All the Pretty Girls - J. T. Ellison [128]
“I mean, I saw someone in here last night, working on the computer, during the reading. I was people watching, you know? You get all kinds, they’re great fodder for work. I’m an artist,” she stated proudly. Taylor bit back a grin, the girl was so tiny, so garishly dressed that Taylor liked her immediately. She’d always admired people who could express themselves in such ways.
“Wow, what happened to you?” the girl asked Taylor. “You’re looking pretty beat up.” She eyed Taylor. “I don’t even know if I could mix the right colors to paint that bruise. Does it hurt?”
Taylor smiled. “It’s nothing to be concerned about, but thanks for asking. We need to know what you saw last night.”
“Yes, ma’am, what did you see?” Baldwin asked, hands clenched in anticipation.
Suddenly the center of attention, the girl stood a little straighter and cleared her throat. “There was a man on the computer last night. I took notice because he was just so damn handsome. I thought about going over and introducing myself, but as soon as I got up the courage, he logged off and left. I was bummed. You don’t often get to see such beauty in a man. I would have loved to have him sit for me.”
Taylor felt her heart quicken, just an extra beat per second. “What did he look like…what’s your name again?” she asked.
“I’m Isabella. I’m in here most every night. Days, too, sometimes. Depends on how the craft is going, if the Muse is with me or not.”
“So, Isabella, what did he look like?” Baldwin wanted to get things back on track.
“He was about six-four, almost as big as you. Muscled, too, he had on this black cashmere T-shirt that looked like it was painted on him. Saw every muscle, and he was cut, too. A regular Adonis. Black hair, wavy, kinda long. And these blue eyes. I’ve never seen such a shade of blue. I would have to mix my own colors to get it just right, it’s not something that comes from a box, you know?” She shook her head, eyebrows knitting. “Well, I’m being stupid, I sketched him.”
She opened a portfolio and riffled through a few pages. “Here, this is him. Amazing, isn’t he?”
Taylor took the page from her eagerly. She and Baldwin each held a corner, staring at the perfect jaw, the chiseled nose, full lips that made the face almost feminine. Taylor was taken aback; surely this angel couldn’t be their killer. Their eyes met and she realized Baldwin was thinking the same thing. He gave her a little nod.
“Isabella, may we hold on to this?” he asked.
The waif looked sad for an instant, then nodded. “Well, of course, of course you can have it. But is there any chance I could get it back once you’re finished with it? It was the best of the lot.” She blushed furiously. “I did a few,” she admitted.
Taylor reached out and shook the girl’s hand. “I promise we’ll get it back to you. You may not want it, but we’ll get it back.” She gave Isabella a card. “Thank you, Isabella. This is going to be a huge help.”
“Can I ask you what he did that has you so interested in him? I mean, was he sending bomb threats or something?” Her eyes went a little dreamy at the thought of a dangerous man in an eye-catching package.
Taylor shook her head. “Just do me a favor. If you see him again, run away. Then call me.”
They left her staring after them, trying to figure out what he could have possibly done that was so awful the police were after him. She gave a shrug and turned back to her coffee.
Forty-Nine
Taylor and Baldwin pulled up to the gate in front of Quinn Buckley’s house. They’d called to make sure she’d see them, surprised when Jake Buckley answered the phone. He had adamantly refused to let them come to his house until Quinn picked up the phone and told him it was her house and he didn’t have a say anymore. He’d hung up in a huff, and Quinn had told them to come. Taylor reached out the window to press the button, but the gate swung open before her hand reached the box. She glanced