“That email means that your services are not wanted for the next show.”
“So what?” she said with a toss of her head. “When she has a chance to think about it, she’ll realize she needs me.”
Derek said, “I don’t think so. I think she’s moved on. What was spoken between the two of you anyway?”
“I was tired, hungover, and she was taking all day. It was obvious that she shouldn’t have been painting that day in the first place.”
“Well, I do hope you didn’t say anything to her about it,” he said, in a horrified fascination, “because she’s all business. She has installations scheduled with public showings. She has to be here and to do them.”
“Well, her damn hand was shaking,” she sneered. “What difference does it make?” she said, finally noting the horrified look on his face. “Anybody can paint this shit. At a certain point it doesn’t—”
He reached across, grabbed her hand in a surprisingly steely grip, and said, his voice hard, “Stop. You’re heading down that self-destructive path again.”
She pulled her hand free. “Who cares?” she said. “That bitch needs to know exactly what she’ll do for me.” She got to her feet and raced across the road. As soon as she got to the front door of Cayce’s gallery, she slammed it open, only to see poor hapless Anita sitting there. Mousy little Anita. Naomi sneered at her. “If that bitch thinks she’ll be using models other than me, you can sure as hell forget that idea.”
Anita looked at her in surprised shock. “What?”
“You heard me,” she snapped. “I’m the one replacing Elena.”
Anita looked past Naomi.
She turned, expecting to deliver a full-flight explosion on Cayce. Only it was Richard, the detective, staring at her.
In a mild, yet very interested tone of voice, he said, “Yeah, and just how will you do that?”
She immediately put on the brakes. But it was hard. It was damn hard. She took several slow, deep calming breaths. “She owes me,” she said tightly. “That’s my job.”
“What job?”
“The arctic one.”
He shook his head as he said, “Seems to me that Cayce has the right to pick her own models. She already picked one—”
At that, Naomi said with a flick of her hair, “When she picked me.”
“And I also unpicked you,” Cayce said, coming out from the door behind Anita. “I also told you that in my email to you. So why are you here now?” she asked.
Naomi stared at her with such hatred that even Richard stepped closer.
“I think you’ve said enough,” he said.
“I haven’t said anything,” she said with the curl of her lip. “Wait until I tell everybody that your models are dying at the hands of a madman.”
At that, the detective immediately swung her arms around her back and clipped them together with handcuffs.
She spun around on him, her fury so huge that she could feel the spittle coming from the corner of her lips. Humiliation, fury, and frustration boiled out of her as she screamed at them all. “You can’t do anything about this,” she roared. “That job is mine. No way any of those other models are safe. I’ll make sure that they’re not,” she screamed.
Just then the detective clapped a hand over her mouth and said, “Stop it. Now you’ll get to ride down to the station with me.”
And then she stared at them. “Take the handcuffs off.”
“Oh no,” he said. “You can bet I’ll make sure that they all see you like this.”
Chapter 15
Cayce stared in shock as Richard led Naomi from the gallery, outside into his vehicle. And, as he promised, he did march her past the big bay window for everybody to see.
Cayce walked back into her office and sank down again. “Good God.”
Just then Frankie came rushing inside. “What the hell was that?” he cried out.
“Everybody’s worst nightmare,” she said simply. “Naomi in her rage, threatening everyone, including destroying my business, telling everybody that a serial killer is targeting my models.”
His face fell. “She’s just vindictive enough to do it.”
“Yes,” she said, fatigue in her voice, “she would.” She stared down at her desk. “She even said she’d make sure they weren’t safe, which earned her the trip with Detective Henderson. God, what next?” She’d only been here for four hours, and she already wanted to go home. She looked around and realized she really had no reason not to. She straightened and grabbed her purse and said, “I’m heading home after my next meeting.”
He stepped back wordlessly, just watching as she walked past him.
She could see the understanding in his expression, but Anita, on the other hand, said, “Dear God, please don’t let that happen again.”
“Models can be just as obnoxious as artists.” She gave a finger wave and said, “You may want to take the afternoon off.”
“I can’t,” Anita said despondently. “Too much work to be done.”
Cayce couldn’t deal with that either. She just nodded and kept on walking. She stood outside the gallery, taking several deep breaths, not even sure what the hell had just happened. Something was so cringe-worthy about Naomi, which was just another reason why Cayce had chosen not to use the woman in any more of her pieces. But, of course, there was a certain cachet to being one of Cayce’s models, and obviously Naomi had just now figured that out. Which was sad, but, at the same time, what else was Cayce supposed to do about Naomi but fire her? “It is what it is.”
She headed out, not sure what she was supposed to do at this point, but she needed to know that she was free. She turned and walked back home.
This was something she could do.
She walked aimlessly, her mind spinning from Naomi to the guy that she had watched Richard chase across the road, to the poor victims, wondering if maybe she should just shut it all down until the investigation was over.
As she headed across the
