The Missing Ink

Chapter 15

“Where are you, Jeff?” I asked.

“No need for you to know that.”

“I didn’t say anything. I haven’t even seen my brother since yesterday morning,” I said. He didn’t have to know I might have told Tim if I’d seen him.

Jeff was quiet a moment, then, “There’s something going on.”

“No kidding.”

“Someone’s setting me up. I heard the cops found my fingerprints in that car, the rental car. Couldn’t have. I haven’t seen Kelly. Didn’t know she was in town.”

“I believe you, Jeff.” I didn’t know what else to say. And strangely enough, I did believe him.

“There’s something else, Kavanaugh.”

I didn’t like it that he called me by my last name, but he was a man on the run, so could I take that away from him?

“What is it?”

“That rich bitch? Guess the cops also want to talk to me about her.”

“But I thought you hadn’t met her.”

“They found her driver’s license with Kelly.”

“I saw that on the news.”

“What’s going on, Kavanaugh? You show up at my shop last night and my whole world collapses. You’re bad news.”

“It’s not my fault,” I insisted. “Listen, Jeff, what can I do to help? Want me to talk to Tim? Where are you?”

He was so quiet I’d thought he hung up for a second, then, “There might be something you can do. But it’s not talking to the cops.”

I was afraid to press him, to find out what he wanted me to do. I shouldn’t have been so generous, but it just slipped out. The sisters had taught us to be magnanimous to those who were in need.

Sister Mary Eucharista would’ve taken one look at Jeff Coleman and let me off the hook.

He wasn’t about to let me off the hook, however.

“I need you to cover for me.”

I wasn’t liking the idea of this.

“Cover what?” I asked when he hesitated.

“I’ve got a high-profile client who won’t come to the shop. He wants Mick Jagger’s tongue on his ass. I’m supposed to be there at three. For obvious reasons, Kavanaugh, I can’t be. But you can. I’ll split the fee with you fifty-fifty.”

“Why don’t you just cancel?” Seemed reasonable to me.

“You don’t cancel this guy. He won’t call again if I do. He’s paying a cool grand. It’s easy money, Kavanaugh.”

“Jeff, that’s highway robbery. That Rolling Stones logo’s got to be one of the easiest tats ever.”

“He doesn’t care. So I don’t care. Will you do it?”

“Why me? Why not one of your staff?”

“Because the cops are watching the shop. I don’t want them following anyone to this guy.”

My curiosity was piqued. “Who is he? Howard Hughes?”

When Jeff told me who it was, a shiver ran up my spine. But not in a bad way. I couldn’t say no.

“Where and when?”

He chuckled. “Knew you’d do it. Versailles. That new resort, the big one.”

“I know it.”

“The Marie Antoinette Suite. Three o’clock.”

I hadn’t taken my equipment anywhere in a long time and wondered whether I had a proper case for it. “Sure, okay,” I said. “Can I just go up there?”

“He’ll be expecting you. Just tell the guy at the desk that you’re Minnie to see Mickey.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Serious as murder.”

I cringed, but didn’t argue. “Will you be okay?” I asked.

“Sure, don’t worry. And thanks, Kavanaugh. I knew I could count on you.”

He hung up without saying good-bye.

Bitsy was staring at me.

“Who was that?”

“Jeff Coleman.”

“That scumbag?”

“His ex-wife was Kelly Masters.”

Bitsy’s mouth formed a perfect “O.” I touched her chin and pushed up, closing her mouth.

“Why’s he calling you?” Bitsy wanted to know.

I didn’t want to tell her that I’d made a visit to Jeff’s shop last night. “He knows Tim’s a cop. He wanted to know if I had any inside scoop on her murder.” As I said it, I wished I did. “Oh, by the way, do we have any sort of bag or case I can use for my equipment? Got a house call at three.”

Bitsy’s eyebrows shot so far up her forehead I thought they’d go into orbit. “What? I don’t know anything about that.”

“A friend of a friend,” I lied easily. “Sorry, forgot to tell you.”

Ace overheard our conversation. “I’ve got a case you can use,” he said. “Used to do parties. It’s under my table. I’ll get it for you.”

He sauntered off, and I asked Bitsy to stock the case while I was with my next client, who walked in just at that moment, letting me off the hook-but not for long.

I was in the middle of a Cinderella castle on the back of the client’s thigh when the door to my room opened slightly, Tim leaning around it. His shoulders were stiff in the sport jacket, his mouth set in a grim line. He caught my eye and cocked his head to indicate that I should come out.

“I need a couple minutes,” I told the girl in front of me as I peeled off the latex gloves. “You want a soda or anything?”

She was texting someone on her phone and shook her head.

Joel mouthed, What’s up? as I passed him, and I shrugged as I followed Tim into the staff room. He shut the door behind me.

“What do you know about Jeff Coleman?”

“Hi, hello, nice to see you for the first time in two days,” I said, eager to put off this conversation, especially since I could feel my hands start to get clammy.

I wasn’t a good liar.

He relaxed slightly, but kept his hands on his hips. “Sorry, but I’ve been pretty busy. I need to know what you know about Coleman. He’s got a shop up near Fremont, and you always seem to know everyone.”

As he said it, I realized it was true. I was never Miss Popular, but I always managed to keep up on who was who in the worlds I traveled in. It was always good to know who your enemies were, as well as your friends.

“Yeah, I know Coleman. He’s a jerk.” I said it too loud, and Tim came so close our noses were almost touching.

“Do you know where he is?”

I didn’t have to lie this time. “No. Should I?”

“He was married to Kelly Masters.”

I hoped I had what looked like surprise all over my face.

“You don’t look like that’s news to you,” Tim accused.

So it was more like egg on my face. Figured.

“I might have heard something,” I admitted.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

I shook my head, forcing myself to keep calm, even though my heart was pounding. “Not sure,” was all I could spit out.

He didn’t believe me. So he tossed his cards on the table.

“Coleman’s fingerprints were found on a gun in that rental car where we found Kelly Masters’s body last night.”

“Really?” It had been on the news that she’d been shot. Jeff hadn’t said anything about his gun at the scene. My surprise was genuine this time. But Tim wasn’t finished.

He threw the ace down.

“And we found traces of blood that match Elise Lyon’s blood type in the backseat.”