Jason Deas - Benny James 03 - Brushed Away Read Online Free PDF Page A

is something to smile about. Congratulations.”
    “Thank you.”
    “This job is a little weird,” Vernon cautioned.
    “I’ve done weird. One time, my liquid tanker was filled with red water, and I released it over a waterfall at a kid’s summer camp. They thought the falls were bleeding.”
    “That’s pretty weird,” Vernon said, thinking. “Wasn’t that a part of a reality show on television?”
    “Yeah, it was.”
    “Interesting.” Vernon described to Emilio what he wanted accomplished and exactly how he wanted it handled. The two men slipped on gloves and Vernon removed the stakes from the tent, depositing the stakes into an evidence bag. With one man on each side, they lifted the tent and carried it to the back of the truck where Emilio had already opened the sliding door.
    They slid the tent into the truck. Vernon was surprised at how easily it fit. He had worried it would not. With the tent in the truck, Vernon reminded Emilio of exactly what he wanted to happen at the warehouse. Emilio repeated back to him the instructions, and Vernon was confident it would all be taken care of as he planned.
    Vernon watched Emilio pull away and decided to have another look at the strange art on the concrete picnic table as he waited for the crime team. As he turned, an item on the ground underneath the tent had him frozen in place. As the two men had carried the tent to the truck, he had not looked at the ground the tent had hidden. A newspaper sat in the spot where the tent had been.
    Vernon crept forward, still tingling from the new revelation. He had read the Tilley Bee earlier in the day as he drank his coffee and had his breakfast. From across the camp site he could see the headline, “Murder. Again.” The killer had been back since the murder.
     

Chapter 5
     
    Uncle Karl invited Benny into his studio to talk. Benny thought it would be a strange place, and it was. Hanging on the walls and from the ceiling he saw a green tuba, a polka dotted swordfish, antique saws, dream catchers, scuba gear, and a plethora of other random items. Benny guessed there must have been at least twenty paintings in various stages of completion. Canvases leaned against the walls ten or so deep under handmade signs. Each sign had a symbol which looked to Benny to be Chinese script.
    “Did you make those signs?” Benny asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Is that Chinese?”
    “Nope.”
    “Japanese?”
    “Nope.”
    “I give up.”
    “It’s Uncle Karlnese.” Uncle Karl walked over to one of the signs that stood above the biggest line of leaning canvases. “This one reads, ‘Waste of Time, Get a New Hobby.’” Uncle Karl tried to kick his foot through the first canvas but was unsuccessful. He merely put a giant scuff mark across the painting’s surface. He looked at the painting with the new feature and picked it up. His eyes twinkled. “Now we’re talking.”
    Uncle Karl put the painting in a different line of paintings, under a different sign. “This one reads, ‘Maybe.’”
    “What does the last sign say?” Benny asked, pointing to the last line of paintings.
    “It don’t say anything. Signs can’t talk.”
    “What does it read?”
    “It reads, ‘Golden,’” Uncle Karl said, making a rainbow motion above his head. “Those are the paintings that keep me going.”
    “I thought you were a sculptor?”
    “I dabble with a little bit of everything.”
    Uncle Karl pulled the tube of lotion out of his pocket and started to inch closer to Benny. Benny jammed his hands into his pockets and cut him off before he could even ask.
    “My hands are beginning to itch. I forgot I’m allergic to aloe,” Benny lied.
    Uncle Karl took three steps to his left and grabbed a thick rope that hung from the ceiling. He yanked it down and a loud clanging noise filled the air. He repeated the action two more times and stopped. Before the last chime had stopped reverberating in Benny’s ears, Angel appeared in the doorway.
    Upon seeing nothing