Kayla frowned.
Eve pressed her hands against her lower back and stretched. “How many clients do you have?”
“Two hundred.”
Eve whistled.
“But I’ve already ruled out half of them because I haven’t serviced their computers in ages, and I eliminated another sixty because they’re female.” She filled Eve in on the strangling information she’d gleaned. “I don’t think any of them could’ve killed my sister. Of course, I could be wrong.”
“Not to mention some of them might have husbands, fathers, or brothers who’d assist.”
“Good point.”
“Who do you want me to call?”
“Bless you,” Kayla said, meaning it. “Okay, these are the clients starting with the lettersAtoL.” She handed Eve a list with the clients she’d already contacted or messaged eliminated from it. “I’ll tackleMtoZ.”
“I’m so sorry,” Eve whispered.
Kayla’s chest snagged with emotion. “Me, too.” Her sister was dead. There would be no more phone calls. No more teasing or joking. No more memories with Ashley, collecting shells on the beach or readying Kayla for a blind date.
“What if they ask me what the secret is?” Eve tilted her head.
“Hang up. Don’t engage. Remember, I’m the bait. Whoever is the killer will come after me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
FRIDAY
By the timeKayla needed to leave for what she knew would be a day of complete and utter misery, the computer program hadn’t concluded its search. Exasperated but amped up on adrenaline, she drove to the Palace of Fine Arts. Within minutes of her arrival, a costumer, hairstylist, and makeup artist took charge of her.
Around nine a.m., as she stood between the colonnades facing the lagoon, allowing the costumer who was pinning the back of her gown to create a perfect fit, she wondered if Eve had discovered anything.
“Stand still, dear.” The costumer tugged on the voluminous skirt. “And plump your breasts. Venus should look lusty amidst this gorgeous splendor, don’t you think?”
Kayla nodded. Numb. She took in her surroundings, unable to appreciate the beauty without being reminded of her past. Their father, insistent his daughters gain an understanding of San Francisco’s architectural riches, had taken them to visit the palace. She remembered how he’d lectured them on its history.Built in 1913 for the Panama Pacific Exposition. Rebuilt for structural soundness in the second half of the century. How he had marveled at the stone colonnades, domed open-air rotunda, and exhibition center. During his discourse, Ashley yawned, which of course made Kayla laugh and made their father act as if he was livid, though he could never truly be mad at them.
“Venus, are you with me?” the costumer asked.
“Yes.” Despite the cold temperature, Kayla’s skin itched with nervous tension. She wondered if she’d eaten off her lipstick but didn’t dare ask. Ashley would know, wouldn’t she?
The costumer made one last tug and whistled. “Ready, Mikhail!”
The photographer, a rangy Serbian man in his forties, was pacing the walkway, his long hair swishing across the back of his denim jacket. Would he know the moment he peered through the camera lens that Kayla was a fake? He paused and checked the sky. There were clouds, but none looked threatening. He pulled a light meter from the pocket of his tattered jeans, held it up, and frowned.
A makeup woman made one last pass at Kayla’s eyes, stowed her brushes in her kit, and backed away. “All yours, Mikhail.”
At that point, everyone seemed to be staring at Kayla. How had Ashley tolerated the fawning? Despite the lack of confidence gnawing at her insides, she stepped onto the bank of fake white clouds dusted with glitter and sat beside a flaxen-haired boy with a cherubic face—Cupid, or what some Maybelline ad-man had envisioned as the image of the love marksman. The boy wore a white toga and gold-leaf crown and held a miniature bow and arrow in his hands.
“This is my first shoot,” Cupid confessed.
“You’ll do great,” Kayla whispered. “Make the camera your friend.” Ashley had said the same to her whenever she’d forcedher to pose for pictures. She would blow kisses and make silly smacking sounds with her mouth to get Kayla to lighten up.
Kayla brushed the bittersweet images aside. She had to concentrate. Had to succeed. If she didn’t, if she did a lousy job today, she would reveal herself and disclose her plan. That was not acceptable. In order to find her sister’s killer, she had to shine today.
Mikhail snapped his fingers, drawing everyone’s focus to his digital Nikon. “Venus. Cupid. Let’s have a few smiles straight into the camera.” He depressed the button. A repetitivechit-chit-chitfollowed. “Excellent. One more. Chins to the left. Let’s catch the morning sunlight on your faces.” He examined the lens as if he had found hair or dust. Then he reviewed the previous shots. “Yes, okay, let’s have both of you gaze in the direction of the lagoon. Now look up. Into the heavens. That’s it. Imagine Valentine’s Day is just around the corner. Love is in the air.”
Kayla followed Mikhail’s instructions to the letter. Smiles didn’t come easily, but as long as he liked what he saw, she felt a tingle of victory.
