Smash Cut (12 page)
Authors: Sandra Brown
Tags: #Legal, #Suspense, #Fiction, #General, #Georgia, #Thrillers, #Rich people, #Atlanta (Ga.), #Trials (Murder), #Legal stories, #Rich People - Georgia
Ariel Williams let herself into her house, glad that this day was almost over. She bolted the door behind her, locking out the world, happy for the sanctuary of home, where she was free to indulge her depression. Although she missed her roommate, Carol, whod gone away for the remainder of the summer, she welcomed having the place to herself tonight.
She was office manager of an electrical products company that sold, installed, and serviced high-end lighting and security systems for commercial and residential clients. Everything coming into or out of the company crossed her desk first. It was her responsibility to route it to the proper department. She hadnt been in the job long, but already her competence had earned her the praise of her boss and the respect of her co-workers.
Ordinarily she loved the job. But today, each hour had been long and tedious, each task irritating. Shed counted the minutes until she could return home and get into bed with a carton of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. Lasts night rejection deserved a whole gallon.
What a sap shed been actually to believe that a gorgeous, rich guy like that would come on to her, the queen of self-doubt. He could have had his choice of any woman in that bar. How could she have thought he would choose
her
over all the sophisticated women in that place?
What a dimwit!
Yet when shed left the ladies room, she had fully expected him to be waiting at the bar for her where hed said he would be. Even when she didnt immediately spot him, it didnt occur to her that shed been abandoned. She figured hed gone into the mens room. When after several minutes he still hadnt appeared, she went outside and described him to the parking valet, who was distracted and busy.
Light-colored suit? Yeah, he was Thank you, sir. Drive safely. Uh, he was here a minute ago.
Did he retrieve his Porsche?
Porsche? We havent had a Porsche tonight. He held up his hand to forestall her next question and emitted an earsplitting whistle to one of the other valets. Hey, Greg, can you help these folks, please? Hell be right with you, maam. Sorry for the wait. Then back to Ariel. He walked off with some chick.
He might as well have slapped her. A woman? He was with a woman? Who?
You want your car, or what?
Shed retrieved her car and driven home, feeling like the most gullible person ever to draw breath. As she passed the café where she had suggested they meet for coffee, shed flushed with embarrassment. A man like him wouldnt have considered going to a dump like that.
Shed been an utter fool. How long had it taken him to split after shed given him that jaunty little wave? Ten seconds? Five? It was humiliating to imagine how glad he must have been when she excused herself to go to the ladies room, leaving him free to cut and run.
Now she dropped her handbag onto the floor and stepped over it as she headed for her bedroom, where she exchanged her work suit for her oldest, most comfortable pjs and swapped her high-heeled pumps for terry-cloth scruffs. She would not be going out tonight, and probably not tomorrow night, not even if friends called and invited her to a girls night out. She just didnt have it in her to dress up, walk into a club, and make small talk. Her self-esteem, never all that robust, had been demolished.
In the kitchen, she removed a carton of ice cream from the freezer, a spoon from the drawer, and carried them with her into her living room, where she curled up in the corner of the sofa and used the remote to turn on the TV.
She was so ashamed of her gullibility that she hadnt even shared last nights mishap with Carol, and they shared everything. She contemplated calling her now. A long talk with a best girlfriend over a half gallon of ice cream was the first step toward curing the blues.
But even as she reached for the telephone, it rang. She checked the caller ID. Although it said Restricted where the number should be, she knew who was calling. Asshole.
Rather than answering the phone, she scooped up a big bite of ice cream and shoved it into her mouth. The phone stopped ringing. But only for several seconds. Then it started again. Restricted.
It happened three more times before she snatched up the receiver. Damn you!
Stop calling!
Shed thought he was gone for good. A bad memory best blocked.
The first time hed called, she couldnt believe his nerve. As soon as hed identified himself, shed let him have it with both barrels, telling it like it was: He was a liar, a cheat, a criminal, and no woman in her right mind would let him near her. Shed told him to get lost and stay lost, and unless he wanted her to sic the police on him, he had better never call back.
But he had, and continued to.
He never threatened her. After the first few times, he never said anything at all. But his resentment reverberated in the silence, and the threat it implied was unnerving, especially now that she was alone in the house.
