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Chapter Nineteen
Callie was waitingoutside her mother's room when Flynn walked down the hallway a little before two. She'd been at the hospital for hours. He'd almost been afraid she'd gotten a car and gone back to her apartment on her own. But, eventually, she'd texted and said her mother had been cleared to speak to him.
As he drew near, she gave him a tired smile, and he had to fight the urge to sweep her up into his arms.
"How did it go?" he asked, digging his hands into his pockets.
"We talked for hours. I did her hair and makeup and tried to cheer her up as best I could. We actually had lunch together in the sunroom at the end of the hall. She ate more than I expected. I didn't realize she'd gotten so thin, which is always a sign that she's bothered about something. Anyway, after lunch, we met with Dr. Clarke, and he said she can speak to you, but only for a short time. She's much better, but I'd really appreciate it if you would go easy on her."
"I will do my best."
"I did tell her that she's a suspect. I had to, Flynn."
He wasn't thrilled about that, but he doubted it would matter. "All right. Did she say anything?"
"Yes. After she argued with Arthur about Palm Springs, which was the conversation you saw on the security footage, she went into the restroom to pull herself together. She ran into Gretchen Vale there. My mom was suspicious of all the phone calls between Arthur and Gretchen, so she asked Gretchen about them. Gretchen replied that she was buying art for Arthur, and that it was complicated. But then she paused and told my mom that she might want to stop asking questions, because there was a good chance she wouldn't like the answers."
"That's cryptic, which is consistent with Gretchen. She seems to like to be deliberately vague."
"My mom thought about it and got angry. She decided to follow up with Gretchen, so she went looking for her. That's why she wasn't in the Grand Hall when the event began. She checked out the Seville Room because Victoria had mentioned Gretchen was headed that way, but she wasn't there. When my mom returned to the hall, she heard the screams and saw Arthur on the floor." She paused. "So that explains where she was when the cameras were off and Arthur was pushed over the railing. She wasn't anywhere near the fourth floor."
"All right. Anything else?"
She frowned. "You still don't believe her, Flynn?"
He could see the disappointment in her eyes. "I didn't say I didn't believe her. I'm processing."
"I wish you'd process with a smile on your face."
"Sorry. Did she say anything else?"
"I mentioned Layana's name to her, and she had no reaction beyond wondering why I was asking her about the artist who did Arthur's portrait. I don't think she ever saw the email. She was jealous of Gretchen, not of Layana. Anyway, that's pretty much it. Given that I've already told you everything, maybe you don't need to talk to her?" she asked hopefully.
"I have to play this out, Callie. It's not that I don't trust you."
"I am being honest, Flynn."
"I understand. It's better that it's me than anyone else, right?" he asked lightly.
"I'll answer that after you're done speaking to her."
When they entered the room, he saw Juliette sitting in a chair by the window, wearing a robe over her nightgown with fuzzy slippers on her feet. When she turned her gaze on him, he was actually surprised at how good she looked. Her hair was brushed and there was a hint of pink on her lips and blush on her cheeks. However, she still had a fragile air about her, as if a good strong wind might knock her out of that chair.
"Mom, this is Agent MacKenzie," Callie said. "You met him on Friday night."
"Arthur's old friend," Juliette said. "And Olivia's boyfriend."
"That's me." He took the seat across from Juliette as Callie perched on the end of the bed. "How are you feeling, Mrs. Corbyn?"
"I'm tired and sad—angry." She shrugged. "So many emotions."
"I'm sure they're overwhelming."
"You must think I'm very weak, falling apart the way I did."
"I think you suffered a tragic loss."
"I loved Arthur so much. When we met, it was like the clouds parted, and the warm sun hit me right in the face. I felt awake and alive again. He was an amazing man. He made me feel very cherished…at least, in the beginning. The last few weeks, Arthur was stressed. He couldn't sleep. He worked late. He was always on the phone. He kept saying he needed to go down to Palm Springs, so he could breathe that warm desert air and take a break from the madness of LA."