Art and Murder by Don Easton Page A

partially built pieces of furniture. Some of the furniture was clamped for gluing and resting on sawhorses. Another piece of furniture on a workbench was wrapped in bubble wrap.
    An open door at the far end of the workspace led into another room, and Jack caught a glimpse of a band saw and another workbench, with tools hanging on the wall above it.
    â€œOver there,” said Anton, pointing to a set of weigh scales on the nearby bench. On the scales was a clear plastic bag containing a brick of white powder. “Check it out, it’s yours.”
    Jack checked the weight. It was slightly more than a pound. Anton had broken a kilo in two and was not concerned that he was offering more than had been bargained for. He picked up the bag and examined it. “Looks good,” he said. “The weight is a little over.”
    â€œConsider it a tip to get you the hell out of here and never come back,” replied Anton. “First, though, call your women and tell them to release my guys and tell Klaus to call me as soon as they’re free.”
    * * *
    It was quarter after four when Laura took the call from Jack. When he explained the situation, she freed Klaus and Liam and, still holding the shotgun on them, allowed them to get dressed.
    â€œNow get out,” she said coldly.
    Klaus hesitated and glared back at Laura, until she pointed the shotgun at his face. Then he turned and, holding his jaw and mouth with one hand, followed Liam out the door. Once in the hotel parking lot he turned to Liam and mumbled, “You able to drive?”
    Liam glanced nervously back at the hotel. “Yeah, that kind of sobered me up.”
    Klaus tossed his car keys to Liam, and once inside the car, with his free hand he retrieved a pistol he had hidden under the dash.
    â€œWant to go back and do the whores?” asked Liam.
    Klaus glanced up at the hotel, then down at his pistol as he rethought his actions. Go up against two whores waiting in a room with a shotgun … maybe not such a good idea. Besides, it’s not them I want. He took his hand away from his mouth and looked at the blood on his fingers. “No, not the whores. I want the fucker who did this to me. Speaking of which, I better phone my friends.”
    * * *
    Anton answered the call from Klaus and walked toward the end of the workshop so he could talk without being overheard. “You free?” he asked.
    â€œYeah, Liam and me are driving away from the hotel,” said Klaus, “but the fucking pimp … I’m sure he broke my jaw. I’m in a lot of pain. Also busted most of my teeth and my lips are all cut up. I’m spittin’ blood everywhere.”
    â€œGet Liam to take you to a hospital.”
    â€œWhat about the pimp?”
    â€œOrders are for me to do him and Clive as soon as I hang up.”
    â€œWish you could keep the pimp alive until I get there,” Klaus said. “Can’t you gut-shoot him or something?”
    â€œI’ll see what I can do.”
    â€œAs soon as I’m out of Emergency, I’ll take Liam home and be right over,” Klaus said. “If the pimp’s still alive, I’m going to use every tool we got in the shop on him.”
    Anton hung up and looked at Jack and smiled, then motioned with his finger for Clive to approach him. “I need to tell you exactly how you will repay us.”
    Clive had taken a few steps forward when Anton raised a .32-calibre pistol and pointed it directly at his face. “You will pay with your life,” said Anton calmly.
    Clive’s mouth opened to scream as Anton pulled the trigger.
    The bullet entered Clive’s face beside his nose before ricocheting around inside his skull, turning his brain to mush. He was dead before his body hit the floor.

Chapter Nine
    Roche saw the man and long-haired woman hurry into the café ahead of him. Earlier he had spotted them strolling around the park and ostensibly admiring every flower bed