Art and Murder. Don Easton

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Art and Murder - Don Easton A Jack Taggart Mystery

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in Canada.”

      Canada? Kerin listened as Roche spoke to his brother. He saw a look of concern cross Roche’s face and heard the name Clive Dempsey before Roche hung up.

      “Everything okay?” Kerin asked.

      Roche shook his head. “If you become a juggler for our organization, what would you do if one of the people who work for you brought a stranger to the stash house at quarter-to-four in the morning, wanting to get a pound of cocaine?”

      “Cocaine?” Kerin looked puzzled.

      “I know, I know,” replied Roche. “It is a new commodity that I chose to venture into on my own. A decision I may come to regret. But back to the question, what would you do? Especially when the person had been warned never to tell anyone about it.”

      “Is this happening in Canada right now?”

      Roche nodded.

      “I … I’m not sure,” Kerin stammered, not wanting to promote murder but at the same time not wanting to appear weak and hinder his chance of being accepted.

      “You’re not sure?”

      “Without knowing the full circumstances,” Kerin explained. “An unknown person … perhaps the Ringmaster should be consulted before any drastic action is taken. Time may be needed to find out who he is.”

      “Time is not an option they have. Still, I agree that the Ringmaster should be consulted.”

      “In Canada …,” said Kerin, becoming increasingly worried as the possibility of a more serious concern entered his mind. “I know the police there are allowed to portray themselves as criminals. Are you afraid that the person he brought is police?”

      “No, no, don’t worry.” Roche smiled. “The stranger is only a pimp. Quite … dispensable.” He got to his feet. “I’ll be back in ten minutes,” he said, then left while thumbing his phone.

      * * *

      The Ringmaster continued to watch. Who was Roche talking to? Kerin appears nervous … looking across the park. The man on the far side in a blue windbreaker is watching him. Kerin is tapping his watch….

      The Ringmaster studied the man in the windbreaker. A droopy moustache, and it’s twitching. Looks like a tarantula dancing on his lip, mused the Ringmaster before refocusing on Kerin. He’s getting up….

      * * *

      Kerin stepped into the public washroom. He glanced under the cubicle doors and saw that he was alone. Roche had told him that he was not to make any phone calls before meeting the Ringmaster, but he took out his phone and called his boss, Yves Charbonneau, to quickly outline what was happening in Canada.

      “I didn’t think they were involved with drugs,” Yves said.

      “Roche said it’s a venture he got into on his own. Forget the drugs. Two men in Canada might be murdered!”

      “Who cares if two criminals in Canada are murdered? Focus on what you are doing.”

      “Criminals or not, shouldn’t we try to stop it? How will it look in court if I am questioned and say we did nothing to prevent it?”

      “Yeah, yeah, okay,” grumbled Yves. “I’m having lunch with a friend at the moment. When I return to the office I will contact Interpol. It’s not like anyone could stop it, but you’re right, it will look better if we appear to make an effort.”

      * * *

      The Ringmaster answered Roche’s call and listened as he explained the situation in Canada, then asked, “Are you sure the man with Clive is a pimp?”

      “Yes. Klaus, Clive, and Liam were abusing the whore when the pimp showed up with another whore and beat Klaus with a shotgun.”

      “Klaus,” the Ringmaster muttered. “I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m glad the pimp beat him. Why was he with the other two?”

      “The whore was a present for Liam. He is getting married next week and Klaus thought it would promote a better relationship by —”

      “Don’t give me that shit. Klaus is an ass. The whore was for him as much as anyone. I know what he likes to do to women.”

      “So what should I tell Anton to do?”

      “I can’t believe the timing,” the Ringmaster grumbled. “Years spent tracking down a rumour … then finding out the rumour was true.”

      “The ship sales from Vancouver in three weeks,” Roche said.

      “You needn’t remind me. I’ve been counting the days … and now this. What if the pimp is caught by the police and tells them about the drugs? Or worse yet, decides to gather a few friends and come back and steal everything? For my Pierrot to fall into the hands of a pimp is too disgusting to contemplate. What will he do? Hang it in some brothel?”

      “The painting’s well hidden,” said Roche.

      “Do you trust Anton not to talk under torture? Look what the pimp did to Klaus.”

      Roche didn’t respond. The idea of his brother being tortured was too horrific to imagine.

      “Your silence answers that,” said the Ringmaster. “I’m not particularly fond of pimps, let alone someone stupid enough to bring him there. Would Liam be a problem if Clive was permanently removed?”

      “No.”

      “Then let Liam live, but tell Anton to dispose of Clive and the pimp immediately.”

      “There could be an investigation,” warned Roche.

      “I doubt a missing pimp will cause the police to do anything … but no matter, tell them to hide the bodies and leave Clive’s car parked at an airport or a train station. If the police do look into their disappearances, it will throw them off-track. Once my Pierrot is onboard ship, tell Anton it is time for them to return to Europe.”

      “He will be pleased. I know he is homesick.”

      “Good. Once you receive confirmation that Liam and the pimp have been taken care of, ensure he disposes of the phone, which is what I will be doing when we are done talking.”

      “Naturally, but …”

      “But what?”

      “Will we abandon North America completely?”

      The Ringmaster smiled. “I will soon retire. That is a decision which will be left up to you or one of the other jugglers.”

      “You have hinted at retirement before, but I did not realize your decision was imminent,” said Roche in surprise.

      “I’ve made enough,” replied the Ringmaster. “Besides, I am becoming bored. It is time to move on.”

      “Who were you thinking of to —”

      “I

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