Loving Again(52)

                “Danny’s the detective in charge of the Kane/Jordan case,” Sam said. “We heard you had a run-in with Eubie Kane not long before he was killed. Mind telling us what it was about?”

                She sniffed. “He’s been a pain since I signed him for the gallery. His latest was trying to get out of his contract when he thought he could get into a gallery he considered a step up. I wouldn’t let him go. I’d dropped a bundle for print ads announcing a solo show for him next month. That’s what the run-in was about. He wanted out. I wouldn’t let him, not without the two months’ notice he agreed to. I was pissed at him, the little worm.”

                After she took a sip of her coffee, she continued. “Sorry. I’m not as insensitive as that sounds. Not even someone who was a pain in the ass should have his life cut short like that. And Robin Jordan. I heard she was a real sweetheart.”

                “Did you have trouble with him before the contract issue came up?” Danny asked.

                “Oh, honey, all the time. He complained about everything.” She imitated Eubie’s whine. “The light’s not right for my glass. Do something about it. Those pedestals don’t show off my work to its best advantage. Get new ones.” She threw up her hands and returned to her normal voice. “If he wasn’t bitching about one thing, it was another.”

                “If he was that much trouble, why didn’t you let him go?” Sam asked.

                “Because I liked the work and it sold pretty well. I don’t have to be an artist’s best friend to represent them.”

                “Okay, so you and he had it out last Monday. You gave him a note?” Danny continued.

                “He wouldn’t listen when I said no, so finally I said maybe if I put it in writing he’d understand. I wrote, ‘hell no, you can’t go’ or something like that on a piece of brown paper — I was hanging a show and the floor was littered with the stuff — and gave it to him. How’d you figure out I wrote it?”

                “Part of a mailing label with your name on it was on the other side,” Danny said.

                “Remind me not to write any ransom notes, will you?” She got up from her desk and picked up the coffee carafe. Saying, “Let me freshen your coffee,” she topped up the two visitors’ mugs before emptying the remainder of the contents of the pot into her own.

                “He got into it with Amanda St. Claire recently, accused her of stealing his ideas. Do you think there was any basis to that?” Sam asked.

                “If anyone stole ideas, it was the other way around. Eubie was technically pretty good and people liked his work but he played it safe, did the same thing over and over. Not like Amanda who’s always pushing herself and has an omigod originality that attracts critical attention.”

                “So, to have it for the record,” Danny said, “Where were you Tuesday between say, seven and ten pm?”

                “You mean this past Tuesday night?”

                Danny nodded.

                “Let’s see — I had drinks with a friend. After that, I dropped by a new gallery that’s trying to stay open late most nights. Wanted to see if they were getting any foot traffic. I went home after I had dinner. I was leaving for Seattle the next morning and wanted to get a good night’s sleep.”

                “Where’s home?” Danny asked.

                “I live in the southwest, off Macadam Avenue.”