Page 122 of Passions in Death
“But you’ll price the paintings you exhibit and sell?”
“Yes, that’s my job.”
“What about the paintings they keep?”
“I’ll appraise them if they want, for insurance, or simply to have a record. They haven’t asked about that.”
“Has anyone else?”
“No.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’d like me to let you know if anyone does.”
“Yes.”
“Then I will. If money was the reason, I hope you not only find them, catch them, but they live a long, miserable life in prison.”
“When we find them, catch them, I expect they will. Thanks for your help.”
They walked outside, headed for the car.
“It’s not money,” Eve said. “Maybe, maybe the killer realizes that’s a handy side benefit, but it’s not money.”
“Money’s not personal, and this was.”
“This was, and is. But making some money off the dead artist? A sweet bonus.”
When they reached the car, Eve slid behind the wheel. “We’ll head over to the memorial.”
“It’s a little early.”
“Yeah. This way we can watch people as they come in.”
Eve couldn’t claim to have a fondness for memorials, but God knew she’d been to more than her share.
The facility was quiet, dignified with its muted colors and subtly flower-scented air. Some light spilled through windows, but even that spilled subtly thanks to filters and privacy screens.
The second-floor room contrasted with the subtle, the muted, with vases and urns of boldly colored flowers, with more strewn on a long table of photographs of the memorialized. From childhood, Eve noted, to the end of her life.
On the other side of the room, another long table held finger foods, coffee, tea, more flowers.
What Eve assumed was a self-portrait stood on an easel at the front of the wide room. On the other side of a standing display of flowers stood another easel with an enlarged photo of Erin and Shauna, pressed cheek to cheek as they smiled out.
They hadn’t arrived too early for all, Eve noted. She recognized Erin’s family, and Shauna’s, gathered together near that front display.
Shauna, wearing a severe black suit, her bright hair pulled back just as severely, stood with them. When she saw Eve and Peabody, she laid a hand on a woman’s—Erin’s mother’s—arm, then stepped away to cross to them.
If she’d looked exhausted on the ’link screen earlier, now she looked nearly gray with fatigue. She’d done her best with makeup, but it showed through.
“Thank you for coming. I don’t suppose you have anything to tell me.”
“Not yet.”
Shauna just nodded, looked around as if she’d forgotten where she stood. “Erin loved flowers. She liked vivid colors. We picked these for our wedding.”
“They’re lovely,” Peabody said in her gentle way.
“We wanted what she’d want.” She glanced up as music came on, soft but with a steady beat. And smiled a little. “No dirges for Erin. She liked vivid music, too. Would you come speak to her family, and mine?”
“Of course.”
