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

that he died shortly after.”
    He sighed, then slumped down, looking at his hands on his lap, a beer in one.
    I waited for what seemed like five minutes, looking at him. I even started to think that he wouldn’t tell me anything except to go to hell. Then he finally said:
    “First the police, now you. OK, I admit I was there in the inventory room with Fred. I was getting some leads on some jobs, and he refused to give me a reference.” He raised his black eyes to me and spoke urgently. “When Pauline came in, he went out to the main area, and I went out after him. I never went back, and I never threatened him, I swear!”
    “What did you say to him?”
    “Only something like I didn’t think the money he was paying me was fair, and that I was done with this job“.
    “What was Fred referring to?”
    “That he wouldn’t give me a good reference, that he could ruin my job prospects.”
    “Why did you say 'under the circumstances'?”
    Alex looked to the left, out into the field for a long moment. I became aware of the anticipatory crowd noise, drums and yelling.
    “Did you know that Fred was an investment advisor prior to opening the gallery? I was once also an investment advisor, and worked with Fred a while ago. In the financial crisis, shortly after the Lehman Brothers collapse,  I lost my job. I couldn't find anything for over a year – stocks together with most other things tanked in 2009, nobody was interested in your advice unless you were smart enough to predict the financial crisis. Which I wasn't, honestly.”
    He gave a short bitter laugh.
    “I was sending out resumes for what felt like any and every job around, with no luck. I was desperate, heard that Fred opened an art gallery, and came to him begging for a job, even though I didn't know anything about art then. He did give me a job, with a sort-of respectable title – 'gallery manager'. In reality, I was the caretaker of the gallery, cleaning stuff up, hanging stuff on the walls, being paid minimum wage.” His fingers curled tightly around a beer bottle in his right hand, making a fist. “I was doing other stuff for the gallery as well. Like, it was me who arranged the special insurance coverage for our shows. All of that was worth more than minimum wage, I thought. Now that the economy in the region is picking up, I started interviewing around for a job more along the lines of my former profession. And another gallery made me a job offer, out of the blue.”
    “Which gallery was it?”
    “Ravenswood. They are a couple of blocks to the south from Nordqvist Fine Arts.”
    So Linda Raven was poaching Fred's employees in addition to her foray into cyber-crime!
    Alex continued:
    “I tried to be upfront with him about it – told Fred I was considering leaving, asked him to be a reference. I thought I should be honest with him, since he did give me a job when no-one else would.” Alex should his head. “And he refused, out of spite. Said that he'd tell anyone who asks that I had no attention to detail, was acting entitled, and that I would make a bad employee. I think he just thought that I was ungrateful. But I worked for him for almost 5 years for minimum wage, I've paid my dues!”  He looked at me, searching for understanding in my face.
    So that was what Fred meant when talking about the things that he could control, and how he could ruin Alex's reputation!..
    “And you never went back into the inventory room?”
    “No. Pauline and Andrew came in, and I went back to work. I wanted to finish up as soon as possible.”
    “Who did go in there, do you know?”
    “No. I was busy. Could have been anyone.”
    “OK, what about Connie?” His eyes flickered from side to side in a panic. “I saw you with her at the game here Thursday night. What were you talking about?”
    He swallowed.
    “About jobs. She’s is actually an accountant, a CPA. We were talking about striking out on our own in business. The other job interviews were sort of my