CHAPTER SEVEN

Jessie tried not to laugh at the cliché of it all.

As she and Ryan sat in the waiting room of Garrett Leach's plastic surgery office, she couldn't help but notice that everything she'd learned about the man reinforced the typical image people had about guys like him.

His practice was in Beverly Hills, on the top floor of a gleaming ten-story office tower. The entire waiting area was defined by glass and metal, with a futuristic—and, to Jessie's eyes, antiseptic—vibe.

The walls were covered with photos of what she assumed were past patients, almost all of them women. The images included full-body shots that looked like magazine photos, close-ups on faces, and in three cases, only enhanced chests, without the accompanying bodies.

From the looks of some women in the waiting room, Jessie suspected they'd visited Leach on multiple occasions. Others shifted nervously in their seats, suggesting this might be their first time here.

Upon Jessie and Ryan's arrival, the receptionist had told them they were lucky that the doctor was even here, as most of his Tuesday mornings were spent at the hospital doing procedures. But because of a conflict, he'd switched things up and would be in surgery this afternoon instead.

It was 7:45, and they'd been waiting for five minutes now. Jessie, who had decided to let their "having kids" semi-argument go for the time being, could sense Ryan's agitation in the seat beside her and knew that if they weren't called in the next sixty seconds, he was going to get up again. Since she didn't want their interaction with Leach to start combatively, she decided to pre-empt him and got up herself.

"Be right back," she whispered to Ryan before approaching the reception window again, where the gorgeous young blonde they'd spoken to earlier offered a plastic smile.

"Hi again…Cory," she said pleasantly, looking at the nametag on the woman's top. "I believe my partner informed you that our meeting with Dr. Leach involved police business. You recall that, right?"

"I do," Cory said with a whiff of sarcasm .

"Great," Jessie said, leaning in so that she wouldn't be overheard and glancing back at Ryan. "Then you should probably know that he isn't the most patient detective on the force. Most of the time, he'd just walk straight to the back and find the person he was looking for without waiting to be called. We're getting close to that moment right now, and I know that neither of us wants a scene that might upset current or potential patients. So I highly recommend that you make the doctor available, like, immediately. Am I being clear?"

Cory, whose plastic smile had slowly turned into a nervous frown with each word Jessie said, nodded silently and picked up the phone.

"Hey, Kelly," she said quietly. "Those police people I mentioned are getting anxious. I need to you come get them and take them straight to Dr. Leach."

Jessie smiled plasticly back at Cory as the receptionist listened to Kelly's reply. After a moment, she hung up.

"That was his head nurse," she said. "She'll be right up."

Cory was right. Less than thirty seconds later, a brunette, just as beautiful as Cory, approached them in scrubs.

"Hi," she said warmly, as if there was no battle of wills going on, "are you the folks with the city?"

Jessie admired the careful vagueness of her question.

"We are," she said, indicating that Ryan was with her.

"Come on back," she said, opening the door for them.

They stepped inside and Kelly led the way, moving quickly, as if she didn't want too many people to notice their presence. At the end of the hall, she opened another door, this time to what was clearly Leach's office.

"Please have a seat," she said. "The doctor is just wrapping up a consultation with a potential patient. I'll make sure he's right in."

"Please make it quick," Ryan growled. "We're tired of waiting."

"Of course," Kelly said before closing the door.

Jessie surveyed the office. Like the rest of the practice, it was pristine to the point of sterility. The desk had only a closed laptop and one manila folder with a pen resting on top of it. While there were no pictures on the desk, there were many on the walls, interspersed between his various degrees and certifications.

In every one, Leach stood beside someone either beautiful or famous. There were some of him next to models at events, others on the golf course with sports figures that Jessie recognized but couldn't name, and a few from fishing trips with a couple of well-known actors .

In every photo, Leach looked immaculate, as if he'd taken a moment before each one to check his hair and attire so that everything was in place. In addition to the photos, there were three large paintings, one on each wall, that Jessie gathered he'd picked up at auctions like last night's.

"Seems like Garrett Leach likes to be seen with pretty people," Ryan noted.

"Yep," she agreed. "He strikes me as the kind of guy who enjoys keeping up appearances. Can't imagine he liked being shown up last night."

