Partner In Crime

Bobo’s powerful fists were clenched at his sides. Beads of sweat glistened on his face as he struggled to keep his anger under control. “That was before she died,” he said pointedly.

“Yes,” Dee returned. “And that’s why I’m raising the prices. In the world of art, those pieces are all more valuable.”

“Not more valuable,” Bobo countered softly. “They’re priceless. What about Shelley’s family?”

“Who else do you think I’m doing it for?” Dee demanded. “If the pieces sell for more money, the family receives more. It’s as simple as that.”

Bobo stepped closer to Dee. It was a threatening gesture. She blinked, but stood her ground.

“You think that’s what Shelley’s family is going to want – money?” he demanded, his face bare inches from hers. He waved an arm, motioning at the vividly colored paintings that lined the white-stuccoed walls. “Who the hell do you think those people are, Deidre Canfield? You know as well as I that they must be Shelley’s family. Having those pictures is going to be far more important to them than any amount of money. Cancel the show, Dee.”

“No. Absolutely not!”

“Then I’ll cancel it for you.”

A man Joa

“And you’d better stay out of this, Warren,” Jenkins growled, his eyes swiveling in Warren Gibson’s direction. “This is between Dee and me.”

“You’d all better cool it,” Joa

After a momentary hesitation, Warren complied. Meanwhile, Bobo Jenkins ignored Joa

“All right,” Dee said. “Go get it, Warren. Whatever it takes to get him out of here.”

Again, Gibson hesitated. “Go,” she urged again. Finally, shaking his head, Warren shambled out of the room.

“Look,” Joa

“Those pictures shouldn’t be sold,” Bobo Jenkins insisted. “Or, if they are, it should only be done once Shelley’s family members have given permission.”

For the first time Joa

“Shelley’s family!” Dee Canfield spat back at him. “What family? Did you ever meet any of them?”

Bobo shook his head.

“If Shelley’s work was so damned important to that so-called family of hers,” Dee continued, “don’t you suppose one or two of them would have been included in the invitations for tonight’s opening party? I asked Shelley specifically if there was anyone she wanted me to invite. She said there wasn’t anyone at all.”

“Now that Rochelle is dead, her family is bound to turn up,” Bobo said.

“Fair enough,” Dee replied. “When they do, I’ll have a nice fat check waiting for them, and they’ll be more than happy to take the money and run.”

Warren Gibson appeared in the doorway carrying an almost life-size portrait of Bobo Jenkins. Bobo swallowed hard when he saw it, then he stepped forward and snatched it out of Warren’s grasp. He walked back over to Dee and stood there, holding the painting with both hands.

“Do you know what you are?” he demanded. “You’re a money-grubbing bitch who doesn’t know a damned thing about what’s important.” With that, he turned and stalked out of the gallery while the little bell tinkled merrily overhead.

Once Bobo was gone, all the starch and fight drained out of Deidre Canfield’s face and body. She staggered over to the polished wooden desk where Warren had deposited his hammer. She sank into the rolling desk chair and laid her head on her arms. “I can’t believe Bobo would talk to me that way,” she sobbed. “He and I have been friends for a long time. How could he?”

Warren Gibson moved to the back of Dee’s chair and gave her shoulder a comforting pat. “It’s all right, Dee Dee,” he said. “He’s gone now.”

The doorbell tinkled again. A young uniformed police officer wearing a City of Bisbee badge with a tag that said “Officer Jesus Romero” ventured cautiously into the room.

“Everything all right, Sheriff Brady?” Romero asked. “I was told there might be some kind of problem.”

Joa

The officer gri

With that he left. As the doorbell chimed again, Joa

“Are you all right?” Joa

“I’m fine,” Dee returned, though she didn’t sound it. “I’ve sunk everything I have into getting this gallery up and ru

“What about the prices?” Warren said, reappearing behind her. “I started changing them. Want me to keep on?”

“Absolutely.”

Joa

“All right, then,” she said. “Mind if I take a look around before I go?”

“Go ahead,” Dee said. “Help yourself.”

Joa

Shaking her head, Joa

“Hey, Bobo,” she called. “That looks heavy. Care for a lift?”

He glared at her briefly, then shrugged his broad shoulders and headed for the car. Between them, they carefully loaded the painting into the Civvie’s backseat, then he climbed in the front next to her.

“Thanks,” he muttered gruffly. “Appreciate it.”