The Missing Ink (18 page)

But Bruce Manning had already dismissed me and walked away—toward Simon Chase, who was watching the whole thing. Manning flicked his hand at Chase, who turned to follow him, but not before I saw his raised eyebrows, a question as to whether I was all right. I nodded.

I didn’t care that Bruce Manning was one of the richest and most powerful men in the country. All I cared about was that he’d hurt me, in public. I could try to press charges, but I’d be laughed out of court. I’d be a fool to go up against him; it would be his word against mine.

Still, I could tell Tim and maybe he’d be able to give me some advice.

I moved farther into the lobby, glancing around for Joel. I didn’t see him. But I did recognize the woman hovering behind the gigantic spray of flowers.

Sylvia Coleman.

“Your young man came to the shop,” Sylvia said when I approached her. “Dear, do you know he’s gay?”

It took me a second to realize she was talking about Joel. “He’s not my young man.”

She grinned. “That’s a relief.”

“Where is he?”

“Who?”

I wondered again about dementia. “Joel. My young man. He was supposed to meet me here.”

“Oh, yes, dear, I know. He’s in the men’s room.”

Why was she here? Did Joel bring her? Why had he gone to Murder Ink? We were supposed to go to that Super 8.

As I was asking myself those questions, he somehow managed to appear without my noticing his approach. “How was lunch? Did you have the filet?”

I tugged on his arm, asked Sylvia to excuse us a moment, and led him a few feet away. Keeping my voice low, I asked, “What’s going on? Why are you here with Sylvia?”

“I just thought I’d run past there before I picked you up to see if I could get any more information. She was hanging around, bugging everyone.”

“So you decided to do them a favor and have her tag along with you so she could bug us?”

“She said she’d bring us to Jeff.”

That stopped me. Okay, I could live with this. “He’s not at the Super 8?”

“No. Why would he be there?” Sylvia’s voice startled me. She’d sneaked up behind us. “It’s not nice to keep secrets,” she admonished me.

No kidding. But there were a lot of them floating around these days; what was another one?

“You can take us to him? I really need to talk to him,” I said.

Sylvia grinned. “He wants to talk to you, too.” She looked up at Joel. “Him, well, not so much.”

“She’s not going without me,” Joel piped up.

Sylvia crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, then maybe no one will go.”

At that moment, I saw Bruce Manning out of the corner of my eye. He was heading back our way with Simon Chase. I grabbed elbows and steered Joel and Sylvia through the lobby and out the front revolving door.

“What’s going on?” Joel asked.

“Let go of me,” Sylvia demanded, trying to wrench her arm free.

Who was bullying whom now? I dropped their elbows and apologized. “It seems I’ve been banned from Versailles,” I said with a slight twitter. “Bruce Manning has made me an enemy for life.”

“Oh, dear, he’s full of hot air,” Sylvia said, pooh-poohing me. “He’s a nice man, just a little too full of himself sometimes.”

“And how do you know Bruce Manning?” I asked sarcastically.

“I happen to know him at least as well as you probably do,” Sylvia said, puffing up her chest. “He was just in the shop this morning. He wanted to know where Jeff was, too.”

Chapter 30

So the cops and Manning were both after Jeff Coleman. Interesting.

“Let me guess,” Joel said, his expression showing his surprise at this revelation as well. “He didn’t want any ink, did he?” The valet had come over, and Joel handed him his ticket.

Sylvia looked slightly uncomfortable and didn’t answer.

“What did he say he wanted Jeff for?” I pressed.

She shrugged. “He didn’t exactly say.”

“What
did
he say?”

“He came up in one of those big black cars and asked if Jeff was there. I said no, he was out of town. He didn’t like that, but then asked if someone named Ellis, Ellen, something like that, had been around.”

I raised my eyebrows at Joel.

“I told him I didn’t know any Ellis, that Jeff didn’t either, and if he wanted a tat, I could do a nice skull on his chest for five hundred. He left then.”

I could picture Sylvia wielding her tattoo machine, the ink on her arms and chest and legs most likely intimidating Manning and making her look taller than her five-foot frame.

