That Touch of Ink (15 page)

TWENTY-FOUR

“So I’m basing my entire assessment of him being trustworthy on your jealous girlfriend’s words that he’s on the up and up? How do you know she even checked him out? She doesn’t like me. She’s made that obvious on more than one occasion.”

“I told you he was a person of interest. Has been since we found the five thou in Philip Shayne’s wallet. Donna’s been on me about not being professional. Said she would make sure I didn’t cross the line.”

“She seems to be very concerned with people crossing lines and not crossing lines.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“She warned Brad not to play games with me.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. He told me about it before I—” I stopped.

“Before you what?”

“Before I came over here.”

“Turlington’s at your place and you’re here? Again?”

“He was worried about me after the accident. He said he didn’t feel good about leaving me alone.”

“You’re alone now.”

“He doesn’t know I left. I waited until he fell asleep and put a note on the coffee table.”

“What kind of a guy doesn’t wake up when someone comes and goes?”

I stared at the floor. “The kind of guy who had a pain killer and a couple of tablets of melatonin dissolved in a slightly strong martini.”

“You drugged him?” Tex’s mouth curled up slightly on one side. Even in the dark room, I could see the glint in his blue eyes. “Do you do this often?”

“Am I going to get a lecture for this?” I asked.

“No, but you’re coming close to getting your wish about being taken into custody. Are we just about done here?”

“No, we’re not. I’m just getting warmed up.”

“Damn it, Night, what else could you possibly have left to tell me?”

“The contents of the briefcase.” This time I looked Tex directly in the eyes. I needed to see his reaction. “There were little glass jars and detail paint brushes. And a stack of paper with the image of a five thousand dollar bill in the middle of it.”

“Did you take one?”

“I didn’t have a chance. Someone in a black ski mask pulled into the parking lot and took the briefcase with him.” I paused, then continued. “I think it was the same guy who followed me from the restaurant the night we found the body. At least it was the same car. I saw dents in the front bumper.”

“Did he see you?”

“Yes. And if he wanted to hurt me, he could have. I was an open target. The only reason I didn’t tell you sooner is because I didn’t get hurt. I don’t have any proof except for what I saw. I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

“The only reason I’m leaning toward believing you is that I can’t imagine what kind of person would make up a story like this. Maybe custody isn’t the place for you. Maybe I should call ahead to the loony bin and reserve a padded cell.”

“Do you think I can’t see this is nuts? Why do you think I haven’t told anybody about it? Right now, it’s all in my head.” I tapped my temple twice with two fingers. “Only it’s not. It sounds crazy to you, but to me, it’s real.”

“What did he do when he saw you?”

“Who?” I asked.

“The guy in the mask.”

“Nothing. He kicked my keys under a car and took off with the briefcase.”

“When was this?”

“Two nights ago.”

Tex ran his hand over his hair several times then turned and punched a fist into my twin bed mattress. The springs bounced more than I expected, considering it was new.

“Damn it, Madison, I was here the morning after that happened. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Why hadn’t I told Tex? Because I’d been confused by the meaning of his kiss. I’d yelled at him and stormed away. The next time I’d seen him, he’d been with Donna at my studio.

“I told you I needed more than a couple of minutes with you to tell you what I knew.”

“What else do you have to tell me? Anything? Because if my captain finds out you’ve been hindering my investigation of Turlington all this time, I’ll get pulled from the case.”

“What do you mean your investigation of Turlington all this time? You just said he’s been a person of interest since you found the five thousand dollar bill in Philip Shayne’s wallet. You didn’t know Brad was involved in anything until that night, right?”

Tex didn’t move.

“That’s not right, is it? When you said you couldn’t look into Brad’s background, you were lying. You’ve been watching him all along. You suspected him of murder since we found the body at Paper Trail. And what about Stanley Mann? Is anyone looking for him? Or have you added kidnapping to Brad’s suspected crimes?”

“Night, calm down.”

