St Kilda Consulting 04 - Blue Smoke and Murder

fingers skimmed over her jaw. “It’s okay. I don’t wilt if a woman gets mad.”
    “A lifetime of older sisters?”
    “Real good training,” he agreed. He stroked her again, then went back to the computer. “When the deputy checked on Dunstan at breakfast, he was dead. Hung himself with his belt.”
    “A great painter and a miserable human being,” Jill said.
    “R.I.P.”
    There was silence while Zach read more documents.
    When he finished with all the court papers he said, “Nothing new. Just bureaucracy at work. Justine pleaded self-defense. The judge slapped her wrist for public drunkenness and discharging a firearm within city limits, and limited the punishment to time already served, plus a year of probation, blah blah blah.”
    “Like Sheriff Purcell told us—the judge was new to Canyon County. Is that all that was in the file? What about the handwritten letter?”
    “It was listed under Dunstan’s property. Must have had it on him when he was arrested.”
    “So read it to me,” Jill said.
    “Handwriting is spidery. The light wasn’t real good when I took the picture. Ink is faded.”
    “Meaning you can’t read it?”
    “Meaning I’ll have to PhotoShop it.” Zach called up another program, ran the JPEGs of the letter through the works, and came out with something that was close to readable. “Okay, here we go. It’s dated about two weeks before Dunstan died.”
    Jill let out a long breath. And waited.
    And waited.
    She glanced over. Zach was reading with an expression of shock on his face.
    “What is it?” she demanded.
    “If it’s what I think it is, the last half of the pin just came out of the grenade.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Be glad you’re sitting down. The letter is from Justine to Dunstan.” Zach started reading aloud. “‘By the time you read this, I will be gone. My mother and grandmother both had husbands who raised their fists to their wives. Even if you were my husband, I would not take your beating with folded hands and pleas for mercy from you or your God.’”
    Jill muttered something and flexed her fingers. “I wish she’d shot him in the balls.”
    “Way too small a target.” Zach continued reading, “‘Whatever we had is as dead as yesterday’s fire. I should never have taken you as a lover. Not because it was a sin against God and society, but because you are a liar and a cheat. You used me for your own ends; then you beat me because your pride was humbled by my talent. We both know the truth, even if we never spoke it aloud. Without me, your fame as an artist is at an end, for I am far more than your Scarlet Muse.’”
    Jill made an odd sound.
    Zach kept reading aloud. “‘To paint honestly I must live honestly. Do not think to write me and tell me how much you love me. Do not think to beg forgiveness for something you will surely do again if I permit it. It is not within me to forgive any more than it is within you to leave your loveless, respectable marriage.’” Zach shook his head. “It’s signed Justine.”
    “Now what?” Jill asked.
    Instead of answering, Zach went back to the computer, opened files, compared JPEGs from the arrest with the best photos he’d taken of the bottom edge of Frost’s Dunstan paintings. Frowning, Zach zoomed in and compared some more. He was no expert, but it looked to him like a match.
    He started laughing softly.
    “What?” Jill asked.
    “Just thinking of Worthington and his oration about the essence of masculinity and Duncan’s iconic status in Western art. Guess Justine must have clanged when she walked.”
    “Are you saying…?”
    “I sure am. Justine wasn’t Dunstan’s Scarlet Muse,” Zach said. “The thumbprints on the paintings are hers, not his. She was the artist. All he did was put a man’s name on the finished canvas.”
    “That’s why the family paintings weren’t signed by Dunstan,” Jill said “But they’re as much a Dunstan as anything he did sign. What is the going rate for ‘Dunstans’ in the auction catalogue?”
    “Enough to make murder real profitable.”

63
    HOLLYWOOD
SEPTEMBER 16
3:35 P.M.
    S core read the transcript, reread it, and then read it a third time. Though his face was flushed, his hand was fairly steady as he set the transcript aside and looked at his eager employee.
    “Well, that wraps it up,” he said, forcing a smile. “You earned yourself a few days off. See you next Monday.”
    “Yes!” Amy said with a force that made her