Pretty In Ink

by Karen Olson

  Charlotte? Working for Homeland Security? “What’s she doing for them?”

  “She’s been getting them information about that Lambert guy, the one you found dead in that condo.”

  “It’s the ricin, right?”

  “He’s involved with some sort of militia out in the desert.”

  So it wasn’t drugs. It really was terrorism.

  Jeff was still talking. “There was something about Lester Fine, too, but they got all squirrelly, Kavanaugh. Wouldn’t tell me more than that, and they were all nervous about telling me what they did.”

  “Why did they, then?”

  “Why did they what?”

  “Tell you.”

  I could hear a low chuckle. “Well, if you really want to know, one guy doesn’t owe me money anymore, and I’ve got a date for Saturday night.”

  I didn’t want to know about Jeff’s social life. “Are they really looking for her, or is that all a ruse, too?”

  “That’s all I know, Kavanaugh. The rest is up to you.” He hung up.

  I sat, staring at my phone for a few seconds.

  “Brett?”

  Joel’s voice made me jump. I turned to see him coming into the staff room.

  “Are you aware you’ve got a hunky guy in your room?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, and I’ve got to get this stencil done.” But my hands were shaking and I dropped my sketchpad. Joel leaned down, picked it up, and handed it to me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I told him what Jeff Coleman had said about Charlotte working for Homeland Security.

  My thoughts were more mixed up than clothes in a dryer. And I still had Colin Bixby to deal with. All of a sudden, he was the last thing on my priority list. But I couldn’t let him down now. It wouldn’t take but an hour.

  “Why would she work undercover?” Joel was asking. “Is she undercover here? I mean, she just started working for us a couple months ago. Do you think she’s investigating one of us?”

  I hadn’t thought of it like that. Jeff said his people told him it was Lambert. Since he was dead, though, why was she still hiding out?

  There were more questions than answers as far as Charlotte Sampson was concerned.

  “I have no idea what’s going on,” I told Joel truthfully as I put the drawing into the thermal fax machine and watched the stencil emerge. I grabbed it and went back to my room.

  Bixby flashed a nervous grin at me. “I thought you forgot about me.”

  “How could I forget about you?” I asked, forcing myself to flirt even though my thoughts were miles away. I told him to take his shirt off as I lowered the back of the chair so he would be more lying down than sitting up. I washed the spot where he wanted the ink and then carefully shaved it. He was watching everything like it was on the Discovery Channel.

  Before putting the stencil on the spot, I rubbed a little glycerin-based deodorant on it.

  “What’s that for?” he asked.

  “You’ll see,” I said, carefully pressing the stencil on his skin and then peeling it back to show the Celtic knot design.

  He grinned. “Is that it?”

  I turned in my chair to the counter and put a new needle into the machine and dipped it in black ink. I wheeled back toward him and let the machine hover a second. “I assume you didn’t want any color.”

  There was no color in his face as he stared at the machine. He nodded, and I pressed the foot pedal. The soft whir of the machine was hypnotizing—for me, because it pushed everything out of my head except this tattoo; for Bixby, I wasn’t so sure. I moved the machine closer.

  “It’s going to feel like bee stings,” I warned.

  He closed his eyes. “I’m ready.”

  He didn’t cry, and after a few minutes, he was even watching me draw.

  “I’m glad you’re my first,” he said when I was almost done. He hadn’t spoken at all until then, and his voice knocked me out of my zone.

  I smiled. “I will tell you that people who get one tattoo usually end up getting at least one more.”

  “Maybe I’ll be back.” He cocked his head toward my arm. “Although I’m not sure I’d get anything like that.”

  “You could bond with the ER patients,” I quipped, putting the finishing touches on the tattoo. I took my foot off the pedal and surveyed my work. It was a simple design, but classic.

  “Want to look?” I asked. “There’s a big mirror in the back, on the wall next to the couch.”