So Manning had wanted to know about Elise. Why would he assume Elise would’ve been to Murder Ink? Unless he knew about Kelly Masters’s connection to Jeff.

The valet pulled up with Joel’s Toyota Prius. I didn’t know how he managed to squeeze his body into the driver’s seat, but somehow he did. He said he wouldn’t drive anything else; he had to conserve energy and use less gas. Water was my issue; climate change his. But I guess you could argue they were one and the same.

I let Sylvia sit up front next to Joel and settled in the backseat, my knees up under my chin. “Where are we heading?” I asked as Joel eased the Prius down the drive and past the hedge animals.

Sylvia shifted in her seat so she could face me. “Circus Circus.”

Joel made the appropriate turn out of the drive. I pondered this. Circus Circus looked on the outside like a red and white-striped circus tent. The big neon sign sporting a clown creeped me out—mainly because all clowns creep me out, one reason why I never go to Circus Circus even though the roller coaster in the Adventuredome is supposed to be pretty cool.

None of us said anything for a few minutes as we made our way up the Strip.

“Uh, Brett?” Joel broke the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Look out the back, will you?”

Sylvia and I turned at the same time, peering out the back window.

A white Dodge Dakota was behind us.

“Is that the same truck that was following you?” Joel asked.

All big trucks looked alike to me, although the possibility of coincidence was unlikely. Again I tried to see if I could recognize the driver, but the window was tinted slightly and the sun was glaring off it, so it was impossible.

“I have no idea,” I said.

“Who is following you, dear?” Sylvia asked.

“A bald guy with an eagle tattooed on his neck.”

“Oh, that’s just Matthew.”

I remembered that she hadn’t been concerned about him when I’d spoken to her before, either. “What’s his story?”

“He just has a bit of a temper. You have to know how to handle him.”

“How is that?”

“Be nice to his sister.”

Kelly? “You know Kelly is dead, right?” I asked tentatively. That possible dementia kept rearing its ugly head.

Sylvia sighed and shook her head, her expression indicating that I was a sad excuse for a human being. “I wish you wouldn’t doubt me. And I wish you’d come in for that other sleeve. Really, dear, a naked arm is like a naked breast. It just shouldn’t be out in public.”

Joel glanced back and rolled his eyes at me.

We reached Circus Circus, and Joel pulled into the front, even though the self-parking was in the back. The Dakota drove past.

“Maybe it wasn’t Matthew after all,” I said.

“Why would it be Matthew?” Sylvia asked.

“Because he’s following me.” I spoke slowly, as if to a small child.

“But Matthew drives a Harley. He doesn’t own a truck.”

Okay, I guess I should’ve asked Sylvia about that earlier, but it didn’t occur to me that she would know what type of vehicle Matthew drove.

We drove in circles trying to find self-parking. Joel finally gave up and pulled up in front of the hotel entrance. Joel handed the valet his keys, took a ticket, and we headed toward the entrance with Sylvia leading the way, scurrying so quickly I was afraid we’d lose her. Joel was panting by the time we got inside, where the air-conditioning enveloped us and immediately gave me goose bumps.

I took off my sunglasses and sped off after Sylvia, who was navigating the slot machines like a rat in a maze.

“Come on,” I urged Joel, who was huffing and puffing hard enough to blow down a house.

I was dubious about Sylvia’s state of mind, but we had no choice but to follow her lead, to trust that she really was taking us to Jeff and not on a wild-goose chase.

We took the escalator up, turning right at the top. It was set up like Main Street, USA, with fake trees and kiosks selling everything from cheesy jewelry to candy to temporary tattoos.

We reached the entrance to the Adventuredome, a bright, enclosed space that sort of looked like the big ball at Disney’s Epcot, but turned inside out. Carnival rides were laid out in front of us, and we skirted around to the right—it was circular, with rides and booths, the scent of cotton candy in the air. I got caught behind a group of four teenagers jostling one another and laughing. Sylvia’s head bobbed up and down ahead of me as she went around the curve, then disappeared. I turned to Joel, who was barely keeping up beside me.

“Stay here, and I’ll find her,” Joel said.

