Murder at the Falls by Stefanie Matteson Page A

smiled—“could readily attest. But, as it later came out, the courts do not necessarily define such a relationship as involving sex, and Randy wasn’t saying that it did. But the mere mention of the word was enough to raise the suspicion that he and Don had been lovers, which was Randy’s intent. He knew that any blemish on the reputation of her beloved brother would drive Bernice nuts—nuts enough to settle.”
    “What about his reputation?” asked Tom.
    “He didn’t give a damn about his reputation. He went either way when it came to sex. I hesitate to call him a bisexual only because it wasn’t a matter of sexual identity. It was a matter of self-aggrandizement: he’d have sex with anyone if there was something in it for him. To see him in action was a lesson in how to hustle. He had a way of sniffing people out—male or female—to get a sense of how much money they had or how well-connected they were.”
    “Did the police know about this dispute?” asked Charlotte.
    “Everybody knew about it. It was the talk of the town. I think Bernice is their main suspect at this point, at least that’s what I gathered from the questions they were asking me about her.”
    “Who was asking you?” said Charlotte.
    “The police. Specifically, a detective named Voorhees and his young henchman. I’m surprised they haven’t gotten around to you yet. He said they would be talking with everyone who was at the opening. I had to give them a list of names and addresses.”
    Charlotte exchanged glances with Tom. So much for Voorhees knowing “exactly zip.” She should have known better. His strategy must have been to see what details they came up with on their own. She couldn’t blame him: it was usually the details that solved the case.
    “Did Bernice back down as a result of the palimony threat?”
    “Not immediately. I think she would have settled eventually, but of course that’s all irrelevant now.”
    “I wonder if it is,” said Charlotte, looking out at the pool.
    “What do you mean?” asked Diana.
    She returned her gaze to Diana. “If the gift agreement is valid—and it seems to me that if it was drawn up by a lawyer and signed by Spiegel it would be, despite Spiegel’s intentions—then wouldn’t Randy’s heirs inherit the paintings?”
    “Randy’s heirs,” said Diana. “Now there’s an interesting question. I never heard him mention any family. His father is dead, and he doesn’t have any siblings. I think there may be a stepmother, but if there is, he isn’t close to her.”
    “Who has physical custody of the paintings?” asked Tom.
    “Randy did. They were hanging in his studio the last I knew.”
    “Then Bernice hadn’t succeeded in evicting him.”
    “Not yet. But it was just a matter of time: the Gryphon Corporation owned the building. She had succeeded in confining him to his studio. She had a steel door installed between his studio and the rest of the building. It looks like I imagine the door to Hitler’s Berlin bunker to have looked. She also changed the locks on all the outside doors. She was afraid he might rip off some of Don’s other paintings, or trash them. I don’t blame her. His behavior had become so bizarre that it was becoming difficult to predict just what he would do.”
    “His behavior certainly was bizarre at the opening,” said Charlotte. “Do you have any idea what he was talking about when he was looking at Verre’s painting?” She couldn’t help thinking that his behavior that night was linked to his death.
    “Your guess is as good as mine,” said Diana as she sipped her drink.
    “Had you ever seen him like that before?” asked Tom.
    “I haven’t, no. But a friend of mine has seen him freak out twice before, both times in connection with a photorealist painting. Funny, isn’t it? Maybe there’s something about photorealism that sets him off, the way the vibrating colors in a Vasarely can induce a seizure in an epileptic.”
    “Did he freak out