With a blessed few minutes of peace to sit and drink his coffee in his apartment the next morning before returning to the murder investigation, the knock on Jonas’ door was both unwanted and disturbing. Especially the intensity of it. He trudged the few feet to the door, putting one eye to the peephole. He expected a colleague, or even Bennett or Belinda, but not her.
Colleen was there. Colleen, whom he still hadn’t decided if he wanted to talk to at all, now stood on his doorstep and rapped on the door in rapid succession again.
Jonas massaged his forehead and sucked in a big breath before opening the door. If she was expecting enthusiasm, she was not going to get it. Especially at that time of day. Not when he had not one now, but two, potentially related murders on his hands. “Colleen, this is not–”
“I know.” She pushed past him into his apartment, but Jonas stayed put with the door open. “But you won’t call back and I have something I have to say.”
Jonas leaned against the door casually, but internally braced himself for what was coming next. He realized she looked a little different, but he couldn’t pin down why. Maybe it was just because she’d barged in on him at the crack of dawn.
“I’ve thought about this a lot, and after talking to Belinda–”
“You talked to Belinda about this?”
“Doesn’t matter. The point is I’ve thought about us and some things she said and I’ve made up my mind. I want a second chance.”
Jonas stood up straight. Now he was getting angry. “So you think you can come here and say that and I’ll just say yes? Like that. After everything…?” He couldn’t even stand to finish his thought. She knew what she’d done.
“No…I don’t. I just want you to know that I want this and I’m willing to do what’s necessary.” Colleen smiled shyly. “It’s your choice, I know that. I just wanted you to know I’m not giving up.” She glanced around his living room quickly, taking a deep breath. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your coffee. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now.”
As quickly as she’d swept in, Colleen was back on the threshold. “Good-bye, Jonas.” She smiled and left.
Jonas leaned around the door, watching her clomp downstairs, wondering if he was dreaming. That was quite possibly the least offensive interaction with her since they first met and he was dazed by what just transpired. Colleen flirted with him plenty, mostly to try and get information about cases, but she’d never seemed interested in getting back together. For now, he was going to dismiss that and enjoy the rest of his coffee.
His next stop after coffee was Shelby Lachappelle’s house. She had left some urgent messages on Angie Chen’s cell phone over the last couple days, including one the morning of Angie’s murder. Shelby had also been in a class at the art museum where Angie assisted. So two definitive connections equaled a strong reason to pay Shelby a visit.
Jonas drove through the front gate of the Lachappelle property, climbing and twisting up to the house crowning a hill inside a protected inlet. He had trouble imagining the monstrosity before him as simply “home,” but now that he knew Belinda, he viewed the owners more as people and less as aliens.
He waited in their open foyer, a chandelier sparkling above his head in the vaulted ceiling, and migrated to the painting on a nearby wall above a half-moon table. It was a scene of what he thought was Central Park in New York City, a small picture compared to the size of the room. He scanned for a signature, and found D. Andersen in the bottom corner.
The mother and daughter came down the curved staircase, and Jonas did a double take. Except for the difference in age, they looked like the same person. Dinah extended a hand, then placed her arm protectively around her daughter. Jonas took note of Shelby’s hair color. They’d found hair of a similar shade on Angie’s body.
Jonas pointed back at the painting on the wall. “Are you an artist?” he asked Dinah.
“Used to be. That’s from my college days. I lost touch with it after I had my oldest son. In any case, I was never as good as Shelby.” She turned in admiration to her daughter.
Shelby locked her eyes on the floor.
“So, what’s this about, Detective?” Dinah said.
“I understand Shelby has some connection to Angie Chen.” He paused, watching their reactions. Shelby’s eyes darted side-to-side toward the floor, and Dinah’s widened in mild surprise.
“What difference does that make?” Dinah said.
“Angie was found murdered yesterday.”
Dinah gasped, and Shelby wrapped her arms around her stomach, hugging her body, but her eyes never left the floor, so she was tough to gauge.
Jonas focused on Shelby. “You left Angie a series of urgent text messages the day before yesterday and yesterday morning that she never responded to. Want to tell me what you needed to talk to her about?”
Shelby swallowed, and talked to the black and white tiles. “I had an art-related question.”
“You sounded upset.” The messages had all been vague, but with a note of frustration behind them.
“I, um, had asked her a few times and she’d never gotten back to me. I was just irritated.”
“Where were you yesterday afternoon? Between about noon and three?”
Shelby looked afraid and conflicted.
“Is this really necessary?” Dinah’s narrow face pinched up in anger, making her look gaunt.
“Someone murdered Angie Chen,” Jonas said, “and I’m assuming you’d like us to rule out your daughter. It’s just a routine question.”
“Mom, it’s fine.” Shelby wriggled free of her arm and stood straighter. “I was working in my studio in the basement around then.”
She’d had a minute to pull together a story, so Jonas narrowed his eyes. “Can anyone vouch for you?”
She hesitated. “No.”
“Are you sure?” She certainly didn’t sound sure to him.
Dinah huffed in irritation. “Yes, she’s sure! Can we go now?”
Jonas ignored her, especially since Shelby shot her mom an annoyed glance. “One more thing. How well did you know Kevin Pratt?”
Shelby noticeably blinked in surprise. Clearly, she had no idea that would come up. “The guy who was on the beach?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“I’d never heard of him before the news.”
Jonas arched his eyebrows. “But you were in the same art class just weeks ago, and there weren’t that many students.”
Shelby blushed, her eyes shifting to her mother quickly, who looked befuddled. “Right,” Shelby said. “I barely spoke to him. Sorry.”
Dinah recovered and stared at Jonas coldly. “We’re talking to our lawyer.”
“That would be wise.” Dinah liked his agreement with that conclusion even less. “Thanks for your time.” He found his way out, calling Soto. It was time to have the fake Simone painting analyzed top to bottom and compared. Starting with Angie.