“What other one?”
“Oil on canvas,” Peabody said as they got back in the car. “Prince was pretty sure there, and we haven’t gotten the lab work back on the board, but it looked like oil paint to me.”
“Okay, so we focus on oil paints.”
“Not just. Since he thinks his work’s so brilliant, and we think he’s got the money for it, wouldn’t he go for the best supplies?”
“Yes, he would.” Eve sat a moment before pulling into traffic. “If he’s replicating the portraits, wouldn’t he want to use the same paints the original artists used?”
Peabody’s eyes widened. “Sure he would! It fits! The details of the costumes. It abso-truly fits. And more on that? I think he’d probably, at least maybe, make his own paints—like mixing the pigment and oil himself the way they did. I think they did,” Peabody qualified.
“It’s another thread. And we tug it. We find out what the two artists he copied used, go from there. How the hell do you make pigment?”
“I actually sort of know.”
Eve spared her a glance. “Oddly, I fail to be surprised by this.”
“Well, I have a cousin who makes her own paint—from nature.”
“Of course you do.”
“Okay. She grinds up minerals, rocks, plants, flowers, bark, nuts, shells, whatever. Since she only uses nature, she uses egg yolk as a binder, and water for the consistency she wants. It’s a lot. So it’s not oil paint like we want, but it’s making pigments. I can ask her.”
“Do that. But can you buy the stuff already ground up?”
“Sure you can!” Peabody tapped her forehead. “I’ve seen it in craft stores and art supplies. I needed more art supplies for the toy boxes so I’ve been in a lot. But he’d use higher end than I did.”
“We start higher end.”
“Okay, I’m going to say it right out loud. This part’ll be fun for me.”
“It’s all yours. Find out what pigments—if you can—the original artists used. Find what you need to make those. Specifically.”
“And I’ll talk to Phina—Seraphina, my cousin. She’ll know other natural artists, and maybe some who work in oil. This is a good thread!”
“Start now,” Eve said when they pulled into Central. “Odds are strong he’ll hit again tonight.”
“Three in three nights? He can’t be painting that fast, Dallas, especially in oil.”
“He’s getting what he wants, and that’s the kill. He’s got all the time in the world to play with his paints. He’s spent time finding the right models.”
As they walked to the elevator, Eve rolled it as she saw it. “He had to take some time before that selecting the paintings he wanted to replicate. And, if this angle’s right, accessing the right pigments. He needs the payoff.”
“And that’s the kill.”
“The way I see it. He can take his time finishing the paintings. He must take pictures of the victims in costume, in the pose. And if not, he’s got the originals to work from. But he takes pictures.”
She got on the elevator. “He can get a start when they’re alive and posing, but he works in details, and details take time. He kills them only hours after he picks them up, not enough time for details.”
“They come later. That’s what makes sense,” Peabody agreed. “How long do you figure he can keep this up?”
“Until we stop him.”
After the fifth stop, and the entrance of an undercover cop who smelled like raw sewage, Eve switched to the glides. Peabody headed out right behind her.
“I’m going to try the manager of the gallery uptown, the body dump. See if what others remember jogs anything with her. I’ll try to reach Klein, and then try a few others uptown by ’link.”
“You’re betting he’s tried galleries all over the city, and I’m with you on that bet.”
