The Night Stalker

Twenty-Two

The word obsession flashed at the back of Hunter’s mind. Four years was more than enough time for most people to take the hint and move on. Denise told him how possessive and jealous Patrick used to be of Laura, and though during the time they were together he’d never been violent towards her, he did have a problem with his temper.

‘Do you know if anyone other than you had an extra set of keys to Laura’s apartment?’

Denise had another sip of her drink and thought about it for a minute before looking at Roy.

‘Not that we know of,’ he said.

‘Laura never mentioned if she’d given the keys to anyone else?’

A firm shake of the head from Denise. ‘Laura never allowed anyone to go into her apartment or her studio. Her work was very private to her. Even though she was successful, she never did it for the money. She painted for herself. It was a way of expressing what was going on inside her. She didn’t even like exhibiting that much, and that’s what most artists live for. As far as I know, she never took any dates back to her apartment. And she never, never got emotionally involved.’

‘How about any close friends?’

‘I was her closest friend.’ A slight quiver came into her voice.

‘Anyone other than family?’

‘Painters are very lonely people, Detective. They spend most of their time by themselves, working on a piece. She had acquaintances, but no one she could really call a close friend.’

‘She didn’t keep in touch with any of her old school, university or work friends?’

Denise shrugged. ‘Maybe, by phone or the odd drink, but I couldn’t tell you who.’ She paused. ‘The only other person I can think of is Calvin Lange, the curator of the Daniel Rossdale Art Gallery. The person who kick-started her career. He was very fond of her, and she of him. They talked on the phone and met quite frequently.’

Roy nodded his agreement.

Hunter noted Calvin Lange’s name down and his eyes returned to the photo frames on the wooden desk. ‘Being a successful artist consequently means having fans, I suppose.’

Denise nodded proudly. ‘Her work was admired and loved by many.’

‘Did Laura ever mention any. .’ he searched for the right words, ‘. . insistent fans?’

‘You mean. . like a stalker?’ Her voice faltered for an instant.

Hunter nodded.

Denise finished the rest of her whiskey in one gulp. ‘I never thought of it, but she did mention something a few months ago.’

Hunter put down the picture frame he was holding and took a step in Denise’s direction. ‘What exactly did she tell you?’

Denise’s gaze moved to a neutral point on the white Nepalese rug in the center of the room as her memory struggled to remember. ‘Just that she’d started receiving some emails from someone who said he was in love with her work.’

‘Did she ever show you any of these emails?’

‘No.’

Hunter looked at Roy questioningly, who shook his head.

‘Did she tell you what they said?’

Denise shook her head. ‘Laura played it down, saying that it was just a fan being flattering of her work. But I did get the feeling that something about it had spooked her.’

Hunter wrote again in his notebook.

Denise moved closer, stopping at an arm’s reach from Hunter. She looked into his eyes. ‘How good are you and your team, Detective?’

Hunter frowned as if he hadn’t understood the question.

‘I wanna know if you can catch the sonofabitch who hurt my daughter and took her from me.’ The grief in her voice was gone, substituted by undeniable anger. ‘Don’t tell me you’re gonna do the best you can. The police are always doing the best they can, and their best is rarely good enough. I know you’re gonna do your best, Detective. What I want you to do is look me in the eyes and tell me your best will be good enough. Tell me you’ll catch this sonofabitch. And tell me you will make this sack of shit pay.’