by Tessa Kelly
I took all of this in at a glance as Josh and I hurtled across the room toward the glass door leading out onto the balcony. Wide-open, it gave a full view of Kenneth Sheppard’s back and a partial one of Marcel Bright.
Bent backward over the railing, the artist’s hands gripped the other man’s arms in a desperate struggle to keep himself from being pushed over. The struggle he was quickly losing.
Already, one of Marcel's feet had left the floor. His eyes popped with horror, his face red and twisted with the realization of the inevitable.
In seconds, Josh had Kenneth in a chokehold from the back. Forced to let go of Marcel, Kenneth leaned forward and rammed his elbow into Josh’s stomach, then twisted his arm, bending Josh forward, and delivered a blow to his jaw.
“Stop it!” I yelled. “It’s over, Kenneth. The police are on the way!”
My eyes scanned the office for something heavy that hadn’t been broken yet. An iron paperweight shaped like a clawed paw lay next to the upturned table but as I reached for it, there were running footsteps out in the hallway. A moment later, Will and Ryan appeared in the office doorway, weapons drawn.
“Freeze! Police.”
The sweetest words I’d ever heard. I exhaled in relief, though my knees still trembled.
Out on the balcony, Kenneth released Josh, straightened, and slowly turned around. He held his hands shoulder-level, drawing everyone’s attention to the black leather gloves he wore.
I glanced at Will. “Think those are the same ones he used to kill Alexa and Dan?”
“We’ll find out soon.”
Ryan still holding the man at gunpoint, Will came forward and cuffed Kenneth’s hands. Will’s eyes lingered on Josh who leaned against the railing, breathing hard. “You all right?”
Wincing, Josh rubbed his jaw. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
Will peered over at Marcel Bright cowering in the corner of the balcony next to a palm tree. “What about you, sir? Do you require medical assistance?”
The artist blinked and shook his head in an unconvinced way. He stayed huddled on the floor.
More police arrived, crowding into the office. Coming out onto the balcony, I walked over to Marcel and offered him a hand.
“You’re not really hurt,” I told him, trying to sound soothing. “You’re just in shock, but you’ll be okay.”
He let me pull him to his feet and stood there hugging the palm tree, shivering and looking morose.
“I think I’ll need to find a new agent now,” he muttered after a moment.
“I’m sure that won’t be a problem for you,” I said. “This time, though, try to pick someone who’s not a multiple murderer.”
Marcel pulled out his lower lip. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”
I smiled. “Come on. We should get you away from here.”
Back in the office, the cops were hard at work examining the scene of the recent struggle and photographing the demolished furniture. My eyes fell on Kenneth Sheppard's jacket lying next to the armchair. I must've thrown it there without realizing. I pointed it out to Will.
“It’s Kenneth’s, from Fratelli Agosti. The label’s been torn off.”
He called over one of the cops and instructed him to bag the jacket, then the rest of us made our way downstairs. That was when I saw what my eyes had skipped over earlier in the haste to get to Marcel Bright.
Behind the stairwell, another door that stood wide open. A back exit. I turned to the artist. “How did Kenneth get into your house tonight?”
He blinked. “Through the front door, like he always did.”
“You let him in?”
“Of course!” His posture turned defensive. “I thought he wanted to talk business. I’d no idea he came to kill me.”
“And the back door? Did you leave it open on purpose?”
“No.” He shook his head, puzzled. “It was definitely locked last time I checked.”
“Sandie, what’s going on?” Will asked, coming over.
My pulse was suddenly in overdrive again. “I don’t think we’re done here yet.”
Chapter 19
Before Will could say anything, I sprinted through the back door and out onto the lawn. I was only just in time to see her back disappear around the corner.
I tore after it, aware of Will breathing heavy at my side.
“Sandie, what’s going on?”
I pointed as I ran. “Kenneth wasn’t acting alone. He had an accomplice. Hurry! She might have a car waiting around the corner!”
