Driven to Ink

Chapter 27

I could barely concentrate on work. I felt the machine in my hand as I tattooed a young man’s calf with the image of his pet dog, but I was on autopilot. The dog was one of those little ones, the ones that look like hairless rats, which didn’t help my state of mind because I kept thinking about Dan Franklin and that dead rat in my car and Lou Marino getting hit by a car and being almost run over myself in the parking lot at the university.

I wondered whether he’d gotten hit while Bitsy and I were over there talking to Rosalie.

There had to be a connection with what was going on with the That’s Amore Dean Martins, and as soon as I got home, I’d talk to Tim about it. For about a nanosecond I considered calling Flanigan, but then it would’ve been all official and everything, and I might’ve not been able to get that good night’s sleep I was hoping for.

It had been a long day.

But before I went home, I wanted to stop by the hospital to check on Lou Marino and see how Rosalie was holding up.

Granted, considering her black eye, I supposed I shouldn’t be concerned about her husband, but it was the right thing to do. Sister Mary Eucharista was urging me on.

And sure, I could’ve called Jeff Coleman instead, but when I tried, his phone just rang and rang.

Bitsy was wiping down Joel’s room. Joel had left half an hour ago; his last client hadn’t taken as long as mine. Ace was long gone.

“Are you almost done?” I asked.

Bitsy looked up. She was standing on her stool, the one she dragged around with her to reach those places she couldn’t, as she cleaned up Joel’s ink pots.

“Just your room left,” she said.

“I already did it,” I said, and a grateful smile crossed her face. She’d had as long a day as I’d had, and I wanted to give her a break.

I surveyed how much she had left to do in here and silently joined her, putting the needle bar in the autoclave, wiping down Joel’s client chair, collecting the trash and putting a new liner in the can. The room was, as Mary Pop-pins would say, spit spot in no time.

We got our stuff from the staff room and went out front, where I locked the glass front doors, then pulled the gate down and locked that, too. The rest of the mall shops were locking up, as well. Time to turn into a pumpkin.

I left Bitsy at her MINI Cooper, which she’d had outfitted to accommodate her size. I wished I could fit into one of those comfortably, but it was a lost cause.

We said our good-byes. I could see the weariness in the lines around her eyes. Mine probably looked the same, and I wondered whether I shouldn’t head straight home, but once I got into the Jeep and pulled out onto the Strip, the lights flashing across the windshield, I got a second wind.

Jeff had said Lou Marino had been taken to University Medical Center, so I pointed the Jeep in that direction.

I told myself I wasn’t going over there hoping for a glimpse of Colin Bixby.

He worked in the emergency room there, when he wasn’t teaching classes at the university.

He probably wasn’t working tonight anyway.

The parking garage was all lit up like a Christmas tree. I found a space and parked, heading down to the hospital entrance, where I pushed my way in through the heavy doors and stepped up to the information desk.

An older woman with bright white hair and too much makeup scowled at me. “May I help you?” She so obviously did not want to help me.

“I understand a friend”-okay, he wasn’t my friend, but his wife was a client and his in-laws were friends-“was brought in here earlier. Lou Marino. He got hit by a car.”

Her fingers were already moving on her computer keyboard. After a second, she looked up at me. “Are you family?”

I was too tired to lie. “A friend of the family. I really want to say hello to them. See how they’re doing. See if they need anything.”

“I can’t let anyone up who’s not family,” she said curtly, turning back to her computer.

I stood there, shifting from one foot to the next. I didn’t want to leave yet, and it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that I would still have to pay five dollars for an hour of parking even if I was here only ten minutes.

Well, maybe that did have something to do with it.

“Is there any way I can get word to them?” I persisted.

The woman rolled her eyes at me. She didn’t even pretend to hide it.

“You’re not family,” she said flatly.

I tried the only other thing I could think of. “Dr. Colin Bixby, is he on shift tonight?” I kicked myself for even asking, but he might be able to actually tell me something if he was here.

She rolled her eyes again. I pretended not to notice.

After a minute, she picked up the phone and spoke so softly I couldn’t hear what she was saying. I didn’t want to know what she was saying. Finally, she put her hand over the receiver and asked brusquely, “Name?”

“Brett Kavanaugh.”

She went back to her phone, then hung it up and pointed behind me. “He’ll meet you outside the emergency room.”

Which was all the way around the building. I trudged along the sidewalk and finally saw the bright lights streaming out onto the pavement. Colin Bixby stepped out from behind a shadow.

“Twice in one day? And you’re now harassing the staff?”

I couldn’t tell whether he was teasing me.

“I could file a restraining order against you, you know.” I saw the smile then, the one he tried not to show.

“Thanks for seeing me,” I said. “I didn’t know what else to do.” I told him about trying to see how Lou Marino was doing and wanting to see Rosalie.

“They told me you were asking about a patient,” he said. “But I don’t know why you asked to see me.”

“You’re the only doctor I know over here. I didn’t know if you’d be here.”

“So you figured dropping my name would get you in?”

I shrugged. “I guess so.”

He ran a hand through his dark, spiky hair. Even in the shadows he was hot. I felt I needed to say something.

“I’m sorry, you know, about before.”

He gave a short laugh. “You mean when you thought I was going to kill you?”

“I was sort of a mess then,” I said.

“No kidding.” From his tone, I could tell he thought I was still a mess.

“A lot had gone on.”

He nodded, his hands in the pockets of his white lab coat now. “So tell me what you were doing over there at the lab this afternoon. Really.”

“It’s like I said. A guy’s body was found in my car along with a dead rat. I thought maybe it could be traced to Dan Franklin. I wanted to talk to the guy. But now he’s missing, and someone tried to run me and Bitsy over when we were out in the parking lot, so maybe someone doesn’t want me asking questions.”

“What? Someone tried to run you over?” Concern laced his voice.

“It was a blue car; that’s all I know.”

“Maybe you should stop asking questions,” he suggested.

No kidding.

Before I could stop it, I yawned.

“And maybe you need to go home,” he added.

“I want to find out about Lou Marino,” I said. “And see Rosalie. Then I’ll go.”

“Promise?”

I couldn’t see through the shadows whether he was kidding me or really did want me to leave. Bitsy was right. I did screw it up with him. And I had no idea how to put it right.

“Scout’s promise,” I said, holding up my hand and forming a “V” with my fingers.

“That’s the Vulcan sign,” he chided.

“So sue me,” I said.

He laughed. Really laughed. “Why is it I like you?”

He liked me? Could’ve fooled me.

But then he stopped laughing.

“I can’t let you in to see Lou Marino’s family,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Why not?”

“Because Lou Marino died half an hour ago.”