She wished she could afford her own companys security, but her budget wouldnt stand the strain of their most basic, no-frills system. However, to give her greater peace of mind while Carol was temporarily away, shed had the door locks changed. Carol understood her caution and, saying it was better to be safe than sorry, had also agreed to split the cost of having special locks installed on all the windows. But tonight, that additional security didnt allay Ariels nerves, which were already shot because of being dumped by the blond charmer. She didnt need this crap to upset her further.
Now that shed opened up the floodgates of her frustration, she couldnt hold back. You are truly pathetic, you know that? This is a chickenshit thing to do. Kids stuff. You think of yourself as a ladies man, but no real man would resort to heavy-breathing phone calls. Go back where you came from. Or go to hell. Just stop calling! She slammed the phone down, feeling worlds better for having told him off.
Digging into the ice cream again, she reached a conclusion she thought was profound: Universally, whether a lowlife with a phone fetish or a smooth-talking rich guy, men were shits.
She was office manager of an electrical products company that sold, installed, and serviced high-end lighting and security systems for commercial and residential clients. Everything coming into or out of the company crossed her desk first. It was her responsibility to route it to the proper department. She hadnt been in the job long, but already her competence had earned her the praise of her boss and the respect of her co-workers.
Ordinarily she loved the job. But today, each hour had been long and tedious, each task irritating. Shed counted the minutes until she could return home and get into bed with a carton of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. Lasts night rejection deserved a whole gallon.
What a sap shed been actually to believe that a gorgeous, rich guy like that would come on to her, the queen of self-doubt. He could have had his choice of any woman in that bar. How could she have thought he would choose
her
over all the sophisticated women in that place?
What a dimwit!
Yet when shed left the ladies room, she had fully expected him to be waiting at the bar for her where hed said he would be. Even when she didnt immediately spot him, it didnt occur to her that shed been abandoned. She figured hed gone into the mens room. When after several minutes he still hadnt appeared, she went outside and described him to the parking valet, who was distracted and busy.
Light-colored suit? Yeah, he was Thank you, sir. Drive safely. Uh, he was here a minute ago.
Did he retrieve his Porsche?
Porsche? We havent had a Porsche tonight. He held up his hand to forestall her next question and emitted an earsplitting whistle to one of the other valets. Hey, Greg, can you help these folks, please? Hell be right with you, maam. Sorry for the wait. Then back to Ariel. He walked off with some chick.
He might as well have slapped her. A woman? He was with a woman? Who?
You want your car, or what?
Shed retrieved her car and driven home, feeling like the most gullible person ever to draw breath. As she passed the café where she had suggested they meet for coffee, shed flushed with embarrassment. A man like him wouldnt have considered going to a dump like that.
Shed been an utter fool. How long had it taken him to split after shed given him that jaunty little wave? Ten seconds? Five? It was humiliating to imagine how glad he must have been when she excused herself to go to the ladies room, leaving him free to cut and run.
Now she dropped her handbag onto the floor and stepped over it as she headed for her bedroom, where she exchanged her work suit for her oldest, most comfortable pjs and swapped her high-heeled pumps for terry-cloth scruffs. She would not be going out tonight, and probably not tomorrow night, not even if friends called and invited her to a girls night out. She just didnt have it in her to dress up, walk into a club, and make small talk. Her self-esteem, never all that robust, had been demolished.
In the kitchen, she removed a carton of ice cream from the freezer, a spoon from the drawer, and carried them with her into her living room, where she curled up in the corner of the sofa and used the remote to turn on the TV.
She was so ashamed of her gullibility that she hadnt even shared last nights mishap with Carol, and they shared everything. She contemplated calling her now. A long talk with a best girlfriend over a half gallon of ice cream was the first step toward curing the blues.
But even as she reached for the telephone, it rang. She checked the caller ID. Although it said Restricted where the number should be, she knew who was calling. Asshole.
Rather than answering the phone, she scooped up a big bite of ice cream and shoved it into her mouth. The phone stopped ringing. But only for several seconds. Then it started again. Restricted.
It happened three more times before she snatched up the receiver. Damn you!
Stop calling!
Shed thought he was gone for good. A bad memory best blocked.
The first time hed called, she couldnt believe his nerve. As soon as hed identified himself, shed let him have it with both barrels, telling it like it was: He was a liar, a cheat, a criminal, and no woman in her right mind would let him near her. Shed told him to get lost and stay lost, and unless he wanted her to sic the police on him, he had better never call back.
