“Something like that,” she said.
They drove the rest of the way to the gallery in silence. His mind was spinning on the case. How the evidence was stacked against Logan, but Trent agreed with Amanda, it was far too easy, too clean. One thing he’d learned since joining Homicide about eighteen months ago was that murders were messy and complicated, complex, just like the humans who carried them out. But emotion screwed up logic every time and left room for error. That’s what they were banking on.
He turned into the lot for the gallery, an impressive building with walls of glass. The environment was quite a far cry from the mobile home park where Claire had her start in life. Along those lines, Shell said Claire was placed in foster homes in Dumfries, so how had teenage Claire made it to Washington? Did her foster parents set her up with a car? From what Shell told them, she never stayed put in one home for long, so did any of them trust her enough to lend her a vehicle?
At the front counter, they asked for the person in charge. They were told Malachi Walsh managed the place, and that he’d be right with them.
Large sculptures dangled from suspension cables overhead. Trent wouldn’t be able to pinpoint their intended representations if he had a gun to his head.
“Detectives? This way.” A man in a tailored suit motioned for Trent and Amanda to follow him down a brightly lit corridor. He stopped next to an open door and gestured for them to go inside.
Trent let Amanda go first. It was a modest office with the bare essentials.
“How can I help you? Louise told me you have questions about a former employee.”
Louise must be the woman at the front desk.
“We do.” Amanda proceeded with the formal introductions, then said, “We understand a Claire Ramsey used to work here.”
“When was this?”
“About twenty years ago,” Trent said.
“It might be a problem looking up her file, but let me try.” Malachi sat at his desk and typed on his keyboard. “Ah, yes. She’s in the system. What about her?”
“Do you remember her?” Amanda asked.
“Afraid not. I just came on board two years ago.”
“Anyone still work here from back then?” Trent was thinking if they could talk to that person, or persons, they might get a lead on Claire’s mysterious male friend and Roo. For the first time, Trent considered that this mystery guy and Roo could be one and the same. They had just assumed Roo was a woman. Either way, both or one of them could have worked at the gallery too.
“Let’s see. I’ll search the records.” More clicking, then, “Looks like Louise has worked here for the last twenty-one years. But can I ask what this is about? Is there something I may help you with?”
“We’ll want to speak with Louise, but you might be able to assist us on another matter.” Amanda gestured toward Trent. “Could you read off the list of names?”
She’d be referring to the men who were victims of robbery. “Sure,” Trent said, bringing up the list on his phone. “Just let us know if any of these names sound familiar.” He read them off.
“Their names are all familiar, but could you add some context? Why are you interested in them?”
“Are these men clients of the gallery?” Trent asked.
“They are, but I can’t be discussing their business with you.”
“They were victims of robberies in which millions in jewels, sculptures, and artwork were stolen over the last twenty years,” Amanda interjected. “We believe Claire Ramsey was part of a heist team that targeted the men my partner just mentioned.”
Malachi went white.
Amanda added, “Claire was murdered last week.”
“While that’s certainly unfortunate, I’m at a loss. This Claire worked here twenty years ago. You’re asking about our clients… do you think one of them killed her? And a heist team? Targeted?” That word dripped off his tongue like bile. “Are you implying the gallery itself is—or was—corrupt, wrapped up in this somehow?”
“We’re still investigating the matter,” Amanda said.
“Oh, this is not good. This can’t get out or the reputation of the gallery would be ruined.”
“Not to sound unsympathetic here, but the fate of the gallery isn’t our priority,” Trent said.
“There may be no need to publicize that these men bought from here,” Amanda offered, giving Trent a side glance.
