Karen Olson - Ink Flamingos

“Doesn’t scare me,” Jeff said, going over to the wall, reaching up, and pulling the stencil down. It tore a little where it had been taped up, but otherwise it was intact. He brought it over to me, and I took it, studying it.

“Someone could’ve done this from the picture on that blog,” I said. “It’s not that hard to do a stencil. You can get instructions on the Internet.” You could get mostly everything having to do with tattooing on the Internet, except experience and talent and common sense.

A flash of red hit the wall, illuminating the flash designs. We all turned at the same time to see the police car pulling up out front, an SUV behind it. Showtime.

The uniformed cop knocked on the door, and Jeff motioned that he could come in. To my dismay, it turned out to be Willis, a cop I’d come across a couple of times before and who didn’t like me much. From the scowl on his face, I could tell that hadn’t changed.

“We got a report,” he said, eyeing me as though I was the culprit.

A couple of crime scene investigators followed him in, and Jeff led them to the back of the shop to see the flamingo. Joel and I lingered where we were. I was tired of making statements to the police and knew I wasn’t out of the woods on this one yet, either, but the longer I could delay the inevitable, the better. Especially since it was Willis.

“We have to find Ann Wainwright,” I said.

Joel shifted from one foot to the other, his fingers still toying with the chain at his waist. “How?”

I had no clue.

“Maybe we could go back to her sister’s apartment. Talk to that neighbor again. Terri.” And then a light bulb went off over my head. “Her sister worked for a dentist.” I struggled to remember what it had said on that paycheck stub. “Carruthers? Columbia? Something with a ‘C.’ ”

“Corinthian.” The word slipped off Joel’s tongue easily.

“What, are you psychic or something?” Joel hadn’t been inside with Bitsy and me; he’d been out in the hall with Terri the whole time.

“Bitsy made me make an appointment for a cleaning. I’m supposed to go tomorrow. See what I can find out.” He made a face. “I don’t like the dentist.”

“No one likes the dentist,” I said. “So why don’t we go now? Pretend that you thought the appointment was today. We could ask questions.” Sounded like a plan, except for one thing: Jeff and Willis were still in the back of the shop. My eyes strayed in that direction.

“It’s too late,” Joel said. “It’s after seven.”

“Sometimes dentists stay open late. It’s a Thursday. Maybe they’re like banks and they’re open late on Thursdays.” I was grabbing at straws, but I didn’t want to stick around here, and I had no other ideas.

I took a few steps toward the door.

“We’re parked in back,” Joel reminded me.

We could be stuck here all night. But I underestimated how much Willis disliked me, because he came storming through the sixties beads that hung between the back of the shop and the front, his face all scrunched up, a little notebook in his hand.

“You didn’t touch anything?” he barked.

I shook my head, then quickly told him how the door had been ajar, the flamingo wedged behind it. “That’s when I called Tim.”

Jeff was standing behind Willis. I could tell he wanted him out of here, too. The crime scene guys were shuffling out now, past us and toward the door. One of them had put the flamingo in a plastic bag and he carried it with the tips of his fingers. They didn’t exactly stand on ceremony, since they didn’t bother to say good-bye, just left. I glanced up at where the flamingo stencil had hung, but then Jeff caught my eye and gave a quick shake of his head. For some reason he didn’t want to tell them about it. Hmm.

Willis jotted a few notes down, then turned to Jeff. “You can pick up the report tomorrow afternoon.” He handed him a card. “The case report number’s on that. Just go to records and ask for it. Maybe you can get your insurance to pay for the damage.” And with that, he took off out the door and into the street without even a nod in my direction.

We watched as the police cruiser slid away from the curb and down the street. When it was out of sight, Jeff stuck the card in his front breast pocket and said, “What a jerk.”

I could think of more colorful words than that, but “jerk” would do, too.

We didn’t have much time.

“We’ll get out of your hair now,” I said quickly, tugging on Joel’s sleeve.

Jeff frowned and held up his hand. “What’s your hurry?” He looked from me to Joel. He knew we were up to something.

I wasn’t going to tell him. I didn’t need him tagging along everywhere I went. I had Joel; he was enough. But Jeff didn’t seem to agree. He stared Joel down, until Joel broke down.

“We’re going to check out that dentist office where Ainsley Wainwright worked. See if they knew anything about her sister.”

“Your car or mine?” he asked, adding, “Oh, we’d better take mine. More room.” And without waiting for a response, he went toward the back of the shop.

Joel gave a short shrug. It was a lost cause. I wouldn’t be able to talk Jeff out of coming with us. I’d just have to resign myself to the fact that he was.

The back of the shop was covered in fingerprint dust. I didn’t much blame Jeff for wanting to take off right now; it would take a little work to clean up. I felt as though there should be a white chalk outline where the flamingo had been.

Jeff slammed the door shut after us and went over to the back door of the Chinese place. A Hispanic man wearing an apron came out, and they talked for a couple of minutes before Jeff came back over.

“They’re going to watch the back. Make sure no one else shows up and tries to get in,” he said.

“Did they see anyone here before?” I asked, kicking myself for not thinking about asking them in the first place.

Jeff shook his head. “No.”

“Did the cops talk to them?” Joel asked.

“You kidding? That Willis guy wanted out of here right away.” He chuckled. “You are not his favorite person, Kavanaugh.”

Tell me something I didn’t already know.

“What about your shop?” I asked. “Can you afford to shut down?”

Jeff snickered. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me, Kavanaugh.” And he opened his car door and climbed in.

We followed suit. I let Joel sit in the front because of his size, and I squeezed my long legs in the back, angling them so I wouldn’t feel too squished. Joel told Jeff where we were headed.

“Dentist, huh?”

Joel just grunted, clearly put out that Bitsy had put it on him to handle this unpleasant undercover operation.

We drove in silence. My head was spinning with everything that was going on: flamingos, pictures of me and Harry, Sherman Potter dead, Colin Bixby. Hey, how did he end up there? Oh, right. He broke up with me. And that led right into thinking about that kiss again. The one Jeff and I shared.

I felt the car slow, and I forced everything out of my head. I needed to be at the top of my game, because I was sure that there would have to be some fancy footwork to find out anything about Ainsley Wainwright at her former place of employment.

But as the car turned into the parking lot, it became obvious that this was not going to be our final destination after all, even though my suspicions about the office staying open late were on target.

Ann Wainwright was scurrying out of the building and through the parking lot, the lights of a nondescript white Toyota flashing as she hit the key fob.

Jeff slowed to a stop. I held my breath as we watched her get into the car and pull out. If she’d seen us sitting in this bright orange car, there was no outward sign. The Toyota moved out of the exit on the other side of the lot.