Fugitive Colors by Maron Margaret

Author:Maron, Margaret [Maron, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, NewBook
ISBN: 9780446403931
Google: 7pICoQEACAAJ
Amazon: 0985910739
Goodreads: 295960
Publisher: Mysterious Press
Published: 1995-06-14T04:00:00+00:00

9

{Verdigris} is very green by itself. And it is manufactured by alchemy, from copper and vinegar.…Take care never to get it near any white lead, for they are mortal enemies in every respect. Work it up with vinegar.…It is beautiful ro the eye, but it does not last.

Cennino Cennini

Il Libro dell’ Arte, 1437

A little after two-thirty, Gonzalez tapped on Sigrid’s half-open door. She had worked straight through lunch and was now a little bleary-eyed as she looked up from the computer screen.

“Sorry to bother you, Lieutenant,” he said hesitantly, “but you got a personal call on line one.”

Guiltily, she remembered that Anne had left a message to call, so she reached for her phone and punched the blinking line button. Instead of her mother, however, it was Elliott Buntrock and his words tumbled into her ear as if he expected to be cut off at any second.

“I’m really sorry to bother you, but it’s crazy here at the Arnheim today. The director’s called an unscheduled meeting that I absolutely cannot get out of. I phoned Hester, but she already lent the gallery’s key for Oscar’s apartment to Hal because I knew I was going to be running a little late. I was supposed to meet him there at two, so when Rudy Gottfried called this morning, I told Aim to come at three. Figured it wouldn’t take Hal and me more than forty-five minutes to look at the few things there. That B’Nita Parsons woman says Hal left the gallery at one, but nobody answers Oscar’s phone.”

“So you want me to meet Gottfried?” asked Sigrid.

“Could you?”

“I suppose,” she answered reluctantly. “Did you find out what he was so angry about last night?”

“God, yes! He used to be represented by DiPietro’s and it ended in a ghastly mess. That’s another reason you should get over there. Look, they’re yelling for me again. Call me tonight and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Before she could press him for details, he was gone.

She sighed, the cked her key ring to make sure she had the necessary keys, and finished entering some final bits of data into her computer. A one-on-one session with Rudy Gottfried wasn’t how she wanted to spend her afternoon, but at least she’d whittled the stack of paper in her in-tray down to a manageable size.

• • •

By the time her cab pulled up before the building where Nauman had kept a small apartment, it was 3:12 and she saw Rudy Gottfried behind the locked glass doors, pacing restlessly up and down the small lobby.

“Aha!” he said as he pushed open the door for her before she could insert the key. “That’s why Buntrock didn’t answer when I pushed the bell.”

A camera case was slung over one muscular shoulder and two dilapidated portable floodlights with frayed cloth cords were parked over in a corner of the lobby. He had rung every apartment, he told her, until someone more trusting than the average New Yorker had buzzed him in.

His mood was much different this afternoon.

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