“I’m Jillian Holmes, Harvey Owens’ personal assistant. Harvey’s the curator of this gallery.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Last night. We are getting ready for a big art opening. We left about eleven thirty or eleven forty-five last night. Harvey stayed behind, but he wanted Angie and me to come in early to finalize details.”
“Was he with anyone?” The officer jotted notes in a small black notebook.
“I don’t think so,” Jillian said.
“I’m going to need a list of everyone that was here yesterday and last night.”
“We had a lot of people coming and going yesterday.”
“Any security cameras?”
“The unit is in Harvey’s office. He has a couple of cameras in here and one outside over the back door.”
“Do you have contacts for his next of kin?” the sergeant asked.
Jillian nodded and said, “And his partner, Isa Prescott.”
“Is there anyone who would like to see him hurt?”
Jillian hesitated. “He wasn’t always the most popular person. He was pretty well known on the Richmond art scene, but there were people he had conflicts with. Let’s just say he was abrasive. He had a loud discussion yesterday with an artist about money.”
The sergeant frowned. “With whom?”
“Marilyn Culpepper,” Jillian said.
“Are you two the only employees?” Sgt. Mason asked.
Jillian nodded as the EMTs navigated a gurney through the gallery to the office.
“Did he act concerned, angry, or depressed lately?”
“Not really. He was short-tempered most of the time and had dust ups with some of the artists or vendors. I don’t think any of the arguments were ever serious.”
“Can you get me those names and a list of your regular artists?”
Jillian nodded and stepped behind Angie’s desk for pen and paper. She reached for the laptop to get the contacts.
Sgt. Mason held up his hand. “Wait. Leave that there until forensics has a chance to look at it.”
“Okay.”
Angie said, “Anyone want coffee? I can make some.”
“No,” said Officer Ridgely. “We want to look over the entire property, so I need you two to stay here until everything’s cleared. Please don’t touch anything.”
A forensic team entered through the front. The first one went through the door, nodded at Sgt. Mason and headed toward Harvey’s office.
“Stay here,” Sgt. Mason said and followed the forensic team to the next room.
An hour later, the three EMTs wheeled the gurney out with Harvey’s swollen body under a white sheet.
“Did you see that?” Angie whispered. “Harvey’s really dead. Do you think they suspect us?”
“What? No.”
“I guess I shouldn’t mention to the police that I wished him dead a thousand times. And now that it’s happened, I’m kind of in shock,” Angie said.
Jillian glared at her.
“The cops asked me if Harvey had any enemies or people he had altercations with,” Angie said. “He wants me to make a list of people who didn’t like him. Who has time to put that kind of list together? It would be book size.”
“I guess we hang out here until they’re done,” Jillian said. “I’m going to put a closed sign on the door.”
The morning crept into early afternoon as the young women watched the forensic team meticulously move from Harvey’s office to the kitchen area and the galleries. Jillian logged into the laptop for one of the technicians, and he downloaded files on a thumb drive.
Around three o’clock, the team packed their evidence gear and other equipment and left. Sgt. Mason strode to the reception area, and Angie put down her phone as he approached.
“The forensic team has finished its work here,” Sgt. Mason said. “I’m turning the site over to you. Call whomever you need to and figure out your next steps. You will probably want to get a cleaner in here that specializes in disasters. Here’s my card. Call me if you think of anything relating to Mr. Owens’ death.”
“Thank you,” Jillian said. “What happened to him?”
“The autopsy will reveal the cause. There were no visible gunshots or stabbing wounds. I would call it suspicious for now.”
After the two officers left, Jillian said, “I should call the Ilsa and find a cleaner. I need to stay busy.”
“I probably should start polishing the ol’ resume,” Angie said. “I’m going to grab some food. Do you want me to bring you something back?”
Jillian’s stomach growled. “Yep. A burger or a sandwich, please.”
By the time Angie returned with Styrofoam containers from the deli down the block, Jillian had contacted Ilsa and found a cleaner. After they ate the late lunch, Jillian disposed of the empty cartons just as Ilsa appeared.
“Thank you coming over so quickly,” Jillian said. “Right now, that room is kind of a biohazard but the cleaners will be here tomorrow. The police and the forensics team have searched every inch of this place.”
“I’m still stunned at Harvey’s death. I’ve been on the phone with the police for hours.” Ilsa looked around the gallery. “Thank you both so much for taking charge and staying during all the chaos. I appreciate all that you do for the gallery. I know you two are the reason the gallery is a success. I’d like to talk to you all about running the gallery.”
Jillian took a deep breath and nodded. “Thank you so much for the confidence you have shown in us. It would be my pleasure to run the gallery.”