CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Large glass windows buttressed both sides of the glass door of Art for Life Studios. Avery could see a narrow, packed gallery space inside with all kinds of modern art: sculptures, paintings, drawings, and retro collages. Further back, the room opened up into a much larger area, with a circle of easels for what she assumed was the art class meeting area.
Her phone rang.
“Black,” she answered.
“Who’s your boy?” Finley said. “I just got a call back from one of Tabitha’s friends. The victim definitely took an art class at that studio.”
“I already figured it out. Didn’t you notice all the art when you were in her dorm?”
“What art?”
“In her room.”
“That wasn’t art.” Finley blanched. “That was garbage. I thought she bought it at a yard sale. Look, Black, don’t bust my
