Free Dead of Winter by Sam Millar Page A

being inverted by the turning mechanism inside the chamber. Then the cow’s upside down head pops over that half-moon ledge, exposing the lengthy neck.’ Talbot stretched out his own neck, and made a slicing motion across it. ‘That’s when the deed is done, slicing through to the jugular vein.’
    ‘I think I get the picture…’
    ‘You have to see it to believe it.’
    ‘I’d rather not,’ replied Karl, quickly. ‘This chamber is used exclusively by the Jewish community?’
    ‘Not necessarily. Muslims use it, too, and a couple of trendy restaurant owners. When it come to money, we don’t have any religious discrimination,’ chuckled Talbot. ‘How about a tea, before you go?’
    ‘Coffee, if you have it,’ said Karl, doubting that his stomach would hold it down.

    Five minutes later, Karl sat at the table watching Talbot rummaging through a battered and paint-peeling cupboard. He removed a near-empty bottle of Bushmills.
    ‘Medicinal purposes. Works wonders,’ said Talbot, winking.
    ‘Just like WD-40.’ Karl grinned.
    ‘I know I had some coffee here, somewhere.’ Talbot began pushing items out of the way. ‘One of the thieving bastards has sneaked in when they saw me on the floor. Probably nicked it. You need eyes in the back of your head for this job.’
    ‘Don’t trouble yourself, John.’ Karl glanced at his watch. Almost two and a half hours had passed since he first arrived. He needed to get moving. ‘I really have to be–’
    ‘No trouble at all. I know someone who has loads of the stuff. Back in a tick,’ said Talbot, quickly exiting the door, ignoring Karl’s protestation.
    Never one to allow a golden opportunity to slip by, the moment Talbot was out the door, Karl stood before hastily walking to one of the cabinets marked ‘Employees’ Payroll’.
    Sliding open the top drawer, he immediately began scanningthe folders for something, anything, to jump out at him.
    Unfortunately, it was Karl doing the jumping.
    ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ asked a calm but firm voice at the door.
    ‘Shit!’ exclaimed Karl, almost slamming the metal drawer on his fingers.
    A young woman, walking stick in hand, stood at the door, glaring at him. Her eyes were mirrored bullets, lethal in their intensity. He could almost feel the heat coming from them. She was small, 5-5, but Karl knew that dynamite can come in small packages, and if ever he was looking at living explosives, this was it. He couldn’t help but notice the braces looping the outside of her legs like a miniature steel construction. They seemed to be the only thing stopping her from toppling over.
    ‘You better have a good reason for searching private property,’ she said, threateningly. ‘Just who the hell are you?’
    ‘Never mind who I am, just who the hell are
you
?’ said Karl, shaken, but brave-facing it with a bluff.
    ‘If that’s the way you want to play it, we’ll let the police do all the questioning.’ Producing a mobile from her pocket, she hit a few numbers. Placing it to her ear, she said, ‘Hello? Yes, I’d like to report a break-in at–’
    ‘Whoa, there. Let’s just think about this for a few seconds and not be too hasty, Miss…?’
    ‘One moment, please, officer…’ she said into the mobile, before looking straight into Karl’s eyes, glaring even more intensely.
    ‘Okay. You win. I’m a private investigator,’ said Karl, removing one of his business cards and holding it out.
    ‘Place it on the table. Sit down. Don’t make any sudden moves.’
    ‘The way you’re talking, you’d think that was a gun in your hand instead of a cane, Miss…?’ said Karl, complying.
    ‘Don’t let the walking stick fool you. I’m more than capable of defending myself from the likes of you.’ Lifting Karl’s card from the table, the young woman appeared to be scrutinising it. A few seconds later, she spoke into the mobile. ‘Sorry, officer. False alarm. No…everything is okay. Thank you.’
    ‘I guess