Ball three
'It's yours for ten thousand, P.'
Kato and I had arrived at the converted synagogue a few minutes before two o'clock. Antiquarian's Delight is located on S. 6th Street between South and Bainbridge. No sign of Chucky.
'That's a fair price Crystal, but too rich for my blood.'
Crystal Ball, yes, that's her real name, was selling a woven wool rug with a linear border design. It included squares, ovals and rectangles. The colors were dark blues and tans; this collection of shapes framing a large circle in the middle on a gray ground. 8' x 11'5', made about 1905, possibly by Otto Prutcher. My best guess, fifteen or sixteen thousand, high retail.
Hint: The secret to success in the antiques game is (a) buying at the right price and (b) having a list of buyers lined up. The second one takes time, however, once accomplished assures that you can always turn a quick profit.
She looked me up and down, glanced at my dog and asked, 'What do you have in mind?'
I have to confess. This carpet was very cool. Part of the Wiener Werkstatte or in English, the Vienna Workshops. This was a byproduct of the Vienna Secession movement; which in turn was a cousin to both the Art Nouveau and Arts and Crafts movements. The studio was founded in 1903 by Josef Hoffmann and Koloman Moser. Their mission was to design one-of-a-kind high-quality pieces involving all aspects of the fine arts.
Wiener Werkstatte pieces are very desirable and bring big bucks. 'I'm more comfortable at seven.'
It was going on a quarter past and still no sign. 'Kato, find Chuck.' Do not ask me how he does it because I have no idea. Any time I give that command; doesn't matter whether he has met that person or not, Kato always brings them back.
'Seven-five and you've got yourself a deal.'
She stood on her toes and pecked my cheek. Back in the day; BK, we used to see each other occasionally.
'TJ will pick it up in the morning. Thanks, Crystal.'
Where was that dog? A few minutes later he comes trotting up the stairs from the basement. He's alone. He lets out a moderate yelp. Turns and heads back down the steps. I follow. This cannot be good.
Not all of the spaces in the basement have been rented to dealers. The booth in the back, on the right, is piled with stock. It must be the overflow from dealers that lack space in their own spots. At the very rear sits a black leather sofa nearly pushed up against the wall.
Kato jumps onto the furniture and peers into the area between it and the wall. One quick yelp. I step up and look for myself.
'Oh shit.' Residing in that crack is the body formerly know as Chucky. I grab a flash light from the shelf; take a closer look.
'No blood.' I'm talking out loud to a dog. In my defense, he appears to understand every word. 'Bruise marks on the throat. Strangled.'
Crystal comes running down the stairs. 'Call 911,” I bark. I turn and head up the stairs.
'Picker, where the hell are you going?'
'I was never here.'
Back at the car I grab a cigar from the glove box; clamp it between my teeth and hit the road. No need to be tied up with the cops. I need to think. My gears are turning; there's something crucial there, in the back of my mind. The frustrating aspect is that I can't put my finger on it.
'Thomas Jefferson, one of Bigfoot's guys is dead. Murdered.' I was calling TJ from the car. Kato had his head out the window enjoying the scenery. 'Find the other one, Rebel. Bring him back to my place.'
'Yes sur, Mr. Picker, sur' It was his way of telling me I was an asshole. Most of the time, with his Harvard degree, TJ speaks sounds very much like a New England Brahmin.
I ignored the jibe. 'If it's not too much trouble, get Jaw-long for back-up. It would be really nice to keep this one intact.' Jaw is TJ's friend and Tai-Chi buddy. Practically every morning at dawn can find them performing this ancient Chinese exercise routine outdoors with dozens if not hundreds of Chinatown residents. I disconnected the call and headed back to my place.
A half hour later Kato and I arrive back at my place. I live in a converted carriage house on a twenty acre estate. The second floor has been knocked out creating twenty foot ceilings. Walk in the front door, the living area is on the left, dining and kitchen in the center and bedrooms to the right. Original hardwood floors, an updated kitchen and two working fireplaces.
Up the driveway around seventy-five yards you'll find the original stables. Nathan Burke; software and gaming magnate; owner of the property; and my second oldest friend converted them into a workshop and storage area for my antiques business. Picker Antiques, that's me.
When I pulled the car up to the door, Kato hopped out and began to spin in circles. I quickly deduced that someone was in the house, but not an enemy. I stepped inside.
Sonofabitch. Sitting with his feet on my desk; smoking one of my cigars is my brother. Half brother if you must know. Connor Jones.
Same Dad, different Mums. He stands, walks over with saying a word and gives me a bear hug. Steps back and gives me the once over.
'How you doin' brother. God, you look good. Where's that beautiful woman of yours? I'm hungry, can I take you both out to dinner?'
He's more or less my height and weight. Older by a couple of years. Like me, his eyes are brown. His hair, however, is dark, almost black. Lanky build, but a wee bit broader in the chest and shoulders. Head is square-ish and his nose better sculpted than mine. Women consider him handsome.
'Good, thanks, not here and yes, when I track Kelly down.'
'Whhhat?'
'I doing well; thanks, I feel great; I don't know where Kelly is at the moment; and finally yes, we'll be happy to join you for dinner. My turn. I'm very happy to see you, but what are you doing here? Why didn't you call?'
Connor Jones is a con man extraordinaire. A Robin Hood complex. Steals from the rich and gives to the poor, literally. He once told me that he only steals from godless people. When a job is complete he pays his expenses, keeps ten percent for himself and distributes the rest to those in need.
Pretty cool, huh?
'I'm here to enlist your aid. Involved in a little job back home. Want you and the lovely Miss Lane to join me. All expense paid, obviously. What do you say? Oh, and I wanted to surprise you.'
I really like Connor. We're like brothers. I realize that sounds odd, but we didn't grow up together. His existence came as a complete surprise ten, close to eleven years ago. Since then we’ve forged an incredible bond. To the best of my knowledge, he is the only living family that I have.
'I'll be glad to come. You'll have to ask Kelly if she can get away. Give me a couple of days. I have to straighten some things up here first.'
For the next twenty or thirty minutes I described the entire situation to Connor.
'There's something missing here, P. Not enough money involved for one murder, let alone two. Find the missing link and you'll be very close to resolving this entire matter.'
Wouldn't you know, at that very moment TJ and Jaw show up towing Rebel along with them.
Everyone settles in. I ask Rebel to fill me in on the events of the last few days.
'No problemo, Mr. Picker. We do the clean out in Chestnut Hill. Took the trash to the dump. Got back to Mr. Hari's place and unloaded the stuff in the back. He sends for that kid, Punk to open the safe. The kid comes over and cracks that thing like it was a child's toy.'
'Rebel, who was in the room when Punk opened the safe.'
'Me, Mr. Hari and the kid, Punk. That's it.'
'Now, Rebel, think carefully. What did you find in the safe?'
'There was a few hundred in cash. Some coins. Mr. Hari said they was valuable. Then he pulled out one of
