"Was he in the same condition?" Frank asked.
Fenton nodded, his face grim. "Where's your brother?" he asked, worry making him look older than this forty years.
"Isn't he home yet?" Frank asked, a frown taking shape on his face. "I stayed late to help Shelia put up the supplies and lay out what was needed for tomorrow morning before I left. The place was empty except for Biff and Mike, the regular security guard."
"I was going to go to the police station and talk to Con, but maybe we should go to the studio instead," Fenton said, worried.
"But Joe isn't modeling anymore," Frank reminded him, although he followed his dad to his car and climbed in the passenger side. "Joe wouldn't be a target anymore. Would he?"
"I hope not," Fenton replied. "But he could have found out who was behind the sabotage and been caught," he hypothesized, starting the car and backing out of the driveway.
They arrived at the studio a little later and Mike let them onto the premises. "Where was Joe the last time you saw him?" Fenton asked Frank.
"In make-up," Frank answered. "He told us that Artie wanted everyone here at four in the morning."
"Any idea where he was heading after that?" Fenton inquired.
"Probably to developing," Frank said. "I noticed he still had the film from the shoot on him."
"Then let's start looking there," Fenton said. "Lead the way."
Frank led the way to developing. "This is Beverly Crenshaw's office," Frank informed his father. "She's Raven Gilbert's sister."
"Did you talk with Demar about that?"
"I did," acknowledged Frank. "He said he already knew but that he felt she was innocent of the sabotage because she had volunteered to quit as soon as the first attempt occurred."
Fenton's frown grew deeper as Frank spoke. "She could have been putting on an act," he told Frank. "Coming clean so early in the game might make him trust her when he shouldn't."
Frank opened the door and flipped the switch on as he entered. Fenton followed close behind and the two began a methodical search of the room. It didn't take long for them to realize something was amiss. "None of Beverly's things are here," Frank said. "It looks like she cleared out."
"Do you have her address?" Fenton inquired. Frank nodded. "Call the station and talk to Con or Ezra," Fenton instructed. "Have them get a warrant to search her place."
Frank nodded and picked up the phone to make the call while his dad continued looking around the room. He found an envelope filled with negatives lying half under the desk and looked at them. When Frank hung up, he handed them to Frank for a closer look.
"This is Danny and Jeff," Frank said, lowering the negative back into the envelope. He held up another. "Troy and Danny," he said, frowning. "But I don't remember seeing these clothes in Demar's line."
"I think it's time we had a talk with Demar about Ms. Crenshaw," Fenton stated.
"He had already left for the day but I do know his home address," Frank said, leading the way out of the office.
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Joe moaned and moved his head. His eyes flickered as he twisted his head from side to side before they finally opened. "Hello, Joe," came a voice Joe couldn't quite identify. "It's about time you woke up."
"Who..who are you?" Joe demanded, trying to move his head around so he could see the speaker, only to find that he was being held in place by several belts, one of which secured his neck to the hard table he was currently on.
"Why did you do it?" the voice demanded. "Why did you go through all the trouble of becoming a model, signing on for a shoot and then, just quit? The other two did that too," the voice continued. "Jeff told Troy he was going to quit. He had enough money to go to college and he didn't really need this job. He told Troy he was sure Sebastian would cut him a break."
"So you killed Jeff because he was going to walk out on the shoot?" Joe asked.
"That's right," the voice agreed. "And Troy. He was such a bright boy. He thought if Sebastian would let Jeff go and could replace him then why couldn't he quit and become the assistant photographer." The man broke out laughing. "Demar is so stupid he probably would have agreed. After all, he let you. I knew your heart wasn't in modeling. I knew you were like them but I was hoping you would finish the shoot. Don't you realize that every time one of the models is changed it detracts from the work. From my work!" Artie screamed at Joe, coming close to him and looking down into his terrified face. "I have worked hard to get where I am. I started out with nothing. No connections. Not even a decent camera and built my own career with hard work, while you and others like you have everything handed to you because you're so good looking. Well that's about to change," he snarled, holding up his hand.
Joe saw light glisten off the small sharp razor Artie held in his hand. "You are going to have everything taken away from you and you will be no better than I was. No one will want to photograph you when I have finished with you, you might as well be dead. And maybe, just maybe, I might feel sorry enough for you to end it all."
"How did you know Beverly wasn't going to be in the lab?" Joe asked, trying to stall.
"Because I gave her the wrong film to develop yesterday," Artie explained. "She developed the pictures of Jeff and Troy after I had finished with them. I had to take care of her before she could tell anyone."
"You killed her?" Joe gasped. "When?"
"Over lunch," Artie answered. "Oh, don't worry. No one will find her body. I put it in the dumpster behind the studio."