The buxom, made-up blonde looked him up and down. “Do you have an appointment, Mr. Chase?”
“No. Tell him it’s about Cassie Ellis. He’ll see me.”
The woman lifted her phone without taking her eyes off him. “He’ll be with you in a moment. Please make yourself comfortable. May I get you coffee, tea, juice, or water?”
“No, thank you.” Ian sat in the modern reception area. Zach was right about their security.
Bradford Whitman, dressed in a tailored Tom Ford suit, entered the waiting area. “Mr. Chase.” The older man’s handshake was solid and strong. “Come this way. I’m surprised to see you today.”
“There’s not much at home for me.”
Family pictures adorned his office, unlike the impersonal waiting area. Ian noticed one small unframed photo stuck in the corner of the impressive oak bookcases. It was a picture of Cassie wearing the dress he first saw her in. He faked a trip and retrieved it.
His eyes were also drawn to a pair of pen and ink drawings of black roses. “My wife gave them to me when I first started out. They’re favorites of mine. What can I do for you, Mr. Chase? My receptionist said it was about Cassiopeia. Beautiful service. Such a tragic loss.” Bradford sat behind his impressive desk, theYoung Woman in Pinkhanging behind him.
“I’ll get right to the point. Other than at the banquet, when was the last time you saw Cassie?”
A flicker of heat flashed through Bradford's eyes. “Why do you want to know?”
“Cassie was special to me. I promised her I would find out what happened to her.”
Bradford blew out a breath. “I thought Ames stabbed her. Pretty open and shut. It was like six years ago. Such a shame she got herself in trouble again…poor thing.”
“I don’t think getting stabbed was her fault, Mr. Whitman.”
“Let me tell you something, Mr. Chase: Cassiopeia was a lovely girl, but she required a firm hand. She was too independent. My son couldn’t deal with such a headstrong woman.”
“Mr. Whitman, tell me about your relationship with Sebastian Ames and Robert Bynum Jr.”
“Again, Mr. Chase, why are you here asking questions?”
“It appears Mr. Ames and Mr. Bynum Jr. were involved in the attack on Cassie six years ago. Considering your relationship with the Bynum family, I’m wondering how much you knew.”
“That’s terrible. I knew Robby was an addict, but he and Sebastian hurt Cassie? I would have said something.”
“Again, when was the last time you saw Cassie? Her last clear memory was arriving at your house the night she was attacked. I’m trying to fill in the details. Cassie brought you theYoung Woman in Pink? Why did you choose that painting?”
Bradford turned. “Look at it, Mr. Chase. The ivory skin, the curve of her breasts. Exquisite, like Cassiopeia. A gift for my son. Cassiopeia brought me the prospectus from a small gallery in Moscow. Adrienne and I felt obligated to purchase something. And this painting was an easy choice.”
Ian tamped down his disgust. “Mr. Whitman, have you ever met David Sucov?”
Whitman flinched. “The name doesn’t ring a bell. Should I know him?”
“He represented the Moscow gallery that brokered the painting.”
“We didn’t deal with the gallery. Cassiopeia did. Mr. Chase, you said Detective Blake has evidence Robby was her attacker?”
I never mentioned the police—much less Andy Blake. “Yes.”
“Do Betty and Robert know? My god. I’ve known Robby since he and Garett were babies. Garett will be devastated. Did she know before she died? That should’ve given Cassiopeia some comfort.”
“No, and I wouldn’t call that news comfort. The police are still investigating based on some new evidence.”
Ian saw Bradford close and release his fist. Cassie was right, much more happened that night. Ian stood up, placing the tiny picture of Cassie in front of him. “Please tell me about the night Cassie was attacked.”
Bradford swirled his finger over it, and Ian tried not to swing. “She was such a pretty girl. Again, nothing much to tell. She showed up to bring me the painting.”
Ian’s jaw locked. “Do you remember what she was wearing?”
