Muller, Marcia - [McCone 03] Cheshire Cat's Eye, The_(v.1,shtml) Page A

pieces of trim with the scars or, if it's unavailable, mill new ones. But, if I know David, he'll just toss on whatever he thinks looks good, paint it garishly, and sell it to the highest bidder."
    "I take it your organization doesn't—"
    "Let me tell you about Salvation Incorporated. We advocate exact restoration, down to every detail, strictly as the homes were when they were built. Unfortunately, David doesn't have the patience for that. And the worst of his crimes is his use of color."
    "You mean exterior?"
    "Interior, too. The decor… But don't get me started on that."
    Van Dyne's voice had become shrill. To calm her, I said, "I agree with you about the color."
    "So you mentioned." She modulated her tone. "Gray was the preferred exterior color in San Francisco's Victorian era, and the restorations should reflect that. Sometimes white was used. The trim was glossy black. Vestibules were painted to simulate mahogany."
    "A lot of things in the Victorian homes seem to have been imitations," I commented, recalling fake balconies, simulated leather wallpapers, and painted-on wood grain from the tour.
    "Yes, the Victorians prized the art of imitation, in spite of the real materials being available, often at far less cost. Victorians loved nothing more than for things to seem exactly the opposite of what they were."
    "It sounds hypocritical."
    "Admittedly it was a hypocritical age. But that was the way it was, and the restorations should adhere to the tradition. These multicolored abominations only came into vogue in the nineteen sixties."
    "By abominations, you include what Jake Kaufmann created?"
    "Please do not dignify his work with the word 'created''." Van Dyne spoke through her teeth.
    "You disliked Jake?"
    "Personally, no. In fact, I rather liked him."
    "Is that why you dropped your suit?"
    She patted her gray-blond coif, eyes evasive. "That, and other factors."
    "Such as?"
    She glanced around as if she were afraid someone might overhear us. "Expense, of course. It would, of course, have gone to the state supreme court. They all do. Merely to have the briefs printed costs a small fortune. And, of course, I liked Jake enough not to want to ruin him financially…" She stopped, a clock that had run down.
    Of course. I looked sharply at van Dyne, and she turned to the sideboard for another glass of wine, even though the one she held was half full. There had to be some other reason for dropping the suit, one she didn't want to talk about. Expense, to van Dyne and her financier husband, would have meant very little once her fury was aroused, and I sensed her capacity for fury was extensive. What, I wondered, could this fashionable crusader have to hide?
    She turned back to me, her confusion banished.
    I asked, "Who do you think killed Jake?"
    The question didn't startle her. Probably there had been plenty of speculation in preservationist circles. "I don't know. Certainly none of us would kill a person for using the wrong combination of paints."
    I hadn't implied it was one of them, but that must have been on all their minds. "Most likely it wasn't anyone who was intimate with the process of restoration," I said.
    "Oh? Why?"
    I described the conditions in which I had found the body. "Whoever tried to fake that accident did a poor job," I concluded. "A person who knew about painting and plastering would not have made those mistakes."
    Van Dyne nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I see. That lets out quite a few people."
    "It certainly lets out David Wintringham. And Charmaine."
    "It lets out anyone who had been around those houses enough to pay attention to how the work is done. The Italianate where David and his friend live was fully restored over two years ago. Any of them would have had ample opportunity to observe."
    She was right; it eliminated French and Paul Collins, too. Prince Albert? How much would a fixture manufacturer know about painting? Dettman or Hart or angry blacks from the ghetto streets? Their ignorance was even