Ink Flamingos

Chapter 16

I went over to the phone and picked up the receiver without saying anything to Jeff. He knew what I was doing. I punched in Tim’s number.

“Kavanaugh.”

“There’s another blog.” I quickly told him about Ink Flamingos.

Tim was quiet for a second, then, “Okay. I’ll check it out.”

“What do I do?”

“Is Coleman there?”

I glanced over at Jeff, who was studying the blog. “Yeah.”

“Have him take you to the shop. Stay there. I’ll call you later.”

“Tim-”

“Don’t worry, okay? I’ve got it covered.” And he hung up.

I put the phone back in its cradle and turned to Jeff. “I guess we’d better get to my shop.”

Jeff indicated the laptop. “Should I turn it off?”

I nodded.

Within minutes, we were settling into the Pontiac, strapping the seat belts around us.

“You okay, Kavanaugh?” he asked before he started the engine.

I sighed. “Not really, but it’ll be good to get to work and get busy.”

“You do know I’m just a phone call away, right?”

It was scary when Jeff Coleman was being nice, almost too nice.

He turned the key in the ignition and the engine fired up. He backed up and started down through our neighborhood of suburban homes. Tim had bought our house when he was living with Shawna, his almost fiancée. But when she realized she was only going to get a house and not a diamond, she moved out and I moved in. I’d been living with my parents in New Jersey, but they were moving to Florida, so I needed a place to go. Tim’s friend Flip Armstrong was selling his tattoo shop, I had enough money saved to buy the business, and voilà-I went to Las Vegas.

I stared out the window as we passed the strip malls and the Home Depot and the Target, heading for the highway that would take us to the Strip. The skyline was visible even from here; it was so flat until the desert hit the mountains in the distance.

I thought about Red Rock Canyon. It was a perfect time of year for hiking, and I’d been three times in the last week. But it wasn’t the kind of place I wanted to go to alone if I had a stalker. Too much wide empty space up there, too many places to hide a body.

Body. Like Daisy’s in that hotel room. I shivered, even though it was warm in Jeff’s car.

“You okay?” he asked for the second time.

I nodded, then shook my head. “No, I guess not. I wish you hadn’t lost that girl last night.”

“Me, neither,” he said. “I don’t know how she slipped past me. I mean, I was watching that ladies’ room.”

An idea began to nag at me. It was plausible, and the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced. Granted, a lot of time had passed between then and now, but you never knew.

“Let’s go to Caesars first,” I said.

Jeff glanced at me and frowned. “What’s up?”

“I want to check on something.”

“Your brother’s probably been over there already, trying to find out about that girl,” he said.

“Yeah, but not the way I’m going to,” I said.

He gave me a funny look, but when we hit the Strip, he turned into the driveway for Caesars and found the self-parking garage. We hadn’t said another word to each other.

We made our way toward Cleopatra’s Barge, walking through the casino. Even though it wasn’t even noon yet, the diehards were at it, slapping cards on the tables, throwing dice, punching the little PLAY AGAIN buttons on the slot machines. I was glad to see them, though, considering that Vegas was suffering from the worst economic slump in decades. Even though I hadn’t lost too much business, the casinos had and the foreclosure signs were everywhere. I wondered if I shouldn’t worry more, but decided I had bigger fish to fry right now.

“Which ladies’ room?” I asked.

Jeff pointed to the one closest to the nightclub. “You know, Kavanaugh, it’s been hours,” he said.

“I need to check. My own peace of mind,” I said, shrugging as I pushed the door in.

There were Roman columns edged in gold in here, too, and each stall had its own actual door. I went over to the trash receptacles first, and using a paper towel wrapped around my hand, picked up the clear plastic bag inside, scanning the contents but seeing nothing except paper towels and the occasional Kleenex.

Next I moved to the farthest stall and opened the door, looking behind the toilet and in the sanitary napkin bin. Nothing here, either.

I went to each stall, checking every corner, except for one that was being used. Whoever was in there must be wondering what I was doing. But it certainly wasn’t worse than what she was doing: talking on her cell phone while she did her business.

I was washing my hands when she finally emerged. I wasn’t going to go in there while she was still here. She had one of those little Bluetooth things stuck in her ear, and she gave me a nasty look as she flitted out without washing her hands, as though I’d been purposely listening to her conversation.

Like talking out loud to a person who wasn’t there was supposed to be private.

When the door had shut behind her, I stepped into the stall she’d just vacated. Nothing in the sanitary napkin bin, thank goodness. I peered around the back of the toilet. Nothing there, either. So my great idea was all for naught.

I turned to leave, and the door swung shut slightly. The hook for a coat or a purse caught my eye. I hadn’t checked behind any of the doors because I’d held them all open as I looked in the stalls.

Going back to the furthest stall, I quickly checked out the doors. I’d looked at all of them except two when three older women came through the door, laughing and talking. I skirted into one of the stalls and shut the door, pretending that I was here for the same reason they were.

On the back of the door hung a bag. A clear plastic bag with some paper towels in the bottom. It looked as though it were one of the plastic bags that filled the trash bins out near the sink. Someone had snagged one and brought it in here. Clearly the cleaning woman had done what I had: left without checking behind the door.

And whoever had left the bag there had dropped more trash into it: a long, red wig and a pair of stiletto heels. On top of those were more paper towels, but I wasn’t sure they were there to disguise what else was in the bag. They were covered with a swirl of colors. As though someone had taken makeup off with them. A lot of makeup.

Maybe makeup that had been applied to look like a dragon tattoo.