She did. But she wasn’t fast enough. We rushed her as she was getting in.
Will panted as he put the cuffs on her. “Caroline King, you’re under arrest on suspicion of murder.”
She struggled against his hold, surprisingly strong for her size. “Let go of me! I haven’t done anything.”
“You were caught escaping the crime scene,” Will said. “That alone is grounds for arrest.”
“I think she was here making sure Marcel didn’t have any evidence in his house that could incriminate her and Kenneth,” I said. “Then we showed up, forcing her to hide and flee.”
They stared at me. Will sharply, Caroline with venom. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she spat.
“Actually, I do. Pretty sure the police will find even more grounds for arrest when they search your apartment.”
I leaned against her car and stuffed my hands in my pockets. They were shaking, not from fear but from all the adrenaline. I felt like a fox terrier who’d sniffed the fox’s trail. The hunt was over, but the excitement of the chase still pumped through my veins.
“I suspect if the police search your apartment they’ll find paintings,” I said. “Forgeries of Marcel Bright’s works. I think you were on your way home to destroy them, now that your accomplice has been caught trying to kill the artist.”
As if on cue, two policemen emerged from the house and led Kenneth Sheppard to the squad car. The one next to it was destined for Caroline, a destiny to which she was by no means resigned as she hurled curses and threats of lawsuits over Will’s attempts to read her the Miranda rights.
Finally, the cars pulled away from the curb. I turned to Josh standing by the gates. His eyebrows drew together, but the expression in his eyes remained unreadable.
Was he feeling anger, disappointment, betrayal? Or was he sorry it turned out to be Caroline? I walked over to him.
“Are you okay? I know she was...” I hesitated. What was Caroline to him? I still had no idea. “A friend?”
His eyes snapped to me. “She was a work friend, yeah. But I can’t believe it. Any of it.” He ran his hands through his hair, mussing it up more than usual. “How can it be Caroline? She helped me get the job at the AGER. She kept trying to organize a show for me.”
“She was also just fine letting you take the fall for the murders,” I reminded him. “It makes me wonder if she marked you as the fall guy from the start.”
“What do you mean?” His chest rose and fell in rapid successions as if responding to a physical threat.
“She’d want to have someone around the police would suspect instead of her,” I said. “Maybe that’s why she pushed so hard for you to have the showing at the AGER. When it was cancelled, it gave you motive and took attention away from her.”
Josh shook his head, though doubt was plain in his eyes. “You forget Caroline had no way of knowing Alexa would cancel my show.”
“Unless Caroline had a hand in it,” I said. “It wouldn’t be hard for her to manipulate the situation indirectly.”
Will approached us looking pleased, his recent infatuation with the red-headed murderess all but forgotten.
“We’ll need a warrant to search Miss King’s apartment,” he said. “But that shouldn’t be a problem, given what happened here. The guilt’s written all over her pretty little face.”
Josh winced. His eyebrows formed a straight line as he turned to me. “How did you figure it out, that it was Carolin
e?”
“I want to know, too,” Will said. “What made you think of her as the killer?”
My eyes traveled past them up the stone path to the front door of the mansion where Marcel Bright emerged hugging the torn sides of his dressing gown. Then I looked at Josh again, peering at me with the intensity that left me slightly dizzy. I swallowed.
“The night of the private viewing, you said no one except Dan Cobbs knew Marcel Bright had gone home and Alexa stayed at the gallery.”
“As far as I knew.” He paused, thinking, then shrugged. “It was all decided last minute. Even I didn’t know until the next day.”
I nodded. “Then isn’t it possible Alexa wasn’t the intended victim? All along, it was Marcel who was supposed to die that night, not her.”
Josh glanced back at Marcel in the doorway and rubbed his jaw, wincing. “If the murderer wanted Marcel dead, why would he kill Alexa?”