I ignored him. “I don’t know what Brad’s involved in, but he was at my apartment the same day I found the body. I don’t think there was time for him to leave, get to Paper Trail, murder someone, move a kidnap victim, take me out to dinner, and redecorate my living room.”

A floodgate of thoughts, mental snapshots of the past several days, clicked through my mind like a malfunctioning slide show. Tex showing up at the Polynesian restaurant. Tex watering the gardens at Thelma Johnson’s house. Tex coming to my apartment the night I introduced him to Brad in the hallway. He suspected Brad all along, from the minute he asked me to call Brad from the crime scene. He used me to get leads.

Tex leaned forward and put a hand on my upper arm. “Night, you’ve never been in danger. I’ve had someone watching you the whole time. If anything had happened, you would have been safe.”

“You what?” I flung his hand off my arm. “You have a guy watching me? Who?”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

“Then we are done here.”

He stood up and pointed a finger at me. “I hope you mean that, because you are done here. You’re done with this whole thing. You got me?”

I stood up too, but not as fast as Tex.

“How exactly do you want me to be done with it? My car has been totaled. The man at my house is your chief suspect. One of my clients is in the hospital, and the other one is using a fake identity. And if you remember, all of this started when Brad sent me a James Madison bill in the mail. Remember that? The original five thousand dollar bill?”

“Calm down, Night.”

I jabbed Tex in the chest, and he stepped backward. “I will not calm down. This isn’t about counterfeiting money and passing it off at the mall. Why would there be three five thousand dollar bills floating around Dallas?”

I ticked them off on my fingers. “One mailed to me. One dropped off at Joanie Loves Tchotchkes, and one in the wallet of Philip Shayne. And a piece of one some kids found at the Dallas Arboretum. I saw that on the news. And then there’s a whole trunk filled with uncut sheets of paper with the image of James Madison in the middle. You want me to stay out of your investigation? Maybe you need to figure out what your investigation is about, first.”

“I’m going to need you to give me that bill, Night. The original five thou. You have to trust me.”

“But I can’t trust you, Lieutenant, and you know it. My judgment is clouded and I’m on the brink of not being able to trust anybody. You just said so yourself.”

We had a stare-off for a few seconds, until Tex turned around and left my bedroom. It wasn’t until after I heard his car drive away that I started to cry.

When I woke up the next morning, Rocky was on my pillow. On a queen sized bed, we could have functioned. On a twin, it was a challenge. Sunlight flooded the room and tore through my swollen eyes. I scooped him up, got out of the bed, and let him take up the middle of the mattress while I went to the bathroom. After several splashes of cold water and possibly more eye drops than were recommended, my eyes returned to something close to normal. I dug a compact from my handbag and swept the fluffy terrycloth puff over my face, and then slicked on a peachy lip-gloss that I’d forgotten was in the bottom of my overnight bag. My phone rang from the bedroom, but I ignored it. I pulled my hair into a  low ponytail, stepped into the green pants and matching tunic that I’d packed, and headed downstairs. Rocky followed.

Tex had surprised me with the bottle of wine last night. This morning, I discovered a package of English muffins and a jar of cheap instant coffee in the cupboard. I didn’t know if this meant Tex had anticipated staying over with me or not. I didn’t care. I was hungry and this was food and to ignore it out of spite would have demonstrated poor judgment.

I poured fresh water into the bowl on the floor and leaned against the kitchen window by a row of neglected African violets that lined the sill. In the clear light of day, I knew I had to find the original five thousand dollar bill. It was at the center of everything. The only problem was I didn’t know who had it.

I cleared the kitchen of dirty dishes and went upstairs to retrieve my handbag and my phone. The missed call was Tex. I turned the ringer off and put the phone at the bottom of my orange handbag. I wanted to hear neither lecture nor apology from him. Whatever he had to say, he could say to my voicemail.

I moved Rocky’s food, water, and a couple of plush toys to the closed in porch. “I’ll be back soon, Rocky.” After a kiss on the top of his furry head, I was off.

