“Maybe just a little one.” She flashed him a smile. “I’ve already had one coffee this morning.”
He beamed. “One latte, heavy on the caramel, light onthe coffee, coming right up.” He turned to me and his eyes widened. He scanned me up and down, blatant appreciation in his eyes. “And who do we have here?”
Fiona sighed. “This is Zeke. He’s helping me out with a problem I’m having.”
“Oh, sweetie.” He cringed. “Another problem?”
Fiona’s face scrunched. “Yup.” She met my eyes. “Zeke, this charmer is Denny. He’s a fabulous watercolor artist.”
Denny preened. “I try.” He moved to the side and waved us in. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Zeke. Can I get you a coffee?”
“No, thanks.” I had a strict limit on how much caffeine I consumed each day. Too much made me jittery. I’d prefer to wait until later, when I really needed a boost.
“Suit yourself.” Denny closed the door behind us and led us down a hallway to an airy living area that was awash with natural light. Fiona sat on one of four armchairs positioned around a coffee table and crossed her legs. I took another of the seats while Denny fussed with coffee in the attached open-plan kitchen. When he returned, he passed Fiona a mug of frothy milk and placed a small cup of espresso in front of himself.
“So, what’s the drama?” he asked.
I glanced at Fiona, wondering how much she’d divulge. While the police hadn’t told us to keep quiet about the theft, it hadn’t hit the papers yet so I couldn’t imagine they’d want it being widely shared.
“Another painting has been stolen,” she said. “From the Windy City Gallery. The police think I took it.”
I watched Denny’s reaction carefully. He rolled his eyes and made a scoffing sound, seeming to immediately dismiss the possibility. Because he trusted her, or because he knew who’d actually done it?
“You haven’t had anything to do with art for years,” Denny said. “What ridiculous reason could they possibly have to think you were involved?”
“We don’t know.”
I was impressed by how little her expression gave away. Once again, I couldn’t help wondering if Fiona had plenty of practice at lying. Although I supposed it wasn’t technically a lie. We may have suspected why the police had come to her, but we didn’t know for certain.
“You poor darling. I’m so sorry they’re putting you through this.” His eyes were soft with sympathy, and his tone sounded genuine. “What can I do to help? Do you need another one of my famous hugs?”
Fiona laughed. “There’s no such thing as too many hugs, but actually, I thought we’d come to you since you have art at both the Black Swan Gallery and the Windy City Gallery. I thought if anyone had any idea who might have done something like that, it would be you.”
Denny looked pleased, and I sent Fiona an approving look. She clearly knew how to butter the guy up.
“Honestly, Fi, I hate to dwell on thoughts of who might have done something this awful. Not only the crimes but to set you up too.” He shook his head. “Despicable.”
I hid a grin. He was saying all the right things, but he sounded a little too delighted for his regret to be genuine. I knew the type. He thrived on gossip.
“Who do you think it could have been?” Fiona persisted. “Has Patience had a falling-out with anyone?”
Denny pulled a face. “Patience is so wonderfully tepid that nobody could hate her enough to want to mess with her career. No, it’s more likely that someone needed the cash.” He rubbed his chin, his expression thoughtful. “Andrew never has enough money, and sweet Sandra has been known to gamble online a bit too much.”
My eyebrows flew up. Sandra, the elderly lady with the clean record, was a secret gambler?
“But Sandra wouldn’t go into debt, would she?” Fiona asked, as if she knew the woman.
“I wouldn’t have thought so,” Denny agreed. “But you can never know for sure these days. The skeletons some people hide in their closets. Dear God.”
I clasped my hands together on my lap, wondering what he’d think if he could see all the skeletons inmycloset. There were many. I’d done bad things in my former career. Always for the right reason—or so I was told—but I hadn’t been surprised when life gave me a karmic kick up the ass. I’d probably deserved it. Not that that meant I’d ever forgive the people responsible.
“What about Sam?” Fiona asked.
“Hmm. Sam.” Denny sipped his coffee. “He’s off the hard stuff these days and I don’t think he’d risk doing something stupid when he’s worked hard to turn things around.”
Fiona tasted her latte, then licked her lips. My gut tightened with the longing to taste them.
She raised the mug again. “Have you seen Bergen around at all?”