But he had, and continued to.
He never threatened her. After the first few times, he never said anything at all. But his resentment reverberated in the silence, and the threat it implied was unnerving, especially now that she was alone in the house.
She wished she could afford her own companys security, but her budget wouldnt stand the strain of their most basic, no-frills system. However, to give her greater peace of mind while Carol was temporarily away, shed had the door locks changed. Carol understood her caution and, saying it was better to be safe than sorry, had also agreed to split the cost of having special locks installed on all the windows. But tonight, that additional security didnt allay Ariels nerves, which were already shot because of being dumped by the blond charmer. She didnt need this crap to upset her further.
Now that shed opened up the floodgates of her frustration, she couldnt hold back. You are truly pathetic, you know that? This is a chickenshit thing to do. Kids stuff. You think of yourself as a ladies man, but no real man would resort to heavy-breathing phone calls. Go back where you came from. Or go to hell. Just stop calling! She slammed the phone down, feeling worlds better for having told him off.
Digging into the ice cream again, she reached a conclusion she thought was profound: Universally, whether a lowlife with a phone fetish or a smooth-talking rich guy, men were shits.
CHAPTER
12
J
UST WHEN JULIE THOUGHT THIS DAY COULDNT GET ANY WORSE, it did.
The main room of the community center where the charity function was being held had been decorated to resemble a sultans tent. Bolts of brightly colored silk had been draped beneath the ceiling and gathered into the center, where a mirrored ball shone like a jewel. Waiters were dressed like Aladdin, their female counterparts like veiled belly dancers. Instead of flowers, centerpieces for the cocktail tables scattered about the room were made of peacock feathers.
Julie barely had time to appreciate the effect because, as she entered, the first person she recognized among the crowd was Derek Mitchell.
On his arm was a beautiful redhead in an emerald beaded gown. They made a striking pair. They were standing in a group of people, sipping from champagne flutes and chatting, when Derek caught Julie looking at them.
His smile settled. For several seconds they looked at each other. Was he wondering, as she was, why their paths were crossing now, when they never had before? Or maybe they had, and they just hadnt noticed each other. Although Julie thought that highly un likely. If she had seen him before that morning at the boarding gate in de Gaulle Airport, she would have remembered.
The redhead said something to him, and he returned his attention to her.
Knowing that he was in the room was going to make what promised to be a long evening seem even longer. Unfortunately, Julie had committed herself to staying through to the bitter end, and beyond.
At least there wasnt a seated dinner to be endured, only a short program presented midway through the allotted time period when an architectural model for the new childrens cancer hospital would be revealed, followed by a heart-wrenching video to emphasize the need and to appeal to those in attendance to donate generously. The painting Julie had donated to the silent auction was one of forty items, including lavish vacation packages, a luxury SUV, and a ten-carat diamond pendant.
Hello, Julie.
Addressed from behind, she turned to see Doug and Sharon Wheeler. Doug gave her a quick hug. She and Sharon exchanged air kisses aimed at their cheeks. Sharon was in red chiffon, with canary diamonds at her throat and ears. You look beautiful tonight, Julie said truthfully.
Thank you. My feet already hurt. Sharon stuck her foot out from beneath her floor-length gown to show Julie her jeweled shoes.
The shoes are worth the pain.
Sharon smiled, pleased. I thought so, but ask me again after Ive been standing in them for hours.
I didnt expect to see you tonight, Doug said.
Paul had accepted the invitation for both of them just days before he died, but Julie refrained from telling them that. I donated a painting to the auction. She nodded toward the area in the center of the room where the items were displayed in an oasis created by faux sand dunes and live palms.
I hope youre not upset, Sharon said.
About what?
The funeral. Her pretty face wrinkled with distress. I hope you didnt take it as a snub. It just wasnt appropriate for you to sit with the family, Julie. Marys sisters were there. Pauls nieces and nephews. It would have been awkward for everybody. She reached out and touched Julies hand. But I couldnt bear it if your feelings were hurt. Please say you understand.
I understand you perfectly, Sharon.
The vacuous Sharon grinned with relief, but Doug had caught the meaning underlying Julies words. He stared at the patterned carpet between his patent shoes, looking embarrassed by both the snub at the funeral and his wifes inability to recognize what an affront it had been.
