After finding Angie, Belinda thought she actually handled things really well. She thought she was calm and slow when giving her statement to the police, and all things considered, very together. Until she started relating what happened to Bennett after his work shift. That’s when she unraveled as images of Angie’s discolored face flashed into her mind over and over. But Bennett was Bennett and he just held her while she shook almost uncontrollably for a few minutes, not asking any questions for a long time until she could speak again.
“You didn’t get a chance to talk to Jonas?” Bennett still held her, his voice above her head.
She wiped tears from her face, thinking she could use a mop. “I didn’t see him. A couple of officers talked to the two of us, and I was on the lookout, but neither of us saw Jonas.”
“He might not have been called in just then. He must be involved by now, though.” Bennett dug for his phone in his back pocket, not letting go of her with his other arm. “It might be better if we talk to him about this in private anyway.”
After a short phone conversation, they met Jonas at his apartment in the middle of town, located in a second-story butter yellow house with a covered front porch. All the homes on that street, just beyond the stores, looked like they could use some TLC. While Belinda had left goodie bags on his porch, she’d never been inside his apartment, partly because Jonas rarely seemed to be there himself. In fact, he’d just gotten in when they arrived.
Belinda stepped through the living room, around the leather recliner taking up one corner next to a fading green couch. His taste in furniture left something to be desired. He did, however, have a giant flat screen TV pasted to the wall opposite the chair and couch. At least his priorities were straight.
The adjacent kitchen had some crazy seventies avocado and maroon linoleum, but it was still in decent shape and looked like it hid a mess well. Belinda set a plastic bag on the dining table squeezed against the sole window in the kitchen and took a seat in one of two matching chairs with those horrible spindle backs. Looking through the kitchen door past the living room was a shadowy hallway where Belinda assumed a bathroom and bedroom lurked.
Jonas glanced at the plastic bag on the table in front of her. “Dinner,” she said. Jonas broke into a huge grin and ripped the glass containers from the bag. She smiled while he dished out pork stir-fry onto a paper plate like it was the best food he’d seen in his life. While she took in the kitchen’s décor, which felt like a man still wearing maroon leisure suits, a thought about the Portside House Cleaning job occurred to her, which she tucked away for later.
Bennett brought a stool over from the closet or pantry while Jonas set three plastic cups of water on the table and sat across from her, shoveling the stir-fry and rice into his mouth, pieces of light brown hair he’d brushed back falling in front of his eyes. He needed a trim.
“So what’s such a big secret that you can’t talk about it in front of anyone else?” Jonas wiped his mouth with a paper towel. Belinda’s mind was frantically trying to keep track of a list of things to do and buy for him.
“Something was missing from the crime scene today,” Bennett said.
“How do you know that?” Then he held up his hand. “Don’t tell me. It’s better that I don’t know. What was missing?”
Belinda handed Bennett her phone with the first painting image on the screen. “These paintings,” she said. She dug through her purse for a notebook and pen, then got up to survey and jot things down.
“What’s she doing?” Jonas said to Bennett.
Bennett shrugged, going on with the story. “We saw Angie Dumpster dive, and she came up with these.” He scrolled to the next one in the slideshow. “They were inside a black plastic garbage bag. Angie threw them in her trunk and put them inside her studio two days ago.”
Jonas winced when Bennett scrolled to the final painting, the nude. “Dude, I’m eating.”
“Sorry.” Bennett’s lip curled up.
Belinda listened from the living room, scratching items onto her list. “The signature is A.L.,” she said.
“What are you doing?” Jonas glanced suspiciously at her notebook.
“Helping you.” Belinda came back into the kitchen, opening up cabinets and drawers. “Anyway, that’s no one I’m familiar with. Victoria suggested it could be another student, but we have no way to verify that.”
“A.L.,” Jonas repeated. “Those initials match one of our suspects.” He sighed. “There’s no proof anything was taken from the crime scene, and you can’t just come forward and officially tell me how you know this.”
Belinda regretted not taking photos of Angie’s studio in general that night when they found the paintings. It would be awfully useful right about now. She guessed the suspect Jonas mentioned was Kevin Pratt’s roommate on the nightly news…Alec something.
“What about the paint on Angie’s hands?” Belinda leaned around from her inventory of Jonas’ top cabinets. “Do you know where it might’ve come from yet?”
“It’s being analyzed, but nothing was found in her studio that bears any resemblance. It came from outside.”
“It came from the killer?”
Jonas swallowed before answering. “Could be.”
Belinda gazed back into the cabinet. She’d stuffed the shirt Shelby got paint on into a plastic bag for safekeeping, but she hadn’t had time to have a close look at it.
“So…” Jonas waved his fork at them.
“We’ll find something definitive,” Bennett said to finish.
They let themselves out so Jonas could eat and go to bed before the next crisis. Once his excitement over dinner expired, he looked like he was about to fall asleep on his plate. “What were you doing back there?” Bennett said once they were in the car.
“Jonas needs some domestic assistance,” she said, texting Colleen for a favor. Colleen had interviewed Alec and would no doubt remember his last name, and his address. “I was making a list so I won’t forget about it later.”
“Are you about to become his house manager as well as personal shopper?”
“Maybe.” She was also setting up to start hunting for the person who took those paintings. But she’d wait to tell Bennett till she had Alec’s info. Her dealings with Colleen were still under wraps to a degree. And, well, a girl needed to keep some things a mystery.
When she got home, Belinda pulled out the paint-stained shirt, comparing the dried splotches to what she’d seen on Angie’s fingers. She flaked off a piece and it seemed thinner, less dense than what was on Angie. A different amount of paint? Or a different type?
Belinda stuffed the shirt back in the bag, hiding it in her closet. She’d hold on to that until she knew more. Shelby had no reason to want to kill Angie, far as Belinda knew. So until she knew otherwise, she’d keep this to herself.