Winning Appeal
Page 25

“He probably thought you would never figure it out. Hubris,” Beth said.
“What does the temperature have to do with it?” Caitlin looked confused.
“Hubris, not humid. He thinks he’s smarter than everyone else,” Beth explained. “He even let them photograph him near the painting. It’s been ten years and he probably figures he’ll never get caught. He may even wish he could show off a little.” I agreed. I knew this guy’s type.
“That sounds like him all right. He’s got lots of humorous,” Caitlin said disdainfully, nodding rapidly in agreement.
“So you trespassed and searched his place without his knowledge.” I broke in, glancing at Beth. She needed to remember that Caitlin wasn’t a complete innocent here. She wasn’t sixteen anymore.
“Right, and I found it, but I realized that my word wouldn’t even be enough to prove that it was my grandfather’s painting.”
“And you wanted someone knowledgeable about art as a witness,” Beth said. I could see by the set of her jaw that she didn’t appreciate being used.
“Yeah, and I thought of you. You studied art and you seem honest. Are you mad?” She sat forward and gave Beth a very earnest, childlike look. I didn’t buy it. Caitlin may not have been a scholar, but she was shrewd.
“Um… yeah,” Beth answered. “I wish you had told me upfront you wanted me to be some kind of witness for you. I really don’t want to get too involved in this personally.” I smiled to myself. Thank you baby Jesus.
“What’s the deal with the reporter?” I asked, changing the subject, before Beth changed her mind.
“Oh yeah, that’s the really weird thing,” Caitlin said sitting back again. “I recognized her.”
“She was one of the reporters who covered a lot fundraisers,” Beth noted.
“Not just her face, her name too. Elaine Cooper is the reporter who wrote that fluff piece on Paul, the one that tipped me off.”
“Okay, that’s a little weird,” I conceded, “but it could be a coincidence.”
“A reporter with a connection to Paul winds up dead on your doorstep, you have to tell the police,” Beth said sounding determined.
“Tell them what? That the dead lady wrote an article about the guy I was sleeping with when I was sixteen, who may have my grandfather’s painting, which I only know because I broke into his house?” The innocent waif was gone and Caitlin sounded impatient and a little testy. I saw Beth narrow her eyes. Beth might be a sweetheart, but she was no fool, and she was nobody’s pawn.
“I’m sure they interviewed you. Did you at least mention that you felt like you were being followed last night?” she asked coolly. I smiled again. She really should go to law school.
“No. I didn’t say anything except that she looked like one of the journalists I had seen at events I’ve attended. I didn’t want to have them start investigating me too much. Besides, the person who was following me was wearing a ball cap and a raincoat. She wasn’t wearing those things when I found her.”
“There you go. It could be totally unrelated. Maybe she had a boyfriend in the building and they had a fight and he killed her… in front of your door,” I said, not very convincingly. “What is it you want us to do?”
“Anything,” Caitlin said, looking desperate and uneasy.
“How did she get by the doorman?” Beth asked.
“I don’t know. I guess the police will find out.”
“You can stay with me. I have a futon you can sleep on,” Beth said matter-of-factly and I almost got whiplash turning to face her.
“What? No, she can’t! Somebody is following her. They may have left a dead body in front of her door.”
“You said that might be a coincidence and totally unrelated,” she pointed out.
“I don’t want to take that chance,” I said through clenched teeth.
“You’re not taking it; I am.”
“You’re my girlfriend!”
“You and Mike are going out? Congratulations!” Caitlin perked up.
“I live in a secure building,” Beth said, ignoring her.
“So does she!” I reminded her.
“Well, do you want to stay with us?” I have to admit that for about a millisecond… Hey, I’m a guy!
“You two are into that?” Caitlin cut in. She paused and seemed to consider it. “You know, I might be up for it.” Beth and I both gave her a death glare at the same time, and then continued ignoring her.
“Beth, for now just let it be. We can talk to the building owner and make sure he understands that security needs to be tightened.”
“Isn’t there anything else we can do? I just don’t want to see anyone else get hurt.” The look she gave me made me want to find a way to make her happy. Fuck, I was a goner. I would be BBQing with the other marrieds soon.
“Maybe we can poke around online… from the safety of our office, and try to find out more about this reporter. Other than that, I’m not sure what we can do… unless Gerard invites us into his study where you happen to see the painting,” I added without thinking.
“Wait, if he invited us in… the mystery weekend,” Beth said looking excited. Nice job Mark. I doodled a picture of a big mouth on my pad.
Chapter Thirteen
Beth
6:00 PM
Cam opened the door and invited us in. When we got to the living room, all conversation immediately ceased and everyone turned to look at us in unison. Even Bruno, who looked like he was thinking, “tramp.”
“F. Scott and Zelda have arrived,” Cam announced with a smile.
“Nice tree. Well lit,” Braden said, not smiling.
“You, know Mark, standing under a tree filled with lights kind of defeats the purpose of copping a feel in the dark,” Adam added.
“Oh shit,” Mark said, looking pained. Paparazzi. I sighed.
“It was a beautiful picture,” Lily said, quickly coning over to stand next to me and throwing a threatening glance at her husband.
“It was very romantic, honey,” Jess added. “The two of you really could have been F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald. Except that you weren’t drunk. Or crazy.”
“What’s the big deal anyway?” Gabrielle asked, dismissively. “Braden and I had sex during your family’s fundraiser last year.”
“Gabrielle!” Braden said through gritted teeth.