Muller, Marcia - [McCone 03] Cheshire Cat's Eye, The_(v.1,shtml) Read Free Book Online Page B

rattled and… Jake dead in one of our houses. But what are you doing here? Surely you don't expect to find a murderer at a home show."
    It was not as absurd as he made it sound. "Just getting to know the territory," I said with a conspiratorial wink.
    Surprisingly, he returned it. "Well, if you need to see David, he'll be here in about an hour. Right now I'm the only one on the booth. Larry French was supposed to help, but he's off promoting something or other." Collins glanced around aggrievedly. "He's never where he should be and, really, this thing about Jake has me very upset."
    I sensed a penchant for gossip here and encouraged it. "Did you know Jake well?"
    "Pretty well, although not for very long. You see, he'd painted some of our previous restorations, and we'd just signed him to a contract to do the entire Steiner Street block. Before that he'd worked for David's father and done some spectacular houses on his own. We were really pleased to get him."
    So, as I'd suspected, Jake had worked for Wintringham, Senior. "Who will paint the houses now?"
    "Maybe Jake's assistants will carry on. It all depends on whether they can handle the conceptual work—the color design. And, of course, whether his widow will want to keep the business going."
    "Did Jake plan to have a booth here today?"
    "Oh, yes. It's right there at the end of the pier." Collins gestured vaguely. "His assistants are manning it. Jake would have wanted that."
    "I'll take a look at it."
    "Do that. I'll tell David you were by. And, if you see Larry, please tell him to get back here and help out."
    I nodded and started off. Jake Kaufmann's booth was one of the more spectacular displays: a scaled-down replica of a Stick-style facade painted in Wedgewood blue, with accents of white and gold and deeper blues. Two men with longish hair were conversing with the spectators. I waited until the crowd drifted on, then went up and introduced myself.
    "Oh, hey, I remember when you did that investigation for Jake," one of the assistants, with a Fu-Manchu moustache, said. "I'm Bob, and this is Ron." He pointed to his clean-shaven companion.
    "What'll happen to the business now?" I asked.
    Bob shrugged. "We'll keep it going. Both of us picked up a lot of know-how from Jake, and we want to make a go of it. Mrs. Kaufmann's already said she wants that too. She's one hell of a tough lady, got a lot of guts."
    "Good for her. Listen: Did either of you notice anything strange about Jake's behavior yesterday?"
    They exchanged troubled glances. Bob, who seemed to be the spokesman, asked, "Like what do you mean?"
    "Did he seem worried? Upset? Afraid of something?"
    Bob wet his lips. "Upset, maybe. He came out to a job we were on in the Haight, but he didn't check as thoroughly as he usually did, and he was pretty short with both of us."
    "What time was this?"
    "Maybe around three."
    "That's a funny thing in itself." Ron spoke for the first time. "Jake usually came by in the morning, never later than one in the afternoon. I remember I wondered where he was."
    "What about the day before?" I asked. "You notice anything strange then?"
    Again they exchanged glances. Ron shook his head.
    "Everything was like usual," Bob said.
    So whatever had frightened Jake was a recent development. I told the painters I'd be in touch and continued on toward Prince Albert's booth. Before I reached it, however, the name SALVATION INCORPORATED stopped me. Eleanor van Dyne sat at a card table passing out literature. The rings on her fingers flashed as she spoke animatedly with the takers. I went up and waited my turn.
    "Mrs. van Dyne?"
    "Yes?" She looked up, patting her gray-blond coif.
    "I doubt you remember me. My name is Sharon McCone. I investigated your charges against Jake Kaufmann."
    "Of course I remember you." Her eyes narrowed, creating a network of fine wrinkles. "You're the young woman who went about annoying my neighbors when Jake committed that atrocity upon a perfectly decent Queen Anne row