It Takes An Artist

by Edward Kendrick

  "No." Trev dove in for another kiss that instantly turned heated. The taste of Zack's mouth, the feel of it, the smell of his aftershave mingled with a scent that was uniquely Zack, enflamed Trev's libido. So when Zack pulled away, murmuring, "We should slow down," Trev looked at him is disbelief.

  "We should," Zack reiterated. "I want… When we end up in bed—and we will, I'm certain of that—it should be for all the right reasons. not because we're both tense from worrying about what might happen if we're right about Bill."

  "That was a cold dash of reality," Trev replied with an apprehensive glance at the door.

  "Sorry." Zack pulled him against his chest, stroking his hair. "Believe me. I want us to take the next step as much as I think you do. But now is not the time. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  "Yes. I'm not sure my body approves," Trev replied with a small grin. "But I do get it. I'd ask if you'd stay the night, just to hold me like we did at your place, but given the size of my bed…" He gestured toward the single bed in the far corner of the room, half-hidden by the accordion screen.

  Zack laughed. "That could present several problems, including one of us ending up on the floor."

  "No kidding."

  "I'll stick around for a little longer, as long as you behave." Zack tapped Trev's nose. "Then I'll head home, since we both need sleep. Especially you."

  Trev lifted an eyebrow. "Why me?"

  "Your first day back at work, Bill, the stress… Yeah, you have to get some rest."

  "As much as I hate to admit it, I know you're right." Trev curled into Zack's embrace, pulling his feet onto the sofa. "If I fall asleep here—"

  "I'll carry you to your bed and tuck you in."

  Trev eyed Zack, and realized he could probably do that, if… "Tossing me over your shoulder might wake me up," he pointed out.

  Rather than reply, Zack eased Trev away, stood, then scooped him up in his arms, setting him down on the bed seconds later.

  Trev gasped, then shook his head. "Show off."

  Zack chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Well, you're not exactly a ninety-pound weakling, but you're not two hundred pounds, either. Believe me, I've hefted a lot bigger people while I was doing my residency." He bent, brushing a kiss over Trev's lips. "Now that you're in bed, I should get out of here."

  "Not sure I'd consider this 'in bed', but I suppose you should go before I try to seduce you again."

  "The time will come when you'll succeed." Getting up, Zack headed to the door. "Umm, you're going to have to get up so you can lock up after me then put the chain on."

  "And a chair under the doorknob, as per Quint's instructions," Trev said, joining him.

  "If you say so." For a moment they stood, looking at each other. Then Zack hugged and kissed Trev—quickly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Call me when you get home, so I know you made it safely."

  "With the trusty bloodhound on my tail, you know I will, but, yeah, I'll call."

  They kissed one more time then Zack left. Trev got ready for bed, climbing in just as Zack called to say he'd made it home. Despite how tired he was, it took a while for Trev to fall asleep. Each noise, in the building and outside, had him on edge. But finally need took over and he fell into a restless sleep.

  CHAPTER NINE

  "Mr Williams has another client he needs to deal with, but he gave me all the information I'll need to help you set up your website, Mr Loyola," Mr Carter said, once Lou had taken a seat at the conference table in Carter's office—two days after Lou's initial meeting with Williams.

  "Please, call me Richard, or Rick," Lou replied, watching as Carter brought up the mockups of the site that Williams had designed.

  For a few minutes, they went over them together, with Carter making suggestions, which Lou agreed to with no hesitation. "After all, you are the expert," he said at one point.

  "Now that we have that settled," Carter said when they'd finished, "I'll have my people work hard on it, so the finished website will be ready for your final approval tomorrow, probably late afternoon." He leaned back, looking at Lou. "I did some research on you, and your business, Rick."

  "Oh? So you'd know what I need for the site?"

  "In part, but more because I'm interested in how you manage to stock so many drugs and keep the price competitive. You must have good suppliers."

  Lou hesitated, as he knew the man he was pretending to be would have. "I do. It's necessary in my business."

