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You've got me going, that book's around here someplace, I put it aside for the future. I've read quite a bit of Scarpetta, enough to have two minds about wanting more, but every now and then Cornwell writes something clicks so well (like she has a very good day or good year), you just have to stay open to the possibility. Read her JACK THE RIPPER without being convinced, as she knows, she's arguing in an area where proof's impossible. Yet my local art gallery has a painting attributed to Sickert, on what grounds I can't imagine, for it's unlike anything else of his I've seen, not daylit and peopled, but gaslit and observed by none other than Sickert, alone. Ooky 'colors' too, which might only reflect the mood aroused by gaslight, in a lonely observer. But whatsay it's a painting reflecting a special mood eh, a really private one? It's of a Victorian two-storey building seen corner-on, and for what reason he'd paint such an uninteresting thing in such an unappealing way only invites speculation. Jack would have been pretty interested in corners, lack of observers, shadows, and once seen this way this oddity of a painting hasn't a building for its subject, but them. Sinister. Cornwell could easily be right, though unable to prove it.