2 Pane of Death (14 page)

I arrived at my building and parked in the alley, then went around to the front door to catch up with whatever was going on in the shop. Nessa looked up when I came in, and the concern on her face warmed me. “Is everything all right, dear?”

“As good as it can be, all things considered. Why me? What’s gone wrong with my karma? I never used to find bodies lying around.”

“Just coincidence, I’m sure. But it’s very sad about Mr. Ferguson, isn’t it? He seemed like such a nice man.”

That stopped me cold. “You met him?”

“Oh, yes. He came to the shop a time or two, and he was very charming. He bought a couple of your larger pieces. Actually, I didn’t realize who he was until you started working with him, and I checked the credit card receipts.”

Huh. So he really had checked me out, and he had even bought some of my work. I was flattered—and depressed all over again. He was still dead.

I went to the back of the studio and spent the rest of the day tending to the pesky details of inventory and supply orders. The next time I looked up, it was closing time; I went back to the shop to find Nessa clearing the cash register. “Any calls?”

“No, nothing. Were you expecting one?”

“The FBI agent who’s working on Peter’s case—she said something about getting together later today, but maybe she got hung up out at Peter’s house. I’m sure she’ll track me down one way or another.”

“No doubt. She is, after all, an FBI agent.”

I smiled at Nessa’s quiet humor. “That she is. So what’s the schedule for tomorrow? Who’s opening?”

“Allison said that she’d be in early—she wanted to spend the afternoon with your brother.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. Has she said anything about . . . anything?” I didn’t want to sound nosy, but I figured Nessa would have some clue about what Allison was thinking.

“Not in so many words. I know she’s very excited about her classes at the university. You can almost see her opening up—it’s a joy to watch.”

About what I’d figured—and told Cam. “I want her to be happy. Problem is, I want Cam to be happy too, and I’m not sure they want the same things. Oh, well, it’s not in my hands. If it’s okay with you, I’ll go on up and see what Cam’s doing. I’ll be in first thing in the morning.”

“Good night, dear.” Nessa went back to tallying the cash, and I made my way around to the side of the building and up the stairs.

Since the dogs did not swarm around my ankles the moment I opened the door, I deduced that Cam was there and had taken them out recently. “Hello?” I called out.

“In here,” Cam replied, emerging from the back bedroom. “I wondered when you’d get back. How’d it go with Matt? Did he shine bright lights in your eyes and demand a confession?”

“No, nothing like that. But there’s a new FBI agent on the case—a woman with the Art Theft Unit, or whatever they call it. She knows all the dirt about Matt and me, and the last murder. That makes me a little uncomfortable, but it saves explaining stuff.”

“Is she any good?”

“I don’t know yet. She said we should get together again today. When I left the police station she was headed out to the crime scene. You haven’t taken any phone messages, have you?”

“Nope, nothing here. Anybody have any leads?”

I shook my head. “Not that they’ve shared with me. No, I’m wrong: Matt said he thought Peter’s partner, Andrew Foster, might be in town. So, you have any plans? Should we go out and find some dinner?”

Before he could answer, there was a knocking at the door. Fred and Gloria raced to stand at attention in front of it. I followed less quickly and checked the peephole: Agent Natalie, carrying what looked like . . . pizza boxes! Hallelujah.

I opened the door and said, “Watch out for the dogs. But I think they’re more interested in the pizza than in you.”

Nat grinned. “Smart dogs. I’ve got a beagle who’s a pepperoni junkie. Sorry to barge in, but it seemed simpler than calling. And I took a chance that you hadn’t eaten.”

For some reason, the line “beware Greeks bearing gifts” popped into my head. Smart move on her part, to catch us off guard. But we had nothing to hide, and the pizza smelled wonderful. I stepped back to let her in. “If I were a dog, I’d be rolling at your feet about now. I love to eat but I hate to cook. Come on in.”

She walked into the space, the dogs at her heels—they weren’t about to lose sight of those interesting-smelling boxes. “Nice place—an old factory?”

“It was, until I bought it about ten years ago. Here, put those on the table and I’ll get plates and stuff. You want something to drink? I’ve got iced tea, or something stronger. Or are you on the job?”

“Hell, a beer won’t hurt, if you’ve got it. So, this must be your brother, Cameron?”

“See, Cam, I told you she’d read the file. Yes, Nat, this is my brother. Say something nice to the agent, Cam.”

“Em thinks I’m a social moron. Nice to meet you—Natalie, is it?”

“Nat, please. Natalie sounds like a second-grade teacher.”

“And I’m Cam. Can I have one of those beers too, Em?”

“Coming up.” I collected plates and napkins, snagged a trio of cold beers from the fridge, and dumped everything on my all-purpose table. “Let’s eat.” We devoted an intense few minutes to distributing and consuming our first pieces of pizza, then came up for air. “So, Nat, you saw the crime scene?”

She nodded, chewed, swallowed. “Interesting place. But a forensic nightmare.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve seen it—next to no furniture. Every surface is either shiny-smooth, like in the kitchen, or so rough that it couldn’t take fingerprints. And whoever was there cleaned up good. We’ve found prints for the people we already knew were there: Peter, you, Maddy. We’re sorting through a few more for any construction or delivery guys, but it doesn’t look promising.” She took another piece of pizza and bit into it with a blissful look on her face.

I waited until she had swallowed again. “Why are you telling us this? Doesn’t this compromise your investigation?”

“Matt says you’re good people, and I really don’t think you killed the guy. What did you have to gain?”

“Maddy seems to think I had a reason to kill him.”