  Pressing his fingertips together, Carter nodded. "So I found out."

  "You did dig deeply, didn't you?" Lou replied with some asperity. "May I ask why? And please don't tell me it was just to help you design my site."

  Rather than reply immediately, Carter went to his office door, locking it, then crossed to his desk, opening and closing a drawer. When he came back to the table, he said, "What I have to say will be between the two of us. If you decide to tell anyone else, I will deny it."

  "Really? That sounds…intriguing." Lou was quite certain that Carter had activated a jammer to keep anyone one from listening in on their conversation—and to jam any bugs. It was easier and less intrusive to do that than to use a wand to find bugs—although Lou wasn't wearing any, so it was a moot point.

  "I would like to obtain a sizable quantity of pharmaceuticals from you, with no obvious record of the transaction. They can be real—or counterfeit—depending on which you handle."

  Lou almost smiled, remembering the sales receipt Quint told him about that had been among John Pierce's possessions after his murder—a receipt that had set them firmly on Carter's trail. Ignoring Carter's comment about counterfeit drugs, since someone like Loyola would, he asked, "Exactly what do you mean by a sizable quantity, and what do you plan on doing with them? Presuming, of course, I'm willing to do this."

  Carter opened a folder next to the laptop, handing Lou two sheets of paper. Lou scanned them, not terribly surprised at the list. When he finished, Carter said, "Why I want them is none of your business. Do you ask people who buy from your site what they're going to use the drugs for? Especially"—he shot a pointed look at Lou—"the ones who order them without a prescription?"

  "No," Lou replied. He ran his finger down the list again, doing a mental estimate of what this should cost Carter. "You have the kind of money it will take to fill your order?"

  "Once we settle on a firm price, I'll put up collateral to cover it, and when I've sold them to my buyers, you'll be paid—either in cash or a deposit into your bank. I presume, all things considered, you have a blind account—or an off-shore one."

  Lou nodded. "Exactly what do you have as collateral?" He smiled dryly. "I'm not interested in holding a mortgage on your business or home."

  "No. What I have is—are—relatively small and easily stored in a safe place."

  "A safety deposit box?"

  "Larger than that. To make a comparison, a medium-sized jewelry store vault should be more than adequate. I'm certain, given what you deal in, you have something that will work."

  "I do. I'll have to get with my suppliers to see if—and when—I can fill your order. But first, let's talk price."

  They did, eventually coming to an agreement that would work for both Carter and the type of man Lou was supposed to be.

  "One last thing," Lou said with a smile. "Throw in the cost of upgrading my website to the specifications we decided on."

  Carter chuckled. "Of course. What's a few thousand dollars here or there, considering what I'll make off the pharmaceuticals, once I have them in my possession."

  They shook hands, then Carter unlocked the office door and Lou left, promising to be in touch with Carter the next afternoon.

  *****

  "You're certain he didn't smell a rat?" Quint asked, leaning against the wall of the men's restroom room at the back of a restaurant, a few blocks from Lou's hotel. Quint found it worked well when he needed to meet privately with an informant, since he could lock the door for privacy, as long as he
didn't stay in there too long.

  If anyone had followed Lou, which they both knew was possible, he was there for an early supper before returning to the hotel—and making use of the restroom while he waited for his meal to be delivered to his table.

  "As certain as I can be." Lou went on to quickly and succinctly tell Quint about Carter's precautions and their conversation. "He did run a check on Richard Loyola and obviously bought into what he found out."

  "Good. Now we hope the collateral is one or more of the stolen paintings, preferably including Clay's—the one Mr Miller let us use as bait."

  "I should find out tomorrow afternoon."

  "Good. Until then, watch your back. He might believe you're what you seem, or he could be setting you up to find out who's behind you."

  "I'm well aware of that. I'll be careful."

  After Lou left, Quint waited long enough for him to get back to his table, then slipped out just as a man came down the hallway toward the restroom. He turned away, heading to the rear door before the man could catch a look at his face.

