Lou got out of the cab after handing Quint the fare, hurrying through the light rain to the building entrance. From the shelter of the doorway, he watched as the detective pulled into traffic and turned the corner onto the side street. He knew Quint would park in the lot beside the restaurant they'd chosen, then go inside. Just another cabbie taking a mid-afternoon break for something to eat.
Pushing open the door, Lou walked into the reception area of Ultra Ideas, crossing to the desk along one wall.
"Good afternoon. I'm Richard Loyola. I have an appointment with Mr Williams," he told the receptionist.
She checked her computer and nodded, pressed a button then told him Mr Williams would be right out. The man arrived through a doorway at the back of the room a minute later.
After greeting Lou, Williams led the way down to his office. "Please, have a seat," he said, pointing to an oval conference table with chairs on either side, a computer in front of one of them. As soon as they were seated, Williams in front of the computer, he said, "I understand you need to upgrade your website."
"More like I need a whole new one. I own an online pharmacy. My company is losing business because the website looks like a—well, to be honest—a dollar-store wannabe, compared to the other sites I'm in competition with. It was fine when I first got started, but that was two years ago."
"A lot can change in two years. I agree." Williams brought up the site Quint's people had created for Lou, and frowned. "You're right. You need to bring some class to this if you want to stay competitive." Slowly he worked his way through the site, his eyebrows lifting occasionally at something he'd found. Finally, he returned to the homepage then turned his attention back to Lou.
"Let me give this some thought. I can draft up a few ideas that I think will make the site much more interesting, and shall we say, professional, to the people looking for medications."
"What will this cost me?" Lou asked.
Williams chuckled. "You know the saying, 'If you have to ask, you can't afford it'? Well, in our case, that's not true. You tell me what you have budgeted for this, and I'll do my best to stay within you limits."
"I was hoping to keep it between ten and twelve thousand. I paid less than a thousand for what you just looked at, and you can see what that bought me." Lou smiled to himself at the surprised look, which Williams quickly suppressed.
"I'm sure for that price we can come up with something that will meet your needs," Williams replied. "First, let's run through what you have here and determine what parts are mandatory, as far as you're concerned."
Again, he worked his way through the site, with Lou watching carefully as he did.
"I notice you don't require a prescription when people order a pharmaceutical," Williams said at one point. "And there's no physical address for your company," he noted a few minutes later.
Lou just nodded, saying to his second comment, "Since we're an online business only, I don't see the need for one."
"You realize if you decide to use us, we will need that for our records."
"Of course." Lou chuckled. "I'm sure you have an ironclad contract I'll have to sign."
They continued discussing what Lou wanted for the site for a few minutes more. Then Williams told him the cost for Ultra Ideas to create mockups of a few different homepages. After considering it for a moment, Lou agreed to the price. Williams went to his desk to print out a bill that he handed to Lou. After double-checking it, Lou took out his wallet and handed Williams the designated amount—much to the man's obvious surprise.
"I pay for everything in cash," Lou told him. "It's"—he purposely hesitated—"easier that way." He knew that Williams got the message when he nodded knowingly.
"I'll have the mockups ready in two or three days, if that works for you. Once you settle on one or two, we can consult with Mr Carter about the finer details."
Lou nodded. "If he's the man with the big ideas, that's fine with me."
"He is, and there are certain projects he likes to stay on top of. I think yours will be one of them."
"Fine. I'll see you tomorrow at one, then, unless you call to say differently."
They shook hands then Lou left. He was happy the rain had let up, since he was on foot for the moment. Strolling casually away from the Ultra Ideas building, he paused in front of a shop window a few doors down, ostensibly studying the electronics on display. In actuality, he was checking the people on the street to be certain he wasn't being followed. He did that twice more before calling Quint to tell him he was ready to be picked up, and where. Three minutes later, a taxi pulled up beside him.
"You the one who called a cab," Quint asked, after rolling down the window.
