Stroke of Death

by Dale Mayer

  After that, the detectives did a quick sweep around but found nothing to show where she might have been.

  “Do you know where she went last?” Richard asked Derek.

  He shook his head. “I saw her last when I brought the Chinese food. She was in a shitty mood, so I got up and left. I don’t know if she went to bed right afterward or if she went to the bar.”

  “The bed is messed up, but it’s hard to tell if she was sleeping or not,” Andy noted.

  “Her bed always looks like that,” Derek said.

  Richard turned, looked at him, and asked, “Do you know what she was wearing at the time?”

  Derek looked at him in surprise, frowned, and said, “She was wearing her favorite red slinky top.”

  “Do you want to take a look in the bedroom with us and see if that outfit is there?”

  He nodded immediately. He strode back into the bedroom, stopped, and looked, swearing. “How can you ever find anything in this mess?” He looked down in disgust. “You got gloves?”

  Richard looked to see if he was serious, realized he was, and said, “We can take a quick look.” He went to the laundry hamper. Nothing red and slinky. Moved a few pieces of clothing on the floor and on the chairs, so he could see what was underneath. Nothing red. He checked the closet. Nothing. “Does she use a laundry service?”

  “In her heyday she did,” he said, “because she was too good for anything else. Plus, if Elena or Cayce had it, then she wanted it too.”

  “Why was she so fixated on Elena?” Richard asked.

  “Elena had that something special that Naomi could never emulate, and she knew it,” he said immediately.

  “Is she an artist at all or interested in art or artists?” Andy asked.

  “No. Hell no,” Derek said. “But, at one point in time, they had a boyfriend in common, and I think that’s part of Naomi’s ongoing feud.”

  “And who is that?”

  “Kenneth,” he said. “He was Naomi’s boyfriend first, I think, and then he went out with Elena. Naomi took that as a rejection.” But he frowned, as if trying to figure something out.

  “Kenneth, the engineer?” Richard asked, taking a stab in the dark.

  Derek shrugged. “Not sure I knew his profession. I presumed he was an artist.”

  Richard shook his head. “I’m not sure he dated Elena—my research and investigation hasn’t confirmed that—just that they may have gone out together. After all, Elena and Kenneth the engineer were foster siblings and childhood friends.”

  Derek looked at him in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t know that. I doubt Naomi did either. Too bad. She wouldn’t have taken their relationship the wrong way. Still, that was years ago.”

  “Yeah, plus he’s over in Dubai these days,” Andy said.

  “No, he’s not,” Derek said. “He’s here. At least he was the other day.” Then he stopped, frowned, and said, “I think so anyway. My partner saw him.”

  “Your partner knows him?”

  “Well, from photos.” Derek shrugged and said, “Look. It probably wasn’t even him. Especially if he’s supposed to be in Dubai. You’re probably right.”

  “It’s hard to say,” Andy said, “but we can check to see if he’s back in town or not.”

  “Where was he seen?” Richard asked.

  “At the bar we frequent,” he said.

  When he gave the name of the place, prickles stood up on the back of Richard’s neck. The same bar where Naomi had been supposedly beaten up. “Interesting,” he said slowly. “Do you have a photo of him?”

  Derek frowned. “No, nothing here that I know of.”

  “So how did your boyfriend know who it was?”

  “I have no clue,” he said. “He just mentioned it in passing.”

  “When was this?”

  “A few days ago. Maybe a couple days before Elena was murdered,” he said.

  “Did you know Elena?”

  “Well, much to Naomi’s dismay and anger, yes. We hung out in a lot of the same circles. I really liked her. She was a real sweetheart.”

  “And again, you were just friends?”

  “Just friends,” he said. “But she might have been looking at seeing Kenneth again. I don’t know.”

  “Interesting,” Richard said.

  As the detectives turned to walk out, Derek said, “You could always check with the art world,” he said. “A lot of us are connected that way.”

  “Are you an artist?” Andy asked him.

