Page 35 of Whispers of Sin

“Did Emily try to go through Bella Kadel at any point?”

“Not that I know of,” Rudy replied before he once again peered over his shoulder. “Listen, I really need to—”

“One more thing,” Theo said as he straightened in his chair to give the impression that the conversation was drawing to a close. His purpose was to draw it out as long as possible. “Could you describe Emily’s paintings for me? Are there any particular themes or subjects that she tends to focus on?”

Rudy hesitated, and Theo reluctantly accepted that he’d lost any footing that he’d initially attempted to find on solid ground. Rudy shifted his chair so that his back was no longer toward the exit. Outside the display window, a mother pushed a stroller down the sidewalk, her features partially obscured from the scarf that she’d wrapped around her lower face. Rudy gave her a small wave.

“Again, I don’t feel comfortable talking about Emily’s work without her being here. It’s personal. She puts her heart and soul into those paintings, and it just feels wrong for me to discuss them behind her back. Besides, what would Emily’s paintings have to do with Bella Kadel’s murder?”

“Fair enough,” Theo conceded, giving Rudy the idea that he was correct in assuming that Emily’s paintings had nothing to do with the murder investigation. “I appreciate your time, Rudy.”

Theo stood and held out his arm. The two men shook hands, and Rudy pushed in his chair before walking back toward the counter. The barista shot him an irritated glance, but soon the two of them were once again working in sync.

Tugging on the hem of his winter coat with his left hand, Theo eventually picked up his coffee. He headed toward the exit, the newfound information only leading him to more lingering questions. He waited until he was inside the warmth of his Jeep before securing his coffee in the cup holder and pulling out his cell phone.

He quickly typed out a message to the group. Bit would need to work his magic, because locating Martin Kingston’s granddaughter had just become their top priority. Given the man’s influence around town, Theo had to wonder if Mr. Kingston would make an appearance at the art exhibit this evening. Either way, Emily Park’s name had just been added to the suspect list.

Chapter Seventeen

Brooklyn Sloane

December 2023

Thursday — 7:44pm

Theartgallerywasinfused with an air of sophistication. The hushed whispers of the guests blended seamlessly with the soft strains of classical music emanating from hidden speakers. The subtle spotlights that had been strategically angled to highlight specific pieces of Lauren Kim’s artwork spilled onto the floor, giving off a welcoming ambiance to the viewers. The paintings themselves were disturbing and unsettling, even with the splashes of color amidst the darker backgrounds of swirled with black and grey paint.

“Crime scenes,” Brook muttered to Theo as they stood just inside the gallery. She’d already handed off her dress coat and leather gloves to an attendant. Theo had followed suit, and mere seconds had passed before they were being offered flutes of champagne. “It’s like we walked into an exhibit of people fawning over crime scenes.”

Everyone had their own personal likes and dislikes when it came to artwork, especially abstract pieces such as what adorned the gallery’s walls. If Lauren Kim’s objective with her work was to cause people to think about their own sins, she’d done a hell of a job.

The various scents of expensive perfumes wafted in the air, though it mingled with the faint aroma of aged wood and oil paints. Every woman was dressed in an elegant evening gown, while the men appeared quite dashing in their tuxedos. Brook had purposefully chosen a red evening gown, and the silk fabric hugged her curves and flowed around her legs with each step as she and Theo navigated the tight space. Clasped within the confines of her clutch and nestled amongst her lipstick and phone was her compact firearm. The weight of her purse served as a reminder that she wouldn’t have the luxury of drinking the champagne in her hand.

The undercurrents of conversation rippled throughout the room. Their presence had drawn some interest, but the attendance was large enough that Brook and Theo blended in and eventually were able to locate an area that gave them some space to talk quietly without anyone overhearing them.

“Maybe I’ll buy a painting for Bit this Christmas,” Theo said with a touch of amusement as he gestured toward one of the smaller artworks. His broad shoulders were accentuated by the impeccable fit of the black tuxedo that he’d worn this evening. The crisp white shirt and black bowtie added a touch of elegance to his ensemble, while the polished black shoes completed his refined appearance. The eyepatch, a stark contrast against the formality of his attire, added an intriguing air of mystery that had already captured the attention of several women inside the art gallery. “The look on his face when he opens his present would be priceless. Head’s up.”

“I heard that.” Bit’s voice had come through the earpiece loud and clear.

Brook had already caught sight of the sophisticated woman advancing in their direction. Unlike the other guests, she didn’t have a champagne flute in her hand. Instead, she carried with her a black clipboard that matched her evening gown. Brook was well aware that the woman in question was Sophia Delacroix due to her picture being front and center on the murder board back at the Airbnb.

“Ms. Delacroix, you look lovely tonight,” Theo said with a tilt of his head. He then made the proper introductions. “Ms. Delacroix, this is my colleague—Brooklyn Sloane.”

Brook made sure that the strap of her clutch was wrapped around her wrist. She then held the champagne flute in her left hand so that she could offer her right.

“Ms. Delacroix, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Sophia conducted herself professionally before clearing her throat.

“Mr. Neville, would it be possible to speak with you in private?”

Brook and Theo exchanged knowing glances before she gave him an imperceptible nod. Sylvie should be walking through the doors any moment. As Brook was left with her own company, she spent the time casually scanning the faces of those in attendance. She’d taken a few hours this afternoon to comb through the town’s social media site. There had been many pictures posted of those with influence, and some of those photographs had included Bella and Piper. Brook was more interested in the residents close to both victims, and she’d memorized their faces.

Lauren Kim was standing off to the side, deep in conversation with Maxwell Vanderbilt. While Brook had long black hair, hers was nothing in comparison to the color and length of Lauren’s dark vibrant strands. Brook didn’t need to be close to know the color of Lauren’s eyes, but it was interesting to note the way they remained trained on Maxwell’s face. Her slender fingers moved animatedly, emphasizing every word as she spoke. Whatever was being said, she wanted her point to be heard. As for Maxwell, his forced smile told of his wish to be elsewhere.

Brook continued her scrutiny of the guests, making note of each interaction—every subtle shift in body language, every hushed whisper exchanged between those within hearing distance, and every curious glance thrown her way. The undercurrent of interest flowed through the room like an invisible current, and it rose exponentially when a tall male subject wearing a tuxedo that was slightly too large walked into the gallery.

Interestingly enough, his gaze traveled across every single individual until he’d found his target—Lauren Kim. Regardless, he didn’t make his way over to her. He turned to speak to someone behind him, and that someone turned out to be Michael Davis. Brook observed the two men shake hands and move away from the entrance to continue their conversation.