Page 73 of Evidence of Deceit

It was getting late, and Roman would be in shortly. She needed a plan.

Roman came racingin in late afternoon. He had called earlier to tell her that he was running late. Several customers wanted to purchase paintings, and they didn’t have a break until he closed the shop.

He turned the open sign around and looked over at her.

“Hillary, come into my office. I want to speak with you.”

Hillary looked up. Game on.

She smiled and said, “Is everything okay?”

He shook his head and walked into his office and sat down. Hillary picked up a pen and pad and walked into his office. Closed the door.

“What’s going on? Can I help in any way?” she asked, putting an innocent look on her face.

Roman looked at her for a moment. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Then he opened his middle desk drawer, took out the report and placed it on his desk.

“It’s come to my attention that you”—he cleared his throat—“lied on your application.”

“Lied?” Hillary clenched her teeth. She felt her face flush, and she wondered how long she could keep the pretense up and her anger down.

“Yes, lied.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, when I was away, I met the owner of the gallery you stated on your application that you worked for. He’d never heard of you. I then checked with a friend who is a private detective, and he informed me that a fake license could be had for just $350 and fake references for a fee also. Then I had him check out your license number, and your caris registered in New York under a different name. It was easy after that to fill in your personal history. You haven’t had any experience working in an art gallery. You were just a secretary in a law firm.” He glared at her. “Shall I go on?”

Secretary?Secretary.Damn it. She had been Keith’s administrative assistant with more authority than anyone knew. That was the problem with people. She would always be a secretary, never anything more.

“I can explain.”

He shook his head, placed his hands on his desk. “You could, but quite frankly, I don’t care to hear it. I’m in a sensitive business with lots of money on the line. My clients deserve discretion, and your lying tells me you are not the person I want to work in my gallery. You’re fired. Get your things, and don’t come back.”

Hillary sat back. Getting fired was not unexpected. But if Roman thought she would quietly leave and not come back, he was sadly mistaken. She also couldn’t have him confessing anything to Claire. He wouldn’t be ruining her plans.

“Goodbye, Hillary.” He stood up and turned his back to her and walked over to look out his window. Dismissed her like she was nothing. Not happening.

Without too much thought, Hillary picked up the silver driftwood sculpture sitting on his desk. The sculpture Roman particularly liked. She quietly walked up behind him, swung the sculpture high and connected with his head. Then hit him again and again, just for good measure.

Chapter Forty-One

Claire arrived later at the gallery the next morning than she expected. She’d been sidetracked by a sunrise. This morning, the sun had been nestled in purple-gray clouds with hints of salmon. The contrast between that and the deep grayish-blue ocean was picture-worthy. She’d brought her coffee to the patio along with her sketch pad and tried to capture the serenity, wishing she had the day off, but a big show was coming up, and she and Hillary had a lot of work to do.

She wondered how Joe was doing. He had an out-of-town job and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow; she missed him. Things were going well in their relationship. He was a generous lover and a good friend, albeit a tad bossy. She snorted. A tad bossy? Make that very bossy but in a good way. He was always in protection mode. She had to laugh when he caught himself being over-the-top bossy and would just glare at her when she called him out on it.

Sighing, she got up. Work was waiting. It took her about twenty minutes to get to the gallery. A cop car cut off her entrance to the parking lot. She parked on the streetand walked to the back lot where they parked. Cops were milling around, blue and white lights flashed, a reporter was getting statements, and people stood there covering their mouths. What the heck had happened? It was a safe neighborhood. Well, except for those two jerks who had attacked her and Joe, there had never been any trouble.

She saw Hillary sniffling in a corner and raced over.

“Oh, my goodness, Hillary, what happened?”

“Ro—” She burst into tears.

“Ro? Roman? What happened to him? Oh, my God. What happened to Roman?” Bile gurgled in her stomach.

“I don’t know. I arrived here about fifteen minutes ago. When I parked, I noticed his car was here. I know he wasn’t due in until later.” Hillary sobbed harder.

Claire handed her a tissue and patted her back.

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