  Derek shrugged, shook his head, and said, “Not really. My partner dabbles though. So does Kenneth.”

  “What stuff does he do?”

  “All kinds,” he said, “but I don’t think he classifies himself as anything in particular.”

  “Who, your partner or Kenneth?” Richard asked, a sense of stillness inside him.

  “Kenneth. Elena said that he and Cayce used to paint together all the time years ago.”

  Richard stared at Andy. Andy stared back, and they quickly made their exit.

  Richard asked, “What was that look for?”

  “I warned you, dude.”

  “I hear you,” he said with a shrug. “It doesn’t mean a whole lot though.”

  As they got outside, Andy said, “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to ask Cayce a few questions.”

  *

  It’s a good thing that the police didn’t have a clue. “I’d have been taken in years ago.” But, hey, this is the way life was now for him. And he really, really wanted to get down there tonight.

  If there was a chance of completing this last piece, then he would be a happy boy. He wasn’t so sure it would be effective, but hey.

  He checked his watch, swore, rose, walked over quickly to shut off the music he had been playing to drown out the sounds behind him. Washing up again quickly, he switched his shirt, and headed downstairs. He lived in a hovel, with no time to clean it or him, but that was expected of an artistic temperament. Nobody gave a shit here, and he liked that.

  As he raced down the stairs, somebody called out from above, “Hey, you left your door open.”

  He froze, turned to look at him, and said, “Pardon?”

  The man pointed back down the hallway. “Your door isn’t closed, man. Somebody will go in there and steal everything.”

  He slowly worked his way up the stairs to where the young man stood and asked, “Did you take a look inside?”

  “No, no, I didn’t,” he said, backing up a few paces.

  “You did, didn’t you?” he said, in a threatening manner, stalking closer.

  “Hey, look. Your door was open.”

  As he walked past, he stared at the door and frowned. It definitely was open. But it hadn’t been like that before. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

  “Hey, I just checked and called out to see if you were inside,” he said.

  “Funny, I didn’t hear you call out.”

  “Well, I meant to,” he said. “Then I saw you down here and thought maybe I’d check and see if it was you.”

  “And, if it wasn’t me, you would go in there, huh?” He shoved his face right into the personal space of other man, who backed up quickly.

  “Look. I don’t want any trouble,” he said. “I was just being a nice neighbor. Jesus Christ.” And he turned to walk away.

  Except that he didn’t dare let him go. He was too close now to reaching his goal. Tonight was too important. He reached out, grabbed him in a pincher move on the back of the neck, and, with a hard right to the temple, put him down. He quickly checked both sides of the hallway, then dragged him inside his apartment. He tied him up and stuffed a rag in his mouth and left him there to be dealt with later.

  Trouble was, he didn’t really want to deal with him at all. He just wanted him to go away. If he knew which place was his, he would just dump him there with a warning. As it was, he didn’t have time now. Swearing, he closed and locked his door this time and raced out to the street. He wanted to b
e there before the show started.

  Chapter 23

  After hours of bending and working, it was all due to start in just a little while. Cayce still had to get dressed, and she had less than thirty-eight minutes to do it in. Anita was panicked at her side, but Frankie stood calm and silent as always. She stepped back and finally told Jilly, her new model, and the second one she had added, Bellamy—Frankie’s partner—to go stand where they were supposed to.

  Frankie sucked in his breath as he saw them. “Wow,” he said.

  She stood up, rubbing her lower back, and said, “Okay, girls. Like I said.” And ever-so-slowly they slid toward each other. One step out, bringing the other foot together. Against the backdrop but not touching it, and, sure enough, with every movement they took, it looked like the waves churning on the mural behind them.

  Anita laughed and then cried out, “Oh, my God,” she said. “I didn’t know how you could possibly top the last one. But this, … this is amazing.”

  Cayce watched her models with a critical eye and then relaxed. “Okay, girls, you have ten minutes to yourself while we clean up and get ready, and then it’ll be showtime.”

