by Diane Bator
She snorted. “So you thought you’d wake me up and shake the demons out of my closet? I thought you wanted to be friends.”
“I do,” Leo said. “I figured this was one conversation you’d rather have when Clancy can’t eavesdrop.”
Christina grunted and rolled over. “How do I know he’s not with you now?”
“There’s not much chance of that. I’m in bed naked.”
The thoughts that ravaged her brain, threatened to overheat her body. “Way too much information. What do you want to know?”
“How well do you know Marty and the women you danced with?” he asked.
She shut her eyes. Leo wanted her to relive her life in the city. The dancing, the sneaking around, the twenty-hour days. The life she wanted to get back to because... Because why?
Brady was in jail. Gage was dead. What was there left for her there but classes she could have taught with her eyes closed and a job that left her hollow each night. There were no pieces to pick up, no hearts to mend save her own.
Christina drew in a slow breath to steady the vibration of her entire body. “Who in particular?”
“Jakova and Angel.” He paused. “From what I hear, they’d both modeled for Gage and both admitted to being at his apartment that night.”
She sat up, shaking the images of Leo out of her head. “They both talk big, but I can’t see them doing anything bad to anyone. Angel is harmless. She was the one who gave me tips on how to handle customers and deal with Brady and Marty.”
“You told her everything?” Something in Leo’s voice made Christina shiver.
“She was the only friend I had.”
He sighed. “So you think I should focus on Jakova and Marty?”
“Yes. Actually, Jakova’s the one person I’d suspect over anyone. She and Gage had an on-off relationship. When they were on, she had eyes for other men. When they were off, anyone who came near Gage was fair game and a target for her wrath.”
“Weird.” Leo mused. “Did she didn’t care who he hung around with while they were seeing each other?”
“Their relationship was even weirder than mine and Brady’s. They were an item when I met him. I knew him for two weeks before he decided he wanted me to model for him.” She blinked back tears. “We met for coffee, went to galleries and openings, the works. He broke up with Jakova the same week my dad called for me to come home and help my mom.”
“And Brady started to hang out with him when?”
Christina rubbed her eyes. “He probably thinks he had me fooled, but I knew. He’d come home smelling like Gage’s cologne.” She sniffled. “Gage had the scent custom made so the only way Brady could smell like that was...if he and Gage...” She pulled the blankets to her chin as tears cascaded down her face. “I’m sorry. I was so stupid to trust the both of them.”
Leo sighed. “I’m sorry, Christina. I wish I hadn’t called.”
“No, it’s okay.” She gulped and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “If Brady didn’t kill Gage, I want you to get him out of jail. Mostly so I can kill him.”
He laughed. “Nice spin on things, babe. I like the way you think. I also like the way you bake. I’m missing your éclairs and cookies. There’s no bakeries I like here.”
Christina smirked. “You know you’re going from lean and mean to fluffy, right?”
“Are you trying to tell me I like your baking too much?”
She sniffed. “I’m saying you should spend more time at the gym and less time fogging up my display case.”
His chuckle sent a shiver over her body. “I can’t, babe, you’d miss me and I don’t want to be responsible for breaking your heart.”
Christina snorted, tears welling in her eyes. “That’s it. You’re a delusional sugar junkie and I’m not enabling you anymore. You need professional help. No more cookies. No more éclairs.”
“I could’ve told you I needed help, and cookies,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“Not really.” Christina admitted. “I’ve been a lot better.”
“You’ve also been in worse places. I’m glad you’re not still at Rascalz, although I wouldn’t mind seeing you dance in private sometime.”
She smiled. “Oh, ha, ha.”
“Babe. I wasn’t joking.” He hung up.
Christina kicked off her blanket as a wave of heat surged from her inside out. How the hell was she supposed to get to sleep now? She flicked on the television and dozed off and on until her alarm finally rang at four-thirty. It was going to be a very long day.
