, forming this wasted landscape of organic material. He couldn’t stand being around her anymore. She was this rotting piece of flesh that just couldn’t seem to die fast enough. She and Elena had been close friends. He knew that Elena and his sister had both been really bothered by his attitude toward his own sister. It really bothered him too. But he could do nothing about it. He thought about trying to preserve her flesh, but he didn’t see what the point was. The light was gone. She was no longer a masterpiece. She was this crippled caricature.
He got up, left his apartment, walked into the big gallery, and perused the huge images that showcased Cayce’s work. He just couldn’t even imagine the kind of money renting this space cost. These people were absolutely fanatical about having that art gallery look.
His heart gave a happy sigh when he wandered through her art on display here. She was incredibly talented. He kept striving for that. It was the one thing he wanted to achieve for himself. But a part of him wondered if he could ever make it. Finally realizing that he’d been all the way around yet again in her gallery, he turned, walking toward the exit.
Somebody else was in the room, studying him. He quickly picked up his pace; by the time he got to the front door, he was almost running. As he bolted down the sidewalk, he then dodged through the traffic, heading across the street to the little magazine stand. His hands were shaking. He stared down at them, swearing under his breath. When a hand reached out, grabbed him by the shoulder, he freaked. And, sure enough, he turned to see the detective standing there. Staring at him.
He bolted. He heard the shout behind him, but he ignored it. No way he would go back in there again, at least not without making sure that this guy wasn’t there. Jesus Christ, where the hell had he come from?
*
Naomi stared in outrage as the models came out one by one. She sat in a coffee shop just fifty feet away and could see clearly what was going on, which just hit her, like a red-hot poker to the skin. How dare that bitch do this to me, she screamed in her head, but outside she smiled a bitter, vengeful smile and whispered, “Bitch, you’ll get yours.”
“Stop,” Derek said, in a soothing tone.
She turned and glared at him. “No, I’m not stopping,” she snapped. “Do you see what she’s doing?”
“No,” he said, “I don’t see what she’s doing.”
“She’s checking out other models,” she snapped.
“Well, of course she is,” he said. “Elena is gone. She has to have new material.”
“I’m the next Elena,” she sneered.
He sat back and looked at her, his long elegant manicured fingers thrumming out a beat on the table. “Obviously not,” he said gently.
“Don’t