  The two women just nodded obediently, but you could tell that they were incredibly excited. “You’ll film it, right?” Jilly asked.

  “We definitely will,” Frankie said. He looked down at Cayce. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You can spend a few minutes with Bellamy while I go get changed, but then, as you know, I’ll need your help.”

  He nodded. “I’m here and ready.”

  He always was. She smiled, nodded, and headed to the small bathroom on the side of the large room.

  There was Anita, standing outside, holding the dress that Cayce would wear for the cocktail hour and for the big presentation. She stepped into the bathroom, quickly stripped down, had a quick shower, and plaited her long hair until she was fully dressed. And then, wearing only her underwear, opening the door just a smidge, she asked for the dress, slipped it on and up over her chest, putting her arms through her sleeves.

  Then realized she couldn’t zip it. “Anita, I need help closing it.”

  She heard a muffled sound of voices on the other side of her door. She frowned. She opened the door ever-so-slightly. “Anita?”

  Instead of Anita, she saw Richard. He took one look at her in that dress, and she watched his face turn to one of complete and instant lust. He stood, frozen, as was his gaze.

  “We can’t do this now,” she said, her voice thick.

  He closed his eyes, swaying in the spot. “God damn it,” he said. “You so have to wear that dress at home.”

  “Only when it’s over,” she said.

  He swallowed hard and said, “Turn around.”

  She slowly turned around and gave him a glimpse of her smooth, clean back as he reached out a shaky hand. She watched in the mirror as he zipped her up.

  When she turned to face him again, he said, “I’ll be outside.” And he disappeared.

  Feeling more wanted and sexier than she’d ever felt in her life, she put on her makeup, then unbraided her hair, brushed it out, clipped it back in a sedate ball at her neck, picked up her work clothing to put everything into her extra bag, and stepped out.

  Anita looked at her with a happy sigh. “You’re stunning,” she said. “That dress is so you.”

  Cayce didn’t need Anita’s words to build her up tonight. She’d seen the look on Richard’s face. And honestly, she was still shaken by it herself. She smiled at her friend. “Come on. Let’s make this happen.”

  By the time Cayce walked back out to the main exhibit again, the doors were just opening to let in the crowd. She stood in the center of the room, a flute of champagne in her hand, as everybody swarmed toward her. She lifted her glass and said, “Welcome.”

  And, with that, the chaos began. Everybody mingled and looked at the big black silk-covered wall, completely covered before the grand presentation. She’d had the curtain specially made, and the roller too, but, at her signal, the podium cleared, and she stepped up to announce the prelude of what this installation was for and who was behind it all.

  Major Robert, her client, came up beside her, holding her hand, then gently bent over and kissed it. “I have never met,” he said, in a loud booming voice, “anybody who was so special, so talented, and so beautiful as this woman. The job that she has done behind us is way beyond my expectations.”

  She laughed and said, “Thank you for that. And now, may you all enjoy it.” She motioned to Frankie. “Frankie, if you will.” She stepped off to the side, as the curtain was quickly pulled apart, revealing her work.

  There were gasps of oohs and aahs as everybody studied the massive painting in front of them. The ice fall, icebergs, the ocean. The audience was given five minutes to stare at the huge painting, and then she signaled Frankie to start the music. The two models—separated from the wall and yet still so close to it—were almost impossible to tell them apart. From her angle, she could.

  But, as Jilly and Bellamy took their tiny steps across the stage, everybody laughed and cheered because, indeed, it looked like water rippling.

  Frankie stepped up behind her and said, “I can’t believe you did that.”

  She gave a happy sigh. “It looks pretty good, doesn’t it?”

  The major stepped over and whispered, “Dear God, lady. You have outdone yourself.”

  She smiled. “It’s all for a good cause.”

  “Saving the animals,” he said with a nod. “A most worthy cause, indeed. But this, … wow! This is one of those dinners where they’ll pay five thousand a plate, and we’ll collect an awful lot of money here tonight,” he said. “I don’t know how to thank you for donating your time and money.”

