Jessica was five-five and slim but she was soft with it. Almost thirty, she knew she should be factoring regular workouts into her routine. Pilates or running. Some light weights. Add a bit of muscle tone and strength and definition. Maybe give up smoking and cut back on the booze and cheeseburgers while she was at it. She trashed the burger wrapper and soda can. Figured there was probably more chance of her winning the Mega Millions or saving Leonardo DiCaprio from eternal bachelorhood than there was of her managing such a dramatic lifestyle overhaul.
She found the 2Women gallery on a side street off the Boardwalk, just like Renee Simmonds had said. It was a small building the color of uncooked shrimp, with the name in a cube of hot pink neon that was unlit during daylight hours but was probably very cool after dark. An old-fashioned bell chimed as Jessica pushed open the door, announcing her arrival.
“Be right out!” she heard a woman call from through the back.
“No rush, take your time!”
Jessica took in her surroundings. The east wall was dominated by oil on canvas paintings of various sizes, all of which depicted beachy landscapes in a modern, abstract style. The west wall’s shelves were filled with ocean-themed sculptures of sea turtles and dolphins and tropical fish. A counter straight ahead housed a retro cash register and some mugs and folded tote bags printed with the same artwork hanging on the wall. Jessica studied Laurie Simmonds’ paintings while she waited.
“Sorry to keep you.”
Jessica turned to see a young woman emerge from a doorway behind the counter. She was the same age as Laurie but a gap between her teeth when she smiled made her look more like a mischievous kid. She wiped dirty hands on black denim overalls and pushed dark curls off her face, leaving a clay smudge on her cheek.
“Elizabeth Mann?”
“That’s me. Can I help you with anything or were you just browsing?”
“My name is Jessica Shaw. I’m a private investigator.”
The gap-toothed smile disappeared. “This is about Laurie, right?”
“Right. Renee Simmonds told me where to find you.”
“Let me just close up and we can talk out back.”
Elizabeth flipped the “open” sign in the front window to “closed” and twisted the key in the lock. Gestured for Jessica to follow her into a big, bright studio. The midday sun flooded in through large skylights in the ceiling, acting as a spotlight for the works in progress. An easel was set up, holding a half-finished painting. Others were stacked in a corner. A paint-splattered radio played “Good Vibrations” with the volume down low. Elizabeth switched it off.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked. “Coffee, soda, water?”
“I’m good thanks.”
They both sat on a battered Chesterfield sofa that looked like it had been rescued from a dump.
“Renee always said she’d hire a PI if Laurie wasn’t home for her birthday,” Elizabeth said sadly. “I guess here we are.”
“Can you talk me through what you remember about that day?”
“Laurie spent the morning at the beach sketching while I manned the shop. It was something she did often, didn’t like to be stuck indoors for too long. She’d usually bring us both some sandwiches for lunch and we’d lock up for a half hour and eat them through here. I didn’t see her at all that day. She sent a message saying she had some stuff to do. I didn’t think it was weird at the time. Maybe I should have.”
“Did she have plans for later in the evening? Maybe she was meeting someone or heading out someplace?”
“I don’t think so.” Elizabeth’s brown eyes glistened with tears. “God, if I’d known it might be the last time I ever had any contact with her . . .” She shook her head, didn’t finish the sentence.
“What about a boyfriend?” Jessica asked. “I know Renee said she was single but was there a guy she was interested in, someone she might’ve been dating, who her folks didn’t know about?”
“Laurie hadn’t dated in months. She was really focused on work and her career. You know her folks pay rent on this place, as well as her apartment? She felt she was at an age where she wanted to stand on her own two feet, without their help, so all her time and effort went into her art. Romance was definitely on the backburner.”
“No chance she’d hooked up with a guy she didn’t tell you or her parents about? You know, someone you wouldn’t approve of? A married man, maybe? Someone she might’ve run off with?”
Elizabeth was shaking her head before Jessica had finished asking the questions. “Uh-uh. No way. Don’t get me wrong, Laurie’s the romantic type. Believes in fate and thunderbolts and all that stuff. But she’s not flakey. She wouldn’t just run off and leave everyone worried sick about her like this. And she’d never get involved with a married man. That’s just not her style.”
“What about work? Any appointments or meetings scheduled around the time she disappeared?”
“There was nothing in her planner for that day. Like I said, she spent the morning at the beach and then took the afternoon off. No clients.”
“You mind if I take a look at her planner?”
“Sure thing. It’s right over here.”
Elizabeth got up and walked over to a scarred wooden table covered with sketchbooks and pencils, mason jars filled with brushes, and tubes of paint rolled up like toothpaste. She picked up a brown leather planner and returned to the sofa. Handed the file to Jessica. She found the date when Laurie was last seen. Sure enough, it was blank. She went back a week before the disappearance, two weeks, a month. Nothing stood out. Mostly reminders to pick up supplies from the art store or collect mugs and tote bags from the printer. She thumbed forward to the days after Laurie vanished and found an entry for three days later.
“Who’s Randal?”
“Who?”
Jessica showed Elizabeth the page. A noon appointment. Just a name. Could be a first name or a surname. No cell phone number or any other information. Elizabeth’s blank expression gradually gave way to faint recognition.
“Oh, I think he’s the guy she met at a local art festival a few months back. He bought a couple of her paintings for his private collection. Owns some trendy gallery in New York.”
“A regular client?”
“No, but she hoped he might become one. He’d told her he was interested in featuring some of her work in an exhibition showcasing up-and-coming Los Angeles artists. He must’ve been planning another visit to LA and wanted to discuss potential pieces for the exhibition in person.”
“You remember the name of the gallery he works for?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t. But I do remember Laurie showed me his website and the gallery seemed quite impressive. She was excited about the possibility of an exhibition and some big sales.”
“Did he show for the appointment?”
“No, I would have remembered.”
Jessica frowned. “That’s odd.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I guess so. Maybe he tried calling her cell phone to cancel or rearrange and couldn’t reach her? Or he read about Laurie being missing and decided not to make the trip after all.”
“I doubt it. An adult from Los Angeles, who’d been missing just a few days, wouldn’t be news in New York. Do you have a landline here in the shop?”