Without Paul acting as the pivotal center of the group, they had no tether. Julie wondered what her relationship with them would be like in the future, or if she would continue to have any relationship at all.
Is Creighton with you? She posed the question casually even though it nearly choked her to speak his name.
He begged off, Sharon said. Hed made plans with friends.
To Julies knowledge Creighton didnt have any friends. He had paid companionsa masseur, his tennis coach, a golf pro with whom he played. Paul had told her that he sometimes picked up women for one-night stands, but that hed never had a girlfriend in the traditional sense. He was a recurring customer of notable madams, Paul had told her.
His movie characters count for friends, I suppose,
Paul had said with annoyance during one of their conversations about Creighton.
Theyre always with him. They live inside his head. I think he carries on conversations with them.
Creighton had people who were hired to keep him amused. He had his fantasy world. But he couldnt boast of having friends.
That was just another of Sharons self-delusions. It had become clear to Julie soon after shed met them that either Sharon was unaware of her sons true personality or she suffered from a dire case of denial.
Have you talked to Sanford and Kimball recently? Doug asked.
Doug, this is a social occasion, Sharon complained in a whining voice. Our first since you know. Cant we go one night without talking about it?
Forgive me, Sharon, Julie said. Then to Doug, I spoke with them as recently as this morning. They came to the gallery with the latest set of photographs of this man theyre calling a person of interest.
Ever seen him before?
No.
Same here. The detectives came to my office. I told them I didnt know him from Adam. They asked me to take the pictures home and show them to Sharon.
He was a stranger to me, she said.
Creighton? Julie asked.
He hasnt seen them yet. Not to my knowledge. Doug sipped his highball, a bit nervously Julie thought.
She said, Theyre going on TV with the clearest of the photos.
So they told me. Starting with the evening news tonight, I believe. Doug consulted his wristwatch. Well miss it.
The police hope someone will recognize the man and come forward with a name, Julie said.
I have little doubt someone will. Probably a guest of the hotel. Oh, thats my cousin so-and-so. He dropped by every day I was in Atlanta. Doug took another swallow of his drink.
And then what? Julie asked rhetorically.
Your guess is as good as mine. Beyond that fuzzy photograph, theyve got no leads.
Sharon, whod been busily scanning the crowd and only half-following their conversation, threaded her arm through Dougs. I think that diamond pendant has my name on it.
Uh-oh.
Dont you want to help kids with cancer?
Julie, if Im not back in fifteen minutes, please come rescue me and my credit card. Doug said it with a smile, but Julie knew he was grateful for a reason to end their discussion about the police investigation.
Stay after him to get you that diamond, Sharon. The cause needs the money.
Ill do my part, Sharon said gaily.
They left Julie standing alone, but she wasnt without company for long. Over the next hour, friends and acquaintances approached her, some seemingly determined not to mention Pauls name, others talking of nothing else. With some she had a brief exchange before they politely excused themselves, looking relieved that an unpleasant duty had been accomplished.
Others acted as though they wanted to take her on as a pet project and make certain that she didnt sit at home alone just because she no longer had an escort. They talked of future lunches and dinners, wine tastings, even a bicycling tour of Tuscany. She pretended an interest in all, but made a commitment to none.
If she hadnt promised to oversee the sale of the painting, Julie would have left. She hated being an object of curiosity or pity. She was weary of people watching her to see how well or how badly she was handling the sudden loss of Paul. Given the circumstances, she could have begged off and skipped the event entirely. No one would have blamed her.
But as she moved through the crowd toward the area where the painting was displayed, she knew her decision to come had been the right one. Following her meeting with the detectives this morning, she mustnt alter her routine, curb her activities, or do anything that would make it appear she had something to hide.
Kimballs implication had left her momentarily speechless. Then shed stammered, Are you are you implying that I I knew the robber? That I knew what was going to happen? That I had something to do with it?
Dont get excited, Kimball had said in a patronizing tone that was infuriating. The idea has been advanced, thats all.
Who advanced it?
Another detective, someone not as close to the case as we are. He doesnt really know you. Anyway, Sanford and I dismissed his theory, but its our job to explore every possibility, no matter how far-fetched.
Not for a moment had Julie bought the blasé explanation. Shed told them straightaway that she wouldnt say anything more without an attorney present and asked them to leave.
