Karen Olson - Ink Flamingos

I told myself the metallic orange wasn’t obvious because it was dark now, and we wouldn’t stand out unless we were under a streetlight. Jeff really needed to get a car that was more incognito, although I couldn’t talk, since I owned a bright red Mustang Bullitt convertible.

Blame it on living in the desert. We needed those splashes of color amongst all the desert browns.

Slowly, the Pontiac moved forward until we were on the street, a couple of cars back.

“You won’t lose her?” Joel asked.

“Jeff was in the Marines,” I said.

Joel nodded, the answer satisfying him.

Jeff said nothing as his hands tightened around the steering wheel. I saw his biceps flex, the skull tattoo looking as though it was clenching its jaw. I absently touched my chest, where my Chinese dragon poked out of my shirt.

Ann turned down a couple of side roads and then came back up to the main drag, and I started to wonder if she didn’t know we were behind her, but then she maneuvered around again, and I realized she’d pulled into the parking lot at her sister’s apartment house. Jeff eased the Pontiac against the curb on the street, and we watched as Ann got out of the Toyota and went toward the building, disappearing inside.

I thought about the picture I’d found. Something was gnawing at me. What if this really was Ainsley, and it was her sister who was murdered instead? I mean, she had been at the dentist office where she worked and then gone to her apartment. What if the murder had been a case of mistaken identity? What if whoever killed her sister had meant to kill her instead?

But that would mean that the Ainsley I met was leading some sort of double life. Dental hygienist by day, sex kitten for Sherman Potter by night. But maybe she’d had a dream. A dream to sing with the Flamingos. A dream she couldn’t pass up.

I was grabbing at straws. Or was I?

We sat and watched the building for any kind of movement, until another car swung into the lot. A woman got out, staring at the Toyota, which was bathed in light from the streetlamp. She moved toward it, her head down as she tried the driver’s side door. It was locked. She lifted her face toward the light, and I recognized Terri.

Jeff sat up a little straighter in his seat.

“That’s her neighbor,” I explained. “The one we talked to this morning. Her name’s Terri. She’s having Joel do a tattoo for her.”

Jeff didn’t seem to hear me.

“That’s the girl I saw at Cleopatra’s Barge,” Jeff said. “The one who was pretending to be you.”

All my senses were on overload. “How do you know?” I asked. “She was in disguise, right?”

Jeff nodded, his eyes still glued to Terri, who was now holding a cell phone to her ear and watching the building, her face totally illuminated.

“She’s the one. I saw her come out of that ladies’ room without the disguise,” he said. “I noticed her. It was her.”

My brain was somehow stuck on the words “I noticed her.”

Terri stuck the cell phone back in her pocket and went toward her car. She climbed in, and the brake lights came on before she started to pull out.

“Okay, guys, here’s the problem. She’s still in there,” Jeff indicated the apartment house. “But she ”-he indicated the neighbor-“is leaving. What do we want to do?”

“Follow Terri,” Joel said without thinking.

Jeff sensed my hesitation. I wanted to see what both of them were up to.

“You want to stay here and confront that chick yourself, Kavanaugh? Because I agree with Joel. Let’s follow that girl who pretended to be you.”

They both needed to be watched. But we only had one car, even though there were three of us. I said as much.

“I can stay here if you want to drive,” Jeff offered.

“I can’t follow anyone like you can,” I admitted.

“I can stay,” Joel said. “I’ve got a phone; I can call if anything happens. If she goes anywhere.”

“But you don’t have a car.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll think of something.” Joel scrambled out of the car. “You better get going.” He indicated Terri’s car stopped at the light at the next block before stepping onto the sidewalk.

I barely got out a “thanks” when Jeff peeled away from the curb. I fell back against the backseat, the passenger door shutting on its own with the force of the car.

“Hey!” I said.

We took a couple of turns, and I peered out the front window to see that we were only three cars away from Terri. How did he do that? I looked out the back window to see Joel lumbering along the sidewalk toward the apartment house. I hoped he was going to be okay. But there are definite positives to being his size and looking the way he did. He also knew a lot of people in this city, and I knew he’d have people to call on if he got into a jam.

I didn’t want to sit in the backseat like a kid.

I folded myself up and squeezed my way into the front seat, shifting a little so at one point I felt Jeff Coleman’s hand on my butt, steering me in the right direction. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

As I settled into my seat, though, I didn’t have time to ruminate about where his hand had been. Because Terri was slowing down. In front of Murder Ink.

“Do you think she’s the one who left the flamingo?” I asked.

Jeff shrugged, said nothing. When Terri started to move again, he made sure we were well behind her but close enough so he wouldn’t lose her.

I didn’t want to boost his ego by telling him how good he was at this. He knew it, anyway, didn’t need me to tell him, and if I did, he’d take that as more proof of our alleged thing .

“What if she’s the one who’s behind all this?” I asked, unable to shut up. I couldn’t explain my sudden need to voice my thoughts. But the silence was killing me. Not to mention the intense way Jeff was watching that car. I’d never seen that expression before, and it scared me a little. Made me wonder if I shouldn’t have been the one staying behind with Ann rather than Joel.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” I now said, disgusted with myself.

Jeff’s head snapped around and he barked, “Kavanaugh, I get it. You’re jealous. Okay. But if this is the chick who’s been impersonating you and leaving flamingos all over the place, then maybe you need to refocus.”

It was a really good thing it was dark, because he couldn’t see the deep flush I felt move through my face and down my neck. Jealous? Is that what he thought?

“I’m just nervous,” I tried.

“And I’m just going to throw you out of the car if you say anything else.”

Was this our first fight? We’d never really fought. He teased, and I got upset, and then we went back to our familiar banter.

But before I could think about that further, I realized something. He really did think this girl was the one behind it all. And he was angry. Really angry. Probably more angry than I’d ever seen him.

I settled back in my seat. I thought about the rather benign conversation we’d had with Terri earlier, how Joel had offered to tattoo her at a discount. How she’d stayed outside the apartment while Bitsy and I were poking around inside. How she’d then shown up at the shop and given me the once-over that was so intimate I thought maybe she was coming on to me. Now I knew. She was studying me. Seeing how accurate she’d been when pretending to be me.

We never actually saw her go into or come out of an apartment, either. Maybe she didn’t really live there. I had an idea.

“What’s her license plate number?” I asked Jeff, my voice tearing into the silence, and I worried he’d blow up at me again.