“Ah!” Will grinned. “She must’ve seen him there, which made her a witness. Especially dangerous if she knew and could identify him. Kenneth had to kill her, or she would give him away.”
“He could’ve come up with an excuse for why he was there,” Josh protested. “He could’ve told her he came to talk to the artist. Or something. Anything.”
“Not if he still planned on carrying out Marcel’s murder,” I reminded him. “When the artist’s body turned up later, it would’ve been a dead giveaway.” I smiled as the two of them raised their eyebrows at me. “No pun intended.”
“What about his alibi?” Will said.
“He was at a wedding reception. It was getting late, the guests were getting relaxed and tipsy. He could’ve snuck away and come back without anyone noticing.”
“Okay, but you still didn’t explain,” Josh said. “How did you go from figuring out that part to suspecting both Kenneth and Caroline?”
“I had my first suspicion about Kenneth when I heard about Marcel’s missing royalties,” I said. “As Marcel’s agent, Kenneth would’ve known the AGER wasn’t treating his client fairly. If he’d been looking out for Marcel’s interests, he would’ve confronted Alexa. He didn’t. That’s what made it strange. But I didn’t know anything for sure until I saw the Fratelli Agosti jacket in his office and realized it was missing the label.”
Will nodded, understanding lighting his eyes. “So that’s when you knew it was him.”
“Yes. But I also knew he couldn’t have done it alone. The AGER wasn’t broken into the night of Alexa’s murder. The murderer had the key. But who could’ve given it to him? Apart from Josh, Dan and Caroline were the only ones. I didn’t believe in Josh’s guilt, and Dan was dead. That left Caroline. But killing off her colleagues would be stupid as it would’ve led suspicion straight to her. Besides, unlike Dan Cobbs, her career was doing fine. It wouldn’t be long before she was curator, if not at the AGER then at some other prestigious gallery. ”
“And Caroline had an alibi for both murders,” Josh pointed out.
“Which is why we ruled her out as a suspect.” Will frowned ruefully. “But knowing she had an accomplice explains it. All she had to do was give the murderer the key to the AGER. Though it means nothing without the motive.” He looked at me. “What made you think of her in the first place?”
I smiled. “I also didn't suspect her right away. It was Marlowe who first got me to wonder about her. Like Dad, he’s a pretty good judge of character, and he clearly didn’t like her. That made me more watchful of her.”
That, and the fact that she was always draping herself over Josh. I wasn't going to mention the other reason out loud.
“But it wasn’t until I realized some of the things Caroline said didn’t add up. Like her adamant insistence that she couldn’t paint. Sure, her fingers were stained once in a while, but that was just from scouting artist studios. Then came the puzzle of Josh’s side of the story about how he and Caroline met. I wondered why Caroline would say she scouted Josh at an art supply store when, according to Josh, all she did was tell him about an opening for an assistant. The explanation is that Caroline wasn’t going to art stores to scout artists, but to buy art supplies.”
“Why wouldn’t she just get them online?” Josh asked. “Why risk it?”
Will and I looked at each other and nodded. “Because she wanted to pay in cash,” he said. “She didn’t need a paper trail leading to her. She knew if anyone started looking into the case, credit charges from art supply stores would’ve proven her guilt.”
“But why did you assume she painted forgeries?” Josh asked. “She could’ve been an amateur artist and hiding it from embarrassment.”
“Come on. Did she strike you as a self-conscious person?”
He paused, then shook his head in a resigned way. “You're right. That's not her at all.”
“In any case, that explanation doesn’t add up when you put it together with the other clues,” I said. “Like the package Marcel asked Josh to pick up the night of Dan’s death. I suspect the package was his painting, or rather, a copy of it, which Marcel borrowed from Fabian Morris and failed to return. It was a painting from his new collection, one he pulled at the last minute, so he knew it couldn’t have been sold. Until then, Kenneth and Caroline had been careful to sell the forgeries to collectors overseas. It was a pure fluke that Maury got his hands on one. As soon as Marcel saw it, he suspected something untoward was going on. And that suspicion marked him as a victim.”
