The Case Has Altered Read Online Free PDF

garden or at the end of a trellised vista or a columned corridor. Their marble wardrobe ranged from a mere drape around the hips to a full-skirted dress and bonnet. Jury assumed they were part of Owen’s collection, or else he’d inherited these modestly smiling women together with the house.
    Enough daylight seeped in through chinks in the curtains that Jury could see details that he was sure were not part of the sculptor’s vision: as he moved from one statue to another, he saw a slender rope of tiny silver links around one neck; around another’s wrist was a silver bracelet; and wound through another’s marble curls was a blue ribbon. A long-stemmed blue flower, a hyacinth, he thought, had been placed so as toseem part of one statue’s marble bouquet. He doubted these adornments were provided by Max Owen.
    â€œMy lord! You weren’t supposed to be here until next week!”
    Jury whirled at the sound of the voice.
    She walked through bars of light made by the narrow openings of the curtains and undid the ornaments, one after the other, all the while keeping Jury in her line of vision as if he might pull something tricky if she didn’t watch him. Removing the silver bracelet from one lady, she said, “It seems silly, I know, but I sometimes feel as if they should be compensated for having to live so much of the time in the dark. Max doesn’t like opening the curtains because the window’s east-facing and the morning sun might damage the paintings. To tell the truth, I think Max has forgotten what he ever intended to do with either the paintings or these ladies.” The ribbon and costume jewelry now removed, she went to the last statue and scooped some coins from its upturned hand. “For the launderette. Our machine’s on the blink.” Then she stopped and studied Jury’s face.
    â€œYou aren’t Mr. Pergilion, are you?” A suspicious note crept in here, as if Jury had misrepresented himself.
    â€œI’m not Mr. Pergilion, no.”
    Now, as if she’d lost interest in the transaction, she moved back and dumped the coins into the upturned palm of one statue, rewound the ribbon carelessly in another’s hair, draped the bracelet back over a wrist, set the hyacinth back on the marble flowers. It was as if she were announcing Jury could take her as he found her, or not at all.
    â€œBut I am somebody.” He smiled.
    This didn’t seem to stir her curiosity, for she only wanted to talk about who he wasn’t. “Mr. Pergilion is the appraiser, you see. Max is always getting one appraiser or another in to value his paintings and furniture. He’s thinking of selling off a few pieces, I can’t imagine why, we don’t need any more money. It’s all just his excuse to get somebody in here to talk about his collection. He does it all the time. He exhausted my small store of knowledge long ago.” She pointed to a fragile-looking writing desk and said, “This is one of the pieces Max wants to have valued. I love it. It’s bonheur-du-jour .” The satinwood table sat on long narrow legs, with smallpainted doors decorated with birds and flowers. “It’s worth a few thousand, but a lot more if the painter was famous. I imagine Max hopes he’ll find out the painter’s name.”
    She stopped in the act of replacing the silver necklace and held it twined in her fingers, lost in some sort of difficult thought, judging from her expression. The necklace looked much like a rosary and she looked meditative as a nun. A dove gray dress with a soft white lace collar, straight and shining hair, and that imperturbable face. Now she moved over to the windows. “Whenever Max goes up to London, I open the curtains, which is why I’m here—” It was almost as if she needed to justify her turning up in her own house. Saying so, she pulled the cord on the curtain nearest her. “—because I think