On day number eight of her Secret Santa’s deliveries, Christina arrived at work to find eight Christmas stockings hanging on the walls. Only four had names on them. There was one for each Clancy, Christina, Mel, and Daisy. Someone had taken the time to embroider the names in glittering red ribbon on the white fun-fur.
She dropped her coat on the floor and took down her mother’s stocking. Tears filled her eyes while the caressed the letters. There was a lump down inside the toe and she stuck her hand inside to fish out the envelope of the day. Inside there was a note and a glittering gold ornament that read “Mom.” Christina wiped her tears away and hung the ornament on the tree.
Hanging her mother’s stocking back on the wall, Christina noticed one of the other stockings had a piece of tape and a note with Brady’s name. Secret Santa obviously hadn’t wanted to make the commitment for her. None of the stockings bore Leo’s name.
Preheating the oven and prepping her ingredients took Christina’s mind off nothing. Her daily activities in the bakery had become routine to the point she no longer had to make the conscious effort to remember each little thing, which was good because she ended up yawning and stumbling through the entire morning.
Chapter 21
Leo ducked under the crime scene tape and sucked in a sharp breath. “Didn’t anyone think to open a window and air this place out? It smells like a dumpster.”
Shelley fanned her face. She stepped around him and headed away from him toward the far end of the room. “I guess no one got around to cleaning up yet. We’d better make it quick before I pass out.”
He grinned. The woman could deal with the scum of the earth, just not the stench they left behind. As he scanned the room, his smile faded. Gage’s apartment was even creepier in person than in the crime scene photos. The painted silver cement floor, the foil-covered tables, and spray-painted chairs looked more like they belonged in a bad space movie than an artist’s apartment.
Two things stood out as Leo walked from room to room, the red couch and the mussed bed with red satin sheets. His stomach lurched. The same bed he assumed Christina had spent a great deal of time on between poses.
Poses.
Leo turned his attention away from the bed and headed toward a thick stack of canvases leaning against one silver wall. The painting in front was bold and colorful, but childish. So were the next ten. As he moved aside the eleventh painting, his heart leaped into his throat. “Wow.”
Seeing one of Christina’s portraits in person took his breath away. She had far more talent than Gage would have ever known, yet she’d hidden behind his easel. It seemed Gage had recognized the one thing Christina hadn’t: She was a superstar the world had yet to discover.
“What did you find?” Shelley asked.
Leo was too busy studying the portrait to answer. Gage’s signature slashed the lower right corner of the portrait, but he’d know Christina’s work anywhere. A woman’s toe touched the upper curve of Gage’s signature. Leo’s gaze followed her pale leg, past the book open on her bent leg to the lacy edge of her white summer dress and up to where her pale blonde hair hung over her face in an angled bob. The woman lounged on a bed with red satin sheets.
“Will you pay attention?” Shelley tapped his arm.
“Huh?” Leo flinched, unaware how long he’d stared at the painting. “Sorry. What’s up?”
She crouched in front of the painting and whistled. “Holy crap, that’s gorgeous. How c
ome Gage didn’t do more of these and less of the graffiti crap?”
He stifled a chuckle. “Because Gage didn’t do the portraits. Christina did.”
“Christina?” Shelley wobbled. “You mean Rose, right? She’s an artist too?”
“A very talented one.” He placed the portrait aside, away from Gage’s paintings. “Will Gage’s estate let her take back what’s rightfully hers?”
“I hope so. That girl could sell these for a small fortune. Hell, I’d buy one.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Are there more?”
Leo waved to the stack. Together, he and Shelley sorted through hundreds of paintings and found several signed by Rose Ryan, a couple signed by Gage that were obviously painted by Christina, and a few unsigned.
“Is this why she went by Rose, not Christina?” She sat on a stool near an empty easel. “Maybe Rose wasn’t as much a stage name as a pseudonym. If she failed, she could go back to being Christina Davidson. If she succeeded, she could keep the art world out of her other life.”
“Maybe.” Leo ran a hand over his face. Christina’s entire life had been a string of one man after another taking control and profiting from her many talents.
