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Maxwell raised his champagne flute, causing those in the crowd who were still enjoying the expensive bubbly to do the same. Once the toast had commenced, the evening was drawn to a close. Some of the guests had broken off into smaller groups, finishing their conversations. Others waited in line for their jackets and coats, and the servers began to walk around in order to collect the empty glasses.
“Thank you both for coming this evening,” Brook said to Lorelei and Robert as they turned to bid her goodnight. “I realize that you probably would have skipped tonight’s event, but please know that your presence did help with the investigation. Before you go, I do have one question.”
“Ask away,” Robert instructed as he rested a comforting hand on his wife’s lower back. “Although I still don’t see how our being here has helped you.”
“Do you have business dealings with Martin Kingston?” Brook asked, ignoring Robert’s second statement. “Or maybe even a personal friendship?”
“Martin?” Robert frowned at the question. “Why? What does Martin Kingston have to do with Bella’s murder?”
“Mr. Kingston’s granddaughter was a barista in the café across the street up until yesterday.” Brook had never played the political game, and she wasn’t about to start now. “One of my colleagues asked Emily Park a few questions about what she might have noticed in the months leading up to Bella’s murder. Mr. Kingston then placed a call to Chief Rogan, essentially attempting to influence the direction of our investigation.”
“Martin is just being a protective grandfather.” Robert lifted his other hand to signify that there was no cause for concern. “Everyone knows that he goes overboard when it comes to his family. Emily is a sweet girl who is just trying to assert her independence.”
“Robert, I’m catching a chill,” Lorelei murmured as she shifted on her heels so that she could rest a hand on his arm. “Would you mind collecting our coats?”
“Of course.” Robert gave his wife a reassuring smile before politely nodding in Brook’s direction. “Ms. Sloane, I’m sure we’ll speak soon.”
Brook observed Robert’s departure while she waited to hear what Lorelei wanted to say in private. The woman had purposefully sent her husband on an errand that the two of them could have accomplished together before leaving the gallery. Unfortunately for Lauren Kim, she was currently engaged with the older couple who’d purchased the main piece of artwork that had been featured this evening. They’d been standing with the others waiting for their coats, and Lauren hadn’t been able to remove herself from the conversation before Robert took his place in line.
“Do you think that Emily noticed something back then?” Lorelei asked with concern. “We know the Kingstons, and I can give Martin a call to reassure him that your only interest in Emily is to talk to her about what she might have noticed back then. If you need to speak with her, I can make that happen.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I already have plans to meet with Mr. Kingston and his granddaughter first thing tomorrow morning,” Brook replied, not giving away too many specifics. Martin Kingston had no idea of said meeting, and she wanted to keep it that way. “My interest was more based on wanting to know if Bella was close to the Kingstons. It’s come to our attention that Emily wants to be a painter, which was why she didn’t want to go into the family business.”
“Everyone knew that Emily would rather be an influencer, but I wasn’t aware that she wanted to be a painter. I recall Bella mentioning something about social media and how Emily had quite the following when it came to fashion and makeup.” Lorelei tucked her small clutch underneath one arm as she stared at Brook with anticipation. “Do you think that Emily spoke to Bella about wanting to be a painter? Is there a real chance that Emily knows something that can help with the investigation? I’m surprised Bella wouldn’t have mentioned it to me, but she was always loyal. If Emily asked Bella to keep their conversation private, Bella would have kept her word.”
“I’m not sure yet, but I should know more tomorrow.” Brook could see that Robert had finally claimed their coats and was walking back in their direction. “I do appreciate you attending this evening, Ms. Jameson. I’ll be in touch.”
Brook didn’t give Lorelei a chance to follow up, nor did she remain in place to be engaged in another conversation by Robert. Brook politely excused herself as she made her way across the gallery to speak with Sylvie.
“I need to use the restroom before we leave,” Brook said quietly as she turned slightly enough to have a view of those leaving the gallery. Theo was standing near Detective Hartley, and the two seemed to be in an animated conversation. Bit had gone relatively silent, most likely recording the departures of the guests so that the team could go over the footage tomorrow morning. It would be interesting to see if anyone of interest spoke to another individual or monitored someone else in an unusual manner. “I know you came with Detective Hartley, but why don’t you ride back with me. You can go over in detail your conversation with Adeline Murphy. Terrific work, by the way.”
“We would have figured it out eventually,” Sylvie replied as she glanced over the remaining guests. Her gaze landed on someone in particular. “I think I’ll go congratulate Lauren Kim on an amazing evening.”
Brook was prevented from responding when she heard her name. She turned, but no one seemed to be seeking her attention.
“I’ll meet you by the entrance.”
Brook began to weave her way through the remaining guests, the mingling scents of expensive perfume and cologne not as strong as they were earlier this evening. She was also able to hear the soft classical tune drifting from the overhead speakers. It had been turned so low that the previous chorus of conversations had drowned out the music.
“Excuse me. Are you Brooklyn Sloane?”
Brook turned to find a server waiting for her reply. He held an empty tray in one hand, letting the front of it rest against one leg. In his other hand was a small cream-colored envelope.
“Yes, I’m Brooklyn Sloane,” she replied cautiously as she quickly made note of who was near them.
“I found this envelope on the table over there. I had to ask several people before someone finally pointed you out.”
“Thank you,” Brook replied as she took the envelope from him. She was mindful to only touch the top right corner. “Where did you say this was left?”
“Over on that table over there,” the server explained as he gestured toward the thin, console table that held a vibrant and beautiful poinsettia. “You have a good night, ma’am.”
Brook stared down at the envelope as the server joined the other staff members in the collection of any champagne flutes or crumbled napkins left behind. The red brush strokes on the front of the envelope hadn’t been made with a pen. Instead, she was relatively certain that her name had been written with an artist’s sketch pencil. It wasn’t lost on her that the shade of red was a close match to the shade of lipstick that Bella had worn on the day that she’d died.
Brook scanned the faces of those lingering in the back of the gallery, but not one included a person of interest in the case. The thick wall that had been positioned in the middle of the gallery kept the other guests from sight, and she realized that the thin console table was in the area that the security camera couldn’t pick up.
Not wanting to contaminate the envelope any more than necessary, Brook turned and closed the remaining distance to the restroom. She let her clutch hang from her wrist as she opened the door, grateful to find that the restroom hadn’t been occupied. She locked the door before stepping over to the sink and immediately ripping a paper towel from the black holder on the wall.
Since the back of the envelope had only been sealed by a small section, she was able to easily pull the tab open with the corner of the paper towel. Tucked inside was a thick square piece of paper. Brook reached for another paper towel, yanking on the white material so that she could use it to pull the heavy textured note from its hiding place.
