Genuine shock registered on Ashley’s face. “Did she, you know…did Miranda kill her?”
Sin shook her head. “No, we were able to get to Miranda in time to save the girl.”
“And Miranda?”
“Dead,” Sin said.
Ashley looked relieved. “Thank god. It’s about time. Twenty years too late, but at least the bitch is dead.”
Sin watched as the gears in Ashley’s head seemed to spin.
“George? What about George?” Ashley demanded.
“That’s one of the things I wanted to talk about.”
Ashley fell back in her chair. “Oh my god, don’t tell me he’s dead.”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
Ashley feigned an expression of shock. “What are you talking about?”
Sin was tired of all the bullshit. “We know you’ve been visiting Joel for a number of years. We have proof that you first visited him five years ago. But the reason, that’s what was bothering me until I did a little research.”
Ashley sat motionless as Sin spoke.
“It’s amazing what information you can find on the internet.” Sin stood and looked around at the walls of Ashley’s office. All decorated in original Miranda Stokler artwork, and all with very high price tags. “One of the things I found was an article in The Southern Artist telling of a cache of original Stokler paintings that you found in an old warehouse owned by your mother.”
“And that makes me guilty of what? Good luck?” Ashley said.
A closed-lip grin rose on Sin’s face. “Here’s what I think happened. I think that business was good, real good, maybe even too good when you and George first opened the galleries.”
“How can business be too good?” Ashley remarked in a flippant tone.
“It’s hard to make money if you run out of stock,” Sin answered. “I noticed from public records and your website that as your mother’s original work depleted in supply, you tried to add other artists who had a similar style to Miranda in order to meet the demand.”
“Big deal, any good business person running a gallery would have done the same thing.”
“But they didn’t sell.” Sin glared at Ashley. “This all very coincidently happened just before you miraculously found a needed supply of original Stokler paintings.”
Ashley opened her mouth to respond, but Sin held up a finger to silence her. “In my crazy imagination, here is what I think happened. In your desperation, you remembered Joel and the special connection he had with Miranda when you were younger. I think you went to visit him—a visit that coincides with the exact time frame you found the new paintings—and asked if he knew if there were any more of your mother’s paintings that you didn’t know about. When he said no, you offered him money. As the offer of money grew in size, Joel told you that he might know of a place where she stored some of her work. He said for you to meet him back at his apartment in a couple of days. When you returned, he handed you eight paintings and you handed him $40,000.” Sin leaned over the desk and snarled at Ashley. “How am I doing so far?”
Ashley didn’t back down, but stared right back. “This is nothing but speculation.”
Sin backed off and softened her gaze. “It would be, if not for the fact that I have Joel on tape stating everything I just said. He also said that you visited him six other times in the last four years. Each time there was an exchange of money for artwork.”
“So what? Not that I’m saying any of this is true, but what if it is? There is nothing illegal about any of it.”
Sin nodded. “Nope, nothing at all. You definitely cheated him on payment considering that you resold those paintings at a starting price of $50,000 a piece, but I suppose you could make a case for that just being good business on your part.
“The problem I have is this: Did you know that Joel was painting the pictures and not Miranda?”
“I had no idea! I found out who the real artist was at exactly the same time as you did.”
“The other problem I have is George,” Sin said.
“What about him? He was a benefactor of the deal I had with Joel. I sold half of what I got to him—”
“For a hefty profit, I’m sure.”
“And he resold them in his gallery for an even bigger profit. What’s your point?”
“My point, Ashley, is that you have lost sight of the situation.”
“What situation?” she yelled.
“Where is George?” Sin yelled back. “You see, during my conversations with Joel, he told me that when you came to visit him a couple of days ago George was still with him in his apartment. Joel said that George was too afraid to leave on his own, fearing that Miranda was still around, and that you told him you would take George home. Joel even mentioned that he let George borrow some of his clothes. The problem is, he never returned home, did he?”
Ashley threw up her arms and walked to the door. “This entire conversation is preposterous,” she said. “Your only proof is the rambling of a psychotic killer. So unless you have actual viable proof, I suggest you leave.”
“Did you know there was a security camera located at the rear door of Joel’s apartment building?”
“That had been disabled years ago.”
Those were the words Sin was waiting to hear. Words that could incriminate Ashley.
She pulled a set of handcuffs from her back pocket, her other hand resting on the pearl-grip of her revolver. “Ashley Stokler, you are under arrest for the kidnapping of George Stokler.”
She had Ashley place her hands behind her back, cuffed her, frisked her, and led her out of the gallery.
72
George’s body never did turn up and Ashley remained a cold-hearted bitch throughout the interrogation. Anthony Freitas turned out to be a damn good defense attorney. Experts could not agree on whom Ashley left Joel’s apartment with and the prosecution had
