He sat down in the chair next to Savannah's desk, taking the seat next to her. "Thanks for coming in today."
"Of course."
"What are you working on?"
"I've been looking into the judge's family.
"He doesn't have much in the way of family beyond his new wife and her daughter."
"And a sister in Sydney, Australia."
"They've been estranged for most of their adult lives. She won't be any help. I think the key to Arthur's life is probably Juliette."
"I wouldn't count on that," Savannah said grimly. "Juliette has a long history of depression and anxiety, including two hospital stays, one of them being a 5150 psychiatric hold after a suicide attempt."
His gut churned at that piece of information. "When did these hospital stays occur?"
"The first was eighteen years ago after the death of Juliette's first husband, Travis Parker. He was killed when their car hit a tree during a storm. Juliette was the driver."
"That's terrible. And the daughter—Callie—was she in the car?"
"No. She was ten years old at the time and at home with a babysitter. The second hospital admission was six years later, when Juliette tried to kill herself with sleeping pills."
"That would have been when Callie was in high school." He was beginning to understand why Callie had been so protective of her mother last night. She must be worried about her mental health.
"Yes, but that was twelve years ago, and I found no evidence of any other hospital admissions. After Callie graduated from high school, she went to a culinary school and became a chef. She's been working at various restaurants since then, working her way up to executive chef at La Mignon in Manhattan Beach." She glanced back at the computer screen. "Getting back to Juliette, her work history is spotty. After her first husband's death, she apparently had enough money to be able work part-time, which she did at various art-related organizations. She was an admin at an artist's cooperative work space in Venice Beach for a few years. She worked in a gallery, then she spent time managing a party-planning firm, which eventually led to her job at the Piquard Museum, where she has been for the last four years. She started there as an event coordinator and worked her way up to the director position last year, shortly after she married Arthur, who, as you know, is a major financial contributor to the museum."
"There could be a connection between those two events. Donors are very important to museums. Arthur's family foundation donated not only money but some of their personal collection to the Piquard when it first opened twenty-something years ago."
"So, Arthur is an art collector as well as a judge."
"Yes."
"It seems somewhat pointed that an art collector would be killed in an art museum," Savannah said.
"I agree. There has to be a tie. Although, Juliette's mental health adds a new dimension to the investigation."
"Especially in the light of the heated conversation that went on between her and her husband shortly before he went over the railing. Juliette's answer to you last night didn’t seem like the whole truth."
"No. I thought her daughter led her to that answer."
"But I can't imagine that frail woman being able to shove Judge Corbyn over the railing."
Savannah made a good point. "Maybe she had someone else do it."
"Well, keep digging." He got to his feet. "I'm heading over to Arthur's house now to see what other clues I can find."
"We don't have a warrant yet," Savannah reminded him.
"Hopefully, with my personal connection, I won't need one."
She gave him a doubtful look. "From what I saw last night, I wouldn't be so sure. Juliette might not have found you to be a threat, but Callie certainly did, especially when you started questioning her mother."
"I understand her protective instinct, but I can think I can win them both over."
"With your charm?" she teased.
He smiled. "That, too. But I was thinking more about my past relationship with Arthur. He introduced me to both of them as a friend. I just need to remind them that we're on the same side."
"Are you on the same side?"
"I'm on the side of the truth. We'll see where we all end up when we get there."
It had been a hellishly long fourteen hours, Callie thought, as she took a seat on the couch in Arthur's study just before ten o'clock on Saturday morning. She'd managed to get a couple of hours sleep, and after taking a long shower and changing into jeans and a sweater, she felt marginally better, but she was still weighed down with worry.
She hadn't wanted to go to the art exhibit the night before. She'd tried to beg off several times, but her mother had insisted. And she knew how important it was to her mother to have support at her events, so she'd been the dutiful daughter and agreed to attend. She'd never imagine it would end up the way it had. She'd never been Arthur's biggest fan, but she couldn't believe someone had hated him enough to kill him.
She drew in a shaky breath at the memory. Arthur's murder had been so public, so undignified. He would have hated that. Appearances were everything to him.
Her gaze drifted to the life-sized portrait of Arthur on the wall. He had been an extremely handsome and vain man. But he'd also been a brilliant lawyer and judge. He was generous with his money, especially when it came to art and struggling artists. But he was also an enigma to her. She'd sensed he had secrets, even though her mother had always told her she was crazy. But maybe she hadn't been crazy, because someone had killed him. She just didn't know who, and she was a little afraid of discovering that answer.
She'd been shocked when Flynn MacKenzie had asked her mother about a tense discussion only a short time before Arthur was killed. And seeing her mother flounder in search of an answer had made her worry. Fortunately, her mom had followed her lead, and the explanation was certainly plausible. They had, in fact, argued about the weekend plans when they'd picked her up in the limo on the way to the event. That hadn't been a lie. She just didn't know if that's what they'd been arguing about in the museum, because her mother had been winding herself up in the past few weeks with suspicions that Arthur might be having an affair.
She hadn't mentioned that to the police, because they hadn't asked, and she really didn't know anything. Plus, her mom had been in no condition to speak coherently on anything.
Hopefully, today she would be better. But that might be a foolish hope. She'd seen her mother spiral downward too many times to count and an event like this might trigger a complete breakdown. She'd already put in a call to her mother's doctor but had gotten his answering service. She'd asked for a call back as soon as possible, but she wasn't sure when that would happen, and she was dreading the next interrogation, especially if it was going to be done under the penetrating blue gaze of Agent Flynn MacKenzie.
The man was not only incredibly attractive, he also seemed to be unusually preoccupied with her and her mother. That was partly her fault. She'd let him see her tears earlier in the evening, and he thought those tears were a mystery he needed to unravel. But she couldn't let him do that. She had to protect herself. She had to protect her mother. Arthur was dead, there was nothing she could do for him, except to help her mother plan his funeral.