Ryan was about to reply when the door opened, and Leach walked in. He looked just like his photos. In his mid-forties, with perfectly coiffed silver hair, bronzed skin, and zero wrinkles, he reminded Jessie of a middle-aged Ken doll.

"Let me guess why you're here," he said, closing the door without introducing himself. "It's because of Chloe, right?"

Jessie and Ryan exchanged a look that they both understood to mean: I guess we're starting this now . She shrugged, and he smiled.

"That's right, Dr. Leach," Ryan said. "We have some questions for you."

"Yeah, I heard the news when I woke up this morning," Leach said as he walked over and sat at his desk. "I figured you'd want to talk to everyone who was there at the auction last night, but you guys are getting an early start."

"We've actually been at it most of the night," Ryan said, "but we're glad to get the opportunity to clear up some things that are unresolved."

He took a seat in one of the chairs facing the desk, and Jessie took the other.

"Well, I'm happy to help," Leach said. "I just ask that we make this as quick as possible. I've got eight more patients to see this morning, and I'm already behind."

"How well did you know Chloe?" Ryan asked, not commenting on the request to make this "quick." Jessie knew he wouldn't be rushed.

"Moderately," Leach said, unable to hide his disdain. "We traveled in similar circles. She actually came to see me once about a possible procedure, but ultimately went another way."

"Were there any hard feelings?" Jessie wondered.

Not on my part," he said. "I wished her the best, even though she didn't ultimately make the best choice of surgeons. But that's none of my concern. "

"So you knew her pretty well when you were both bidding on that piece last night?" Ryan confirmed.

"Yes, we regularly crossed paths in that world," he said, nodding at the paintings on the walls. "As you can see, I'm a connoisseur."

He seemed to be waiting for them to congratulate him on his taste, but Jessie had other ideas. It was time to make this guy a little uncomfortable.

"And she outbid you on the piece you wanted," she noted, allowing a sharpness into her tone that flirted with taunting.

"That's right," he acknowledged, his voice suddenly tight.

"That must have been frustrating," she continued blandly, as if she didn't know that she was stirring the pot.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, clearly trying not to sound irritated.

"Well, we checked your finances on the way over here," she told him. "You make a really good living. Ninety-five percent of the population would envy you. But it's not really in Chloe Baptiste's universe, is it? I mean, you're not one of those ultra-high-net-worth people like her."

"What's your point?"

"I guess I'm just wondering if it got frustrating to know that if she showed up at an auction, you'd never be able to outbid her on a piece that she cared about."

She watched him quietly seethe and imagined what a man like that would do if he was angry and had access to a sharp knife.

"I never thought about it that way," he insisted. "Tastes differ. We didn't always bid on the same pieces."

Jessie smiled politely, as if that answer was satisfactory. Then she went in for the kill.

"But you really wanted that piece last night, didn't you?"

Leach stared at her for several seconds without replying. When he finally did, his tone was guarded.

"I feel like I'm being interrogated here. Am I a suspect in Chloe's murder?"

"We're just being thorough, Dr. Leach," Ryan said dismissively, as if the man was being dramatic to even ask the question. "Didn't you think we'd pursue all angles with everyone at the auction last night? But as long as you bring it up, maybe you can tell us where you were last night right after auction ended at 9 p.m. We didn't see you leave on the gallery's surveillance video. "

Leach's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Jessie thought he might be about to ask for a lawyer. But then he broke into a grin that was made creepy by the lack of laugh lines on his face.

"I did leave, but I could understand why you might have missed it," he explained. "You see, I left the event about fifteen minutes early with a female friend I met there. We really hit it off. In fact, she was being playful and put her giant derby hat on my head. I was still wearing it when we left. Just look on your video for the older guy in the navy suit and ridiculous hat walking out with the girl much too young for him. That's me."

Jessie did vaguely recall a couple matching that description leaving but hadn't made the possible connection.

"So this young woman can vouch for your location after you left?" Ryan pressed.

"Yes, our location was initially my car, and when that location proved insufficient for our needs, we went to my house. Her name is Tiffany something. I have it in my phone. Just give me a minute."

As he scrolled through his contacts, Jessie looked over at Ryan. He was clearly thinking the same thing as her. Though they couldn't be sure yet, it was looking like Leach wasn't their guy. That meant the murderer was still out there.

The thought gave Jessie a sudden pit in her stomach. Then she got a text from Captain Parker. Reading it, the pit only got deeper.