“So Marcel began to suspect the AGER was pulling tricks,” Will said. “He decided to investigate, but where to start? Alexa was dead. The next person to contact was Dan Cobbs.”
“Exactly. Dan had a crush on Alexa, so he would’ve defended her, assured Marcel she’d never sell forgeries. But doubt must’ve sprouted in the back of his mind anyway. Alexa may not sell forgeries, but what if she knew something? What if know it got her killed? The evening Josh and I met Caroline at the bar, Caroline got a text from someone and had to dash off. I think, if you check the phone records, you’ll see the text was from Dan Cobbs. He must’ve told her about what happened, unaware he was confiding in the killer. Caroline would’ve called Kenneth because Dan had to be dealt with. At the same time, Marcel sent Josh to get the forged painting back from Dan. While Josh was on his way, Kenneth would’ve killed Dan and stolen the painting so that when Josh got there, Dan was already dead.”
“And that left only Marcel to be dealt with,” Will concluded. He gave me a one-armed hug. “If everything is as you say, it shouldn’t be difficult to verify. So far, it jibes.”
Unexpectedly, Josh stepped forward and also hugged me, making my heartbeat speed up as I inhaled the masculine scent of his aftershave. He released me with a wistful look in his eyes. “You’ve been amazing through all this mess. I don’t know how to thank you.” He paused and swallowed. “Would you let me take you to dinner?”
Dinner with Josh.
I thought of the two of us sitting across from each other at a candlelit table, Josh looking into my eyes the way he was now. Seeing only me and no one else.
Or perhaps, wishing I was Caroline.
Would he be making this offer at all if Caroline hadn’t been taken away in handcuffs?
This wasn't right. It was too soon. Ignoring the throbbing in my chest, I forced a cheerful smile on my face and shook my head.
“Maybe another time, Josh.”
The corners of his mouth drooped. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly.
The words sent hesitation worming into my resolve. I squished it with a deep breath.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve got somewhere to be tonight.”
“You’re not going home?”
I smiled. “The murder investigation might be over, but there’s still unfinished business elsewhere.”
“Well, okay.” He nodded at his bike. “Can I at least give you a ride wherever you’re going?”
I shivered at the thought of getting on his metal contraption again. Some things were so much easier to refuse than oth
ers.
“No, thanks. I think I’ll just take the train this time.”
Forty minutes later, I exited the subway in the uptown Manhattan and stopped for a moment to admire the Metropolitan Opera House showing off the splendor of its facade from across the busy street. In the gathering dusk, the bright lights of its crystal chandeliers shone from within the glass walls, like a champagne flute in candlelight. A golden Christmas present.
The lady at the box office smiled at me from behind the small window as I handed her my credit card.
“Two tickets to this Saturday’s Rigoletto, please.”
My hand hesitated as I thought about having to pay off the charges in the coming months. Then I took a deep breath and released my hold on the plastic. This was more than worth the worry.
Stepping away from the window, I took out my phone and dialed Liam. He picked up on the first ring.
“Well, hey, gorgeous! I was giving up hope of ever hearing from you.”
His lighthearted voice was a breath of fresh air after the day I’d had.
“The murder investigation is over,” I told him. “We got the bad guys.”
“I see. The killer’s behind bars, now it’s my turn to get some attention.” There was a pause and I heard a customer on his end give an order for a gin and tonic. A moment later, he came back. “So? Ready to have those drinks with me?”
I grinned. “Absolutely. But first, how would you like to go to the opera this weekend?”
Chapter 20
“Stop it! I told you I’m not going if he’s there!”
“Yes, you are.”
I dragged Felisha out of the cab by the wrist, doing my best not to step on the hem of my long evening dress. I’d assumed that, once she was in the car, the hardest part of getting her to the bakery was over. But the last ten yards to the door proved just as difficult.
