The Monet Murders (The Art of Murder 2)

“Maybe he did suspect,” Sam said. “Maybe he didn’t want to know.”

Yes. That, Jason could believe. He remembered Barnaby’s shock at learning Kerk was dead.

“Why did Greenleaf kill Kerk?” Jason asked Sam. “Why now?”

“It sounds like enough time had passed that even Kerk, loyal friend that he was, started to question what did happen to Paris Havemeyer. Probably thanks to Chris Shipka, who kept trying to interview him. He brought the subject up at lunch with Barnaby and Shepherd, and it sounds like Shepherd phoned Greenleaf to tell him they had a problem.”

“Greenleaf met Kerk for lunch on the Friday that Kerk died?” Jason guessed.

“Yep. That’s how it sounds. He followed Kerk back to his hotel, maybe even arranged to meet him later near the pier.”

“But the painting of the body in the water. That was already cured. He’d have had to finish that before he ever knew Kerk was in the country.”

Sam said, “I think that painting was originally intended for someone else. I’m guessing your investigation was getting a little too hot for comfort, and Durrand and Greenleaf had decided to fold up their operation, which necessitated getting rid of a couple of loose ends.”

“Rabab Doody,” Jason said. “That’s why he took off so suddenly.”

“We won’t know until we talk to Mr. Doody, but that would be my guess.”

To be continued.

That was the way it went sometimes. Jason’s investigation was at a standstill, at least temporarily, and Sam was busy preparing his case for eventual trial.

They’d had a nice, but all too brief, evening together in Cape Vincent while Sam rested and recovered from his ordeal, but by noon the next day they were both catching planes to opposite sides of the country.

Until the next time.

It was tough, no question. But Jason had signed on with eyes wide open. He missed Sam. He missed him every day. And he would have to get used to missing him. Because Sam had made no promises, and did not appear to have plans to be on Jason’s side of the world anytime soon.

In the meantime, Charlotte was right. Alexander, the newly-single art professor from UCLA, was a keeper. Not for Jason, but for someone. Alex was smart, funny, personable and very cute. He had curly blond hair, blue eyes, and a wicked grin.

“Would you like to go out somet

ime?” he asked Jason, when they happened to meet up at the bar for the third time.

“I’m kind of seeing someone,” Jason had said regretfully. And he did regret it, because if not for Sam, he’d have definitely been interested in getting to know Alexander better.

Alexander looked surprised to hear it, and slightly disappointed. He’d smiled nicely, a good sport. A nice guy.

Jason was on his way back to his table when his cell phone rang.

Harry Callahan flashed up, and Jason answered.

“Hi!”

Sam said, “I’m out in the lobby. They’re telling me this is an invitation only event.”

“You’re…where?” Jason held the phone closer to his ear. It was noisy in the room, and he was pretty sure he had not heard correctly.

“The lobby. The reception area.” Sam was curt. “Capo Restaurant. Right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jason was already making his way through the crowded banquet room, heading swiftly for the lobby. “You’re here?”

Yes. Sam was there. Taller than everyone else in the room. In his black power suit and gray tie, he looked a little forbidding for someone on his way to a birthday party. But he spotted Jason, and his face relaxed. Though he still looked ever so slightly self-conscious.

“Hey,” Jason said, reaching him at last. “You’re here.” He was thrilled, but also amazed.

“Yes.”