The Missing Ink (27 page)

“Remember, get him to tell you as much as possible about that gun and his ex-wife. It was his kid, so he was lying about when he saw her last. Get him to tell you what the real story is.”

I nodded and saluted. “Yes, sir,” I said, but immediately pulled my arm down. The movement had tugged on the tape holding the wire, and it hurt.

“And one more thing,” Tim said. “Ask him what he and Matt Powell were talking about when he met him at Versailles the day before he asked you to go over there for him.”

Chapter 48

I froze. “He was with Matt Powell? How do you know that?”

Tim smiled in a way that told me he wasn’t about to tell me anything. “Just ask him, Brett, okay?”

“He’s going to wonder how I know that… .” My voice trailed off as the door closed behind them and they were gone.

So the cops didn’t just want Jeff Coleman in Kelly’s murder, but also for Matt Powell’s. Suspicion crept into my head again. He’d sent me over to Versailles. Matt Powell had been inked by a tattooist who knew what he was doing. Did Jeff set me up? Had he been playing me all along, and I fell for his sympathy cry?

Bitsy noticed the shirt didn’t go with the skirt.

“You might want to get a pair of jeans or something.”

I’d spent enough money on clothes the last week. “No, I’m all right.” Although a glance in the full-length mirror showed that I needed a little help from those
What Not to Wear
people. Even the dragon looked a little embarrassed. I shrugged, as if to say,
It’s not my fault; I’m on a mission
, and left the shop.

Paris was just down the Strip, and I decided to walk to clear my head, get myself into game mode. I was wearing Tevas, which were good to walk in, although sadly did not add to my appearance.

Most of the people moving down the sidewalk, however, didn’t exactly look like they’d just walked off the set of
Sex and the City
, either. It was too hot to do anything but melt anyway; everyone just hurried to get to their next air-conditioned space. I stopped a couple of times to hover in the doorways of casinos, letting the cool air wash over me so I could make it the next few feet without passing out. I should’ve brought water.

Which made me wonder if sweating would harm the wire. I hadn’t thought about that, but it was too late now.

Paris is another illusion, like the Venetian or Versailles; it’s got a great shopping area with little Disney-like stores and restaurants and cobblestone streets and trees. A little farther up was the casino that sat underneath a replica of the Eiffel Tower.

La Creperie is a walk-up joint, where for $8.99 you can get an incredibly decadent crepe with any filling you want. I like the fruit ones.

Jeff Coleman wasn’t waiting for me. Glancing around, I didn’t see him anywhere, but that wasn’t a total surprise, since he kept sneaking up on me all over the place. He was probably watching me, just like the cops were watching me—and listening to my stomach growl as I saw someone walk by with a crepe full of ham and cheese.

While the morning had gone in slow motion as I picked up the pieces that were Ace and my shop, now I was literally wired and ready for anything. Food would’ve given me a real boost, but I didn’t want to be shoving crepe into my face when Jeff Coleman jumped out from a corner.

I found a seat at a table in the area next to La Creperie and tapped my fingers as I waited.

And waited.

After fifteen minutes, I said, “I’m not sure he’s coming,” seemingly to no one—although passersby probably would think I was on my cell phone, even though I didn’t have one of those dorky things sticking out of my ear like some sort of
Star Trek
character. I had no idea where Tim and Nate were waiting. I wondered if this was what their job was like, those stakeouts on TV and in movies that made police work seem so glamorous but in actuality were duller than dirt.

Antsy, I got up and went across the little cobblestones to a shop that sold French cheese and wine. As I browsed, I kept an eye on La Creperie, but there was still no sign of Jeff.

Springsteen sang in my bag. I dug around until my fingers touched my cell phone, and I flipped it open.

“Hello?”

“Kavanaugh, you should be arrested for wearing that outfit.”

“Where are you?” I asked. “I’m here, but you’re not.”

“And when you get rid of those cops, I’ll meet you.”

I hesitated a second. “Cops? What cops?”

“Don’t play games, Kavanaugh. I’m not stupid. You never wear shirts like that, although I did like the one you wore on TV.”

He was here somewhere.

“You’re supposed to tell me why Matthew broke into my shop.” I was talking too fast, the words spilling out of my mouth on top of one another. “And why did you meet with Matt Powell at Versailles? What’s up with that?”

“No time for chitchat, Kavanaugh. You’ve got something in your shop they want.”

My chest felt heavy as his words sank in. Tim was right. “But my shop was trashed. Matthew probably got whatever it was.”

“No. He didn’t.”

He sounded so sure.

“How do you know this?” Skepticism seeped into my voice. “I mean, really, how do you know? Do you have something to do with this?”

“I’ve got my ear to the ground, something you should’ve thought of instead of traipsing off and becoming a TV star.”

“I didn’t choose that.”

“Fair enough. But really, there’s something everyone’s looking for, and everyone thinks you’ve got it.”

“What is it?”

Silence for a second, then, “Not sure.”

“Okay, so you’re getting on my case for not keeping my ear to the ground, but that’s all you’ve got?”

He didn’t answer.

“So what about Matt Powell? Why did you meet him? Do you know who did his ink? Was it you?”

“No.”

When he didn’t say anything more, I said, “You don’t know anything, do you? You don’t know what it is Matthew was looking for when he tossed my shop. You don’t know how Kelly got pregnant with your baby.” I was struggling to keep my voice down, but I wasn’t entirely successful. I began walking toward the casino.