"I am." Lou got into the back seat.
"Sounds like they might have taken the bait," Quint said, as he pulled out into traffic again.
"Yep. I'll know tomorrow. If they do, and Carter makes an offer, it would be nice if he used Clay's painting as collateral. Kill two birds with one stone."
"He might be leery of doing that, all things considered, but we'll see."
"Do you know where it is?"
Quint shook his head. "We know where the tracking device is, at Alberts' place of business. There's no way of telling if it's still in the painting however. Since they've obviously connected Zack to what's going on, they may well have done a search for a bug, removed it, leaving it at Alberts', and moved the painting to who knows where."
"That will not make the real owner happy."
"Miller? No. But I have the feeling Clay can come up with some way to appease him, if it comes down to that." Quint turned right, pulling to a stop three blocks later in front of hotel that was just off of Tenth. "Your home away from home for now," he said, parking at the curb. As part of their plan, Lou's business was on the Western Slope. If asked, and they were certain he would be eventually, "Richard Loyola" had come to Denver because he had heard that Ultra Ideas was one of the best advertising agencies in the western part of the country, outside of California.
Lou got out, handing Quint the fare for the ride. "I'll get in touch once I know how things are going to play out."
"Just be careful."
"I will be. I'm not big on ending up at the bottom of a mineshaft outside of Central City." Lou saluted Quint, walked up the short sidewalk, then entered the hotel.
*****
Trev felt as if he'd run a marathon by the time his shift at the restaurant had ended. Everyone had been glad to see him back, and they'd even gone out of their way to help him as it got closer to the end of the day and he seemed to be dragging. His shoulder was aching but he was damned if he was going to wuss out. As far as his coworkers knew, he'd had a run-in with a mugger, resulting in a minor concussion and assorted bumps and bruises. That's the story he'd told his boss when he'd called a week ago from the hospital to let him know he needed some time off to heal. His story held up, since, apparently, none of his co-workers had followed the story about John's murder. Or if they had, they'd forgotten he was mentioned as a person of interest at one point
"Heading home?" Bill, a brand-new hire at the restaurant asked, when Trev came into the break room to get his jacket from his locker.
"Big time. I'm beat. You?"
"Yeah. I didn't realize how exhausting being a waiter was. I figured it would be a good way to make rent until I found a better job."
Trev chuckled. "I think we all feel that way at the beginning. Don't worry. You'll get the hang of it soon then decide it's not so bad—or quit and take up construction work."
"I think that would be easier," Bill replied, following Trev out the backdoor of the restaurant and down the cut-through to the street. "I don't suppose…" He hesitated.
"Umm?" Trev said, his concentration on making it to the bus stop before his bus did.
"Nothing. I was just going to suggest we could get a beer, if you want."
"Not tonight. I'm dead on my feet."
"I can make it worth your while."
T
rev stopped dead, shooting a hard look at him. "What does that mean?"
"Just that…that I'll pay for the drinks," Bill stuttered, taking a step back.
He looked so crestfallen, Trev didn't have the heart to be pissed. Yeah, he scared me half to death for a minute there, since it sounded almost like a threat. But…
"Maybe some other time. Okay?"
"Okay."
Trev saw his bus half a block away and made a dash for it. He jumped on, paid, then plopped down in the nearest seat. Glancing out the window, he saw Bill was still on the sidewalk. He looked frustrated as he watched the bus pull away—frustrated and…furious? Why would he be furious because I turned him down? I mean, come on. I only met him today. Did he really think I'd drop everything to go have a drink with him? Some people are weird.
An hour later, Trev said the same thing when Zack called to find out how his first day back at work had gone. "I mean, who gets pissed because someone doesn't feel like going out drinking with them?"
"Did you get the feeling he was coming on to you?" Zack replied.
"Not…really. I don't know. If he was, he was doing a bad job of it."
"You said he's new?"
"Yes. The boss hired him yesterday, because Josh quit. Why?"