  She felt Frankie gasp beside her. She reached up, kissed the major gently on the cheek, and said, “For Elena.”

  A hand landed on her shoulder. She smiled because she knew it was him. She leaned her cheek against it, and he stepped up behind her, pulling her against him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it,” Richard said.

  When the signal was given, the music and the models stopped, and the crowd could all approach. They stood calm and quiet, and, when the music started again, they moved so that everybody could see how the effects worked.

  She looked up at Richard and smiled. “I can’t get away from here very early,” she said.

  Frankie shook his head. “She’ll be here right through to midnight.”

  “That may be,” Richard said, “but I’m not leaving here either.”

  She looked up at him. “Did something happen?”

  He reached over, kissed her gently on the temple, and said, “You have your night. I have some questions, but that’s all.”

  “Maybe I can help,” Frankie said.

  Richard looked at him, and, while she watched, Richard said, “Maybe.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I’ll be right back.” He motioned to Frankie, and they stepped away.

  “Do you know anything about Kenneth?”

  *

  “He’s the bastard who beat up Elena,” Frankie said.

  “What?”

  “No, no, wait, that’s wrong,” he said and then shook his head. “No, that’s wrong. Sorry,” he said, frowning, as if trying to remember. He took a deep breath. “I had a head injury not too long ago, and sometimes I get things wrong.”

  “I don’t understand,” Richard said. “Why would a woman like Elena go out with somebody who beat her up?”

  “She didn’t. I had that wrong,” Frankie said. Then his face lit up. “I got it. Kenneth is the son of the man, the stepson, of the man who hurt Elena.”

  “Kenneth’s stepfather hurt Elena?”

  “Yes,” he said, “and Elena helped Cayce later, and, as I understand it, became close with Kenneth.”

  “Interesting. Well, apparently Kenneth is somewhere around.”

  “I don’t
think so,” Frankie said, “but then I don’t really know. I just know what I heard from the two of them talking here and there. I’ve been around long enough that, while I haven’t been privy to their conversations, they forget I’m here sometimes, and I overhear conversations.”

  “Right,” he said, “that makes sense. Any idea where we would find him?”

  “No, I didn’t know he was anywhere around here.”

  “And what do you know about Elena’s or Naomi’s friend Derek?”

  “From money, doesn’t really work. He has his fingers in a lot of pots. He is a little bit of an artist but not much. He really cultivates a role in the artist community though.”

  “And his boyfriend?”

  “Well, it used to be Kenneth,” he said, “but I’m not sure who it is now.”

  Richard reached out, grabbed him, and gave him a shake. “What the hell are you saying? That Kenneth used to date Derek as well?”

  “Yes, as far as I know.”

  “And where are you getting this information from?”

  “Naomi,” he said, “because Derek might be private, but Naomi is anything but.”

  “Crap,” he said. “Let me get this straight. Cayce saves Elena from her abusive stepfather, and Kenneth is the stepson to that man and the stepbrother to Elena too. So Elena and Cayce continued to bond, and the stepson/stepbrother is around, and, somewhere along the line, Kenneth hangs out with Elena and becomes really good friends with the group. But then goes back to school to become an engineer and heads off to Dubai?”

  At that, Frankie looked at him and frowned. “I don’t know anything about engineering and Dubai,” he said. “He was an artist.”

  “What kind of artist?”

  “He used to do big mural-size stuff too, like Cayce,” he said, “but his wasn’t very good. I don’t know how to explain it. It was really dark.”

  “Ah, crap.” Richard pulled out his phone, called Andy, and said, “We need to find this Kenneth Lively, and we need to find him now. Apparently there’s a chance he’s in town, and he’s tied to this artist community. He needs to be brought in for questioning ASAP.”

  “As in Elena?”

  “Absolutely,” he said. “Not only was he there when Cayce got beaten up way back when but it was his stepfather who abused Elena, and Kenneth became very good, very close friends with Elena. And he’s an artist. He used to do mural stuff. Dark stuff.”