TWENTY-NINEDoobie opened the door and invited the cop in. He didn’t like company. But Big Jim Bullock had called and there was desperation in the cops voice. He needed to talk. They sat on the couch as Yoriko poured them warm sake and cats marched across their laps. Doobie was saddened over the news of Paco’s murder. He’d been an endearing little fellow, but most of all he was sad for Jim.
“There’s got to be something about that painting,” Jim said. “That was the only thing missing from the house. I keep thinking about it, but in all honesty, I don’t remember it that well. There was a trolley and a bus. Pretty colors. Nothing that stood out. Why was it important enough to kill for?”
Doobie couldn’t figure it either. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Yoriko kept fondling the sash on
