Painted Ladies

59

The next morning while I was in my office with the desk drawer open and one eye on my office door, the phone rang. It was Belson.

“Kate Quaggliosi called me, said there was a crime scene in Walford she thought I should see.”

“Who?” I said.

“Rosalind,” he said. “Want to ride along?”

“I do,” I said.

“Ten minutes,” Belson said. “Pick you up on Berkeley.”

Which he did. We drove out Commonwealth Ave.

“Scenic route?” I said.

“No rush,” he said. “Route Thirty all the way. Any traffic problems, I’ll hit the siren.”

“She dead?” I said.

“That’s what they tell me,” Belson said.

“Cause of death?” I said.

“Gunshot.”

“They shut her up,” I said.

“Imagine so,” Belson said.

The traffic was backed up at North Harvard Street in Brighton with cars trying to turn. Belson sounded the siren. The waters parted, and we drove on through.

“Magic,” I said.

“I always like that,” Belson said.

When we got to Walford, there were half a dozen Walford and state police cruisers, a crime scene truck, a vehicle from the Middlesex coroner’s office, and a couple of unmarked cars parked outside. There was also a considerable clump of civilians standing on the sidewalk, watching. A Walford cop stood at the front door, Belson showed him a badge, and the cop nodded and looked at my humble self.

“He’s with me,” Belson said.

“Go ahead,” the cop said.

Inside, there were cops and photographers and Kate Quaggliosi. The Walford cops were trying to act as though a murder was nothing new to them. For the two state detectives, murder was nothing new. The ME squatted on the floor next to the body, and Kate Quaggliosi stood next to him, looking down.

“Mind if we take a look,” Belson said to Kate.

He was always very punctilious about whose investigation it was.

“Be my guest,” Kate said.

If the corpse bothered her, she didn’t show it.

Belson and I sat on our haunches beside the ME.

“Took a pretty good beating before she died,” Belson said.

The ME nodded.

“Two?” Belson said. “In the forehead?”

“Yep,” the ME said. “One exit wound. The other one probably ricocheted around in the skull for a while.”

“Close range?”

“Very,” the ME said.

“When?” Belson said.

“Sometime last night,” the ME said.

“Gee, thanks,” Kate Quaggliosi said. “I saw her late yesterday afternoon. And her Pilates trainer found her at nine this morning. I could tell it was last night.”

“He asked,” the ME said. “We get her on the table, I’ll be able to tell you a lot more.”

“She’s wearing the same clothes she had on at our meeting,” Kate said.

“Probably makes it early evening,” the ME said. “Before she put on her jammies.”

“Anything you want to ask, Spenser?” Kate said.

“Her nose broken?” I said to the ME.

“Looks like it,” he said. “Doesn’t it.”

“They musta wanted her to tell them something she didn’t know,” I said.

“Yes,” Kate said. “She’d have given it up quick enough if she could.”

Healy came in and walked over and looked at the body.

“Guess we didn’t do her any favors having her in for a talk yesterday,” he said.

“You think there’s a connection?” Kate said.

“Yes,” Healy said, looking down. “They really pounded on her. Anything missing?”

I looked at him. He looked at me. I stood.

“I’ll check,” I said, and walked into Prince’s old office.

When I came out, I said, “Painting’s gone.”

“Real one?” Healy said.

“No way to know,” I said.

“Why would they take a copy?” Kate said.

“Maybe they didn’t,” I said.

“You mean the genuine Lady with a Finch,” Kate said, “might have been hanging in this guy’s home office all this time?”

“Maybe,” I said.

“Maybe Prince made the switch sooner than anyone thought,” Healy said.

“Or maybe they weren’t sure if he had or not,” I said.

“And took this painting, to be sure,” Kate said.

We were all silent for a while.

“We got more information in this case than we know what to do with,” Belson said. “And we can’t even make an arrest.”

“Be nice if we could turn somebody,” Kate said.

“Maybe we can,” I said.