Karen Olson - Driven to Ink

Possibly.

He saw my hesitation.

“I know it’s not Broadway, but it pays okay,” he said. “And I’ve got to get out of that wedding chapel.”

“Why?”

“Something’s not right over there,” he said, pausing.

“What’s not right?” I prodded.

“Ray Lucci’s murder, for one.”

“But that didn’t happen at the wedding chapel,” I said before thinking. And a nanosecond later I realized I couldn’t be certain it hadn’t. He’d ended up in my car, which had been at That’s Amore, and he had been dressed in his Dean Martin outfit.

But then I had a flash of that rat. That rat that came from somewhere, and even though I now knew Dan Franklin worked with lab animals, I didn’t know how it would have ended up at the chapel, especially since there was an empty cage at Franklin’s house.

Will Parker had started to notice that I wasn’t giving him a hundred percent of my attention.

“Do you know where Lucci was killed?” he asked, his expression guarded now.

I flashed him an embarrassed smile. “No, no, I don’t know about that,” I said quickly and, eager to change the subject, added, “You said Ray Lucci’s murder was one thing that’s not right over at the chapel. What else is going on?”

“You’re right-it wasn’t just that. Although Ray was a crazy guy. Always talking about the cars that came through. We all knew he’d been inside for car theft, so we were never really sure if he was joking or not. He really liked that car Lou’s father-in-law drove up in.”

My Mustang Bullitt again. It didn’t set right that a dead guy had been planning on stealing my car, or at least had thought about stealing it.

And then I realized something.

“Were you working that day?” I asked.

“Yeah, it was me and Lou and Ray.”

“But not Dan Franklin?”

He seemed a little taken aback by my question.

“Do you know Dan?”

“I talked to him yesterday,” I said, not lying. “So he wasn’t working that day? He wasn’t there at all?”

“I saw him come in, but he wasn’t on shift. At least not when I was. This isn’t his full-time job; it’s something he does to make extra money. Tony lets him make his own schedule.” He paused. “Why are you asking about Dan?”

I shrugged. “Just making conversation. So you saw the Mustang Bullitt, too.”

The change of subject threw him a second; then he said, “Nice ride.” His face clouded over. “That’s one of the other things that’s not right.” He ran a hand through those golden locks of his. The grin was AWOL now.

He took a deep breath, and when he spoke, what he said was so unexpected I couldn’t catch my breath. “That very same car tried to run me down two days ago, about four o’clock, over on Charleston.”

Will Parker said he was sure it was the same car, but he hadn’t gotten the license plate number, which was why the cops hadn’t tracked it down.

Until yesterday.

When Ray Lucci’s body was found in it.

This could explain Flanigan’s song and dance in the parking garage last night. He must have been alerted to Will Parker’s report about the red Mustang convertible. So Flanigan showed up here to check out where it had been parked, to see whether there were any clues that it had been stolen. I guess someone could have taken it. I was in the shop, didn’t leave until midnight. That meant there were nine hours during which my car was unattended.

I hadn’t noticed anything unusual, though, when I’d gotten into it that night. There were no telltale signs that the car had been hot-wired. The seat was where I’d always left it; I hadn’t had to adjust the rearview mirror.

This was why Flanigan asked me whether anyone else had a key.

Of course Sylvia and Bernie had borrowed mine. Did someone make a copy?

But that begged the question: If someone stole it, why bring it back? Maybe to make it look as though it was never gone in the first place.

Will Parker was looking at me funny. I’d been quiet too long. I didn’t want to tell him it was my car. Somehow I had a feeling that might not go over too well. And we were just starting to get to know each other. If it went any further and he ever saw my car, I’d deal with it then. Now was not the time.

“You didn’t see who was driving?” I asked.

“You sound like the cops,” he said.

“My brother’s a detective,” I explained. “I think it’s in the DNA.”

“Really? He’s a cop?”

I chuckled. “Yeah, but he never takes anything I say seriously. So what happened with the car?”

“I didn’t see who was driving,” he admitted. “I was coming from work, and I’d stopped at a Terrible’s for gas. For some reason my card wouldn’t work in the pump, so I had to go inside. When I was walking back, the car came out of nowhere and plowed past me. I jumped onto the hood of my car to get out of the way. The Mustang just kept going. It was like watching something in a movie.”

“You don’t think that the guy driving just didn’t see you?” I had to play devil’s advocate.

“The car was gunning for me. I swear it. It barely missed me.”

“Why would someone try to run you down?”

He knew what I was going for. “It’s not me, I don’t think,” he said softly. “I think it’s all of us over at That’s Amore. First Ray, then me, then Lou.”

“What? Lou? What happened with him?”

“He got mugged. Guy pulled a knife on him as he was leaving work. In the parking lot. Cut his arm, but before the guy could do anything else, some kids on skateboards came by and scared the guy off. Lou’s afraid to go anywhere now.”

Was someone trying to kill all the Dean Martin impersonators? And why?

My brain was moving faster than a rat in a maze. Flanigan must have decided I hadn’t been driving my car when it jumped that curb at Terrible’s; otherwise he would’ve taken me in yesterday. I wondered whether he didn’t already have a suspect who actually had a motive to knock off these Dean Martins.

Like maybe Dan Franklin.

“What about Dan Franklin? Do you think something happened to him, too?” I asked. “DellaRocco said he hadn’t seen him in two days.”

“He was in yesterday, but he took off pretty fast after he made a phone call, even before he could start his shift. Didn’t even change out of his costume. You think maybe Dan had something to do with Ray, me, and Lou?” Will asked.

A phone call? Had he taken off after talking to me yesterday?

“I heard he didn’t get along with Ray, but what about you and Lou?” I asked.

He thought a second, then said, “No, we got along fine. I don’t really know about Lou and him, though. I’m not sure they work together all that much because of Dan’s schedule. Dan mostly works nights and weekends. Lou, mostly days and never weekends. He’s been there the longest. You watch a lot of cop shows on TV?” he asked. “Because you really sound like a cop.”

“Maybe I watch a little too much TV,” I admitted, “but like I said, my brother is a detective. My dad was one, too, before he retired to Florida.” I gave him a small smile back. “I’m worried about you and the other Dean Martins. What did you do? Sing the wrong song or sing off key or something?”

Will shook his head. “I don’t know. But ever since Ray came to work there, things have gotten weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Ray brings out the worst in people. He and Lou have been on each other from the first day he started. Dan’s gotten really quiet. It used to be really fun working there, but now…” His voice trailed off as he remembered the good old days.

Something flashed into my brain.