Hudson’s house was about a mile from Thelma Johnson’s, and it was a relatively peaceful walk along the dusty road. Dallas weather in February was a tolerable sixty-five degrees. Even though I was underdressed in my tunic and pants, the crisp air kept me moving. About twenty minutes later, I saw Hudson’s blue pickup truck parked along the edge of his lawn. It had a few new spots of primer on it and a bobble head of Flo, the Progressive Insurance woman, on the dashboard.

The bed of the truck was filled with cardboard boxes labeled with magic marker. It was a familiar system to anybody who found themselves moving to a new house. The idea that Hudson was moving from the house that had been in his family for generations was unsettling.

I hadn’t thought much about Hudson in the past couple of days. The last time I’d seen him was the day I’d told him about Brad. It was the same day I’d asked him about counterfeiting. My self-awareness forced me to confront the fact that the only time I called on Hudson was when I needed something. I didn’t want to acknowledge that I was becoming that kind of person, particularly toward someone I cared about.

“This is a nice surprise,” said a deep, velvety voice from the garage. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

“What’s all this?” I waved at the bed of the truck and fought to keep my tone light. “You’re moving?”

“Not moving. Taking a long-overdue vacation. Getting my head together. I should have done it before, but the timing never seemed right.”

“What am I going to do without you?” I half-joked.

“Seems like you’re in good hands now. I think you’ll manage.”

I wouldn’t be so sure of that,
I thought to myself.

“I stopped by the apartment building a couple of days ago. Showed your new tenant around. That’s what you wanted me to do, right?”

“Sure. Thank you.” I hesitated. “Sorry about the surprise visit. I would have called first, but I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“No, I don’t mind the visit.” Hudson leaned back against the open bed of his truck. His black T-shirt fit his lean body closely, showing off broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a flat stomach: the build of a man who earns his physique through labor and not exercise. His black hair blew around his forehead. It was longer than he used to wear it, but it suited him. A torn, paint-stained rag hung out of his back pocket. “If I had my way, you’d be here all the time.”

My face grew warm. Hudson reached a hand out to my cheek and flipped a lock of blonde hair that had escaped my ponytail with his fingers. When he reached the ends, he turned his hand over and cupped the side of my neck. “You okay?” he asked in a low voice.

I thought about confiding in Hudson. He would listen. Only, my problems weren’t his problems. His problems, ones that had haunted him for decades, were over, and he was ready to move on. I’d selfishly believed he would be waiting for me if I ever felt I was ready, but for all the things I didn’t know, the one thing I did was that for Hudson and I, the timing wasn’t right.

“I’m fine. Just working through some personal stuff, that’s all.”

“Madison, can I tell you something? I think you’re amazing. I think if I’d met you twenty years ago, my whole life might have been different. I think you know how I feel, but I can’t wait around here, hoping for something that might never happen. Do you understand that?”

“I am not asking you for anything, Hudson.”

“I know. You never asked me for anything, and you could have, a thousand times. The fact that you never did helped me make my decision.”

I fought the urge to ask Hudson to reconsider. I wasn’t where he was, emotionally. I couldn’t offer him anything other than the occasional job at the apartment building or Mad for Mod, and unlike one of the other men in my life, I was pretty sure money was the one thing he wasn’t after.

“Wait here,” he said. He jogged to the house and returned a few moments later, carrying a cardboard box stuffed with unopened envelopes.

“You picked up the rent checks?” I asked. Of course Hudson had picked them up. It made perfect sense. He was acting like the owner of the building. No wonder Mrs. Young suspected him of being more than the handyman.

“I noticed you hadn’t picked them up for a while. Figured you might need some help with that. Mrs. Young’s application is in there too. Her background check came back clean as a whistle, but I’m sure you want it for your files.”

