Page 12 of The Perfect Poise

They already knew the time because of the surveillance footage, but Jessie understood what Ryan was doing. He wanted to see if Ortega would be forthright. She shook her head.

“The event started at 7:30 and think I lasted about halfway through, but I couldn’t tell you for sure.”

That jibed with the video, which showed her pulling out of the parking lot at 8:21.

“Ms. Ortega, would you like to have a seat for the rest of our conversation?” Ryan asked.

"No, thank you," she said. "As soon as we're done here, I plan to go straight back to bed so anything that prolongs your stay is something I'd like to avoid. Sorry to be so blunt."

“All right then,” Ryan said. “We’re here investigating the murder of Chloe Baptiste. She was killed in the parking lot of your gallery last night.”

Lena Ortega’s eyes widened, showing just how red they were from her long night. She stumbled slightly and looked like she was about to lose her balance. Jessie reached out and grabbed her forearm.

“Steady,” she said quietly.

The woman gulped hard as she looked straight at Jessie.

"Are you sure?" she asked, as so many folks did when confronted with news like this. Part of Jessie continued to be surprised that people would question such a thing. But she understood that it was their way of processing the impossible and, in some cases, hoping to will away the truth.

“We are,” she assured her sadly. “She was positively identified.”

“Jesus,” she whispered. “How did she die?”

“She was stabbed multiple times,” Ryan answered.

“Oh god,” Ortega said, “Laurent is going to be destroyed.”

“We’ve spoken to him,” Jessie told her. “He’s on his way back from Paris now. In the meantime, as difficult as it may be, we need your assistance.”

“How can I help?” she asked weakly.

“We understand that you and Chloe were friends,” Jessie said. “The more we know about who she was and the nature of her relationships, the better chance we have of catching her killer.”

Ortega swallowed hard before responding.

“Okay. What do you want to know?”

Jessie found it incredibly uncomfortable to have to ask these questions standing in the foyer of the house, as the woman they were speaking to looked on the verge of collapse. But Ortega had agreed to answer those questions, a decision she might reverse if she had second thoughts when they switched rooms. So she pressed ahead.

“Let’s start with what Chloe was like,” she said. “We heard that she could be difficult sometimes.”

Ortega took a few steps back so that she could lean against the far wall. She pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger as if trying to squeeze the migraine out of her head manually, sighed deeply, then finally answered.

“First off, you should know that Chloe was a great friend, super loyal. She was a huge supporter of my gallery before she ever met Laurent and became a semi-celebrity. And that didn’t change afterward. She didn’t need to help out some tiny gallery in Larchmont Village, but she did. In fact, she was supposed to join Laurent for that film festival in Paris but delayed going so she could be here for me and my artists. She wanted to bid up several of the pieces to help us out.”

“That does sound very loyal,” Jessie agreed. “So why the bad reputation?”

"Well," Ortega said with a shrug, "she could be tough sometimes. She didn't suffer fools, and she viewed a lot of people as fools. Plus, she was known to play hardball when it came to artists and works."

“What does that mean?” Ryan asked.

“Okay, well sometimes she would wine and dine artists she liked in order to get discounts on pieces.”

“Is that against some rule?” Ryan pressed.

“No, but occasionally what she did before auctions might cross a line,” Ortega said. “For example, she might badmouth her competition, spreading rumors about them so that the artist would be disinclined to show their work at a gallery that was friendly to the competition. Anything to undermine another potential bidder was fair game. She’d do whatever was necessary to get an advantage.”

“How far would she go?” Jessie asked.

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