Art and Murder. Don Easton

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Art and Murder - Don Easton A Jack Taggart Mystery

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fair voice?”

      “I want there to be harmony in the decision. If there are any objections or reasons to oppose you, it needs to be discussed. That is better than someone sticking a knife in your back later.”

      “When will this take place?”

      “Our Italian juggler happens to be in Germany at the moment meeting with our man there. Tomorrow we will have a meeting in Frankfurt to give everyone time to think about it and then come to a final decision in a month or so.”

      “I am truly grateful that you favour me to take over.”

      The Ringmaster focused the binoculars on Roche’s face. “Good. The day I hang the Pierrot in my gallery will be the day I step aside.” The concern was evident on Roche’s face. The task of handling the situation in Canada was now of utmost importance to him, as well.

      “Are you ready to meet Kerin?” asked Roche, anxious to get matters taken care of.

      “I have some concern in that regard. Did you say anything to him about your call from Canada?”

      “I mentioned that someone had brought a stranger to our stash house and asked him what he would do about it if he were the juggler.”

      “And his response?”

      Roche chuckled. “At first he was worried that it might be a cop. I assured him it was only a pimp.”

      “And why would he worry if it was a cop? Especially in Canada?”

      Roche was silent as he thought about it.

      The Ringmaster continued, “There is more. After you left, Kerin may have signalled to a man in the park.”

      “What man?” Roche looked cautiously around.

      “He is wearing a blue windbreaker and has a droopy moustache. Kerin made eye contact with him and then tapped his watch and opened his hand twice.”

      “I told him I would be back in ten minutes,” said Roche sombrely.

      “He then went to the public washroom for a few minutes. Nobody went in with him, but he may have used his phone. I also think you are being followed, although I am not sure.”

      “My God! I trusted him.”

      “I warned you that your trust in him seemed rushed.”

      “I can’t believe it. If this is true …”

      “Don’t worry about it. This is one of the reasons we take the precautions we do.”

      “What should I do?” asked Roche.

      “I want to confirm my suspicions. Tell him our people in Canada have discovered that the pimp really is an agent provocateur. Then say you are to meet me in a couple of minutes at the café across the street to discuss whether they should both be disposed of. Tell Kerin to wait where he is, then go to the café.”

      Roche glanced around again, taking note of the people he saw, then said, “If what you suspect is happening, should the two men in Canada be killed?”

      “It is of more concern to me if the pimp lives. He may return with others and find the stash before we can move it. I will sleep better knowing they are dead.”

      “And the two whores the pimp has guarding Klaus and Liam?”

      “What can they do? At best, tell the police they are whores who kidnapped and beat two people … or as it will turn out, more likely murdered the two people they held captive. I am fed up with Klaus and don’t care what happens to him. Either way, the whores aren’t going to tell the police about it.”

      “And the situation here?” asked Roche. “If Kerin is working for the police … or with the recent approval of an agent provocateur, perhaps he is a cop.”

      “His concern that the pimp in Canada could be an undercover agent would tell me the guy likely is. An informant wouldn’t care that much about what is happening in Canada.” The Ringmaster paused. “The French police have never been allowed to use such measures before. So how would you know? If they set Kerin up to meet you, they would have had to start prior to receiving their new powers. This may be an opportunity to persuade the French justice system that their new investigative tool should be taken away. I will deal with him.”

      “You will deal with him yourself? Now?”

      The Ringmaster laughed. “Why not? It will be fun. Like a magician doing slight of hand, all eyes will be on you and not where they should be. For me, I will treat it like the last performance I give … before taking my final bow and leaving the stage.”

      Roche smiled. “And the stage may soon be in my hands.”

      “Precisely. If my suspicions are true and things go as I suspect, meet me tonight in Frankfurt. If you are detained by the police, contact me when you are free or through your lawyer and we will set another time.”

      Roche glanced around the park yet again. Most people had left. Who was staying? A couple walking a dog seemed legitimate … but a man and a woman staring at a flower bed seemed to be taking far too long to enjoy the beauty, and they did not appear particularly fond of each other. Another man was taking an inordinate amount of time to tie his shoe. The Ringmaster has a sharp eye….

      “If you are right, then I likely will be arrested,” said Roche, sounding matter-of-fact. “I have made certain statements to him, including today.”

      “Arrested on what evidence?” replied the Ringmaster. “Especially if there is no witness to testify against you. Telling fairy tales to impress someone you thought was a gangster may have been childish, but it is hardly grounds to convict you of anything. You would be released in time for supper.”

      “I suppose you’re right,” Roche allowed.

      “Tell Anton to tidy up the loose ends in Canada, then talk to Kerin and tell him what I told you to say. If my suspicions are right, I am certain I will see some activity to confirm.”

      Roche hung up and called Anton, giving him the order to kill Clive and the pimp.

      “And what about Klaus and Liam?” asked Anton.

      “If you can think of a way to save them, fine. If not, don’t worry about it.”

      Upon hanging up, Roche walked over and stood before Kerin, who was sitting on the bench.

      “Did you speak with the Ringmaster?” asked Kerin.

      “Yes, but I also spoke to our people in Canada. They grabbed who they thought was a pimp and searched him. They found a badge.”

      “He’s a police officer!” exclaimed Kerin.

      “I’m meeting the Ringmaster in the café across the street in a few minutes to talk about it face to face. I’m certain I’ll be told to have our men kill him and the idiot who brought him there.”

      “Are you sure that’s wise?” asked Kerin. “Other officers could

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