“I do know,” he said softly.

“Do know what?” I barked.

“I know how she got pregnant.”

“Well, I think we can figure that out, can’t we?”

“It’s not what you think. Really.” He didn’t sound like himself, and I stopped walking, moving out of the line of foot traffic.

“Then what is it?”

“We had embryos.”

“What?”

“Embryos. For in vitro fertilization. We never used them; she left me before we could. I went to the doctor’s office yesterday. I got one of the nurses to tell me Kelly had three embryos implanted four months ago. One survived.

“The cops were right. She was pregnant with my kid.”

Chapter 49

He sounded so sad, so deflated. So I made an executive decision. I let him go.

I hung up and walked back to La Creperie, putting up my hands in a sign of surrender. Tim was already coming toward me.

I told him what Jeff had said, but he wasn’t as gullible as I was.

“You should’ve reeled him in,” Tim said. “There are still too many questions.”

“He said there’s something in my shop,” I said. “That’s why it got trashed.”

“What is it?”

I shrugged. “He said he didn’t know.”

“He’s pretty clever, feeding you bits of information to get your sympathy but not really telling you much more,” Tim said bitterly. “You should’ve gotten him to meet you.” He put his hand out, and I frowned, not knowing what he wanted. “Your phone. I want to see the number he called you from.”

That was easy enough. I gave it to him, and he gave the number to Nate, who wrote it down.

I knew the number, though. And I knew he wouldn’t get anything out of it.

“It’s Simon Chase’s number,” I said flatly.

Tim and Nate stared at me.

“He’s got Chase’s cell phone,” I said cryptically.

“Why?”

I tried to look nonchalant.

“Why does Jeff Coleman have Simon Chase’s phone, Brett?” I recognized the big-brother voice, but instead of the good “I’ll take care of Zack Turner” big brother, this was the one who always came out before he chased me around the yard threatening to “get” me for something or other.

“He … well, he got his hands on it last night at Viva Las Vegas. He said he’d give it back.” Had he? I wasn’t so sure.

Tim took a deep breath. “You do realize that even if the guy didn’t kill anyone, he is a thief?”

“Oh, yeah, I know that,” I said. “Believe me, I don’t like the guy—never did.”

Tim and Nate rolled their eyes at each other.

“Give us the wire,” Tim said.

“Right here?”

“Find a ladies’ room. We’ll wait.”

It did hurt pulling the tape off, in a different way from getting inked. In a worse way, really, because it left nothing but a big, red, raw patch of skin. The dragon had gotten caught under it, and he looked uncomfortable.

Almost as uncomfortable as I felt in the ridiculous outfit. I couldn’t wait to take off this shirt and change into my tank top.

I handed the wire to Tim as I stepped outside. “I’m done?”

“You weren’t much help,” he said. “I’m going to catch a lot of crap for using this stuff and not having anything to show for it.”

“Sorry,” I said, meaning it. “I didn’t get the cop genes.”

I must have touched a nerve, and it looked for a moment like he wanted to give me a hug, but Nate was hovering. It wouldn’t be macho, so he just said, “Let me know if anything else happens.”

“Sure.” So much had gone on in the last couple days, I wasn’t sure I could cram any more in. I needed to get back to the shop and help Bitsy pick up the pieces. I also needed to call the hospital and Joel and see how Ace was doing.

“I’m on my way back,” I said when I called Bitsy as I waited in line for a crepe. Might as well have lunch first; who knew when I’d get another chance?

“It’s okay. You don’t have to hurry. I’ve got a lot of it done already.”

I was incredibly grateful. Bitsy and I had had a hard start when I bought the shop from Flip. She was convinced I was enemy number one and would fire everyone and bring in my own people. She had a chip on her shoulder bigger than she was, which almost made me take her up on her prediction. But she’s incredibly efficient and ran Flip’s shop like clockwork for ten years. I couldn’t let her go. Gradually, we began to grow on each other. Except for that stool.

“Have you heard about Ace?” I asked.

“Joel called a little bit ago. Ace had a concussion, so they’re going to keep him overnight. But he’s doing okay, keeps asking for oxygen. So how did it go with Coleman?”

“He never showed. He called me with some crazy thing about how Matthew had trashed the shop looking for something, but he was sure he hadn’t found it. If you see anything that might warrant someone breaking in and beating up Ace, let me know.”

“Nothing here that’s not familiar,” she said. “But I’ll keep an eye out.”

I ended the call after telling her I’d be there shortly and was walking out onto the sidewalk, back toward the Venetian, when my cell phone warbled.

Simon Chase’s number. I flipped the phone open.

“Now that you’ve gotten rid of that wire, we can talk, Kavanaugh.”

I whirled around, looking for Tim, but seeing nothing but a sea of tourists.

“He’s long gone.”

“Where are you?”

Jeff Coleman fell into step beside me, his phone to his ear, a grin on his face. We hung up at the same time.

“My brother’s not happy you have Simon Chase’s phone,” I said.

“And he’s really not going to be happy when you bring it back to Chase.” He dropped the phone into my bag.

“Why am I doing that?” I asked. “I don’t want to see him.”

“It’s your way into Versailles.”

“And why do I want to go there? The last time you sent me there, I found a dead guy in a tub.” Which reminded me … “What did you and Matt Powell talk about?”

“He told me to watch my back.”

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.”