  Prior to his meeting with Lou, Quint had done as he'd promised Trev and Zack. He stopped by the restaurant where Trev worked, ignoring the young man's presence while asking to talk to the manager. Thankfully, Trev had sense enough to do nothing more than glance at him before going back to his customers.

  Once he identified himself, the manager took Quint into his office. When they got there, Quint explained that a man matching Bill's description had been involved in a holdup of the liquor store down the street the previous night, and he'd been seen working at the restaurant the same afternoon. He had no intention of telling the man the real reason he was interested in Bill, since if Mr Simms was the kind of man who liked to gossip, it could put Trev even more in the sights of Carter's and Alberts' people—if that were possible.

  "Damn, no wonder he didn't show up today," the manager, Mr Simms, said, while getting out Bill's employment application. "Not that I'm too surprised, even if he wasn't one of the robbers. He had no experience and it showed. If I hadn't been desperately short of help, I'd never have hired him." He handed the application to Quint. "You might as well hang onto it. Given the circumstances, I don't think Bill will be back."

  Quint scanned it quickly, discovering that Bill called himself William Traves. Given the circumstances, Quint was certain that was a phony, and the home address and phone number would be as well. "Did he call in?" he asked Simms.

  "Nope. He wasn't even professional enough to do that. If I do see him around, which I doubt, I'll let you know."

  "Thank you. I'd also like an address for"—Quint checked his notes—"Josh. The man Bill replaced."

  "Josh Poole. I was surprised when he quit so suddenly. He's been with us forever." Simms wrote down the address and Josh's phone number. As he handed it to Quint, he asked worriedly, "Do you think Bill had something to do with that?"

  "It's possible, which is why I want to get in contact with Poole."

  "I hope he's okay. If you find him, could you tell him he's welcome to come back to work."

  "Will do."

  From there, Quint returned to the office to run a check on William "Bill" Traves. It netted him nothing useful other than the fact the ID he'd used on the I-9 and W-2 forms was bogus. So Trev's and Zack's instincts were right. Good to know. Not that I really doubted it…much.

  Next he checked up on Josh Poole. Getting no answer when he called, he went to the man's address, which turned out to be an apartment building several miles from the restaurant. When Poole didn't answer the buzzer, Quint pressed the one for the manager. After identifying himself, the manager let him in. When they were in the man's apartment, he told Quint that Poole had been mugged two nights ago and was recuperating at his parents' home in Castle Rock.

  "Which explains why he supposedly quit," Quint told Lieutenant Harber, after filling him in on what he'd learned. "My bet is, the phone call from Poole was actually from one of Alberts' or Carter's people. It's not that hard to imitate someone over the phone if you keep it short and sweet then hang up. In this case, Mr Simms would have been more worried about replacing him than in catching that the caller might have been an imposter."

  "Now all we have to do is find out who Traves really is. The photo on the driver's license is clear enough that Pat might be able to use a facial recognition program to find him, no matter what his real name might be."

  "I'll take it down to him. If there's nothing more at the moment, I'm going to grab a bite to eat then meet with Lou and hope he's been more successful than I've been."

  *****

  Trev went straight to his studio after work to start on the mobile he'd designed the previous evening. He was in the process of cutting the basic pieces for it when Quint called to tell him about Bill Traves.

  "You know," Trev said when Quint was finished, "his not coming in today was really stupid. It reinforced that he was only there to try to get to me. Are they really that dumb?"

  Quint chuckled dryly. "Considering how badly the thugs they used botched up framing you for John's murder, I'd say that's a given."

  "Well, you figured they were in a hurry, but still…" Trev shook his head. "So now they'll try something else."

  "If we're right about why they sent him after you, I suspect they've scrapped that plan now. Otherwise, he would have shown up again today. Before you start worrying, I've put a second man on Zack and alerted security at the hospital. Alberts' men would be stupid to try grabbing Zack at work, but I'm not taking any chances."

  "Thank you."

  "No problem. Okay, I'll let you get back to being creative. Be careful when you leave—"

  "How did you know—Oh, right. Your man checked in with you."