  Colin Bixby stood up, a little wobbly at first; then he flashed me that sexy grin as he left the room. I put the tattoo machine on the counter and started to gather the instructions for the tattoo’s care.

  When he came back, he was still smiling, so I figured he liked it. I covered the tattoo, told him to keep it like that just for a little while, then instructed him to take the wrapping off to let it heal, washing it with liquid antibacterial soap and applying an antibiotic ointment. After a few days, he could switch to using an unscented moisturizer.

  “It’ll be pink for a while, like bubble gum,” I said, “and it’ll peel like sunburn. Then it’ll be fine.”

  He buttoned his shirt, and I saw his fingers shaking a little.

  “Has the Xanax worn off?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “I’m just a little nervous about what I’m going to do next.”

  “And what’s that?” I asked absently. My thoughts were turning back to Charlotte and what I’d be doing next.

  But instead of answering, he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to him. His lips found mine, and I couldn’t breathe, but in a good way. He tasted like wintergreen Tic Tacs.

  When we finally came up for air, we grinned stupidly at each other.

  “I guess you don’t think I’m contaminated after all.”

  I couldn’t believe I said something so stupid.

  But he didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll call you.” He started out the door, but then stopped and turned. He held his hand out.

  “I don’t know what to do with this. Kyle came and got Trevor’s clothes, but he wouldn’t take this.” He opened his hand, and sitting in the center of his palm was the queen-of-hearts brooch.

  I stared at it.

  “Isn’t there some sort of hospital procedure for stuff like that?” I asked.

  “We keep things for the next of kin, but Trevor didn’t have family, apparently. That’s why Kyle took over. But he didn’t want to take this. Said it was bad karma or something.”

  No kidding. Wesley Lambert was looking for this pin, and the next thing we knew, Trevor was dead.

  I reached over and took the brooch from Bixby, turning it over in my hand. Still seemed as garish as the first time I’d seen it. I held it back out for him, but he shook his head.

  “How about if you give it to your brother for me? I want the police to have this. I don’t really want to leave it around the hospital. It might get lost or stolen.”

  I thought about how the pin had been reported stolen already. It probably should be in police hands. They’d most likely give it back to Lester Fine.

  Something Jeff had said picked at my brain. Lester Fine’s name came up in conjunction with the investigation into Wesley Lambert. Lambert had been poking around for the brooch. There had to be a link there somewhere. I could give the brooch to Tim and tell him what I’d found out.

  I nodded. “Sure. I’ll give it to Tim.” I put it in my jeans pocket.

  He flashed me that smile again, the one that made me a little weak in the knees. I almost told him the ink was on the house, but Bitsy wouldn’t be happy about that. I consoled myself by not accompanying him to the front desk where the money would change hands, or at least the credit card would be swiped.

  I went back to the staff room. Trevor’s laptop still sat on the corner of the light table. It reminded me of something, and I went back out to the front, where Bixby was just about to leave. He looked up when I approached.

  I tugged on his sleeve.

  “Just one question,” I said.

  “I haven’t been interrogated this much since my prom date’s father.” He grinned.

&nb
sp; I wanted to kiss him again but pushed the thought aside. Time for that later. I hoped.

  “I saw some pictures,” I said. “Trevor had some pictures, and the funny thing is, Lester Fine’s in one of them.” I didn’t want to describe it, so I just stopped there.

  It was like someone had switched the light off. Bixby’s face grew dark. “Listen, Brett,” he said in a tone so low I had to lean forward to hear him. “If you think you saw Lester in a picture and you think it means something, maybe you should just tell your brother and let him handle it in whatever way he feels is appropriate. I don’t think Lester would like it very much if you start throwing accusations around.”

  I was already on Lester Fine’s bad side. But Bixby wasn’t done yet.

  “Rusty Abbott is more than just a personal assistant, Brett. He’s taken care of things for Lester for the last couple years.” Bixby paused. “He can make accidents happen. Get my drift?”