Shelley sighed. “That poor girl had better learn how to stand up for herself before the next man comes along to mess with her.”
“I agree.” He trailed a finger over a portrait of a red-haired woman wading along the beach in the waves. “Her dad, Gage, Brady, they’ve all taken advantage of her.”
“And you?” Her question hung in the stifling air for several heartbeats.
“Maybe.” At least on one occasion.
She stood and stretched. “I’ll work on getting her paintings back. Did you find anything we could use to free Brady?”
In truth, he wasn’t really looking. “Not yet. I was hoping to find Rose’s art supplies. Brushes, paints, that sort of thing. All the things that were missing from their apartment.”
“She didn’t take them home with her?” She furrowed her brow.
“No.” He finally tore his gaze away from Christina’s painting. “Chances are if Gage was having her paint here, she might have stashed them somewhere in his apartment rather than packing them back and forth.”
“Okay. I guess that makes sense since his place is closer to the school.” Shelley turned and practically lunged toward a table full of brushes and tubes of paint. “What would I look for?”
Leo shrugged. “Damned if I know. She might have them initialed or in a special bag or box, especially if she took them to her classes. She’d probably keep them somewhat organized so she could grab them and go.”
After ten minutes, Leo’s attention wandered back to the bed. He got down on his hands and knees and lifted the blankets. Under the rusty frame, lay a wooden box etched with roses. He tugged the box and almost six months’ worth of dust bunnies from beneath the box spring. Once he blew off the dust, he could read “Rose” carved into the lid. “Found it.”
“Let’s see.” Shelley nudged him aside and opened the chest. “Nice. This proves she painted, but not that she painted those amazing portraits. What’s with the little angel?”
Leo frowned. In the top tray of the box lay a small glass angel. When Shelly reached for the figurine, he pushed her hand aside. “It could be a gift from a friend, or a warning. I think we should get that checked for prints.”
She raised her thin eyebrows. “Pardon me? Why would you even say that?”
“The fact we’re investigating a murder.” He grimaced. “The angel’s clean. No paint splatters, no marks, not even any dust.”
“So you think it’s a clue.” Shelley reached into her purse and withdrew a small plastic bag. “I had a hunch we’d need a few of these.”
“Perfect.” Leo took a few pictures of the angel, then flipped the bag inside out and stuck his hand inside to pick up the figurine. Something about the angel seemed so familiar. He was sure he’d seen one like it before.
She patted his shoulder. “You should take your friend her paints. She might want to use them sometime. Someone that talented will be itching to paint again.”
He gazed at the assortment of dented and crumpled metal tubes. “I thought you said we needed to go through the estate before we removed anything from Gage’s apartment.”
She snorted. “For the paintings. I doubt they even know her art supplies are here. Even if they did, there’s no disputing the box is hers. Her name’s all over everything.”
Leo sat with his back against the bed, his gaze on the paintings across the room. “Those portraits have her name on them too. Why can’t we take them?”
“I’ll make a call.” Shelley grabbed her cell phone. “If we try to walk out the front door with them, the doorman might call the cops.”
He closed the art box and sent a quick text to Danny with the photos of the angel attached. “Found this in Christina’s paint box. I’ll turn it in for fingerprinting later. Seems out of place.”
“Can you believe the nerve of that man?” Shelley growled. “The executor will let us take the box and the artwork, but I have to send him photos of each item and I have to buy him dinner Saturday night. Christ, I don’t even like the guy let alone want to show my face anywhere in public with him.”
“I believe it’s called taking one for the team.” Leo chuckled. “You’re a saint, Shelley. I’m sure Christina will appreciate your sacrifice.”
“She’d better.” She grabbed three paintings and headed for the elevator. “I’m taking these before that schnook changes his mind. You keep looking, take your time. I’ll stall the doorman.”