"Maybe I'm paranoid, after all that's happened," Zack said, "but it just seems too convenient."
Trev shivered. "You think he's a—what do they call it?—a plant? That he's working for Alberts or Carter? But why come after me now? I don't have anything they want."
"They know you and I are connected and that I was part of Quint's sting, because I took the painting to Alberts."
"Then why not go after you, if you think that's what's happening?"
"If you think about it, I'm not that easy to get to. And I'm older and wiser. I wouldn't fall for someone trying to make time with me."
"And I would?" Trev said tightly.
"No. I didn't mean it that way, damn it. What I mean is, that could be how they're thinking. Get to me through you. They undoubtedly want to know who set up the sting and why I'm involved."
Trev thought about what Zack was saying. After a moment he said, "So…I go out for a drink with Bill and he does what? Drugs it and carts me off somewhere to use as bait to get you to tell them everything you know?"
"I hadn't gotten that far, but I can see that happening. For sure they don't play nice, considering they killed John and tried to kill me."
Trev sighed. "So now I'm back to needing Quint's people watching me—if we're right. Of course it's just as possible that Bill is what he seems and only wanted to go out for a drink. Nothing more."
"True. It will be interesting to see if he shows up for work tomorrow."
"Why wouldn't he? If he's a plant, it would be a dead giveaway if he didn't. Beside which, he'll want to try again."
"Call Quint. Let him know what's going on."
"Which is probably nothing more than our over-active imaginations, but okay, I will."
"Other than that," Zack said, "how was your day?"
"I'm beat."
"How's your shoulder?"
"It's…okay."
"Trev…"
"It hurts," Trev admitted. "But I took a couple of aspirin when I got home."
"Want me to come over to check it out?"
Trev snickered. "Is that the best excuse you can come up with?"
Zack laughed. "Off the cuff? Yeah. Other than to say I want to—no reason needed other than to see you. But it won't be for at least another couple of hours."
Trev checked the time and realized it was only five thirty, which he should have figured, since he'd gotten off work at four. "I'll call Quint, then come up with something for supper for us."
"Make sure it can be reheated," Zack cautioned. "You know how my schedule is."
"Yeah. An emergency, and you could be there until midnight."
"Got it. Okay, I need to get off the phone and pretend I'm a doctor for at least a little while longer."
"Pretend, my ass. You are. And a damned good one."
"I'll take your word for it," Zack said with a laugh. "I'll see you soonish, I hope."
As soon as Zack hung up, Trev called Quint, only to be told he'd gone home. "Can you get a message to him to call me?" Trev asked. "It's important." The officer he was talking with said he would, taking Trev's name and number.
Ten minutes later, Trev was in the kitchen, trying to decide what he could make for supper that would keep, when his phone rang. "What's wrong?" Quint asked, as soon as Trev answered.
Trev told him what had happened with Bill. "Zack—okay, both of us—think there's something off about it," he said in conclusion. When Quint asked, Trev told him why.
After a moment, Quint said, "While you may be jumping at shadows—which isn't too surprising—the fact that you just met Bill today does make his actions somewhat suspicious. What's his last name?"
"Something starting with a T. Travers. Trask. I was busy when he introduced himself, so—"
"I'll find out. It's possible he's just what he seems, new and trying to make at least one friend there. But I'm not taking any chances."
"Meaning you're going to stick some poor cop with the job of watching me again?"
"Exactly. You're at home, I take it?"
"Yes. And when he gets off, Zack's coming over."
Quint blew out a breath. "I'll have someone at your place within half an hour, and a second man tailing Zack when he leaves the hospital."
"One of us should let him know, so he doesn't try to shake him off, thinking he's one of Alberts' or Carter's people."
"I'll take care of that. You just make sure your door is locked and the security is on."
Trev snorted. "You obviously didn't notice when you were over here. My security is a chain. It's a strong one, but—"
"Not good, but it is what it is at the moment. Use it, and, corny as it sounds, put a chair under the door handle."
