His stomach twisted at that piece of information. "Then this was planned. It was no accident."
"It doesn't appear to be, no. Can you tell me why you and Agent Price were here at the event? Was there a concern I wasn't aware of?"
"We were simply here for the exhibit," he said, preferring to keep Arthur's request to himself for the moment. "But I do know the victim. He's a federal judge."
"Yes, 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." Thomas 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 got back to the ground floor, he met up with Detective Miles Gage, a dark-haired, dark-eyed man who appeared to be in his late thirties. He had an energy and an eagerness that would hopefully prove helpful.
"I'm Agent MacKenzie, this is Agent Price," he said, showing the detective his shield. "The victim is a federal judge, so we'll need to work together."
"Fine. I'm not into turf wars," the detective replied.
"Neither am I," he said, although he would have no hesitation changing that attitude if he needed to do that to get the job done.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Detective Gage asked.
"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 murder. 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."
"All right. Just covering the bases. How did you happen to be here?"
"I'm an art lover," he said.
"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 CSI 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."
"More likely long gone," Gage said. "That's the family?" He tipped his head toward Juliette, who was weeping in her daughter's arms, surrounded by a few other staff members, who looked on with uncomfortable sympathy.
"Yes, the judge's wife, Juliette Corbyn, works here at the museum. She plans these events. 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 he relief. He frowned at that errant thought.
"I'll get their statement," 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 would 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."
"Got it. I either get out of your way, or you'll be in mine," Damon said dryly.
"Then we understand each other," he said lightly.
"All right. You're in charge but keep me in the loop."
"Will do."
As he hung up, he saw Juliette, Callie, Detective Gage and Savannah walking toward the museum office. Juliette was still crying, but maybe she could pull herself a little more together when she didn't have to look at her husband's body.
While he wanted to join them, he headed first to the security center. Rand Bentley was there and was happy to pull up the camera footage.
"We picked up Judge Corbyn on the second floor approximately eight minutes before he fell," Rand said. "He walked into the Manet exhibit, as you can see."
He nodded, feeling a tightness in his chest as he watched some of Arthur's last moments. He moved around the exhibit without glancing at any of the paintings. There was no one else in the room, but he appeared to be looking for someone. He checked his watch and then a woman came into view—Juliette.
His gut clenched. Juliette looked angry. She was talking fast and waving her hand in the air. Arthur seemed to be trying to tell her to calm down. He put a hand on her shoulder, but she jerked away and left the room.
He glanced at his watch once more, waited for several more seconds and then moved back into the hall. An elderly couple walked past him, no one that Flynn recognized.
As Arthur moved toward the stairs, he ran into Stephen Vale, Gretchen's husband. He'd known Stephen a very long time ago, when he was a struggling painter, and long before he and Gretchen had gotten married and taken over his father's gallery.
Stephen exchanged a few works with Arthur and then he went downstairs while Arthur headed upstairs. A moment later, the footage stopped.
"That's it," Rand said. "We just got the cameras back online a few minutes ago."
He nodded. "I'd like to get one of my techs over here to work your guys, see if we can figure out where the hack might have come from."
"We'll take all the help we can get."
He texted his cyber expert, Brandon Raines, explaining what he needed and asking him to come down to the museum as soon as possible. Then he went to find Juliette.
She'd spoken to her husband only minutes before his death, and they'd argued about something. He needed to know what that was about.
Callie and Juliette were in the director's office, but there was no sign of Victoria. Juliette and Callie were seated on a couch with Savannah and Gage on their feet in front of them.
Juliette was still crying, constantly rubbing the wad of tissues across her dripping eyes and nose.
"I need to see Arthur," she said. "I need to go to the hospital."
"Mom, he's gone," Callie said gently, her arm around her mom's fragile shoulders.
"He can't be. He just can't be."
"Are we done here? We've told you everything we know, which is nothing. We didn't see who pushed Arthur over the railing. We don't know anything. We're in shock," Callie asked, her expression pained. "I need to get my mom home. She needs some time to process everything."
"One moment," he said, drawing her gaze to his. He could see the anger in her eyes, but he ignored it.