A Cold Heart by Jonathan Kellerman Page A

as such by their review committee. I get the feeling these people don't earn a living by their art. Most of them have day jobs. Julie had to pay for her own party - cheese and crackers and cheap wine, a jazz trio. About fifty people drifted in and out during the evening and six of the fifteen paintings were red-dotted - that means "sold" in art lingo. They actually put little red dots on the title tag.'
     
     
'Any of the co-op members twang your antenna?'
     
     
'They come across as a peace-loving bunch, nothing but good words about Julie, but who knows?'
     
     
Julie. Calling the victim by her first name early in the game. He'd bonded with this one. I said, 'What happened?'
     
     
'Someone ambushed her in the ladies' room of the gallery. After hours. Close confines - just a sink and a toilet and a mirror. There was a bump on the back of her head - coroner says not serious enough to knock her out, but the skin was broken and traces of her blood were found on the rim of the sink. Coroner's guess is she was thrashing and her head knocked against it.'
     
     
'Anyone else's blood?'
     
     
'I should be so lucky.'
     
     
'A struggle,' I said. 'How big a woman was she?'
     
     
'Small,' he said. 'Five-four, hundred and ten.'
     
     
'Any skin under her fingernails?'
     
     
'Not a molecule, but we did find some talcum powder. As in the stuff they use inside rubber gloves.'
     
     
'If that's what it means,' I said, 'it implies careful preparation. How long after hours did it happen?'
     
     
"The show closed at ten, and Julie stayed behind to clean up. One of the co-op artists helped her, a woman named CoCo Barnes. Who I don't see as a suspect because A, she's in her seventies and B, she's the size of a garden troll. Just after eleven, Barnes went back to check and found Julie.'
     
     
'Is she hard of hearing, as well?' I said. 'All that thrashing around?'
     
     
'No mystery there, Alex. The gallery's one big front room, but the bathrooms are out back, separated by a solid-core door that leads to a small vestibule and a storage area that feeds to a rear alley door. Plus the bathroom door's also solid. Top of that, there was music playing. Not the jazz combo, they'd already packed out. But Julie had brought a stereo system and backup tapes for when the band took breaks. She switched it on while they straightened. Barnes not hearing a thing makes total sense.'
     
     
The smiling woman brought shallow, round stainless-steel trays crowded with small saucerlike dishes. Basmati rice, lentils, green salad, okra, nan bread, tandoori chicken. A ramekin of mango chutney.
     
     
'Nice variety, huh?' said Milo, picking up a chicken wing.
     
     
'You're assuming the killer got in through the alley. Was the rear door forced?'
     
     
'Nope.'
     
     
'How soon after ten did Julie go back to the bathroom?'
     
     
'CoCo can't recall. She remembers realizing Julie'd been gone for a while just before she checked. But the two of them had been busy cleaning. Finally, she had to go herself, made her way back there and knocked on the bathroom door and when Julie didn't answer, she opened it.'
     
     
'Self-locking bathroom?'
     
     
He thought. 'Yeah, one of those push-button dealies.'
     
     
'So the killer chose not to lock up.'
     
     
'Or forgot.'
     
     
'Someone who brings gloves and ambushes his victim would remember.'
     
     
He rubbed his face. 'Okay, so what's the insight?'
     
     
'Showing off,' I said. 'Aiming for display. You said there was sexual positioning.'
     
     
'Panties down to the ankles, legs spread, knees propped. No bruising or entry. Lying on her back between the toilet and sink. She had to be squeezed in there - it's not how you'd fall naturally.' He brushed hair off his brow, resumed eating.
     
     
'What was her mood that night?'
     
     
'CoCo Barnes says she was flying high because of how well she'd done.'
     
     
'Six out of fifteen paintings sold.'
     
     
'Apparently that's great.'
     
     
'Flying high,' I