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“Oh. Uh, James at Stripes phoned to ask if I’d heard the news.”
“Did Kerk give any reason for canceling?” Jason asked.
“I don’t think so. I have to admit, I was right in the middle of arguing with a vendor, so the conversation was brief. We’d never met, and I wasn’t even familiar with his gallery until I looked it up online this morning.”
In Jason’s opinion this was heading nowhere fast. He looked in inquiry to Kennedy.
Farrell said suddenly, “Yes. He did say, come to think of it.”
“He did say what?” Jason asked.
“He said an old friend was in town. Or he’d run into an old friend while he was in town. Anyway, that’s why he decided to cancel. They were having lunch.” Farrell beamed, clearly pleased with his newly found powers of recollection.
“And this was on Friday?”
“Yes.”
“Did Kerk indicate whether the friend was male or female?” Kennedy asked.
Farrell started to answer, but then frowned. “Well, I assumed female. Now I’m not sure if he actually said she. But he had that not
e in his voice.”
“What note?” Kennedy asked.
Farrell grinned. “The note of a guy who thinks he’s going to get lucky.”
“I don’t know how much we can rely on that,” Jason said as they walked back to where he’d parked on the street.
“No. The only thing we know for sure is Kerk canceled his appointment with Farrell in order to have lunch with an old friend. The lunch date wasn’t in his day planner.”
“Spur of the moment?”
“Very possible.”
Jason glanced at Kennedy. “Are you theorizing that your unsub is flying back and forth across the country picking off members of the art world?” He couldn’t help the note of skepticism that crept into his voice.
“I don’t have a theory yet.”
That would be the day.
“Sure. The unsub could be female, I guess. It doesn’t take a huge amount of strength to wield an ice pick. You just need knowledge of basic anatomy—and have the ability to get close to your victim without raising his suspicions.”
“True.”
But? Jason didn’t ask, though. It wasn’t his case, and if Kennedy didn’t feel like further discussion? Fine by Jason.
They got into the car, Jason started the engine, and Kennedy phoned Jonnie. He spent the thirty-minute drive from 30303 to Stripes speaking to her.
If things had still been what they were forty-eight hours earlier, Jason would have told Kennedy to say hi for him. That kind of casual camaraderie seemed unimaginable now.
Still, he had to give Kennedy credit. He did the upper-management thing very well. Hard to believe he had ever been a simple field agent. Of course, to be accurate, Kennedy hadn’t been a simple field agent for many years. He’d been a legend and law unto himself even when he’d been working cases in the field. Now? He had a dozen irons in the fire and seemed to be keeping a very close watch on every single one.
Of course, another name for that was micromanaging. Kennedy would not like being told he was a micromanager, but it sounded a bit that way to Jason. And he was guessing it felt that way to experienced agents like Jonnie.
When they reached Stripes, they found the gallery unexpectedly closed.
Kennedy considered the CLOSED sign on the door and asked Jason, “How flexible are gallery hours?”
