Karen Olson - Driven to Ink

“So there wasn’t a beef between any of the Dean Martins?” I asked. “Will Parker said the trouble started when Ray Lucci started working there.”

For the first time, Rosalie’s eyes skittered across the room and landed on Bixby’s face. “I don’t know anything about that,” she said, but I could tell she was lying.

“How’s your husband doing?” I asked.

Her hand went up to caress her other arm, over the spot where I knew the tattoos were. The bruise around her eye was fading, and I wondered whether another one would soon replace it. I’d never met Lou Marino, but I didn’t think I wanted to.

“He’s been talking to Sanderson about a job over there,” she said.

So he’d allow himself to be coerced, if in fact Sanderson was the one causing all the accidents.

Rosalie glanced around the room, saying, “I really have to get back…”

“We’ll get out of your way now,” Bixby said, taking my arm.

I resisted the urge to shrug him off, but I had to ask one more question.

“What do you do here? Are you a technician, like Dan?”

Rosalie seemed to relax now that I wasn’t asking about Lou. She nodded. “That’s right.”

“How long has Dan worked here?”

“About three years, I think.”

“How did Dan Franklin end up working at the chapel?”

Rosalie smiled. “He’s always wanted to perform. I told Lou about him, and Lou got him the job over there.”

“So they’re friends?”

The smile faded slightly, but she fought hard not to let it go completely. “I suppose,” she said softly.

That was enough for Bixby. He started steering me out, his other hand on Bitsy’s shoulder. “Thank you for your help,” he said, as if he was the one who wanted it in the first place.

“I’ll let you know if I hear anything about your dad,” I tossed back as we left the room.

Bixby didn’t say anything until we were behind closed doors.

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” he said.

“I didn’t completely lie,” I said. “I did talk to Dan Franklin, but he wasn’t the one with the tattoo. The dead guy in my trunk? He came to my shop posing as Dan Franklin. And then we found out Franklin went missing and his phone’s disconnected.”

“I can’t believe the things you get into.”

Him and me both.

But if I admitted that, he wouldn’t believe me.

The elevator door slid open, and we stepped out. Bixby crossed his arms over his chest.

“Do you have everything you need?” he asked.

Who ever has everything they need? I wanted to ask. And looking at him, I thought maybe I wanted a second chance, needed a second chance.

I took too long to answer.

He sighed and looked down at Bitsy. “Nice seeing you again,” he said.

“Thanks, Doc.” She grinned.

He started to walk away, then stopped and stared at me. “You know, I’d just about forgotten about you,” he said softly before he turned his back on me and went down the hall.

I felt a slap on my wrist and looked down to see Bitsy making a face at me.

“You can daydream about him later,” she admonished. “We’ve got to get out of here. All those rodents gave me the creeps.”

We walked around the atrium and out the glass front doors. The sun beat down on the sidewalk, but it wasn’t hot. There was a slight chill in the air, and I wished I had my jean jacket with me.

“Maybe it’ll snow tonight,” Bitsy teased.

“It’s snowed here before.”

“For like a nanosecond. One day, like three years ago.”

It had been more recent than that, but I couldn’t remember when. I didn’t really want to argue it.

We maneuvered around the cars in the parking lot, and I spotted the Jeep up ahead.

But before I could point it out, a blue car swung around the bank of cars, skidding on the pavement as it careened toward us.

Igrabbed Bitsy’s arm and yanked her out of the way as I dove onto the hood of a Dodge that had seen better days. The blue car screamed past, and I looked up too late. All I saw was a shadow of the back of a head in the rearview mirror as the car sped away.

I thought about how someone had used my car to try to run down Will Parker. But I wasn’t a Dean Martin impersonator.

But then my memory flashed on something else. A blue car. The one in Dan Franklin’s driveway. Had Franklin really been home after all, hiding out and watching me and Jeff? Had he followed me?

I slid off the hood and brushed dirt off my skirt as I asked Bitsy, “Are you okay?”

She had flattened herself against the Dodge’s grill.

“It was close enough so I could feel it,” she whispered. All color had drained from her face. “Did you see who it was?”

“No.”

“Did you get the license plate?”

“It went by so fast it was a blur. I didn’t notice the number.”

As Bitsy brushed at her slacks, I could see her hands were shaking. “Why would someone do that?” she asked.

Why, indeed? Because we’d been questioning Rosalie about Dan Franklin? Because I’d been asking everyone about Dan Franklin? Because I’d almost broken into his house? Because Jeff Coleman and I had stolen his bank statement out of his mailbox?

“Who knew we were coming here?” Bitsy asked.

“Colin was the only one who knew, and we ran into him here,” I said.

“Maybe he called someone after he left us,” Bitsy suggested, and her eyes grew wider. “Maybe he was the one driving that car.”

“Oh, give me a break. That’s ridiculous.”

“He’s still really upset with you,” she reminded me.

“But enough to try to run me down? No, this has to have something to do with Dan Franklin. Bixby was a coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences.”

That’s right. She doesn’t. And I usually don’t, either. But I didn’t want to make the same mistake twice: think that Dr. Colin Bixby was out to kill me. In retrospect, it didn’t make sense the first time, and it didn’t make sense now.

And then I remembered another blue car. Will Parker’s blue car. The one he wanted to whisk me away in.

Had that been Will Parker? Had he found out that it was my car someone used to try to run him down, so he was reciprocating?

“Will Parker drives a blue car,” I said softly.

Bitsy whirled around on her toes. “Aha! Like I said, no coincidences. What did you do to him?”

“What do you mean, what did I do to him? Nothing. He’s coming in for a tattoo touch-up. He seems like a nice guy.”

A nice guy who just happened to have an appointment at the Venetian a couple hours after I met him at the wedding chapel. Who just happened to decide to come talk to me. Did he really have an appointment, or was he stalking me? Did he follow us here?

No, it was more likely Franklin. Although I couldn’t seem to get Parker out of my head, either.

There were too many blue cars. And too many weird things going on. I wished I’d gotten the license plate. Then we could narrow this down.

We began walking to the Jeep, our eyes skirting the parking lot, making sure that blue car didn’t come back. When we got to the Jeep, we scrambled up inside, strapping the seat belts across us. I put the engine in first gear as we went toward the lot’s exit.

Bitsy’s feet weren’t touching the floor, so she pulled her legs up and tucked them under her.

“What’s the game plan?” she asked.

“I think we should talk to the cops.”

She snorted. “About what? That a grown man hasn’t been to either of his jobs in a couple days? That he hasn’t been home? The cops won’t take us seriously. They’ll say, Maybe he’s holed up in a casino somewhere, losing all his money . Not like that hasn’t happened around here.”