Page 64 of Passions in Death
“We need to find out who has any of her work. I know Angie Decker does. She’s not hurting for cash—unless I didn’t find that in her financials. There’s art in the vic’s place she shared with Shauna. I don’t see Shauna in this, but it’s worth a look. Lopez posed for her, bound to have a piece or two. Stillwater told us he had a couple. And so did Wanda Rogan. And there were a hell of a lot of canvases in that studio—with crappy security. Someone could walk in, take their pick.
“This is an angle.” And she felt the boost from it. “Maybe money after all. Or sex and money—always a top combo.”
“I have a great deal of affection for both myself.”
She gave him a “Ha! That’s no secret. You may have reached your quota of sex already today, since that busty server eye-fucked you twice.”
“And yet, I don’t feel satisfied.”
“You could’ve had a free lap dance with a redhead.”
“And yet,” he said again, “here I am, having pizza with my lanky brunette.”
“If redheads are redheads,” she wondered, “why aren’t people with brown hair brownheads? Why brunettes?”
He lifted his wineglass. “A question for the ages.”
“People with blond hair are blonds, with an e on the end if female for some stupid reason. You got black hair, they say black-haired. Who decided to make up a whole new word for brown hair?”
“I believe it’s French.”
“Should’ve figured.” She shrugged it off. “Anyway. I don’t get the lap dance thing. Paying somebody to sit on your lap and rub crotches. You can’t put hands on her—gotta pay more in a privacy room there if the club has a license for it. You just sit there with your pants on while she grinds and rocks on you. So if you get off, you get off in your pants, and that’s gotta be a damn mess.”
Roarke took another slice of pizza. “Who else has such fascinating discussions over wine and pizza? I’ll say I’m in general agreement re the worth of the lap dance, but to each their own.”
“Whatever.” She shrugged again, ate. “Lopez? She was born with those tits. Too much movement for otherwise.”
Roarke eyed her over the slice. “Interesting comment. If I agree I might be accused of paying too much attention to those tits.”
“Ace, if you weren’t paying attention to that set, you’re not the man I married.”
“I’m very much the man you married.”
Laughing, she took a bite of pizza.
Traffic—street and pedestrian—had calmed, at least some, by the time Roarke drove uptown. Eve used the time to update Peabody.
Lopez goes on the list. Full report to follow, but she’s angry, a hard-ass, and had plenty of time on Monday to collect the case, swipes, etc. My sense is she had stronger feelings for the victim than she admits, and more dislike for Hunnicut than she let show.
New angle: Dead artist = steeper prices for paintings. Who gets the paintings in the gallery, in the studio, elsewhere? Who already owns her paintings? Who among those might have money issues we haven’t uncovered?
No will, so next of kin? But there are several pieces we saw in the shared apartment. So possession to Shauna there. Gallery might have some sort of contract. Need to find out.
Contact Frost, find out what you can on that. If we need more, we bring her in tomorrow. Delay that. We’ll go to the gallery tomorrow. Meanwhile, double verify her travel, in case.
I’m going to want a list of who bought or was gifted any of her work. Let’s play the angle out.
“It could go toward revenge, too,” Eve said when she finished the text. “She tossed me aside, or she’s the reason Shauna tossed her aside, I not only get rid of that bitch, I cash in on it. What does a struggling young artist give pals for birthdays, Christmas, all the damn gift-required shit we worship in our society?”
“A drawing, a painting, and likely something that has some meaning to the recipient.”
“That’s what I say. The amount of profit probably doesn’t matter nearly as much as the satisfaction.”
“And how do those just outside the tribe acquire them?”
“Maybe they buy. In Stillwater’s case, he got to be friends with the victim, too—and he said he bought a couple. He stayed connected. Same with Barney, and he’s added the Becca link to it. Rierdon? I’ll find out.”
“I’ve no doubt,” he agreed, and drove through the gates.
