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His stomach twisted at that piece of information. "Then this was planned. It was no accident."
"It doesn't appear to be. Can you tell me why you and Agent Kane were here at the event? Was there a concern I wasn't aware of?"
"We were simply here for the exhibit." He preferred to keep Arthur's request to himself for the moment. "But I do know the victim. He's a federal judge."
"I'm aware. Judge Corbyn has been a patron of the museum for many years. And with his wife, Juliette, working here, the judge is part of our family. This is a tragedy." Rand cleared his throat as emotion thickened his voice. "The police have arrived. I'm sure you'll want to speak to them."
"Yes." When he returned to the ground floor, he met up with Detective Miles Gage, a balding, dark-eyed man who appeared to be in his late forties.
"I'm Agent MacKenzie. This is Agent Kane," he said. "The victim is a federal judge, so we'll need to work together."
"Fine with me. I'm not into turf wars," the detective replied. "Can you tell me what happened?"
"All I know is that Judge Corbyn was thrown over the fourth-floor railing. There's a broken vase nearby. The security cameras were hacked and apparently off-line during the incident. But we'll need to look at the footage up until that point."
"You're sure he didn't just fall?" the detective asked. "Was he drinking?"
"He wasn't drunk, and he didn't fall."
"How did you happen to be here?"
"I'm an art lover."
"Both of you?" Gage asked, his sharp gaze drifting to Savannah.
She gave him a brief smile. "I came for the champagne."
The detective smiled at her, as most men did when Savannah turned on the charm. Flynn was more than happy to let her take the lead with Gage. She was great at forging relationships that could be helpful to the team.
"The medical examiner and forensics investigator are on their way," Gage added. "I've called in additional officers to take witness statements. There's a large crowd outside."
"Good. Because the killer could be among them."
"That's the family?" Gage tipped his head toward Juliette, who was weeping in her daughter's arms. Other museum staffers looked on with uncomfortable sympathy.
"Yes, the judge's wife, Juliette Corbyn, is the events director. Holding her is her daughter, Callie Harper."
As Callie wrapped her arms around her mother, she glanced over at Arthur's body, and her expression was not one of anger or sadness; it looked like relief. He frowned at that errant thought.
"I'll get their statements,” Gage said. "Looks like it's going to be a long night."
"I'll be right with you," Flynn said, as Savannah and Gage moved toward Juliette.
He punched in Damon's number.
"What's up?" Damon asked.
"I just caught a murder case. It will be headed to your office, but I want it."
"What happened?"
"A federal judge was murdered at the Piquard Museum tonight—Judge Arthur Corbyn. He's someone I used to know. In fact, I was at the exhibition at his request. He said someone was watching him and he was in a tricky situation. He needed my help, but he didn't have a chance to tell me anything else before he was killed."
"I'm sorry. But if this is personal, Flynn, we should run with it. The murder of a federal judge is going to put a lot of eyes on this case."
"I'm aware. I'm also extremely motivated, and I'm already working the case. Savannah is here as well."
"Got it. I either get out of your way, or you'll be in mine," Damon said dryly.