Murder as a Fine Art by John Ballem Page B

given it any thought. Maybe I’ll stay around here for a few days and take Erika’s body back to New York with me.”
    â€œI’m afraid it may be several weeks before her body is released. The medical examiner will want to have a number of tests done and ...” She let her voicetrail off, but both her listeners silently finished the thought for her. There wasn’t much left for the medical experts to work with. “It would be very helpful if you would remain in the area for a day or so. To give us some background on the victim,” she added smoothly when the Wall Street lawyer shot her a sharp look.
    â€œI’ll be happy to help your investigation in any way I can,” he said formally. Then he shook his head in disbelief. “I’m still having a hard time accepting that this might be a deliberate murder. As Laura says, whoever torched the place may not have known she was inside.”
    â€œI guess I was just trying to make myself feel better,” Laura said and shook her head. “But I don’t really believe it. If that had been the case, Erika would have been able to escape through one of the port holes.”
    â€œAre you suggesting she was tied up?” asked Geoff in a shocked whisper.
    â€œPossibly. But it’s more likely she was drugged. We’ll know for sure when the tests are finished,” the corporal said.
    â€œThat way she wouldn’t know what was happening,” Laura said in what she hoped was a comforting tone.
    â€œI guess so.” He didn’t look very comforted. “I was thinking I might check out of the Westin and get a hotel room here in Banff.”
    â€œThat makes sense,” approved the corporal as Geoff unlocked his rental car, a black Chevrolet Caprice. “Let me know where you’ll be staying.”
    â€œI talked with the Westin,” she continued as she and Laura watched Geoff drive off. “He charged the parking fee to his room—which means he got a pass that allows him to drive in and out as he pleases.”
    â€œOh? Did you check with the parking attendants to see if they saw him leave?”
    â€œApparently there was a big do at the hotel last night — the premier’s dinner with more than 800 guests. You can imagine the parade of cars streaming in and out of the parkade. Nobody remembers seeing Geoff leave, but that doesn’t mean a thing.”
    â€œBut what about coming back? There can’t have been many cars driving into the parkade at four o’clock in the morning.”
    â€œI thought of that. And he wouldn’t have to, if he’s the murderer. At that hour he could have left the car parked on one of the streets near the hotel.”
    â€œYou’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” The policewoman shrugged. “I’m not saying he did it. It’s just that I haven’t been able to eliminate him.” She made a few notes in her notebook, then said, “Speaking of possible suspects, have you come across that performance artist in your travels?”
    â€œJohn Smith? No. Has he gone missing?”
    â€œI wouldn’t say that. It’s just that I haven’t been able to locate him. I’m sure he’ll turn up in his own good time. But if you do see him, let me know right away.”

chapter seven
    R ichard Madrin had returned from his TV stint in Edmonton in time for lunch, joining some of the colonists at their table in the dining room. He had heard about the fire on a couple of newscasts. Coupled with Montrose’s death, which seemed less of an accident now, the fatal fire and the presence of the arson squad had ignited the interest of the press. So far, the identity of the victim had not been made public, but he knew it was the boat studio that had burned and he nodded quiet acceptance when Laura told him the dental records confirmed that it was Erika.
    â€œWhat did she do? Fall asleep? She looked