  Chapter 47

  Accidents can happen. I remembered how Jeff Coleman had said that was Abbott’s message to me.

  “How do you know all this?” I asked. “This is more than just him showing up for a procedure, isn’t it?”

  Colin Bixby traced my jaw with the tip of his finger, and I felt it all the way to my toes. Although I wasn’t quite sure if it was in a good way or not, because what he’d said creeped me out.

  “I’ll call you,” he said, leaning over and brushing my cheek with his lips before going out the door.

  Bitsy was watching with her mouth hanging open.

  “You look like some sort of fish,” I said a little too sharply.

  “You move fast,” she said.

  “I just spent over an hour with the guy.”

  “Yeah, touching him.”

  “Not exactly. The needle was touching him.”

  “It’s romantic.”

  I sighed. This was getting us nowhere. “When’s my next client?”

  “Half an hour.”

  I needed more sugar. I’d managed to get only a couple of truffles before Joel finished them off. I thought about the gelato place over in the Palazzo shops on the first floor. Usually I didn’t go for five-dollar ice cream, but I was in the mood for a little splurge. I went into the staff room and grabbed my bag. On my way out, I tucked Trevor’s laptop on the shelf under the light table.

  Bitsy and Joel both placed orders, and I made a mental note to call Tim when I got back to find out what was going on with Ace. I recalled Joel’s question about Charlotte: Had she gotten the job at the shop to check out one of us? Ace? They’d gotten very close very quickly. And now he had all that cash in his account.

  For a split second I wondered if he was somehow involved with all this.

  But then I mentally slapped myself. While I did know Ace less than I knew Bitsy or Joel, we’d all been together now for two years. I couldn’t see Ace doing something like stealing money from Trevor.

  Should I tell Tim about the picture of Trevor and Lester and the 1099s on the laptop? Probably. But then I’d have to tell him I’d taken the laptop from Trevor’s apartment. I’d conveniently left that small fact out when I told him and DeBurra about my first trip to Trevor’s yesterday. Somehow, I wasn’t quite sure how to relay that information without putting myself in a really bad light. It would have to be done delicately.

  I’d think about it.

  I walked around the end of the canal, where people were waiting for gondolas. Back in St. Mark’s Square, I could hear lutes and a harp and some singing. Without even looking, I knew costumed men and women were probably dancing, entertaining the tourists.

  I kept walking past the shops and down the escalator to the first floor.

  Spray from the waterfall misted my face, and I combed my hair back off my forehead with my fingers. I didn’t want to think about how much water was being wasted.

  There was a line at Espressamente illy. I stood between it and the escalator, debating with myself. I could go back upstairs and get gelato at St. Mark’s Square, but I preferred the gelato here. As I hesitated, someone knocked into me from behind.

  I whirled around and saw Frank DeBurra.

  Just my luck.

  “What do you want now?” I asked wearily.

  But he wasn’t paying attention to me. His face was screwed up with anger as he addressed a gaggle of twentysomething girls on the other side of him. They were giggling and whispering and hadn’t paid attention when two of them bumped into him.

  “Watch where you’re going!” he said.

  He whirled around, not accepting their apologies.

  I eyed the escalator, knowing if I’d been just a few minutes earlier or later I might not have had another close encounter with my new nemesis. Since he was probably stalking me again, I figured I should go on the offensive.

  “What’s going on with Ace?” I asked. “Have you charged him officially with anything?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  I sighed dramatically and threw up my hands. “This is all my business. You won’t leave me alone. You won’t leave my staff alone. I really don’t know what you’re looking for, what you want from me. Why don’t you ask Charlotte? She’s working for you, isn’t she? Doesn’t she have any answers for you?”

  I had succeeded in surprising him. His eyes grew wide, and his mouth hung open. Finally, “How do you know about Charlotte Sampson?”

  “So it’s true?”

  For a second, something flashed across his face that I couldn’t read. Either it was dismay that I’d just been baiting him and he’d admitted the truth, or it was disgust that I knew something I shouldn’t. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

  Finally, he said, “We’re just trying to protect her. That’s why we need to find her.”

