“Tell us what you do. Take us through the process when you handled Manhattan Merger.”
“As soon as a manuscript has been cleared for publication, the art department asks the author to fill out a form telling the theme of the book, the description of the hero and heroine, a short synopsis and a summary of several scenes that might look good on the cover.
“When we receive these sheets, we make a phone call to a freelance artist who does original oil paintings for Red Rose covers. We inform them we are sending information to help them create a painting that will sell books and please the author. We also send a printout of the manuscript for them to read.
“Manhattan Merger was handled like any other manuscript. I phoned one of our artists, Lorraine Bennett, about the project. She was free to go to contract on it. Our department sent her the filled out forms and the printout. She did the painting. When it was finished, she shipped it overnight courier to our office.”
“Thank you, Mr. Felt. You can step down. Will Mr. Goldberg please take the stand?”
So far Payne hadn’t heard anything to sway him either way. The artist was the person he wanted to tear apart with his bare hands. She would follow the next witness being sworn in.
“Mr. Goldberg?” Ms. Carlow began. “Tell the court where you work and what you do?”
“I’m the Vice President of Global Greeting Cards in New York.”
“How long have you been with that company?”
“Nine years.”
“Do all of your employees work in-house?”
“No we contract freelance writers and artists to produce the bulk of our inventory.”
“Is Ms. Lorraine Bennett one of those artists?”
“Yes.”
“Tell us the nature of her work.”
“We send her the words, and she creates the art.”
“Does she do portraits or people?”
“Neither. Her work is restricted to nature, flowers, wooded scenes, brooks and bridges, dogs and cats, that type of thing.”
“How long has she worked for you?”
“Three years.”
“Thank you, Mr. Goldberg. That will be all. Will Ms. Bennett please come to the stand?”
Payne answered some questions Drew had written down for him, then lifted his head. When he caught sight of the woman with the gilt-blond hair taking the oath, he felt a rush of adrenaline.
“I’ve seen that face before, Drew!”
“Where?”
He shook his dark head. “I don’t know.”
It was a fresh looking face. Wholesome. Attractive. So was the rest of her.
While he sat there staring at her, he racked his brain trying to remember.
“Ms. Bennett? Please tell the court where you live.”
“In Manhattan.”
“Have you always lived in New York?”