Art and Arsenic (Veronica Margreve Mysteries Book 2) by Valerie Murmel

she tried to blink them away and said. “Thank you.”
     
    I was feeling intense pity for her, and awkward just standing there. My impulse to do something practical, to fix things like an engineer would, took over.
     
    “I came to check on the website, to make sure … things are OK with it.” It sounded stupid, even to my ears. “I can update it, if you’d like?..” She looked at me quizzically. “To set whatever hours you are going to be open in the next couple of days – I assume that everyone will need a little time a way to… process all this”. Pauline’s black eyes were wet again, and she nodded. “I can mention Fred’s death, or omit it, however you’d like?” She bit her lip and shook her head. I thought I’d better move to a less-emotional topic, and added:
    “I can also take back-ups of your computer system, and help you with any computer related stuff that needs fixing.” Yes, I would be playing ‘tech support’, but I didn’t mind under the circumstances. And likely someone among the gallery staff could do all of this, but I doubted it would be on anyone’s mind as any kind of a priority under the circumstances. “What shall I put on the site? Closed until further notice? Closed for a week? Something else?”
     
    Pauline stuck her hands in her pockets. The relatively mundane topic of opening hours appeared to have given her a momentary distraction from her emotions. She turned and called out towards the blonde thin woman.
    “Connie? What are going to be our hours for the next week? Are we going to be closed?”
     
    The woman looked across the room at us, then said something short to the officer she was speaking with, and crossed the open space till she was standing at Pauline’s left elbow. The policeman followed a step behind.
    “What’s going on? Who are you?” She asked me, her gray eyes appraising and narrow on me. She had a New England accent, and sounded like the headmistress at a very exclusive East Coast boarding school. I got a whiff of her perfume – subtle flower notes. It seemed incongruous to me under the circumstances, and I wondered whether she put on the perfume before, or after, she learned that Fred Nordqvist was dead.
    I tried to appear business-like but friendly. “Hi, I am Veronica Margreve.” I stuck out my hand and she ignored it, still eyeing me. So much for trying to be friendly. I let my hand drop and changed the tone of my voice to the other I used with CEOs and CTOs when investigating and fixing security breaches. “I am a computer security consultant. I was hired by Fred Nordqvist to defend the gallery’s website from an external attack. As I am still technically under the consulting engagement with the gallery for the next couple of days, I offered to update the website to say that the gallery will be closed for the near future, or anything like that.  I could also back up your systems and Fred’s records while I am here, if that is needed.” I tried to keep calm and not get defensive under the shark gaze that seemed to be evaluating me for nutritional value. At least she wouldn't bite me and leave me to bleed to death, like a real shark. Would she?
    “I see. Well, say that we are closed till Tuesday, and then open regular hours after that. I assume all that”, – she waved her hand at the police tape across the entryway, – “would be gone by then. No mention of Fred’s death.”
     
    With that, she turned on her pastel heels and went to the far corner of the space to continue whatever lecture she was giving that police officer.
     
    Pauline rolled her eyes.
    “That’s Connie for you. So full of her own superiority.”
    I inwardly agreed with that.
    “Who is Connie, exactly? She was here last night at the opening, but I didn’t see her at the gallery before that.”
    “She’s… was… his soon to be ex-wife. They were separated and almost getting a divorce.”
    Ah, the third wife. And now, technically, his widow.
    “So does she