  His tone seemed sincere, but I was getting tired of going over the same old territory. So I decided we needed a new subject.

  “You know, Trevor had a Facebook page.”

  He looked at me like I had three heads.

  “You know? Facebook? Social networking?”

  He snorted. “I know it. What does this have to do with anything?”

  I shrugged. “I was looking at the pictures he’s got there and I saw one of a drag queen who looked familiar.”

  Something crossed his face that I couldn’t read. “What do you mean?”

  “Remember when I said someone slashed my tires? I saw a woman walking by. And I think she was the one I saw in the picture on Trevor’s Facebook page.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Looked the same. Even almost the same sort of dress.”

  “But not familiar?”

  “I didn’t have time to look that closely at it. I’d have to look again. I can show you. Maybe she’s the one who slashed the tires.”

  “Why would she want to do that if you don’t even know her?”

  Well, now, that was a good question, wasn’t it? “It was just an idea,” I said.

  DeBurra stared at me for a second, then said, “Why don’t you leave the ideas to me?”

  So we were back to belligerence. Fine.

  “I have to get back to work, Detective,” I said, emphasizing the last word as though it were of the four-letter kind.

  He studied my face for a second.

  “Watch your back,” he said and turned and walked away.

  I forgot about the gelato and got back on the escalator. Maybe I should’ve told him about the picture of Lester Fine, too. Maybe then he wouldn’t dismiss me so quickly. But to tell him about that picture would mean I’d have to tell him I had Trevor’s laptop. I wasn’t ready to admit that yet.

  My imagination started to go a little crazy: Maybe that money in Trevor’s apartment wasn’t just bodyguard money. Maybe Trevor blackmailed Lester with the picture. Rusty Abbott was at Trevor’s apartment earlier. Maybe he wasn’t just looking for the pin in the makeup case. Maybe he was looking for the laptop, too. Maybe he knew about the photograph.

  Lester Fine was running for public office, after all.

  Chapter 48

  Ace was leaning against the front desk when I got back to the shop
. Bitsy was leaning toward him from behind the desk, taking in every word. When I pushed the door open, they both turned to me with deer-in-the-headlights looks, as if they were sharing a secret that no one else was supposed to know about.

  “Glad to see you back,” I said to Ace. “What’s going on?” Even though my tone was casual, I was anything but. I wanted to know everything that had gone down at the police station, and he knew it.

  “They let me go,” Ace said, stating the obvious. “That cop, the one looking for Charlotte, he brought me back.”

  So that was why DeBurra was hanging around. He wasn’t stalking me again. He could’ve told me, though, when I asked him about Ace.

  “What about the money?” I asked, ignoring Bitsy’s raised eyebrows. “The money in your account?”

  Ace shrugged, his hands moving to his pockets as he slouched. “It’s gone.”

  “What do you mean, it’s gone?”

  “I guess it was there, and then it was gone. That cop, DeBurra? He kept insisting that I knew where it was.” His eyes grew dark with anger. “I kept telling him that I didn’t know it was there in the first place.”

  “So was it?” Bitsy asked.

  “Was what?”

  I followed what she was thinking. “Was the money really there in the first place?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah. I saw it on the computer. And then it was gone. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  “It disappeared while you were sitting there?”

  He snorted. “And they still wouldn’t let me go. I didn’t even touch the mouse.”

  “How did they know it was there in the first place?”

  Ace ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t know. They got into my account somehow.”

  “They’re Homeland Security,” I said.

  “What, do they think I’m some sort of terrorist or something?”

  Bitsy and I shrugged but didn’t answer.

  “Where’s Charlotte?” I asked.

  “I have no idea. Haven’t seen her since yesterday. She was a little nervous.”

  No kidding.

  I debated whether I should tell him about seeing her on that balcony. But while I was thinking about it, he spoke again.