How could they even consider that she would want Paul dead? It was a preposterous notion. Also a frustrating one. Because each minute they spent exploring this false theory was one not spent on pursuing the culprit. While they had a magnifying glass on her, Creighton was living his life with impunity, getting away with murder.
Whats the current bid?
The familiar voice yanked her away from her dark thoughts, and she turned quickly. Derek Mitchell was standing directly in front of her, ostensibly looking at the painting when actually his eyes were on her. He was alone.
Eight thousand.
He whistled softly. Getting up there.
Are you interested?
I have a bare spot in my bedroom.
There were a dozen implications in that statement, and none of them escaped Julie. Looking beyond his shoulder, she could see the redhead in animated conversation with several other people. Derek followed her gaze, then came back around. Julie said, Maybe you should consult her before you place a bid. What if she doesnt like it?
Mine is the only opinion that counts. But I welcome yours.
Julie, unable to maintain eye contact, stared into the black enamel studs of his tuxedo shirt. Its a nice painting by a promising young artist.
May I? He placed his hand on her waist and gently moved her aside so he could get to the table in order to write down his bid. Even after hed removed his hand, she felt the heat of his touch. She picked up a pen and handed it to him. He bent over the table to write down his bid.
Hi. It was the redhead. Youre Julie Rutledge.
Thats right.
The woman was even more resplendent up close. She introduced herself, although later Julie couldnt recall her name because at the time she was too aware of Derek Mitchells closeness and the imprint of his hand on her waist. She was discomfited by it, and hated him for having that effect on her. She hated herself more.
I knew Paul Wheeler, the redhead was saying. We served on a committee together a couple years ago. He was a real gentleman.
Yes, he was.
My condolences. The woman smiled at her kindly.
Thank you.
Derek passed the pen back to Julie. She clutched it. It was warm from his grasp. Dont give the pen to anybody else, he said, smiling down at her. Id really like to have that painting.
You can always raise your bid.
Ill be monitoring it closely throughout the evening. He and the redhead excused themselves and moved along.
Julie had barely caught her breath when Doug sidled up to her. When did you meet Derek Mitchell?
She played dumb. Who?
The man you were talking to. The lawyer.
Julie glanced toward Derek and the redhead. Thats Derek Mitchell? I didnt exactly meet him.
You looked friendly.
He bid on the painting.
Doug leaned past her to read what Derek had bid. Jesus. I guess he could afford to turn us down.
Julie also read his bid and gasped when she saw that hed tripled the amount of the standing one. She turned in time to see his wide shoulders disappearing into the crowd. Continuing the dumb act, she said, What do you mean he turned you down?
After careful considerationor so he saidhe decided he couldnt represent us.
Did he say why?
He said he was too busy.
Oh.
But he was lying.
UST WHEN JULIE THOUGHT THIS DAY COULDNT GET ANY WORSE, it did.
The main room of the community center where the charity function was being held had been decorated to resemble a sultans tent. Bolts of brightly colored silk had been draped beneath the ceiling and gathered into the center, where a mirrored ball shone like a jewel. Waiters were dressed like Aladdin, their female counterparts like veiled belly dancers. Instead of flowers, centerpieces for the cocktail tables scattered about the room were made of peacock feathers.
Julie barely had time to appreciate the effect because, as she entered, the first person she recognized among the crowd was Derek Mitchell.
On his arm was a beautiful redhead in an emerald beaded gown. They made a striking pair. They were standing in a group of people, sipping from champagne flutes and chatting, when Derek caught Julie looking at them.
His smile settled. For several seconds they looked at each other. Was he wondering, as she was, why their paths were crossing now, when they never had before? Or maybe they had, and they just hadnt noticed each other. Although Julie thought that highly un likely. If she had seen him before that morning at the boarding gate in de Gaulle Airport, she would have remembered.
The redhead said something to him, and he returned his attention to her.
Knowing that he was in the room was going to make what promised to be a long evening seem even longer. Unfortunately, Julie had committed herself to staying through to the bitter end, and beyond.
At least there wasnt a seated dinner to be endured, only a short program presented midway through the allotted time period when an architectural model for the new childrens cancer hospital would be revealed, followed by a heart-wrenching video to emphasize the need and to appeal to those in attendance to donate generously. The painting Julie had donated to the silent auction was one of forty items, including lavish vacation packages, a luxury SUV, and a ten-carat diamond pendant.
