Murder as a Fine Art Read Online Free PDF Page B

that. According to Kevin Lavoie you have terrific powers of observation and that could be a tremendous help if this turns out to be a homicide. The public may not be aware of it, but the police do use gifted amateurs to help them solve cases where the circumstances are, shall we say, out of the ordinary. It doesn’t just happen in crime stories. It happens in real life, too.”
    â€œI suppose we could give it a try and see how it works out,” Laura agreed slowly. “But if I begin to feel compromised, I’ll have to back off.” She paused, then added, “Haven’t you forgotten something? I could be a suspect myself. After all, I was the one who found the body.”
    â€œI haven’t forgotten,” Karen said as she closed the studio door behind her.
    A little taken aback by the policewoman’s parting remark, Laura glanced at her wristwatch, remembering that she was supposed to join Erika for a cup of tea. They alternated between their studios every Friday afternoon. Locking her studio door behind her, she walked down the path and knocked lightly on the boat studio’s door and pushed it open. Erika was seated in front of her computer, deep in thought. Hesitating just inside the door, Laura said, “I don’t want to interrupt if you’re in the middle of something.”
    Erika hastily assured her that she had reached a good place to take a break. “I feel like I’m on a bit of a roll. Everything seems to be coming together just the way I want it.”
    â€œIt’s a natural high,” agreed Laura as Erika began to make the tea. “I get the same feeling when I finally see how I’m going to approach a painting.”
    The two friends sat together on the narrow couch and companionably sipped herb tea. They were both in their mid-thirties, but there the similarity ended. Erika was small and quick, with short-cropped dark hair framing sharp, piquant features, while her brown-haired companion was built on a larger, more Junoesque scale. Erika’s clear blue eyes sparkled with a bright, inquisitive sharpness, while Laura’s brown ones glowed with sympathetic understanding.
    The subject of Montrose was raised and quickly dropped as there wasn’t much that could be said about it, and the conversation moved on to more congenial subjects. The easy flow of their talk was suddenly interrupted by a barrage of flashes outside the studio. Laura jumped to her feet and peered out one of the portholes. Unlike conventional portholes, these were large and square— more like windows. The colony was strictly off-limits to the public, but the polite “Please do nottrespass” signs failed to inhibit some of the more thoughtless sightseers. Laura swore under her breath as she saw a tour group gesticulating and aiming cameras at the curious sight of an old fishing boat plunked down in a forest hundreds of miles from the nearest ocean.
    â€œIt makes me furious,” she muttered. “It’s one thing if somebody doesn’t know any better, but that’s a guided tour and they know damn well they shouldn’t be here. I’m going to see them off.” She brushed past Erika and went out on deck to politely inform the guide he had no business being there.
    Laura’s impulsive action didn’t surprise Erika who was familiar with her friend’s protective attitude toward the colony. Laura had been coming to the Leighton Artist Colony for years. Her art had benefited greatly from her frequent stays in the creative atmosphere and she was fiercely resentful of anything that threatened to undermine its unique character. She had also become a sort of den mother to her fellow colonists, showing them how the colony worked and emphasizing that its sole purpose was to encourage their creative talents. Her helpful hints had eased Erika’s entry into the colony and enabled her to settle down to work much more quickly than otherwise might