It wasn’t the first time Hudson had read my mind and with almost stifling desperation, I hoped it wouldn’t be the last. I thumbed the ends of the envelopes that jutted out of the box.

“Looks like I’m heading to the bank. People are going to wonder why their checks aren’t getting cashed.”

I looked at his face. The sun had etched lines by the corners of his eyes and the sides of his mouth, leaving him looking older than I was despite the fact that I had eight years on him. I reached a hand up to his face and ran my fingers over his mouth. He kissed my fingertips.

“You got room for one more in the truck?” I whispered.

He stood up, away from the bed of the truck, and tipped my head down, pressing his soft lips to my forehead.

“I’m afraid this time there’s just room for Mortiboy and me.” As if on cue, Mortiboy approached and rubbed his back against Hudson’s shin. “Besides, I think you have unfinished business in Dallas.”

“Unfinished business,” I repeated. That’s what I’d felt when I learned the truth about Brad. That I had unfinished business. And now I had loose ends all over the place and it was time to tie a few of them up.

Hudson twisted his torso and pulled a small brown shopping bag from the inside of the truck’s bed. “This is for you. Consider it a parting gift, something to remember me by.” He handed me the bag.

“I should be giving you a parting gift, not the other way around.”

“You gave me a gift already, Madison. You gave me back my life.”

Mortiboy meowed, and Hudson scooped him up and stroked his head. “Don’t open it until you get home. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He reached into the front pocket on his jeans and pulled out a small key ring with two keys on it. He took my hand and set the keys in my open palm, then closed my fingers around it.

“Those are the keys to the house. If your past gets to be too much to handle, you’re welcome to stay here.”

I thought about telling Hudson about my secret hideaway. But the truth was, I didn’t want him to rescind his offer. It wasn’t so much as wanting a place to get away from Brad—I already had that—as it was knowing that Hudson still wanted me in his life.

“Saying goodbye to you was the last thing on my agenda. Guess we can get an early start, right Mortiboy? Stay as long as you like.”

“Thanks, but I better get going. I’m on foot today.”

His forehead creased with concern. “Where’s your car?”

I could have told him about the accident, but instead of causing unnecessary worry, I lied. “Fender bender. It’s in the shop.”

“You need a ride?”

I held up the bag of checks. “The bank is practically in your back yard. If I can’t make that walk, then my physical therapist should lose her license.”

“Physical therapy. What about swimming?”

“Soon,” I said. “I’m not ready yet, but soon.”

Hudson walked me to the edge of his property. “One last thing. The five thou you gave me was junk. Color copy, printed on one side.”

“Is it in here?”

“No, I tossed it. But there are a couple of referrals in there. Nobody who can replace me, just some leads in case you need something done while I’m gone.”

“That implies that you’ll be back.”

“I’ll be back.” He smiled. “Take care of yourself, Madison.”

“You, too.”

We hugged tighter than I would have hugged anyone other than Hudson. When we pulled apart, I took a step backward and looked down. I glanced at his face quickly, waved, and walked away. Someday, maybe. But despite what might have been, somewhere along the line, right now, there was nothing more to say.

I took a scenic route past White Rock Lake to Buckner to get to the bank. A branch sat across the street from Paper Trail. Halfway through the walk I transferred the rent checks from the box Hudson gave me to my handbag and left the empty carton in a public trash can.

I went inside the bank and stood by the center island, sorting through rent checks. When I got to the one I’d addressed myself, I opened it and slid the James Madison from the envelope into the zippered pocket on the inside of my handbag, taking care not to bend it. I waited for an available teller to make the rent deposit.

The line moved slowly. I juggled Hudson’s gift from one hand to the other and inched forward like the other bank customers. As I neared the window, one of the tellers, a young woman in a black and white polka dot blouse, set a sign in front of her window indicating that she was closed.

She pointed to the window to her right, where a man fiddled with the keyboard of a computer behind the window. He looked up, directly at me, and I froze.

The only available teller was Grant Bonneville. The fake Archie Leach.