Murder in Waiting - Lynn Cahoon Page 0,81
studio as Cali for the next ten minutes. Then she sat down in front of a painting and took out a notepad. I glanced back the way we’d come. Still no Greg. What was he doing? I slipped onto the bench beside Cali and sighed. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Yes, it is.” She smiled at me and returned to making notes. “It’s a shame they’re closing it down. I guess most people don’t come to Vegas to see rare art.”
“The hotel is beautiful, but sometimes, just sitting with a piece, you get to know so much more about the painting. Are you an artist?”
“Yes. I just had my first showing in San Francisco. It was at a very small gallery, but you have to start somewhere, right?” She dug into her pocket. “You can see my work on my website, here.”
I glanced at the card. California Windsor—Artist. I guess this really was our girl. “I’m from California too. Nearby the city. It’s a small town, you probably never heard of it. South Cove.”
Cali dropped her pen. I reached down and handed it to her. When she didn’t say anything, but sat staring at the painting, her hands shaking, I decided to jump in. “You know you’re listed as a missing person, right?”
“I need to call the police and let them know where I am. My husband, Frank, he was killed in South Cove, but I’m thinking you already knew that.” She turned to me. “You’re the cop’s girlfriend. The one with the historical wall on her property, right?”
“How did you know that?” I kept my eye on the doorway, just in case Greg finally showed up. I was getting a little nervous with the turn in the conversation.
She smiled and closed her notebook. “Frank used to talk about his projects. His finds, he called them. You were on the top of his list. He was so excited about finally proving the validity of your claim.”
“Really? The Society closed our case.”
I saw the response on her face. She’d known. “Look, it wasn’t his fault, it was mine. I had some debt Frank hadn’t known about. And when they came to me with a solution, I acted without telling him. He told me he would have paid the money. That he could have paid the money. I didn’t think he had a dime to his name when I married him. But I guess he was better at hiding stuff than I was. Who knew he had fifty thousand tucked away?”
“Then you told him he had to cancel my wall’s historical file. So the developer could buy the property.”
“That was all I was supposed to do. Convince him to close it. When he said no, I pretended to be you, and I called to cancel it. Someone in the office besides Frank was in on it. They made sure the cancellation happened. Then Frank found out, and he was mad. He went to talk to you.” She sighed. “When I heard about the accident, I freaked out. I came here and stayed in Aaron’s condo. We met a few years ago and really hit it off. He’s such a nice guy.”
“Do you know what Aaron does for a living?” I could be wrong, but I had the feeling that Cali was one of those wrong-place-wrong-time people. Or she was trying to portray herself that way. Something about her story just wasn’t ringing true.
“Something in real estate. Condos, I think. He’s been busy here in Vegas and is just starting a new development in Reno.” She frowned. “Why did you ask?” Before I could answer, she started, staring at a spot next to me.
Greg was at my side. “Miss Winston, I’m Greg King, lead detective of South Cove Police Department. Can I ask you if you drove here to Vegas?”
Cali shook her head. “I don’t drive. Never have. I went to school in New York City and didn’t need a car there. And I don’t need one here. Or, I mean, at home in the city. Everything’s right where I can walk.”
“So how did you get here?” Greg’s voice sounded kind, friendly. Just asking a few questions.
“Aaron came and got me. He flew me here in his private jet. The condo’s so close to the Strip, it’s like being at home.” She shrugged. “I know I shouldn’t be playing cards, but I love blackjack. I’m just on a strict budget this trip. Frank, well, he didn’t approve of gambling.”
“Were you and Frank still married?” I didn’t