The Broken Window

“Some twinges’re worse than others.”
    “Want to sit?”
    A shake of the head.
    “So. What’ve we got?”
    “Report, evidence inventory and copies of the photos. No videos. They’re with the D.A.”
    “Let’s get everything on the board. I want to see the primary crime scene and Arthur’s house.”
    She walked to a whiteboard—one of the dozens in the lab—and transcribed information as Rhyme watched.
    ALICE SANDERSON HOMICIDE
----
    ALICE SANDERSON APARTMENT:
    • Traces of Edge Advanced Gel shave cream, with aloe
    • Crumbs determined to be Pringles, fat free, barbecue flavor
    • Chicago Cutlery knife (MW)
    • TruGro fertilizer
    • Shoeprint of Alton EZ-Walk, size 10 1 / 2
    • Fleck of latex glove
    • References to “Art” and a prepaid mobile number in phonebook, now no longer active. Untraceable (Possible affair?)
    • Two notes: “Art—drinks” (office) and “Arthur” (home)
    • Wit saw light blue Mercedes, partial tag NLP
    ARTHUR RHYME’S CAR:
    • 2004 light blue Mercedes sedan, C Class, New Jersey license NLP 745, registered to Arthur Rhyme
    • Blood on door, rear floor (DNA match to victim’s)
    • Bloody washcloth, matching set found in victim’s apartment (DNA match to victim’s)
    • Dirt with composition similar to dirt in Clinton State Park
    ARTHUR RHYME’S HOUSE:
    • Edge Advanced Gel with aloe, shave cream, associated with that from primary crime scene
    • Pringles barbecue-flavored chips, fat free
    • TruGro fertilizer (garage)
    • Spade containing dirt similar to dirt in Clinton State Park (garage)
    • Chicago Cutlery knives, same type as the MW
    • Alton EZ-Walk shoes, size 10 1 / 2 , tread similar to that at primary crime scene
    • Direct-mail flyers from Wilcox Gallery, Boston, and Anderson-Billings Fine Arts, Carmel, about shows of Harvey Prescott paintings
    • Box of Safe-Hand latex gloves, rubber composition similar to that of fleck found at primary crime scene (garage)
    “Man, it’s pretty incriminating, Rhyme,” Sachs said, standing back, hand on her hips.
    “And using a prepaid cell? And references to ‘Art.’ But no address where he lives or works. That would suggest an affair. . . . Any other details?”
    “No. Other than the pictures.”
    “Tape them up,” he instructed while scanning the chart, regretting that he hadn’t searched the scene himself—vicariously, that was, with Amelia Sachs, as they often did, via a microphone/headset or a high-definition video camera she wore. It seemed like a competent CS job, but not stellar. No photos of the nonscene rooms. And the knife . . . He saw the picture of the bloody weapon, beneath the bed. An officer was lifting a flap of dust ruffle to get a good shot. Was it invisible with the cloth down (which meant the perp might logically have missed it in the frenzy of the moment) or was it visible, suggesting it had been left intentionally as planted evidence?
    He studied the picture of packing material on the floor, apparently what the Prescott painting had been wrapped in.
    “Something’s wrong,” he whispered.
    Sachs, standing at the whiteboard, glanced his way.
    “The painting,” Rhyme continued.
    “What about it?”
    “LaGrange suggested two motives. One, Arthur stole the Prescott as a cover because he wanted to kill Alice to get her out of his life.”
    “Right.”
    “But,” Rhyme went on, “to make a homicide seem incidental to a burglary, a smart perp wouldn’t steal theone thing in the apartment that could be connected to him. Remember, Art had owned a Prescott. And he had direct-mail flyers about them.”
    “Sure, Rhyme, that doesn’t make any sense.”
    “And say he really did want the painting and couldn’t afford it. Well, it’s a hell of a lot safer and easier to break in and cart it off during the day when the owner’s at work, rather than murder them for it.” His cousin’s demeanor too, though not high in Rhyme’s arsenal when he assessed guilt or innocence, nagged. “Maybe he wasn’t playing innocent. Maybe he was innocent. . . . Pretty incriminating, you said? No. Too incriminating.”
    He thought to himself: Let’s just postulate that he didn’t do it. If not, then the consequences were significant. Because this wasn’t simply a case of mistaken identity; the evidence matched too closely—including a conclusive connection between her blood and his car. No, if Art was innocent, then someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to set him