Page 9 of The Perfect Poise

“Nothing jumps out,” Jamil conceded, “but I’m only two-thirds through his holdings. I think that I might have more success looking at things through the lens of Chloe’s accounts. Maybe they’re less labyrinthian. I’ll dive into those when I get a chance.”

“Well,” Beth spoke up, “I’ve been going through some seemingly less complicated material.”

“What’s that?” Ryan asked.

“I’m reviewing a list of former staffers for the couple,” she explained, “seeing who was let go and if there were any grievances filed. I’m even checking the gossip magazines to see who might have had a beef with Chloe. From what I’ve uncovered so far, once she married Laurent and became a big deal, she proved to be…an alienating personality.”

“That was diplomatic,” Jessie noted. “Find any good beefs?”

“Mostly just anonymous quotes describing her outlandish exploits,” Beth answered. “But nothing rises to the level that might lead someone to murder.”

“Well, keep checking,” Ryan instructed. “Sometimes what seems like nothing to us can be the thing that sets an unstable person off.”

“What about Lena Ortega, the gallery owner?” Jessie asked. “Did you ever hear back from her?”

“No,” Beth said. “I stopped trying to contact her after you said she might have gone to bed because of her migraine. Should I start calling again?”

“No,” Jessie said, turning to Ryan. “I think that should be our first stop this morning. Maybe Ortega saw an interaction last night that could prove useful. Or maybe she left the gallery for reasons other than a headache.”

“You don’t think it’s too early?” Ryan asked, looking at the time.

“I guess we could get some breakfast first,” Jessie said, “but I don’t want to wait too long. With the night I had, I’m worried there might be a migraine in my future.”

As soon as she saw the worried expression on Ryan’s face, she regretted saying it. It had only been a few months since she’d had brain surgery to deal with the effects of multiple concussions. She’d been doing well ever since, but it was still a source of concern for both of them.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I was just kidding.”

He nodded silently, though she could tell he was still a bit spooked. They left the Research department and were heading down the hall when Karen Bray rounded the corner with Detective Susannah Valentine beside her.

“You’re here early,” Jessie noted.

Karen nodded in exhausted agreement.

“Apparently the son of some big time movie executive died of an overdose last night,” she said. “The detectives assigned to the case think it was an accident, but the film exec is insisting it was foul play. Chief Decker asked Captain Parker to have HSS take a second look and since you guys are on this Baptiste thing, we got the call.”

Beside Karen, Susannah looked disgusted. The detective, a voluptuous 29-year-old brunette with a sharp mind and a propensity to let her temper get the better of her, wasn’t wearing one of her standard body-hugging outfits.

“What are you so upset about?” Ryan asked, deciding not to tease Susannah about her more conservative attire for fear it might not be well-received this morning.

“Let’s just say that my night out with Drake lasted well into the morning and I wasn’t as well-rested as I might like when I got the call to come in.”

Drake was Drake Breem, a 41-year-old police sergeant in Manhattan Beach, a beach community where Jessie and Susannah worked a case over Labor Day weekend four months ago. Breem was assigned to help them. Susannah, who had been burned in the romance department, had taken a liking to the deeply tanned, weathered and wiry surfer cop with shaggy gray hair. But it was only at Jessie’s prodding that she’d agreed to meet the guy for a drink. They’d been seeing each other ever since and apparently spending evenings together that bled into the morning.

“You know,” Jessie teased, unable to hold back any longer, “when you use phrases like ‘let’s just say,’ people assume you’re going to be cryptic, but then you go and overshare.”

“What can I say? I’m happy,” Susannah replied unapologetically.

After years of getting leered at by seemingly every male member of the LAPD, Jessie was glad to see the often edgy, combative detective enjoy herself a little with an older guy who didn’t seem so caught up in her physical attributes. Instead of giving Susannah more of a hard time, she turned her attention to Karen.

“Everything go okay after we left the restaurant?” she asked.

“Sure, until we got home,” Karen said. “Turns out Calvin bit the babysitter when she tried to make him go to sleep. She locked him in the bedroom until we got back.”

“Jeez,” Ryan muttered under breath.

"I know," Karen said. "It was bad. He broke the skin and really left a mark. Mickey ended up taking her to urgent care to get it looked at, and I spent half the night trying to get Calvin to stop crying."

“Because he felt bad?” Jessie asked.

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