“I’m sorry. Is there some sort of trouble?”
“I’m investigating the death of a Columbia student.”
“Oh, yes. I heard about that. A young girl, wasn’t it? Horrible. I’m afraid I don’t understand how the gallery relates to your investigation.”
“That’s the purpose of investigating. To find out what relates. Miss?”
“Oh, Duberry. Lucia Duberry. I’m the manager here.”
“Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. I’m the primary here.” She drew Rachel’s photo out of her bag. “Did she ever come in?”
“Pretty girl. I don’t recall seeing her here. But we do get browsers, and some of the students wander up to look around. I may not have noticed her.”
“What do you think about the photograph itself?”
“Well, it’s an excellent study, strong composition. You look, immediately think—as I did—pretty girl. Then you think friendly and young. Fresh is another word that comes to mind, because the pose is so easy and unstudied. Was she a photography student, or a model?”
“No. But she took an Imaging class. She might have bought supplies here.”
“Well, we can certainly check on that. Would you like me to call downstairs and have one of the clerks check the receipts?”
“Yes. For Rachel Howard—let’s try for over the last two months.”
“It shouldn’t take long.” She went back around the wall, and as Eve followed she saw there was a kind of cube setup, using the display walls as barriers.
Lucia went to the ’link on a small, glossy desk, and contacted the sales floor, giving them the instructions.
“Can I get you anything while you wait? Some spring water perhaps?”
“No, thanks,” Eve said before Peabody could open her mouth. “This building—commercial and residential space—has use of the parking deck next door?”
“Yes. Our building and four others.”
“Security cams?”
“No. There used to be, but someone was always jamming them or zapping them, until it was more cost prohibitive to continually repair than to put up with a few parking poachers.”
“The owner lives upstairs?”
“Hastings has the fourth floor for his living quarters, and his studio on three.”
“Is he around today?”
“Oh yes. He has a session in studio right now.”
“Any of this stuff his work?”
“All of it. Hastings is very, very talented.”
“I’ll need to talk to him. Peabody, come up after you’ve got the data from Sales.”
“Oh, but—he’s working,” Lucia protested.
“Me, too.” Eve started toward the elevator with Lucia, now animated, clipping after her. “But Hastings is in a session. He can’t be disturbed.”
“Wanna bet?” She glanced down when Lucia clamped a hand on her arm. “You really don’t want to do that.”
The tone, utterly flat, had Lucia snatching her hand back again. “If you could just wait until he’s finished—”