“Yeah, sure, she lives right next door. I don’t see her much because I work nights over at the Silverado—urban cowboy bar, but we get some actual cowboys sometimes, and they—”
“When did you last see or speak with Miss Downing?”
“Oh, um, gee. A few days ago, I guess. I get home about three most nights, and she leaves about nine or sometimes ten. I’m usually out like a light by then. But we’ve chatted up some when we connect—days or nights off, or the laundry scene. She’s really nice. Reb says she’s a les but he’s a guy and if a girl doesn’t fall for his”—she made air quotes—“charm, she’s a les. I don’t count ’cause we’ve been buds since forever and don’t screw around with each other like that even when we’re not screwing around with anybody else. It’s a pact.”
“Great. Pictures, Peabody.”
“I’m real sorry you died,” Laurel said to Peabody. “I mean the actress who played you in the vid. She looked a lot like you. Is that weird?”
“A little. Do you know any of these women?”
“Oh.” As if she just remembered she held it, Laurel put the fizzy down on a table. “You should sit down. I can get you a fizzy or some coffee, or whatev.”
“That’s okay. Take a look.”
Laurel sat with the photos, caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she studied them. “I don’t know them. Maybe it’s because I work nights I never saw them come around. But I saw these two.”
She held out Su’s and MacKensie’s photos.
“Where?” Eve demanded.
“In Charity’s apartment.”
“You just said you hadn’t seen them come around.”
“Not them them. But I saw them in the painting. One in Charity’s place. She painted them, and herself and I think it was two other women. They all looked really sad, but really strong. I said that to Charity.”
“Peabody, check it out. The other women aren’t in this painting?”
“Uh-uh. One’s old—I mean older. Like, I don’t know, fifty? And the other looked really young, really sad. Really pretty. They were all really pretty. Anyway— Oh!”
She actually clapped her hands together, as if applauding herself.
“That was the last time. I remember now. See I got up for work, and Reb hadn’t refilled the AutoChef. No coffee. Not enough anyway. And you know, it was desperate, and I went to Charity’s to see if she had any to spare, and she was all, sure, I can hook you up. Then I had to pee. I went for the coffee even before I peed, so I said I need to pee, and she said I could use her bathroom. She has a two-bed unit like us, and she uses the spare for like a studio. For painting? And I saw the painting of the women, and the other one. The scary one.”
“Scary?”
“I guess she’d tossed a cover over it, but it fell off, and there was this scary painting of these men—and it was like they were all screaming and falling into like a fiery pit in front of this big, spooky-looking horror vid house that was burning, too. You know, like hell. They were sort of wearing devil’s masks, and nothing else. It kind of looked like they were supposed to be devils, but I only saw it for a second before Charity came out with the coffee, and walked over and closed the door.”
Hunching her shoulders, Laurel flushed. “I wasn’t poking in, I swear! It was just the door was open and I saw. That’s not poking in. So I said I was s
orry, I just glanced in. I don’t think she was mad, but I could tell she didn’t want me to say anything, so I didn’t. I just said thanks for the coffee, and how she saved my life, and I left. That was a few days ago. Not like yesterday or the day before, but not like a week ago, either. Reb might remember because I told him about it. I texted him pretty quick because, you know, it was really scary and spooky.”
“Would you be able to describe the two paintings, in more detail? The women’s faces, the ones who aren’t here. To a police artist.”
“Oh.” The bottom lip got the nibble treatment. “I don’t know.”
“Detective Yancy.” Peabody came back in, smiling and flapping a hand over her heart.
“Really?” Laurel’s lashes fluttered over eyes now sparkling with interest. “Well, maybe. Okay.”
“Great. We’ll arrange to have you taken down to work with Detective Yancy, and we appreciate the help,” Eve added.
“Could I tag Reb? He’s going to want to blow off work for this. And, honest, I’d feel better if he came with me, or met me there. He’s, you know, like my brother. Like family.”
“Sure, that’s fine.”
“Okay. I need to get dressed. Officer Tanker woke me up. Lieutenant Dallas? I don’t see how Charity could’ve done anything really wrong, except . . .”