Alone in the silver studio, Leo cringed. What did Christina ever see in Gage to begin with? He appeared outrageous and thought he was the reincarnation of Andy Warhol, she was quiet, methodical and talented. Gage, if the bottles in the kitchen were a clue, was a drinker and party animal. Christina couldn’t handle more than a couple drinks and preferred sugar and spices to drugs.
And then there was Brady.
Leo wandered through the apartment one more time before Shelley returned, but found nothing else the police had missed. He picked up the box and a couple paintings, waiting patiently while she chatted with the doorman in the hall. That was when he saw the feather.
As he picked it up, he supposed the downy feather could have come from a pillow or comforter and travelled to Gage’s apartment from anywhere. The last place he’d seen one like it, however, was on the back of a stripper. Angel.
As he patted the pocket he’d placed the bagged figurine in, a knot grew in his stomach. He waited until they were in Shelley’s car before he turned to her. “Drop me off at Rascalz on your way back to the office. Take the figurine to my partner Danny. He’ll get it fingerprinted as soon as possible.”
Shelley raised both eyebrows. “Are you serious? We just found a whole boatload of nothing and you want to go hang out with strippers?”
Leo held up the feather. “I think we found a lot more than nothing.”
“I’m confused. A feather and a glass angel are clues?” Shelley grinned. “Forget dropping you off, I want to go where you go. Your job sounds a lot more fun.”
Chapter 22
On the ninth day of Christmas, Christina walked around the entire bakery but found nothing out of the ordinary. She furrowed her brow. Had her Secret Santa gotten bored with the game already? She went about her routine of turning on the oven and setting out her ingredients. When she opened the refrigerator, she found a box of shiny red ornaments beneath a carton of eggs. “On the ninth day of Christmas, someone gave to me nine shiny baubles.”
A small laugh escaped her, then she wandered into the store to hang the ornaments and sighed. With Leo away and Clancy’s attention focused elsewhere, she was out of suspects. She was so sure Leo was her Secret Santa, she would have bet money, yet the gifts showed up even when he was out of town.
Her morning ritual out of the way, she returned to the task at hand. Dozens of buns and cookies later, and
more customers than she’d seen in the past two months, Christina paused to wipe the sweat from her forehead with her forearm and glanced at the clock. One o’clock. No sign of Clancy or Leo, just a steady stream of customers. She was already worn out. Maybe after Christmas, she’d pool her meager funds and take a trip. Disappear from her family, from Packham, from Brady and all the reminders of Gage and Leo.
Unless Brady got out of jail. Would he bother to look for her? Leo knew where she was. If he talked to Brady... Leo also knew Brady well enough to not want him anywhere near her.
Christina blew a strand of hair out of her face and kneaded bread dough. Deep down, she missed Leo. How could she feel so strongly for some guy she just met? Compared to Gage, Leo was a knight in tarnished armor, but a knight nonetheless.
“Hey.” Lucy stood in the kitchen doorway. “Leo said you were a tea drinker, so I thought I’d drop by and have a cup with you. I hope that’s okay.”
Christina gawked, her mouth dangling open.
Lucy shifted in her stance and winced. “If this is a bad time, I can leave your cup and go. I’ll bet Christmas can make things a little crazy around here.”
“No.” She blinked back a rogue tear and smiled. “Don’t go. Come and sit. I...can use the company.”
A relieved smile broke across Lucy’s face. “Thanks. Mitch and April took the kids Christmas shopping and I’m too restless to sit and write. I stopped by the bookstore, but Katie's scrambling with a ton of new stock and...” She trailed off then grimaced. “You’re really too busy to worry about my lame problems. I’ll go.”
Christina reached out and grabbed Lucy’s arm. “Sit. I’m busy, but sometimes distractions are a good thing.”
Lucy sat. “I thought Sophie worked here. I haven’t seen her lately.”
Christina snorted. “She quit to work for her new boy toy at his spa.”
“Oh. What?” Lucy’s whiskey-gold eyes widened and she burst into laughter. “She’s got a new boyfriend? Wow. I hope his insurance is paid up.”
Christina fumbled her rolling pin. “Sounds like you know her well.”