"I will. At least I'm on the fourth floor, and the fire stairs are at the far end of the hallway from me."
"That's helps. All right, I'll call Zack. Do not buzz him—or anyone—into the building. Go down to make certain who it is first."
"I'm not stupid," Trev replied with a trace of asperity.
"I know you're not, but it doesn't hurt to say it."
"Yeah, sorry."
When they hung up, Trev did as Quint suggested and put a chair under the doorknob. Then he went back to deciding what to fix for supper, acutely aware now of every noise around him. He settled on sloppy joes, since he had hamburger, ketchup, and Worcestershire sauce. Not exactly fancy, but at least it'll be filling and it's easy to reheat if he's really late.
By the time he had dinner ready, just needing to be heated again when Zack arrived, it was after six. At loose ends, Trev tried reading, giving up when he realized he was spending more time listening for footsteps in the hallway than paying attention to the words on the page. So he got a sketchpad and started to work on an idea he'd had for a new mobile. He was so involved it putting his ideas down on paper and reworking them that he jumped when the buzzer interrupted him. He hurried over to the call box, saying, "I'll be right down."
When he got to the ground floor, he smiled in relief when he saw Zack standing in the entryway, so Trev let him in.
"Do you feel as bad as you look?" Zack said, giving Trev a hug.
"I'm fine. The aspirin kicked in," Trev replied as they got into the elevator. "You don't exactly look like you're ready to go paint the town yourself."
"Long day, but it's better, now that I'm here." When they got to the apartment, he sniffed and said, "Whatever you made smells good."
"I hope it is. Sit, while I heat it up."
Instead of obeying, Zack eased past Trev to get plates and cups from the cupboard, setting them on the divider between the kitchen and rest of the apartment. "Want me to make coffee?" When Trev nodded, he filled the coffee maker and turned it on. A couple of minutes later, everything w
as ready, and they sat on the stools at the room divider to eat.
"Not bad. Not bad at all," Zack said after taking a bite of his sloppy joe.
"Thanks. It was this or burgers, and…" Trev shrugged.
"Good choice." After taking another bite, Zack asked, "How are you doing up here?" tapping Trev's temple.
"Okay, I guess." Trev smiled wanly. "I jump at every noise, wondering who's in the hallway or if a car door slamming is one of Alberts' people."
"I don't think he's hired car doors to do his dirty work," Zack joked.
Trev sputtered out a small laugh. "You know what I mean. I hope to hell Quint and Lou's plan works. Just when I thought we were getting our lives back, this happens—this thing with Bill, if it really is something and not us just jumping at shadows, as Quint put it."
"Quint will find out who he is. He's probably right. We're making mountains out of mole hills. Still, better safe than sorry."
"I know."
They ate in silence after that, then Zack insisted on doing the dishes before joining Trev on the small sofa.
"A new design?" Zack asked, picking up the sketchbook.
"Yes. This will hang off that." Trev went on to explain in detail how it would work. "I'll start on it tomorrow."
"I never thanked you for hanging The Peacock. It's perfect there and"—Zack smiled at Trev—"every time I look at it, I think of you."
"Only then?" Trev replied, pretending dismay.
"Then. When I'm a work. When I'm going to and from work. When I'm—"
"I get the picture." Trev grinned, feeling truly relaxed for the first time in hours. "You're fixated on me, just like I am on you."
"Not sure fixated is the right word," Zack told him. "More like…I like having you in my life." He put his arm around Trev in a loose embrace. "I like talking with you, holding you, being with you, kissing you." Cupping Trev's jaw with on hand, Zack demonstrated, kissing him softly.
Trev returned the kiss with much more intensity than it was given. Zack responded, his tongue delving into Trev's mouth when Trev opened to him.
"Wow," Trev whispered, when they finally broke apart.
"Too much, too soon?" Zack asked with a worried frown.
It Takes An Artist Page 11
