Week 8 - The Family Portrait – Part 5

The Family Portrait – Part 5

Matthew Ryan Fischer

Continued...

Watching the flames, Artemis couldn’t help but think of Johnny Cash and wonder about who it was exactly that had actually written “The Ring of Fire.” In his mind he began to hear the mariachi horns. He almost whistled out loud, but caught himself. It was a highly inappropriate moment for levity. Despite his feelings for the song, Lou would be in no mood for it.

“You’re going to be okay.”

Lou frowned but said nothing. He was definitely not okay in this moment.

“I mean, not here and now in this exact moment, but things will be okay.”

It didn’t seem as though it should be possible, but Lou’s frown went from bad to worse. It was pretty much a glare to begin with, but now it was full-on scowl. Artemis wanted to make another comment about making faces and getting stuck, something he could remember his mother telling him once as a child. But Lou was currently not a man to be trifled with.

Lou looked at him as if reading Artemis’s mind, opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. It looked as if he was going to be very very vulgar. In a way Artemis admired Lou’s self-control. Artemis didn’t think he’d be able to keep things together as well as Lou was.

After the week he had been having, and the way he had been drinking his way through his problems, Artemis realized he could still learn a thing or two from Lou.

Earlier in the week, Artemis had learned about the so-called “Halo Effect.” It was something stupid that happened when people wanted something because of imaginary reasons like perceived value instead of a reason that actually might mean something. Or at least that was Artemis’ interpretation of things.

At an auction, prices could skyrocket. It might make grownups behave like children and quibble and squabble over nothing at all. Somebody wanted a new toy and somebody else wanted it simply because the other person wanted it first. Drive the price up. Cause a bidding war. Ruin a relationship. Scorch the earth around you. But don’t let someone else get what they want. Oh no, you couldn’t let that happen. There’s no winning if someone else gets it.

Who were the past owners? Who had it last? Who wanted the bragging rights the most? As far as he could tell, these were not good reasons to covet.

Artemis wasn’t sure if people killed because of it, but he was beginning to suspect they just might.

Ajax had been hired to do a muscleman’s job and bring Artemis to Mr. Thornewill for questioning regarding a missing painting. He had been instructed to make it hurt. Artemis actually knew Ajax, and Ajax actually liked Artemis. He wasn’t against beating Artemis a little, but he was a good enough friend to give Artemis an advance warning. It was the decent thing to do.

They negotiated a settlement where Artemis would only have to take a punch or two to put on a good show, and Ajax’s reputation as a man who did his job would remain intact.

As it turned out, the theatrics weren’t necessary at all.

Ajax brought Artemis to Bel Air, but instead of finding Mr. Thornewill, they found a carpet soaked with blood. Mr. Thornewill had falsely believed Artemis had stolen his semi-rare, semi-precious “blood painting.” Artemis didn’t know much about obscure subgenres of art, but he knew that rivals had killed over less.

Artemis had an uneasy feeling that somehow he was going to be blamed for this crime as well.

He turned to Ajax and said, “You’re my witness that I didn’t do this.”

Ajax nodded, but they both knew they weren’t about to go to the police with this. There was no way either of them could explain what their day job was or why they were mixed up with a rich man that didn’t follow the rules, who had apparently been reduced to a puddle in his own living room.

Artemis called for Cole to join them in the house. Despite Artemis’ protests, Cole had come along to serve as backup. He had also brought with him his favorite rifle. Artemis couldn’t imagine what Cole would have done if the situation had actually demanded action. Cole didn’t seem like the killing type, but how could Artemis really tell? Artemis didn’t know what his friend was really capable of. He didn’t like being in a situation where he would have to find out.

Cole came into the living room and followed their eyes to the floor. He looked at the blood and then at Artemis again.

“You didn’t?”

“No. Did you?”

“No. I swear, no.”

“You’re the one that brought a gun.”

“Yeah, I shot him and made the body disappear and neither of you heard a thing while I did it. That makes a helluva lot of sense, doesn’t it?”

“You said you had tricks.”

“Do you think I’m magic? You literally, actually think I could magically do all this and that’s what I meant when I said I had a few tricks up my sleeve. I’m the greatest hitman ever.”

“You sound a little agitated. I don’t want to agitate the man with the gun.”

“Art, I know you want to stand here and make your jokes, but might I suggest we get the hell out of here?”

“You were the one giving speeches about magic.”

“You are nothing but grief to me.”

“I’m just saying.”

Artemis did agree that Cole had a point. No good was going to come from being a criminal and hanging around in a house they had no business being in, a house where someone was killed. Still, Artemis wished he had an additional moment. He was sure if he had just another moment to think about it he could come up with something ironic to say about the bloody remains of a man who loved blood paintings and how while a fitting end, this blood stain was no work of art. He was sure it would be very clever. He’d work on it in the car and tell Cole later.

Ms. Thorne wasn’t at her Mt. Olympus mansion. Artemis was pretty sure it was her that had caused the blood stain at Thornewill’s home. Things were getting messy. He had to find her, find out if he was being framed for murder. He needed information about her, her past, and her previous relationship with Thornewill. But first he needed to search his apartment and make sure the murder weapon hadn’t somehow been planted there while he had been out.

Artemis really wished he hadn’t been so intoxicated the last several days. It really had affected his job performance. He wanted to blame Amy for choosing such a piss-poor time to leave him, but that would have to wait.

Artemis wasn’t sure how he was going to find Ms. Thorne or make sure he wasn’t going to be blamed for all of this. Good for him, she was waiting for him inside his apartment. Bad for him, she had a gun pulled and aimed at him. She held it like a woman that knew a thing or two about shooting it. She held it like she had recently fired it and wasn’t afraid to do so again.

To be continued...