  "Yep. As I was saying, be careful when you head home. He'll be tailing you, but you're not to let down your guard because you think his being there means you don't have to be aware of your surroundings."

  "Got it." Trev sighed. "I'll probably leave now. Suddenly I'm not in the mood to be, as you put it, creative."

  "Sorry. I didn't mean to break your concentration."

  "Don't worry about it." Trev's phone beeped to let him know he had another call. "Let me know if you find out who Bill really is?"

  "I will." Quint broke the connection.

  Trev checked the caller ID and felt relieved to see it was Zack. "Are you still at work?" he asked.

  "I'll be off in fifteen, God and emergencies willing. I wanted to know if you'd like to go out for supper."

  "Oh, yeah. I'm at the studio right now."

  "Great. I'll pick you up there in…half an hour."

  "Okay. Quint called. I'll tell you what he said when you get here. Be careful."

  "Always. See you in a few," Zack replied before hanging up.

  Talking with Zack had eased some of Trev's tension, so he went back to work on the mobile, figuring he could get at least a couple more pieces cut out before Zack showed up. He had just started on the fourth one when he heard footsteps in the hallway. Then someone rapped on the door.

  "It's unlocked," he called out, setting down his tools. Turning, expecting to see Zack, he found himself facing a man he'd never seen before.

  *****

  "I'm fine," Zack said. "A few bumps and bruises and scrapes. Nothing I haven't had before when I've dumped my bike."

  Despite Zack's words, Trev couldn't stop shaking as he looked him over, trying to assess the extent of the damages. "When the officer said you were in the ER… Damn, Zack. All I could think was… He said someone tried to run you off the road."

  "Not only tried, they did," Zack replied with a brief smile. "They were about to drag me into their car when my guardian angel arrived to stop them. One of them is probably regretting it, since Office Brown shot him. Unfortunately, it wasn't fatal, and they got away."

  "Not before I got their plate number," a man Trev hadn't noticed said. "There's a BOLO out for their car." The man introduced himself as, "The guardian angel, AKA, Offi
cer Mark Brown."

  "Thank God you were there!"

  "I second that," Zack said wryly. "How did you find out what happened?"

  "The officer watching me." Trev shook his head. "After he read me the riot act for not locking my studio door, he told me what happened then drove me over here." He wanted to hug Zack but resisted, taking his hand instead, saying with a slight smile, "Hospital gowns look just as bad on doctors as they do on patients."

  "And you should know, having worn one yourself pretty recently." Zack squeezed Trev's hand. "Hopefully this is the last time either of us has to."

  "Zack," a doctor said, coming into the booth, "you're free to leave. The X-rays didn't show any internal injuries."

  "Didn't figure there were any," Zack replied. "Just a mess on the outside." He touched one of the bandages on his leg. "From now on, I'm wearing my leathers—not."

  "Your really should," the doctor admonished him. "At least you had on your helmet and gloves. I hope you have clean clothes in your locker. Your jeans and shirt are a total loss."

  "Yeah, I do." Zack eased off the exam table, wincing. "I'll be back in a couple, without the gown," he told Trev.

  "Is he really okay?" Trev asked the doctor, as soon as Zack was out of hearing range.

  "Yes. He'll be sore for a while, but that's it." The doctor eyed Trev knowingly. "So go easy on him."

  Trev knew he turned red as he stuttered out, "We're not at that point yet."

  "Yet," the doctor replied with a grin before leaving.

  Trev heard a muffled laugh behind him, turned, and glared at Officer Brown. "Well, we aren't."

  "Did I say anything?"

  "No, but you were going to. And by the way, where's Zack's bike? Did it survive?"

  "It did. One of the responding officers brought it back here. It's out in the hospital lot."

  "Good. Thank you. Not that he'll be using it for a while."

  "Like hell," Zack said, rejoining them. "If I can't ride with a few bruises, I'm not the man I think I am."

  "Crazy?" Trev asked, one eyebrow lifted.