Hello, Julie.
Addressed from behind, she turned to see Doug and Sharon Wheeler. Doug gave her a quick hug. She and Sharon exchanged air kisses aimed at their cheeks. Sharon was in red chiffon, with canary diamonds at her throat and ears. You look beautiful tonight, Julie said truthfully.
Thank you. My feet already hurt. Sharon stuck her foot out from beneath her floor-length gown to show Julie her jeweled shoes.
The shoes are worth the pain.
Sharon smiled, pleased. I thought so, but ask me again after Ive been standing in them for hours.
I didnt expect to see you tonight, Doug said.
Paul had accepted the invitation for both of them just days before he died, but Julie refrained from telling them that. I donated a painting to the auction. She nodded toward the area in the center of the room where the items were displayed in an oasis created by faux sand dunes and live palms.
I hope youre not upset, Sharon said.
About what?
The funeral. Her pretty face wrinkled with distress. I hope you didnt take it as a snub. It just wasnt appropriate for you to sit with the family, Julie. Marys sisters were there. Pauls nieces and nephews. It would have been awkward for everybody. She reached out and touched Julies hand. But I couldnt bear it if your feelings were hurt. Please say you understand.
I understand you perfectly, Sharon.
The vacuous Sharon grinned with relief, but Doug had caught the meaning underlying Julies words. He stared at the patterned carpet between his patent shoes, looking embarrassed by both the snub at the funeral and his wifes inability to recognize what an affront it had been.
Without Paul acting as the pivotal center of the group, they had no tether. Julie wondered what her relationship with them would be like in the future, or if she would continue to have any relationship at all.
Is Creighton with you? She posed the question casually even though it nearly choked her to speak his name.
He begged off, Sharon said. Hed made plans with friends.
To Julies knowledge Creighton didnt have any friends. He had paid companionsa masseur, his tennis coach, a golf pro with whom he played. Paul had told her that he sometimes picked up women for one-night stands, but that hed never had a girlfriend in the traditional sense. He was a recurring customer of notable madams, Paul had told her.
His movie characters count for friends, I suppose,
Paul had said with annoyance during one of their conversations about Creighton.
Theyre always with him. They live inside his head. I think he carries on conversations with them.
Creighton had people who were hired to keep him amused. He had his fantasy world. But he couldnt boast of having friends.
That was just another of Sharons self-delusions. It had become clear to Julie soon after shed met them that either Sharon was unaware of her sons true personality or she suffered from a dire case of denial.
Have you talked to Sanford and Kimball recently? Doug asked.
Doug, this is a social occasion, Sharon complained in a whining voice. Our first since you know. Cant we go one night without talking about it?
Forgive me, Sharon, Julie said. Then to Doug, I spoke with them as recently as this morning. They came to the gallery with the latest set of photographs of this man theyre calling a person of interest.
Ever seen him before?
No.
Same here. The detectives came to my office. I told them I didnt know him from Adam. They asked me to take the pictures home and show them to Sharon.
He was a stranger to me, she said.
Creighton? Julie asked.
He hasnt seen them yet. Not to my knowledge. Doug sipped his highball, a bit nervously Julie thought.
She said, Theyre going on TV with the clearest of the photos.
So they told me. Starting with the evening news tonight, I believe. Doug consulted his wristwatch. Well miss it.
The police hope someone will recognize the man and come forward with a name, Julie said.
I have little doubt someone will. Probably a guest of the hotel. Oh, thats my cousin so-and-so. He dropped by every day I was in Atlanta. Doug took another swallow of his drink.
And then what? Julie asked rhetorically.
Your guess is as good as mine. Beyond that fuzzy photograph, theyve got no leads.
Sharon, whod been busily scanning the crowd and only half-following their conversation, threaded her arm through Dougs. I think that diamond pendant has my name on it.
Uh-oh.
Dont you want to help kids with cancer?
Julie, if Im not back in fifteen minutes, please come rescue me and my credit card. Doug said it with a smile, but Julie knew he was grateful for a reason to end their discussion about the police investigation.
Stay after him to get you that diamond, Sharon. The cause needs the money.
Ill do my part, Sharon said gaily.