“No, I want to go with you. This place is a nightmare.” I wasn’t kidding. SpongeBob was bigger than life, right in front of me, advertising his 4-D ride.

“Stay here,” Joel said again. “I’ll be right back.”

I watched his large body lope away until I couldn’t see it anymore.

A stroller slammed into the back of my legs, and I stiffened, sorry I’d let Joel go on ahead. There was no apology from the woman steering the small Hummer. I smelled popcorn and sugar and heard screams from the roller coaster that wound its way across the ceiling overhead. I stared up at it, trying to follow the tracks to see where the twists were, but it disappeared into a fake mountain.

His voice made me jump.

“So, Kavanaugh, who do the cops think killed that guy? You or me?”

Chapter 31

Jeff Coleman looked like he hadn’t slept since I’d seen him the other night. Black smudges accented his eyes; his five-o’clock shadow was more like ten o’clock.

I didn’t care. “What are you doing? Did you send me over to Versailles knowing I’d find a dead guy in the bathroom?”

Jeff glanced around at all the tourists who’d brought their kids to Vegas like it was some sort of Disneyland. Yeah, there was a roller coaster, but it was just the backdrop for the blackjack and roulette tables, the slot machines. A few years back, Vegas wanted to become a family destination, but somewhere along the way it realized that was a sham. Adventuredome was one of the few leftovers. Even the MGM had shed its amusement park and
Wizard of Oz
identity in favor of topless showgirls.

He took my elbow and led me out of the path of the crowd, next to the airplane ride for toddlers. “You’ve got to believe me, Kavanaugh. I had no idea.”

I studied his face, looking for a lie, but I couldn’t see it.

“So what’s going on?”

“I don’t know. All I know is, someone took the gun I keep at my shop and apparently planted it with Kelly’s body to incriminate me.”

“Why do you have a gun in your shop?”

He chuckled. “Kavanaugh, you don’t have the same walk-in clientele I have. And you don’t stay open past midnight.”

Point taken.

“Did someone break into the shop?” I asked.

Jeff sighed. “My mother forgets to lock the door. No one needs to break in.”

I remembered how Sylvia had left the door unlocked when I was there.

“There were latex gloves and needles in the bathroom in that suite,” I said. “Was anything else missing from your shop?”

He frowned. “I don’t know. Gloves and needles? Really?”

“They confiscated my case.”

Jeff rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Whoever killed that guy didn’t know you were going to be there, but thought I was. I don’t get it. Why set me up? I didn’t even know the guy who was killed.”

“But you knew Kelly, who had a tie to Elise, who knew the guy who was killed.”

Jeff made a face at me. “And Professor Plum was killed by a candlestick in the parlor.”

“Funny, ha, ha.”

“Yeah, but we’re missing some parts of the story, Kavanaugh.”

I debated whether I should be the bearer of the bad news, but I had no choice. “Kelly was pregnant,” I said. “Four months.”

His face turned white, his eyes wide. “That’s impossible.”

“My brother told me,” I said. “So I don’t think it’s just a rumor. The cops want to ask you about it.”

He couldn’t seem to get his bearings. His eyes skirted around. “I couldn’t get her pregnant before. Why would they think I could now?”

“Beats me,” I said softly. “So are you sure it was her and not you—the problems, I mean?”

Jeff nodded. “That’s what the doctors said.”

“Did you do an in vitro or anything like that?” I knew my question was deeply personal, but I was curious.

For a second I thought he was going to tell me to mind my own business, but then he said, “We started the process, but it just seemed too complicated after a while. She was young, not even thirty. She told me maybe it would straighten itself out.” He paused. “I guess it did.”

“But she left you.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“You trained her,” I said. “I found her on the Internet. She was inking some pretty big celebrities.”

“She was a fast learner. Could’ve used her in the shop.” His expression was wistful as he thought about what might’ve been. Go figure, but I was feeling sorry for him.

“So why leave you and reinvent herself in L.A.?” I asked.

Jeff snorted. “No clue. But she got to rub elbows with celebrities.”

She did more than rub elbows with Simon Chase.

“What about her brother? You know, I think he’s been following me around.”