In Death 18 - Divided in Death

stand it.”
    “I’m sorry, this is a difficult time for you.”
    “I don’t think I can go on! All the light, all the air’s gone out of the world.”
    “Oh, Jesus Christ.” Since enough was enough, Eve stalked over, took the woman by one arm and hauled her back to a sitting position. “I want your name, your connection with Blair Bissel, and the reason you’re here.”
    “Ch-ch-ch—”
    “Suck it in,” Eve snapped. “Spit it out.”
    “Chloe McCoy. I run the gallery. And I’m here, I’m here, because . . .” She crossed her arms over her heart, as if she were trying to hold it inside her. “We loved each other.”
    Barely old enough to buy a drink in a legit bar, Eve gauged. Her face was ravaged, swollen and splotchy, with huge brown eyes still busily pumping out the tears. Her hair was ink-black and tumbled over her shoulders, over a pair of young and perky breasts shown off in a snug black shirt.
    “You had an intimate relationship with Bissel.”
    “We were in love!” She threw out her arms, then wrapped them tightly around her own body. “We were soulmates. Destined for each other from our first breaths. We were—”
    “Did you fuck him, Chloe?”
    The crudeness did what Eve had hoped, and the tears magically dried up. “How dare you? How dare you demean something so beautiful?” She threw up her chin, and though it trembled, it stayed so high it nearly pointed at the ceiling. “Yes, we were lovers. Now that he’s dead, my soul is dead, too. How could she do it? That horrible, horrible woman? How could she turn out the light on someone so good, so true, so perfect.”
    “So good and true he was sleeping with her friend and one of his employees?” Eve said pleasantly.
    “His marriage was over.” Chloe turned her head away, stared at the wall. “It was just a matter of time until it was legally ended, and we’d be together in the sunlight, instead of in shadows.”
    “How old are you?”
    “I’m twenty-one, but age means nothing.” She closed her hand over a heart-shaped pendant around her throat. “I’m as old as time now, as old as grief.”
    “When’s the last time you saw Blair?”
    “Yesterday morning. We met here.” She brushed her free hand over her brow while she stroked the little gold heart. “To say a sweet goodbye before he had to go on his trip.”
    “That would be his trip uptown where he snuggled in with Felicity Kade for a couple days?”
    “That isn’t true.” Her puffy eyes took on a mutinous expression. “I don’t know what happened, what that horrible woman made it appear, but Blair certainly wasn’t involved that way with Ms. Kade. She was a client, and no more.”
    “Uh-huh” was the kindest response Eve could think of. “How long have you worked here?”
    “Eight months. The most vital eight months of my life. I only started to live when—”
    “Did his wife come here?”
    “Rarely.” Chloe pressed her lips together. “She pretended an interest in his work, in public. But in private she was critical, and was draining his energies. Of course, she had no problem spending the money he made from the sweat of his soul.”
    “Is that so? He tell you that?”
    “He told me everything.” She beat her breast, her hand fisted around the locket. Heart tapped against heart. “There were no secrets between us.”
    “So you have the passcode into his studio.”
    She opened her mouth, firmed it again before speaking. “No. An artist such as Blair needs his privacy. I would never intrude. Naturally, he would open the door when he wanted to share something with me.”
    “Right. So you wouldn’t know if he ever had visitors in there.”
    “He worked alone. It was necessary for his creativity.”
    Dupe, Eve thought. Foolish, gullible, and probably no more than a casual toy for Bissel. She started to turn as the elevator opened again, and Chloe flung her arms around Eve’s legs.
    “Please, please! You must let me see him. You must let me say goodbye to my heart. Let me go to him. Let me touch his face one last time! You must. You must give me that much.”
    Eve saw Roarke quirk a brow in a kind of amused horror. Bending, Eve peeled Chloe off her shins.
    “Peabody, deal with this.”
    “Sure. Come on, Chloe.” Putting her back into it, Peabody hefted the weeping girl. “Let’s go splash some water on your face. Blair would want you to be strong. I’ve got some questions I need to ask you. He’d want you to help us, so we can see