Sin leaned against the front of the receptionist’s desk, feet crossed, gun belt on, watching as Ashley honed in on her.
“You! For Christ sakes,” Ashley ranted. “What are you going to do now, arrest me for jaywalking?”
“I just happened to be nearby, celebrating a late night with some buddies from the PBSO, when the call came in that your place had been broken into. My friends were tired, so I told them that I would take the call.”
“Bullshit. I’m calling my attorney.” Ashley removed her phone from her purse and started to dial when she happened to look around. Her mouth gaped open, she dropped her phone, and began to hyperventilate. “Oh my god,” she gasped. “What did you do?”
“Me?” Sin said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just arrived a few minutes before you did. You can check with Sergeant Glenn of the Palm Beach Sherriff’s Office if you’d like.”
Ashley stumbled around the gallery looking at and touching all of her ruined paintings. Each one had been sliced and damaged beyond repair.
“It really is a shame, isn’t it,” Sin said. “I mean, there must have been over a million dollars in artwork just in this gallery alone.”
It took a moment, but Sin’s words finally registered in Ashley’s mind. “What do you mean, alone?”
“I received a call from one of the agents working in the Coral Gables area just before you arrived. It seems that whoever did this, did the same thing in your brother’s—sorry, I mean, your store down south.”
Ashley slumped down in a chair, her head in her hands, and looked like she was about to cry. Suddenly, she began to laugh.
Sin sat across from her and waited for the hysterics to end.
Ashley pushed her tangled tresses away from her face and spat as she spoke, “You think you’ve ruined me, well you’re wrong! Everything in here is insured for one hundred and fifty percent of its net worth. You just made me a very wealthy woman.”
Sin wiped the spittle from her face and leaned in towards Ashley. “Want to hear something ironic?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been busy since we’ve last met. You see, this thing about Joel being the real artist was eating at me. I mean, all we had was his word. Right?”
Sin sensed Ashley’s growing frustration, but was in no rush to end this dance. “I called a few people,” Sin continued, “who called a few people and, before you know it, I was able to reach a few people who were able to confirm that Joel Ash, not Miranda Stokler, is the real artist.”
“How—”
“We had three renowned art forgery experts examine Miranda’s work and the paintings that Joel is working on in prison. Each came back with the same opinion. All of the art was painted by Joel.”
“So what?”
“So…it seems that your insurance policy specifically covers Miranda Stokler artwork.” Sin eyed the walls and moved her arms about. “There is no Miranda Stokler artwork in here, or in Miami. All of this art was painted by Joel Ash.” Sin watched as the color drained from Ashley’s face. “Therefore, none of it is insured.”
Ashley’s expression went from one of shock to rage. She lurched at Sin and swung at her with a fist. Sin was ready for it and twisted to her right, causing Ashley to fall forward over the now empty chair. Sin grabbed Ashley’s wrist and cuffed it behind her back. She reached around, caught her other arm, pulled it in an awkward position, heard Ashley issue a yelp of pain, and cuffed both her wrists. When it was all over, Sin spun her around and shoved her down in the chair.
Ashley’s chest was heaving, and her teeth were clamped shut.
“I’ve seen that face before,” Sin said, taking the other seat. “It was the same face I saw on your mother just before a bullet pierced her skull.”
Ashley sat back as best she could, and snorted. “So now you’re going to shoot me?”
Sin pulled one of the revolvers out of her holster, opened the cylinder, and checked to make sure all the chambers were filled with bullets. Spinning the cylinder, with a snap of her wrist Sin closed it and took aim. The wide-eyed look she received was priceless.
“I thought about it,” Sin said, looking down the barrel at Ashley, “but I decided death would be too good for you. In fact, I even thought that jail would be too good for you.” Sin stood up, holstered her gun, and walked around the gallery. “I thought to myself, what would bring real justice to this case? What would be the worst possible outcome for Ashley Stokler?” Turning, she walked back with a smile on her face and retook her seat. “And do you know what I decided?”
“No, but I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.” Ashley still had an air of invincibility to her voice.
“I decided to leave you free. Free and destitute. Not a penny to your name, and with a reputation so corrupt that you won’t be able to get a job even if you beg for it. Do you know how I’m going to accomplish that?”
Ashley was quiet. The invincibility seemed to seep from her eyes.
“Since every penny you’ve made has been on Miranda Stokler paintings, signed by Mommy and certified by you for their authenticity, and since we have now proven all of that to be fraudulent, all of your assets have now been frozen.”
“You can’t do that?”
“Already did,” Sin said. “In fact, by the end of the day you will be absolutely penniless. Even your offshore accounts will be closed.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Everything is possible when you want it bad enough.” Sin stood and looked down on Ashley. “I’m sure that’s what you were thinking when you killed your brother. It wasn’t good enough to have half of everything, was it? You saw an opportunity to have it all, and you took it.”
“He was weak. He didn’t deserve any of it. I’m the one who
