Buttoned Up by Kylie Logan

their delusions of fame and fortune—could make their egos inflate to the size of hot-air balloons. “If there was another artist who’s ideas Forbis was stealing, or who thought Forbis was getting all the attention he should have been getting—”
    “Another artist who glues billions of buttons onto stuff like couches and drums?” Nev’s pointed question gave me all the answer I needed.
    “Greed, then. Richard said that since he started in on button art, Forbis was making money. Someone could have wanted it.”
    “Absolutely.” I was so grateful to have finally hit on something Nev considered feasible, I smiled. “We’re looking into Forbis’s bank accounts, his expenses. All that stuff.”
    “What about lust?” Honestly, I had no intention of bringing up Evangeline so Nev shouldn’t have looked so uncomfortable. Just in case I imagined it, I ignored it completely and answered my own question. “Forbis was a little old for a jealous lover.”
    “But we’ll check that out, too,” he assured me.
    “Speaking of which . . .”
    “Josie!” Nev groaned. “I told you there’s nothing to talk about, not when it comes to Evangeline.”
    Since Evangeline wasn’t what I was going to talk about, I froze. But then, I guess that could easily have been because there was suddenly a block of ice in my stomach. My words felt wooden. My legs suddenly wouldn’t hold me, and I took a seat, too. “I wasn’t talking about Evangeline.” A little niggle of worry ate away at my composure. Maybe Evangeline was what we should have been talking about. “I was talking about Laverne and Richard. He said that back in college, they were a couple.”
    “Oh.” Nev took another drink of ginger ale.
    Sometimes, silence can be just as loud as any noise. And far more uncomfortable.
    I got up and refilled our plates with chips.
    “Maybe there’s some symbolism for Forbis’s body being found where it was,” I said, desperate to say something, anything, that would relieve the thundering silence and get our conversation back on track. “You know, in the arms of that spirit who grinds up people and eats them. And with those buttons on his eyes and mouth.”
    “Well, I’m no profiler . . .” No, he wasn’t and I wasn’t either, but there was no doubt Nev was as grateful for the change of subject as I was. Some of the stiffness went out of his shoulders. “My guess is the buttons on his eyes and mouth pretty much are a giveaway. You don’t just do that to someone, even someone you dislike enough to murder. Not unless you’re trying to send a message.”
    “Forbis wasn’t looking. He wasn’t seeing. He refused to open his eyes.” Theorizing, I dragged a chip through the salsa even though I knew I wasn’t going to eat it. After Nev’s comment about Evangeline, I wasn’t so hungry anymore. “He said too much. He didn’t say enough. Button your lip!” I brightened. “That’s about as literal as you can get.”
    Nev finished off a chip. “But what was he supposed to button his lip about? It sure wasn’t buttons because, I swear, nothing could make Forbis stop talking about or working with buttons. I did some online research, too, and it’s pretty clear, the guy was a publicity machine. Any time he got the chance, he showed up at regional button shows and county fairs. He loved being the center of attention, and according to his agent, he just got another huge shipment of buttons in so it sounds like he had another crazy notion for more crazy artwork. Not that buttons are crazy,” he added a little too quickly.
    “I know what you mean,” I assured him and I did, honest, even though I had to ungrit my teeth before I said, “You don’t need to apologize. What we need to figure out . . .” I drummed my fingers against the table. “One of the things we need to do is figure out who Forbis was arguing with when he first showed up at the art show.”
    Nev had a full mouth so he nodded and held up one finger as a way