right?’ Garcia asked.
Lange told them that Laura’s exhibition had run from the 1st to the 28th February and it’d been a tremendous success – very well attended, and all of the twenty-three pieces she’d exhibited had been sold. Laura had only been present for about two hours on the opening and closing nights, and Lange said she hadn’t seemed at all upset, worried or anxious at either of them.
‘Was that the last time you saw her?’ Hunter asked.
‘Yes.’
‘And did you use to keep in contact regularly? Phone calls, texts, that sort of thing?’
Lange moved his head from side to side. ‘Not that regularly. We usually chatted on the phone two maybe three times a month. It really depended on how busy we both were. Sometimes we did lunch, dinner or drinks together, but again, nothing regular.’
‘Mrs. Mitchell also told me that her ex-fiancé was here on her closing night,’ Hunter said.
Lange’s eyes shot in Hunter’s direction.
‘Do you remember seeing him talking to Laura at all?’
Lange took another sip of his Cognac and Hunter noticed his hands had started shaking again.
‘Yes, I’d forgotten all about that. He’d had a little too much to drink. He really upset her that night,’ Lange recalled. ‘They were by the staircase at the back of the gallery, away from the main floor and the crowd. I was looking for her because I wanted to introduce her to an important buyer from Switzerland. When I finally found her, I went over and that’s when I noticed she looked unhappy. As I joined them, he walked away angrily.’
‘Did she tell you what happened?’
‘No, she didn’t want to talk about it. She went straight into the ladies’ room and came out again about ten minutes later, but before doing so, she asked me to get him out of here, before he made a scene with the guests.’
‘A scene?’ Hunter questioned. ‘Did she tell you why?’
Lange shook his head. ‘But I sensed it was because he was jealous.’
Garcia craned his neck. ‘Jealous of whom? Did Laura have a date with her that night?’
‘No, but I saw her talking to someone earlier that night. And I know they swapped phone numbers because she told me.’
‘Could you describe him?’ Garcia asked.
Lange bit his lower lip and looked at a distant nothing as if considering something. ‘I can do better than that. I think I might have a picture of him.’
Twenty-Eight
Calvin Lange lifted his right index finger at both detectives, asking them for a minute, and reached for the phone on his desk.
‘Nat, we still have the photos from Laura Mitchell’s exhibition, right? . . . Great, can you bring your laptop into my office, please . . . Yeah, now is good.’ Lange put the phone down and explained that they always photographed and sometimes videoed their exhibitions, especially the artists’ nights. The photos were used for brochures, advertisement campaigns and their own website.
‘How about your CCTV footage?’ Hunter asked. He’d noticed six cameras in total on their way up to Lange’s office.
Lange gave him an embarrassed headshake. ‘We recycle hard drive space every two weeks.’
There was a soft knock on the door and the same assistant who had guided Hunter and Garcia into Lange’s office earlier stepped into the room carrying a white laptop.
‘You’ve met Nat,’ Lange said, motioning her to his desk.
‘Not properly,’ she replied with the same smile she’d given them earlier. Her eyes stayed on Hunter.
‘Natalie Foster is my assistant,’ Lange explained, ‘but she’s a great photographer and very good with computers. She’s also our webmaster.’
Natalie shook both detectives’ hands. ‘Please, call me Nat.’
‘These are detectives from the Homicide Division,’ Lange told her.
Natalie’s smile quickly slipped from her face. ‘Homicide?’
Hunter explained the reason for their visit and Natalie’s entire body tensed. Her eyes searched for Lange’s and Hunter could tell her
Lange told them that Laura’s exhibition had run from the 1st to the 28th February and it’d been a tremendous success – very well attended, and all of the twenty-three pieces she’d exhibited had been sold. Laura had only been present for about two hours on the opening and closing nights, and Lange said she hadn’t seemed at all upset, worried or anxious at either of them.
‘Was that the last time you saw her?’ Hunter asked.
‘Yes.’
‘And did you use to keep in contact regularly? Phone calls, texts, that sort of thing?’
Lange moved his head from side to side. ‘Not that regularly. We usually chatted on the phone two maybe three times a month. It really depended on how busy we both were. Sometimes we did lunch, dinner or drinks together, but again, nothing regular.’
‘Mrs. Mitchell also told me that her ex-fiancé was here on her closing night,’ Hunter said.
Lange’s eyes shot in Hunter’s direction.
‘Do you remember seeing him talking to Laura at all?’
Lange took another sip of his Cognac and Hunter noticed his hands had started shaking again.
‘Yes, I’d forgotten all about that. He’d had a little too much to drink. He really upset her that night,’ Lange recalled. ‘They were by the staircase at the back of the gallery, away from the main floor and the crowd. I was looking for her because I wanted to introduce her to an important buyer from Switzerland. When I finally found her, I went over and that’s when I noticed she looked unhappy. As I joined them, he walked away angrily.’
‘Did she tell you what happened?’
‘No, she didn’t want to talk about it. She went straight into the ladies’ room and came out again about ten minutes later, but before doing so, she asked me to get him out of here, before he made a scene with the guests.’
‘A scene?’ Hunter questioned. ‘Did she tell you why?’
Lange shook his head. ‘But I sensed it was because he was jealous.’
Garcia craned his neck. ‘Jealous of whom? Did Laura have a date with her that night?’
‘No, but I saw her talking to someone earlier that night. And I know they swapped phone numbers because she told me.’
‘Could you describe him?’ Garcia asked.
Lange bit his lower lip and looked at a distant nothing as if considering something. ‘I can do better than that. I think I might have a picture of him.’
Twenty-Eight
Calvin Lange lifted his right index finger at both detectives, asking them for a minute, and reached for the phone on his desk.
‘Nat, we still have the photos from Laura Mitchell’s exhibition, right? . . . Great, can you bring your laptop into my office, please . . . Yeah, now is good.’ Lange put the phone down and explained that they always photographed and sometimes videoed their exhibitions, especially the artists’ nights. The photos were used for brochures, advertisement campaigns and their own website.
‘How about your CCTV footage?’ Hunter asked. He’d noticed six cameras in total on their way up to Lange’s office.
Lange gave him an embarrassed headshake. ‘We recycle hard drive space every two weeks.’
There was a soft knock on the door and the same assistant who had guided Hunter and Garcia into Lange’s office earlier stepped into the room carrying a white laptop.
‘You’ve met Nat,’ Lange said, motioning her to his desk.
‘Not properly,’ she replied with the same smile she’d given them earlier. Her eyes stayed on Hunter.
‘Natalie Foster is my assistant,’ Lange explained, ‘but she’s a great photographer and very good with computers. She’s also our webmaster.’
Natalie shook both detectives’ hands. ‘Please, call me Nat.’
‘These are detectives from the Homicide Division,’ Lange told her.
Natalie’s smile quickly slipped from her face. ‘Homicide?’
Hunter explained the reason for their visit and Natalie’s entire body tensed. Her eyes searched for Lange’s and Hunter could tell her
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