Frenzy

“It’s good to hear your voice,” said Winston Castle.

Qui

“Fine, of course.”

“And Maria?”

“Also fine.”

“Now that we’re all fine,” Qui

“You sound angry with me, Detective Qui

“I’m not,” Qui

“I’m calling from Mexico,” Castle said, though the caller ID on Qui

Qui

“Temporarily,” Castle said. “I sold the business, though I continue to own the building. I’ll simply be renting out restaurant space.”

“How does Maria feel about that?”

“She’s the reason we’re doing it. It’s for her well-being.”

“Part of the reason, anyway,” Maria said. On an extension phone in High Wind. “Winston and I have chosen the life we want to live, and right now the restaurant doesn’t fit into it.”

“Apparently,” Qui

“You noticed that, old thing?” Castle said.

“Difficult not to.”

“It seems to me,” Castle said, “that there was a reason for the substitution of Bellezza busts in the restaurant garden. This whole thing was pla

“What whole thing?”

“Everything from the fake Bellezza to D.O.A.’s escape.”

Qui

“Somebody in a bulletproof vest was shot and killed.”

“Yes. A man named Dwayne Oren Aiken. I chased him for years.”

“Can’t you admit, Detective Qui

“Why?”

“So you’d stop hunting him. And he could sell Bellezza to a dedicated but dishonest collector.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I think it’s possible. That’s why I’m in Mexico.”

“You’re in Texas.”

“Very near the border.”

Qui

“I understand now how the case became so complicated,” Qui

“That’s a possibility,” Castle said. “But you must understand our quest for the art treasure gives our family its raison d’être. Its reason for being. And the family needs me to keep it out of trouble. This is the only family I have, Qui

“I do understand,” Qui

“I knew that you would.”

“Good luck to you and to your family,” Qui

But there was no answer. Winston and Maria Castle were gone.

In the wind again.

Qui

The new owner of the Far Castle continued to operate the restaurant under the terms of the lease. Nothing appeared to have changed.

On stormy days, one gargoyle on the building’s concrete cornice, shielded from immediate view by the restaurant’s canopy, emitted no water but seemed to glory in the rain. It was a bust of a woman with her eyes closed and a slight smile on her face, basking in the downpour. Knowing there would be another sunrise. She was a thing of beauty.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

With special thanks to Marilyn Davis.

Don’t miss John Lutz’s next exciting thriller featuring

Frank Qui

JIGSAW

Coming from Pi

Exclusive Bonus Content – First Time in Print

Keep reading to join Frank Qui

as they are hired to solve a jewelry heist that

leads murder . . .

SWITCH

by John Lutz

Prologue

May 9, 10:40 a.m.

“There’s a finger in her,” Nift said, watching Pearl Kasner’s face for a reaction.

She didn’t show much of one.

Qui

“What do you mean,” Pearl asked, “a finger?”

Nift held up his rubber-gloved left hand, fingers spread. “One of these.” He made a fist except for his extended forefinger. “This one, to be exact. Or one like it.” He gri

Pearl did. So did Qui

Qui

“Almost certainly. Right size for a man’s. Nail’s trimmed close. No polish. Lots of stuff under it. Maybe rich with DNA.”

“Fingerprint?”

“Should be discernible. Once we get it cleaned up.”

Qui

He had met Alexis Hoffermuth here just two days earlier, when she was alive.

Her body had been discovered scarcely an hour ago after she didn’t show up for an eight o’clock appointment (so unlike her), and failed to answer either her cell or land line phone.

The doorman had admitted the woman she was scheduled to meet in regard to a political fund-raiser, and there Alexis Hoffermuth was, in her altered state.

Pearl and Qui

“Strange calling card,” said Nift, who liked to play detective, “a forefinger in her twat.” He glanced at Pearl to see if he’d gotten a rise out of her. “Whaddya make of it, Pearl?”

“If he’s a serial killer, he’s limited to nine more victims.”

“Unless—” Nift began.

“Shut up,” Pearl said, and he did.

“She was over fifty,” Qui

The dead woman stared wide-eyed back at him, flecks of blood visible in the white around her pupils, the way eyes were after someone’s been strangled. In this instance, strangulation appeared to have been caused by the Burberry scarf around her neck. Yet the expression of pain and bewilderment frozen on her face wasn’t quite like that of a strangulation victim.