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As she stared at the picture for several long minutes, Callie's mind whirled with questions, but she also felt a nagging certainty that she might know this woman. She couldn't see her face, but her hair…
And then it clicked into place. The portrait of Arthur that hung in his study. The one she'd been looking at yesterday morning. A woman had painted that portrait. She'd caught a glimpse of her one day when she'd stopped by the house to see her mother; Arthur had been in the middle of posing for his painting. The woman had had her back to her, her long black hair falling to her waist.
The artist had to be Arthur's lover.Was her name Layana?
She clicked out of email and opened her mother's bank account. Her mom had actually paid for the portrait. It had been her birthday gift to Arthur. She searched back in time, looking for the transaction. There wasn't a tremendous amount of activity on the page, since Arthur had paid most of her mom's expenses after they married.
Her pulse leapt as she saw a check made out to Vazquez Studio, which was the studio also listed in Arthur's trust. Her heart beat faster as she went into search and found the website.
Suddenly, she was staring into the dark-brown eyes of Layana Vazquez, a stunning Latin beauty who appeared to be in her early thirties. Her portfolio of work was extensive for someone so young. No wonder her mother had hired her; she'd come with amazing credentials, including having done a recent portrait for the perfume billionaire Valerie Dare, who had been at the museum on Friday night.
The studio was located in Century City, only twenty minutes away. It probably wouldn't be open on a Sunday. But maybe…
She had to go to the hospital anyway and Century City wasn't much of a side trip. She could just drive by and see what she could see after she saw her mother. If nothing else, she had a great clue to give Flynn.
As she grabbed her keys and bag, she opened her phone to call Flynn and then realized she'd missed a call from him around eight. She punched in his number, excited to share the results of her amateur sleuthing, but, unfortunately, she got his voicemail.
She left a short message. "I know you're at breakfast, so call me later when you're done. Or I'll call you. I'm on my way to visit my mom, so I may not be able to answer my phone. But get this—I figured out who Layana is."
* * *
Flynn pulled up in front of Bree's townhouse. She was hosting brunch to celebrate her husband Nathan's birthday and had invited the whole team to share in the celebration. Flynn was more than happy to attend the party. Bree had saved his life on more than one occasion, and he was thrilled that she'd reconnected with her first love and found happiness. He was also happy she was now working for him.
Before he got out of his car, he checked his phone, realizing he'd somehow missed Callie's call back. It must have come in when he was putting gas in the car.
As he listened to her voicemail, his gut twisted with a variety of emotions. He'd been trying to temper his feelings about her, but her excited, proud voice sent a rush of warmth through his body. If just hearing her voice created such a strong reaction, he had a feeling seeing her again would be an even bigger test.
He was also more than a little intrigued by the fact that she'd figured out who Layana was. He called her back, but she didn't answer. She must be at the hospital. He would have to wait, and there was nothing he hated more than waiting.
As he got out of his car, he ran into Damon and Sophie and their adorable three-month-old daughter, Ciara, who had inherited her dark hair and blue eyes from her father.
"My favorite girl is getting big," he said, smiling at the very happy baby.
"I hope you're talking about Ciara," Sophie said dryly. Sophie was a professor of archaeology, who was currently on leave from her teaching job at UCLA.
"Of course I am. You look beautiful, Sophie."
"I can always count on you to be charming, Flynn."
"Why don't we meet you inside, Sophie?" Damon suggested.
"So you two can talk shop? Make it quick. Bree said she wanted this brunch to be about something other than work. You guys see enough of each other during the week."
"It will just be a minute," Damon promised. As Sophie took their daughter into the house, he turned back to Flynn. "Any updates?"
"Not since I texted you last night," he replied, having already filled both Damon and Savannah in on what he'd found at the house and the break-in. "But hopefully today will bring new clues. What about you?"
"I do have an update. The broken champagne glass found in the fourth-floor hallway tested positive for traces of atropine."
"Arthur was poisoned," he said, as another puzzle piece fell into place. "It makes perfect sense. I was wondering how anyone was able to throw him over that railing without there being more of a struggle. But atropine causes paralysis."
"He would have been incapacitated within seconds."
"This was meticulously planned out in advance, with the security hack to cut off visibility to that corridor."
"Yes. I also spoke to Lucas," Damon added. "He's syncing up with Stella in my office to see if they can trace the hack at the museum and also at Judge Corbyn's home. Do you need me to send a team through the house?"
"No. My team can handle it. I've already looked through the entire house, so I doubt there's more to find there. However, I'm going down to Palm Springs after this. Callie Harper, the judge's stepdaughter, told me that Arthur purchased a house down there several months ago, but it doesn’t appear on his list of holdings."