The Missing Ink

Chapter 50

I stopped short and a heavyset man slammed into me. He growled and moved past. I grabbed Jeff’s arm and pulled him through the door into O’Shea’s Casino.

“Watch your back? Why?”

Jeff gave me a wan smile. “Seems he was acquainted with my ex-wife.”

“He knew Kelly? How? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“You didn’t ask. And anyway, if you knew, you might have told your brother, and the cops would have had even more of a reason to nail me.”

I studied Jeff’s face, which was remarkably free of any emotion, except perhaps a slight tug of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

“You didn’t do that tat, did you?”

Disgust replaced the amusement. “Kavanaugh, I don’t touch dead people.”

“So who did it?”

Jeff shrugged. “Maybe Kelly did it.”

Kelly? I didn’t get a chance to react, though, because Jeff kept talking.

“All I know is, this guy called me, asked me to meet him in the Bastille Lounge at Versailles, it was about Kelly. I met him-his name was Matt. He said Kelly had been in over her head, that she’d done something she shouldn’t have.” He bit his lip. “I guess he knew she was pregnant, but he never said exactly what it was she’d done. I figured she’d just screwed the wrong guy one way or another, same old story for her. I told him I hadn’t seen her in a long time, but he said I should watch out, that she was up to something.”

“Did he know about the embryos?”

Jeff bit his lip and nodded. “Thinking about it now, he had to have known about that.”

“But why would he warn you? What was she going to do?”

“I don’t know. While we were talking, someone came into the bar, a young guy, maybe thirty, tops. Rich-looking. Matt said he had to go, but he’d call me later. He went over to the other dude, who was pissed about something; his face was all red. They left together.”

“Was it Chip Manning?”

Jeff shrugged. “Maybe.”

“His face has been all over the news because of Elise,” I said.

“I haven’t exactly been pinned to the TV, if you haven’t noticed, Kavanaugh.”

“Yeah, right. Sorry.”

We started walking again. The air wrapped itself around us like a fleece blanket. I still hadn’t gotten a water. I pondered Jeff’s story. It sounded like the truth, and the pieces were starting to fall together.

“What about Matthew, Kelly’s brother?” I asked. “Why wouldn’t he have contacted you if Kelly was in trouble?”

Jeff chuckled. “Matthew and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms.”

“How would Matt Powell even know about you, though?”

“If he knew Kelly, she might have told him.”

True enough. And if Matt Powell was Elise Lyon’s Matthew, and Kelly and Elise knew each other, then it was like one big, happy family. Until Matt and Kelly ended up dead.

Maybe Elise killed them. Nothing would surprise me now.

“So why do you think I’m going to Versailles?” I asked.

“You have to give Simon Chase back his phone.”

“Why?”

“You’ll look like a hero, Kavanaugh, getting his phone back. Maybe he’ll want to suck face with you again.” The grimace was probably supposed to be a grin.

I ignored him. “So you have no idea why Matthew trashed my shop?”

He shrugged. “Something’s there. Don’t know what.” He sounded like a broken record. “Listen, I’ve got to get going. I’ll be in touch.” And before I could say anything, he was halfway across the street, jogging toward the Bellagio.

I stood there, staring after him for a few seconds, then continued back to the Venetian.

If Matthew thought I had something he wanted, that could explain why he’d been following me around. Maybe he thought I’d lead him to it.

But then, why was Simon Chase following me in that Dodge Dakota?

I’d seen them together. Chase and Matthew. They could be in on it together.

Despite the heat, a chill crept up my spine.

I might have a reason to go to Versailles after all.

Bitsy was right. She had done a lot of work while I was gone, which made me feel guilty. I didn’t need Sister Mary Eucharista on my shoulder today. I was doing a pretty good job of giving myself a guilt trip.

While I wiped up the last of the ink off the floor in Joel’s room, all the events of the last few days swirled around in my head. What had I gotten mixed up in? Everything that had happened had happened because a woman left her fiancé at the altar. She’d sneaked off in the night, taking someone else’s identity, and disappeared.

But I’d seen her. Last night. At Viva Las Vegas. Why was she still in town? If I were her, I’d be long gone by now.

I threw the sponges covered in ink in a bucket and surveyed the floor. It sparkled as if it had never been violated. Bitsy had taken care of the rest of the room, stacking all the ink pots in a row on the shelf, the disposables neat in their boxes, Joel’s tattoo machine perched and ready for the next customer.

I had to get Tim to give me my machine back. And the case, which was Ace’s.

I wondered if whatever it was Matthew had been looking for was in the case, which was why he didn’t find it here last night.

As I took the bucket out to the bathroom off the staff room and tossed the sponges in the sink to be cleaned, a cell phone started ringing. It wasn’t a familiar ring, not Springsteen or Bitsy’s “Dancing in the Streets.” Instead, it was a real ring, an old-fashioned sort of ring. A ring, well, with that low-toned, rough brrring brrring that you hear on British television.

Simon Chase’s phone.

Curiosity got the better of me. I rummaged around in my bag and pulled the BlackBerry out. I had no idea how something like this worked. My phone wasn’t nearly as sophisticated.

I hit the little green phone button and after a second heard, “Chase, where the hell are you?”

Bruce Manning.

I just did a little “mmmm,” lowering my voice so he’d think it was Chase.

“Where’s the girl? What did you do with her?”

The words made me freeze, my heart in my throat.

He didn’t wait for an answer. “I know you’ve got her, and I want to know where it is. I don’t care about her-you can do what you want with her-but I want it back.”