Ink Flamingos (7 page)

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.”

“Y
ou
think
,” I said.

“Nothing’s official until the autopsy results come in, but she had an allergic reaction to something,” Tim said. “So this is why you have to stay completely out of it now. You’re in the clear, but this Ainsley person who now happens to be a redhead who happens to be taking Dee Carmichael’s place in the band is definitely on my radar.”

Seemed he had a suspect and a clear motive all rolled up into one, thanks to yours truly. But instead of feeling happy that justice would be served, I felt a little deflated. I still wanted to confront Ainsley Wainwright about those pictures of me on her blog.

I said as much to Tim.

“Don’t worry, little sis. We’ll cover that, too.”

Like I said, all wrapped up.

It was so unsatisfying, though.

 

I had no way to reach Harry Desmond to let him know I wouldn’t be going with him tonight. I sent Joel home when Bitsy left, because his services wouldn’t be necessary after all. Ace had left earlier because he had a legitimate date. I tried calling Bixby back, but just got his voice mail. Guess I deserved that. I didn’t leave a message.

I was cleaning up my room, throwing ink pots and used needles away, when I heard the bell on the door. I hadn’t locked up, since we were technically still open, but when we didn’t have any late clients, we would close early on occasion.

I figured it must be Harry and braced myself to explain the situation as I went out to the front to meet him.

But it wasn’t Harry.

Jeff Coleman stood just inside the door, his hands in his pockets as he stared up at Ace’s most recent works of art. When he saw me approach, he grinned.

“Quiet around here, Kavanaugh.”

Jeff was an inch or so shorter than my own five-nine, with a salt-and-pepper buzz cut. A life lived hard showed in his face. He’d been in the Marines, served in the first Gulf War, and taken over his mother’s tattoo shop about ten years ago. He used to smoke like a chimney but gave it up recently. There were some allusions to drinking and drugs, but by all appearances, he wasn’t into all of that now. At least not that I’d seen.

“Let everyone go early,” I said. “I’m leaving shortly myself.” I glanced quickly out the glass door to see if Harry was around yet, but I didn’t see him.

“Expecting someone?” Jeff asked, coming toward me.

I shrugged. “I sort of have a date. But I have to cancel.”

“That’s harsh, Kavanaugh. Canceling when he shows up. Why don’t you just call him?”

“I can’t. I don’t have his number.”

He frowned, but to his credit didn’t say anything. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Maybe I want to check out the competition,” he said. “See how the other half lives.”

Jeff liked to try to get under my skin about how I had a more upscale shop, where we did only custom tattoos, as compared to his street shop where he only did flash, the stock tattoos that lined the walls of his shop. I hate to admit it, but it usually worked.

Not tonight, though. I was too distracted by Harry’s impending arrival.

“Really, Jeff, why are you here?”

“Maybe I’m a little worried about you. You know, those pictures on that blog. I got the sense that it shook you up a bit.” He noticed I was looking outside again. “Are you expecting the doc?”

He meant Colin Bixby. I shook my head. “No.”

A wide smile spread across his face. “You have a new boyfriend?”

I made a face at him.

“A new girlfriend?”

I rolled my eyes. “Just tell me why you’re here.”

The smile disappeared. “I was worried about you, like I said. I don’t like the idea of pictures of you showing up on that blog, that someone’s saying you’re to blame for that girl’s death.”

I studied his face, looking for any sign of a joke, that he was teasing me. But he really seemed sincere. Stranger things have happened, I’m sure, but I couldn’t think of any right at the moment. “Tim’s on top of it,” I said. “In fact, I don’t even need to go out anymore—that’s what I have to tell Harry.”

“Harry?”

“Harry Desmond.”

Jeff’s expression was incredulous. “Harry Desmond? That’s who your date is?”

“What of it? You know him?”

He barked out a laugh. “You surprise me, Kavanaugh.”

I had no clue what he was talking about.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t tell me Harry’s been hanging around here these days?”

I made a face. “He’s been here almost every day for the last month or so.”

“I wondered where he went.”

It began to dawn on me what Jeff was talking about. “He hung around Murder Ink, too?” I asked.

“He didn’t just hang around, Kavanaugh. He worked for me.”

Now this was something I hadn’t expected. “Worked for you? How?”

Jeff cocked his head to the side, studying me for a second. “How would you think? I own a tattoo shop. He worked for me. Do you think maybe he was one of my artists?” It came out way too sarcastically, but I didn’t call him on it. I was too shocked.

“He’s a tattooist? He told us he got laid off.”

“Well, that’s not exactly accurate. I fired his ass.” Jeff’s face grew dark, and I wondered what it was Harry had done. But I didn’t have to wonder too long. “He botched a tattoo. Pretty bad.”

My chest constricted.

“He hasn’t asked you for a job?” Jeff asked.

I shook my head.

“He probably knows you’d need some background on him, and I’d tell you what he did.”

“He told us he was a blackjack dealer.”

“As far as I know, he never worked a casino. I wouldn’t go out with him, if I were you,” Jeff said.

Despite my newfound misgivings about Harry, I didn’t like it that Jeff was deciding now whom I should date and whom I shouldn’t. I stood up a little straighter, so I was even taller than he was, and said, “I can date whomever I want.”

Jeff chuckled. “Okay, right, Kavanaugh. I forgot you’re all grown up and can take care of yourself.”

“That’s right.”

“Does he know about me?” Jeff asked.

The tone in his voice made it sound like there was something Harry
should
know, which of course there wasn’t. Jeff and I didn’t have that kind of a relationship. Granted, I wasn’t quite sure what kind of relationship we did have, but it hadn’t ever veered into any sort of romance.

He started to laugh. “You make it way too easy, Kavanaugh. You know what I mean, right?”

“He must know we’re friends,” I said. “He’s probably been here when you’ve called, or someone’s mentioned you. So yeah, he must know about you.” Although I couldn’t be sure. He spent most of his time talking to Bitsy, and sometimes I’d run across him with Ace at that oxygen bar. Until today, he hadn’t really spent too much time with me, but that was usually because when he was here, I was with clients.

“So there would be no reason why when he saw me in here talking to you that he’d take off, right?”

I
instinctively looked out the glass door. “You saw Harry?” Jeff Coleman had powers of detection I hadn’t been aware of, because I certainly hadn’t seen him.

“He came around the corner, spotted me, and started back in the other direction,” Jeff said.

So maybe he didn’t know about Jeff, after all.

Jeff cocked his head at me again. “Ready to go? Maybe we can catch up with him, find out what his problem is.”

I grabbed my bag off the front desk, and we scooted out the door. I locked it, Jeff pulled down the gate for me, and we turned left, the direction Harry had run in, according to Jeff. I couldn’t see Harry anywhere, though, so I took one of the footbridges two steps at a time and stood at the top, scanning the canal and the walkway up ahead. I spotted Harry skirting around a couple of last-minute shoppers. I bounded back down the steps and grabbed Jeff’s hand, pulling him along with me.

“He’s up ahead,” I said, then realized I was holding Jeff Coleman’s hand and instantly dropped it.

Despite having shorter legs than me, Jeff kept up easily beside me, our strides in sync. It seemed that Harry didn’t think we’d come after him, because he’d slowed down and we weren’t that far behind him when he pushed open the door to the outside.