Ink Flamingos

Chapter 9

I knocked on the door, but no one came to answer it this time. It was as though no one was home, even though we knew Sherman and Ainsley were in there.

“He wanted to get rid of us pretty quick,” Harry said, his usual smile gone as he considered the reason.

I stood, uncertain what to do. I wanted to talk to Ainsley. I wanted to ask her about that blog. The one with my pictures on it. The one that had the comment about how I’d been responsible for Daisy’s death. Which it seemed she might agree with, because she’d asked if I did the tattoo that killed her.

She knew who I was, and she’d been reluctant to tell me who she was. She had to be the blog’s Ainsley.

“We might as well get going,” Harry said regretfully. We made our way to the elevators and back down without any conversation. I was preoccupied with Ainsley. I bet Harry was, too, but for different reasons than me.

We walked along the canal toward the shop, our strides matching step for step. Just before we reached it, though, I stopped and put my hand on Harry’s arm.

“Tonight. I want to go see her sing,” I said. “Are you free?”

Harry grinned. “What else do I have to do? What time?”

I didn’t want to miss anything, but I did have a client coming in at eight and it would be at least a couple hours. I told myself that things didn’t get hopping in Sin City until at least eleven anyway.

“Meet me at the shop at ten thirty?”

“It’s a date.”

And as I heard those words and saw the way Harry was looking at me, I realized what I’d just done. While I merely wanted an excuse to go over there with Sherman Potter’s “old buddy,” Harry might be putting a little more weight on this than I meant. And when we got back to the shop, it was clear he was.

“Brett and I are going out later,” he announced to Bitsy, who was sitting at the front desk toying with her cell phone.

This was a totally bad thing. Because Bitsy can’t help herself. A wide smile spread across her face. “You’re going out on a date?” she asked eagerly. So much for her loyalty to Colin Bixby.

Harry nodded. “I’m picking her up here at ten thirty.” Bitsy beamed.

Now it would be all over. Joel would know. Ace would know. It could even spread as far as Murder Ink, and Jeff Coleman would find out. Bixby would hear about it. It would reach my brother, and even my mother in her retirement community in Port St. Lucie, Florida, would get the news.

“I’ve got, um, work to do,” I said quickly, wanting to go hide in the staff room until my client showed up.

“I’ll see you later,” Harry said, a suggestive tone in his voice.

I nodded and didn’t look at him or Bitsy, just scurried toward the staff room. I was starting a stencil when Joel and Bitsy appeared in the doorway.

“What?” I asked, irritation lacing my tone.

Bitsy grinned. “You make a nice-looking couple.”

“He’s had a crush on you forever,” Joel added.

Before I could react to that, Bitsy spoke again. “This is why you blew off the good doctor, isn’t it?” She rolled her eyes. “That relationship has been so doomed from the get-go. I’m glad you’re branching out.”

I had to stop her. “Harry’s gone, isn’t he?” I asked. They nodded.

“Well, let me tell you what’s really going on,” I said, launching into the story about Sherman Potter and the Flamingos’ new lead singer, Ainsley, who had to be-just had to be-the blogger who put those pictures up of me and Daisy. “And she’s a redhead,” I said, that small fact just dawning on me. What if she was the one who was seen leaving Daisy’s room at the Golden Palace? Where her “boyfriend,” Sherman Potter, just happened to be making some sort of deal?

It was all coming full circle, and I realized I should call Tim about it.

Joel had sat down at the table and was frowning at me. “You think you’ve got this all figured out?” he asked.

I shrugged. Seemed so.

“What’s this about this girl taking over for Daisy? Did Daisy ever mention that she wanted to leave the band?” Joel asked.

“He said she told him a month ago. I haven’t seen her since October.” It was February now, the end of February. While it was possible she’d decided to leave the band, it still nagged at me. She’d started the Flamingos. She was the driving force behind the band. I thought about the other four girls: Cara, Melanie, Tiffany, and Josie. Where were they? Did they know about Ainsley? Did they know about Daisy?

They must know by now.

“Do you really want to go out with Harry?” Joel asked. “I mean, I could’ve gone over there to Cleopatra’s Barge with you.”

“Believe me, I’d rather go with you,” I said. “It’s just that I said I wanted to go and the next thing, we were going together.” So it didn’t exactly happen like that, but it was close. “Why don’t you come with us?”

“I don’t want to step on Harry’s toes.” He was teasing. He had to be teasing. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and I was relieved. Yes, teasing.

“You can step on his toes. Please.”

“Okay. I’ll go, but he’ll probably be disappointed when he sees me.”

I didn’t much care. And it would kill two birds with one stone, too, since if Joel came along, no one could say I was stepping out on Bixby. While I was uncertain about the future of our relationship, I didn’t want to create trouble.

I picked up my cell phone. “I’m calling Tim.” As I spoke, I punched his number into the phone.

“What is it now, Brett?” Tim never said hello, just like Jeff Coleman never said good-bye.

“Did you know that Daisy was being replaced in the band? By someone named Ainsley? And she’s a redhead?”

He was silent. I’d gotten his attention.

Then, “How do you know this?”

I told him all about Sherman Potter. When I was done, I heard his short intake of breath.

“How do you manage it?” he asked.

“Manage what?”

“To get involved even when you’re not involved?”

“I am involved,” I said. “I mean, the redhead thing and the tattoo ink made you call me in the first place. Flanigan wanted me to keep my ear to the ground. Well, I did, and here’s the information I managed to get.”

He chuckled. “All within a couple hours. You’re amazing, little sister. I will pass this along. But promise me, you’re not going to go over to Cleopatra’s Barge tonight, are you?”

I hadn’t mentioned my “date” with Harry. Didn’t think there was a reason to, until now. “Um…”

“I don’t want you there. And if I see you anywhere near the place, I’ll carry you out myself.”

Now this was something I hadn’t anticipated. “You’re going to go over there?”

“We’re investigating a murder, Brett. Of course I’m going to go over there.”

“Murder?” I felt my heart start to pound a little faster. “So she was murdered?”

He was quiet a second, probably trying to figure out how to get around this, since he probably didn’t mean to say anything in the first place but screwed up. Then, “It’s looking like that, yes.”

“How?”

“She had an allergic reaction to something, Brett. Anaphylactic shock. Her throat closed up and she couldn’t breathe. If she’d gotten to a hospital, they probably would’ve been able to save her.”

My brain was hung up on the words “allergic reaction.”

He kept talking.

“Considering what you told us about her allergy to red dye and the symptoms and that infected tattoo, we think that’s what killed her.”