They left Julie standing alone, but she wasnt without company for long. Over the next hour, friends and acquaintances approached her, some seemingly determined not to mention Pauls name, others talking of nothing else. With some she had a brief exchange before they politely excused themselves, looking relieved that an unpleasant duty had been accomplished.
Others acted as though they wanted to take her on as a pet project and make certain that she didnt sit at home alone just because she no longer had an escort. They talked of future lunches and dinners, wine tastings, even a bicycling tour of Tuscany. She pretended an interest in all, but made a commitment to none.
If she hadnt promised to oversee the sale of the painting, Julie would have left. She hated being an object of curiosity or pity. She was weary of people watching her to see how well or how badly she was handling the sudden loss of Paul. Given the circumstances, she could have begged off and skipped the event entirely. No one would have blamed her.
But as she moved through the crowd toward the area where the painting was displayed, she knew her decision to come had been the right one. Following her meeting with the detectives this morning, she mustnt alter her routine, curb her activities, or do anything that would make it appear she had something to hide.
Kimballs implication had left her momentarily speechless. Then shed stammered, Are you are you implying that I I knew the robber? That I knew what was going to happen? That I had something to do with it?
Dont get excited, Kimball had said in a patronizing tone that was infuriating. The idea has been advanced, thats all.
Who advanced it?
Another detective, someone not as close to the case as we are. He doesnt really know you. Anyway, Sanford and I dismissed his theory, but its our job to explore every possibility, no matter how far-fetched.
Not for a moment had Julie bought the blasé explanation. Shed told them straightaway that she wouldnt say anything more without an attorney present and asked them to leave.
How could they even consider that she would want Paul dead? It was a preposterous notion. Also a frustrating one. Because each minute they spent exploring this false theory was one not spent on pursuing the culprit. While they had a magnifying glass on her, Creighton was living his life with impunity, getting away with murder.
Whats the current bid?
The familiar voice yanked her away from her dark thoughts, and she turned quickly. Derek Mitchell was standing directly in front of her, ostensibly looking at the painting when actually his eyes were on her. He was alone.
Eight thousand.
He whistled softly. Getting up there.
Are you interested?
I have a bare spot in my bedroom.
There were a dozen implications in that statement, and none of them escaped Julie. Looking beyond his shoulder, she could see the redhead in animated conversation with several other people. Derek followed her gaze, then came back around. Julie said, Maybe you should consult her before you place a bid. What if she doesnt like it?
Mine is the only opinion that counts. But I welcome yours.
Julie, unable to maintain eye contact, stared into the black enamel studs of his tuxedo shirt. Its a nice painting by a promising young artist.
May I? He placed his hand on her waist and gently moved her aside so he could get to the table in order to write down his bid. Even after hed removed his hand, she felt the heat of his touch. She picked up a pen and handed it to him. He bent over the table to write down his bid.
Hi. It was the redhead. Youre Julie Rutledge.
Thats right.
The woman was even more resplendent up close. She introduced herself, although later Julie couldnt recall her name because at the time she was too aware of Derek Mitchells closeness and the imprint of his hand on her waist. She was discomfited by it, and hated him for having that effect on her. She hated herself more.
I knew Paul Wheeler, the redhead was saying. We served on a committee together a couple years ago. He was a real gentleman.
Yes, he was.
My condolences. The woman smiled at her kindly.
Thank you.
Derek passed the pen back to Julie. She clutched it. It was warm from his grasp. Dont give the pen to anybody else, he said, smiling down at her. Id really like to have that painting.
You can always raise your bid.
Ill be monitoring it closely throughout the evening. He and the redhead excused themselves and moved along.
Julie had barely caught her breath when Doug sidled up to her. When did you meet Derek Mitchell?
She played dumb. Who?
The man you were talking to. The lawyer.
Julie glanced toward Derek and the redhead. Thats Derek Mitchell? I didnt exactly meet him.
You looked friendly.
He bid on the painting.
Doug leaned past her to read what Derek had bid. Jesus. I guess he could afford to turn us down.
Julie also read his bid and gasped when she saw that hed tripled the amount of the standing one. She turned in time to see his wide shoulders disappearing into the crowd. Continuing the dumb act, she said, What do you mean he turned you down?
After careful considerationor so he saidhe decided he couldnt represent us.
Did he say why?
He said he was too busy.
Oh.
But he was lying.
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