The Kill Artist

first: the Yale model he had used for the street entrance. She placed it inside the case, closed the lid, and squeezed. She opened the case and removed the key. The imprint was flawless. She repeated the process two more times, once with the second Yale key, then with the skeleton. She had three perfect imprints.
    She closed the lid, placed the keys exactly where Yusef had left them, then returned the mascara case to her purse.
    "What are you doing there?"
    She looked up, startled, and quickly regained her composure. Yusef was standing in the center of the floor, his wet body wrapped in a beige bath towel. How long had he been standing there? How much had he seen? Damn it, Jacqueline! Why weren't you watching the door!
    She said, "I'm looking for my cigarettes. Have you seen them?"
    He pointed toward the bedroom. "You left them in there."
    "Oh, yes. God, sometimes I think I'm losing my mind."
    "That's all you were doing? Just looking for cigarettes?"
    "What else would I be doing?" She spread her arms to indicate the spartan squalor of his sitting room. "You think I'm trying to make off with your valuables?"

She stood and picked up her handbag. "Are you finished in the bathroom?"
    "Yes, but why are you bringing your purse to the bathroom?"
    She thought: He suspects something. Suddenly she wanted to get out of the flat as quickly as possible. Then she thought: I should be offended by questions like that.
    "I think I may be getting my period," she said icily. "I don't think I like the way you're acting. Is this the way all Arab men treat their lovers the morning after?"
    She brushed past him and entered the bedroom. She was surprised at how convincing she had managed to sound. Her hands were shaking as she collected her clothing and entered the bathroom. She ran water in the sink while she dressed. Then she opened the door and went out. Yusef was in the sitting room. He wore faded jeans, a sweater, loafers with no socks.
    He said, "I'll call you a cab."
    "Don't bother. I'll find my own way home."
    "Let me walk you down."
    "I'll see myself out, thank you."
    "What's wrong with you? Why are you acting this way?"
    "Because I don't like the way you were talking to me. I had a nice time, until now. Maybe I'll see you around sometime."
    She opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Yusef followed her. She walked quickly down the stairs, then across the lobby.
    At the front entrance he grabbed her arm. "I'm sorry, Dominique. I'm just a little paranoid sometimes. You'd be paranoid too if you'd lived my life. I didn't mean anything by it. How can I make it up to you?"
    She managed to smile, even though her heart was pounding against the inside of her ribs. She had no idea what to do. She had the imprints, but there was a chance that he had seen her making them-or at least that he suspected she had done something. If she were guilty, the natural impulse would be to reject his invitation. She decided to accept his offer. If Gabriel believed it was a mistake, she could make up an excuse to cancel it.
    She said, "You may take me out for a proper dinner."
    "What time?"
    "Meet me at the gallery at six-thirty."
    "Perfect."
    "And don't be late. I can't stand men who are late."
    Then she kissed him and went out.
    TWENTY-FOUR
    Maida Vale, London
    When Jacqueline arrived back at her flat, Gabriel was seated on the couch drinking coffee. "How did it go?"
    "It was lovely. Bring me some of that coffee, will you?"
    She went into the bathroom, closed the door, and began filling the tub. Then she stripped off her clothing and slipped beneath the warm water. A moment later Gabriel knocked on the door.
    "Come in."
    He came into the room. He seemed surprised that she was already in the bath. He looked away, searching for a spot to place the coffee. "How do you feel?" he said, eyes averted.
    "How do you feel after you kill someone?"
    "I always feel dirty."
    Jacqueline scooped up a handful of water and let it run over her face.
    Gabriel said, "I need to ask you some questions."
    "I'm ready when you are."
    "It can wait until you're dressed."
    "We've lived together as man and wife, Gabriel. We've even behaved like man and wife."
    "That was different."
    "Why was it different?"
    "Because it was a necessary part of the operation."
    "Sleeping in the same bed, or making love to each other?"
    "Jacqueline, please."
    "Maybe you won't look at me because I just slept with Yusef."
    Gabriel glared at her and went out. Jacqueline permitted herself a brief