Nat snorted. “Right. You lusted after Mister Billionaire who had a taste for art, and then you whacked him. Did you?”

“Which? What? Lust or whack?”

“Let’s start with lust. Were you doing Peter Ferguson?” I didn’t know whether to be furious or amused. “No! He was an interesting and attractive man, and I’ll cop to thinking about it for about twelve seconds. But I wasn’t about to screw up a lucrative and highly visible commission for a roll in the hay, even if he did have millions.”

Nat nodded. “Good. That’s what I told Matt.”

“Wait a minute—you discussed this with Matt?”

“It’s part of the investigation, and we have to evaluate Maddy’s accusation.”

I was getting antsy, so I stood up and stalked to the kitchen area, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Cam had been watching our dialogue as though it were a ping-pong game, but now he decided to step in. “Let me get this straight—you think Em is in the clear?”

Nat turned to him. “Cam, I’m neither naïve nor stupid. I would not be sitting here saying the things I’m saying if I didn’t think Em had nothing to do with this. Relax. I just want to kick things around with her—she knows the people involved, and the place. And I’ve got something in mind for you too, if you’re interested.”

I was getting more and more bewildered, and it wasn’t just the half a bottle of beer I had consumed. I returned to the table and sat down. “Okay, you think I’m innocent, and thank you for that. Does Matt agree?”

“For the record, he’s not saying. Off the record, probably. So what’s the story with you two?”

“We were . . . involved for a while a couple of years ago, and then we broke it off. But we recently sort of got back together again.”

“Makes it hard for him, doesn’t it? But he’ll work it out—he’s a good cop.”

“I hope so. This is complicated enough. Okay, Nat, what is it you want from me?”

“Like I said. I know a lot about art theft, but you know about Tucson and who’s who here. Anybody around who would handle a crime like this?”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. Sure, I know the local craftspeople, but I can’t think of anyone who could pull off a multimillion dollar art heist. And that includes me—I wouldn’t know where to start.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t mean the theft itself—anyone can hire goons for the heavy lifting. I’m more interested in what whoever it was plans to do with the art. If it’s not a local, who would notice somebody from out of town, somebody who didn’t belong?”

I felt a spurt of impatience at her blithe ignorance. “We get a lot of people coming through Tucson, you know. It’s a big and growing city. And I’m not exactly a great socializer—I spend most of my time in my studio or my shop, working. If I don’t work, I don’t have anything to sell. So I’m not spending a lot of time hanging out with high-end art thieves.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Em. All I’m saying is that you have better contacts around here than I do. I would appreciate it if you would use the resources you possess to facilitate my investigation.”

Was she making fun of me? I looked her in the eye, and then we broke out laughing simultaneously. “I would be delighted to be of service to your endeavor, should my meager resources prove valuable.” So there.

“Thanks. Look, I can imagine that you all got off on the wrong foot with the FBI before, but I don’t play things that way. And I take all the help I can get. I promise I’ll keep you in the loop too.”

I wondered briefly how Matt felt about this kind of information sharing, but I decided that it wasn’t any of his business. And Nat was right. After last time, it was nice to be included—and trusted.

I grabbed another slice of pepperoni pizza, but before I tackled it, I said, “Okay, Matt’s big hang-up at the moment is that he thinks he has to treat me like a suspect. I figure the best way to deal with that is to find a few more suspects, or better yet, the real killer. You agree?”

Nat’s mouth was full, but she nodded vigorously. I seized the opportunity to go on. “So who’s on the short list? Matt said Peter’s former partner popped up in town and then disappeared, which looks a little fishy. And I notice that his lovely ex-wife arrived here in record time and made sure she got some face time on the news. Unless you seriously think this was the work of some impersonal art theft ring?”

Nat chewed, swallowed. For once I waited until she could speak. “Let’s start with that last one. Such things do exist, but big glass pieces would not be their first choice for a target—too hard to handle. I kinda like the others.”

“Okay, why? Talk me through it. I don’t know much about either of the people.” Only what Cam had found, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Let’s start with Jennifer. She and Peter got married young, right out of college. They popped out a couple of kids who’re now in college. They must have been married almost ten years when Peter hit the big time. Good market timing on his part, and a dose of luck.”

Cam spoke for the first time in a while. “I remember when his products first hit the market. They were works of art in their own right. Simple, and there were very few glitches, by industry standards. And he never rushed their release. He made sure they worked the way they should from the beginning. I have to say that earned him a lot of respect in the industry, and among his consumers.”

Nat nodded. “Right. He was the golden boy. He had strong products and he stood behind them. And it didn’t hurt that he looked damn good on camera. Right, Em?”

“I’ll have to agree there. He was not at all what I expected from a computer geek.” Cam looked miffed, but I ignored him.

“So that’s why it was such a surprise when he shut down PrismCo,” Nat went on. “No warning. No apparent business reason—sales were strong, and he hadn’t overextended the company, either in staff or financially. So why did he fold up his tents? Cam, you have any ideas?”

“Nope. I was as surprised as anybody. The announcement really was a shock, and people did a lot of poking around in his code, to see if maybe there was some bug nobody had noticed yet and he wanted to get out while the getting was good. But everything was clean. The whole thing became sort of an industry legend.”

Nat nodded. “That matches what I heard. So why was Andrew Foster so pissed, Cam?”

“I really don’t know. Sour grapes, sounds like. He had a cushy job, and then Peter dumped him, along with all the rest of the staff. With nice severance packages, I have to say. I know a couple of people on the receiving end. I doubt Foster suffered financially, so I have to think it was more personal than that.”

“But was he mad enough to kill Ferguson? He’s had plenty of time to cool down.”