Color Blind

Read Color Blind for Free Online Page A

Book: Read Color Blind for Free Online
Authors: Jonathan Santlofer
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Thrillers
paintings, but that was in the 1950s. Now, well, it would be a big bore. I could never do that. Never. The fact is,” said the artist with a nonchalant shrug, “I’d kill myself without color.”

    “Could you say that again?” one of the cameramen asked. “I want to get a close-up.”

    “Sure.” Boyd Werther sat up straighter in the director’s chair, smoothed his silky shirt as the camera dollied in.

    “I’d absolutely kill myself if I was denied the use of color,” he said. “No question.”

     

    B y the way,” said Kate, as Boyd kissed her cheeks good-bye at the freight elevator. “A wise old artist once told me to never say never.”
    “I imagine you’re referring to my statement about never working in black and white.”

    “I just wouldn’t want you to kill yourself,” said Kate.

     

    I t had been over a year since Kate had been inside the drab tan walls of the Sixth Precinct, and nothing had changed—same fluorescent lighting washing everything in a sickly hue; same smell of bad coffee, perps’ lies, cops’ ambition, and dreams gone sour turning the air foul, her own bad memories adding to the mix, making it personal.
    She nodded at the desk cop, who waved her through. “Brown’s waiting for you. You know the way?”

    Oh, yes, she remembered.

     

    K ate stared at her hands, at the pearly, not quite clear, polish, and checked her watch.
    “I don’t think I can do it, Floyd.” She pushed her thick hair behind her ears, took a deep breath. She’d already been through it with Clare Tapell, agreed she would take a look. But now that she was here, in Brown’s office, with nightmares of the Death Artist crowding everything else out of her psyche, she didn’t want any part of it. If Richard were here he’d be screaming NO WAY. But she hadn’t spoken to him since he’d called from his office and sounded upset, saying he’d tell her about it when he got back from taking depositions in Boston.

    Brown drummed his nails along his desk. “Look, McKinnon, I understand, but it’s a favor to me and to Tapell.”

    Kate nodded, knew she didn’t have much choice. But her mind was still fighting it. What the hell was she doing here, now, when she’d finally gotten her life back on track after a year of nightmares and mourning? She wanted to return to her TV series, or Let There Be a Future, to review applicants for the coming term, figure out how and where she was going to get the funds to support a new group of kids. The kind of problems she liked.

    “Okay.” Kate stood, smoothed her slacks, tried to adjust her mind to the task. It was simple enough. Take a look at a couple of paintings. That much she could handle.

    She looked into Brown’s dark eyes, and said: “Let’s get this over with.”

     

    B rown had the siren going, navigating his Chevy Impala through the Bronx streets like a cowboy.
    “If you’d mentioned the Bronx I would have said no for sure.” Kate stared out the window at tenements and brown-stones that reminded her of the street she’d grown up on in Astoria, only shoddier.

    “Yeah, I asked if some rookie wouldn’t like to personally carry the paintings up to your Park Ave castle, but hey, these days the NYPD is a little short on staff.”

    “Funny,” said Kate with a slight sneer. “And it’s Central Park West. Not Park Avenue.”

    “Yeah,” said Brown, smiling. “I know that.”

    “Been a while since you had someone to abuse, Detective Brown?”

    “No. But you were always more fun than most. And it’s Chief Brown.”

    “Yeah,” said Kate, returning Brown’s sardonic smile. “I know that.”

     

    T he Bronx precinct looked a lot worse than the Sixth, even though it was obvious that efforts had been made on their behalfs. The paintings were set up in the precinct’s briefing room, with the permanent rows of metal chairs facing a blackboard and bulletin board, and a lectern with a microphone—where all the important meetings took place.

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